#should i do more of these? lil' snippets & all that

[sarastuss-a]

SNIPPETS OF YOUR ADVENTURE ; 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐂. it is a crime i had to cut this cutscene so much, because this truly is one of my favorites.

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

[yurinaa-world]

Hello! I've been loving the small snippets and headcanons so much, I just went on a small brain off - intake cuteness marathon while reading and saw that your requests were open (or at least they said they were open, if not you can completely ignore this! ´ω`)

Imagine the sweetness of calling Sunday your dove or swan.. Then think of the silly possibilities of calling him OTHER white birds. I would love to see how you would write his reaction to being called different names like "My Royal Spoolbill" "My lovely Red-Vented Cockatoo" "Beloved Masked Booby"

I just think it's a lil fun to tease Mr. Know-it-all with names that he might have to actually go and search up, some birdies being a nicer compliment compared to being called a chonky lil fella like the Willow Ptarmigan(〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)

Thank you for your time whether you further this thought or not~!

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Sunday x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Calling him bird names

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, spelling mistakes

(𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I found the request after posting it and I decided just to repost so it makes sense)

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

Ugh, you're right the way he would call Dove or Swan. Like in such a sensual voice with you adding with the fact he only does when he whispers in your ear, almost sending shivers down your Spine. Ah, don’t tell him your mind is stuck thinking about something you shouldn’t be. He’s not at all innocent just because appearance, he knows what he’s doing.

Did I ever say that he also kisses your hands while calling you his “beloved swan.” (I’m sorry I’m shameless). He’s such a gentleman giving you cute and sweet nicknames “my beloved swan & my dearest dove.” while you on the other hand are just a menace.

“My lovely rock pigeon.” Anyone hearing that would be so confused and honestly, he is a little. How creative could you be with nicknames? Like calling him “my beautiful stork.” Or “royal tern.” 

The more and more you begin to find more and more white bird names to use for him the more he questions everything.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My dearest stork.”

You say playfully while the back of your hand gently rubs against Sunday's little wings.  They are so soft and warm. “a stork? Am I just a bird with long legs to you?”

 A mischievous grin curls up the corners of your lips while a single eye twinkles at your beloved Sunday. 

“You have little wings and feathers right here so I don’t see a difference really.” you point out the little mini version of wings by the sides of his hair.

along with your words, Sunday grabs your hand and intertwines it with his. “some birds bite if you get too close to them, maybe I should bite you.”  He playfully threatens as he brings your hand closer to his mouth.

“don’t worry I don’t bite that hard.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[vampiretendencies]

jj reading with you and he loves the fluffy smut in your books that you read❤️

suggestive! there’s a tiny piece from the book ‘icebreaker’ in here i haven’t actually read it just saw a snippet on tiktok. smut is depicted in the snippet, though i do not write smut.

“he did what ?! in her what ?!”

jj’s mind is frantically stocked in disbelief. he was equal parts aching to his core at the fact that you read such things, and also torn at how such a realm of content existed graphically in books.

jj wasn’t naturally a reader, however this sense of shock makes him want to collect an entire library of one’s similar.

he doesn’t exactly remember when and how he got so wrapped up in this book. but all he knows is, you’re in his lap— sitting so prettily, the two of you are readying together; and he wants to keep it that way.

you can’t help but giggle slightly, “you read it right the first time, j.”

“baby you’re telling me you read this shit everyday! it’s corrupting me.”

his eyes glance back over the line that says ‘not yet, i wanna watch you ride me’ he underlined it with his index finger. trying to become self aware that he wasn’t imagining it.

“you were already corrupted jj.”

the more his eyes continue to scan, he can feel his mouth salivate. in grave urge to appreciate the masterpiece of words on the pages in front of him. and maybe you too

“guess this is how you knew as much as you did our first time.”

“who knows.”

he kisses the corner of your mouth, where your hands meet at the index of the book, he shuts it. “we should take a break from reading, baby. make a lil’ smut of our own yeah?”

[greynatomy]

where were you in the morning - three

alessia russo x reader

previous - next

———

Your mood instantly dropped. The girl, who you knew only by her name, disappeared. You thought - no - you knew she was special. That connection you felt with her was something you couldn’t just forget.

Rubbing a hand over your face, you swing your legs over to the side of the bed, sitting up. Taking a deep breath, you look around the room. The floor that was once littered with clothes that weren’t yours are found bare - bar the clothes belonging to you.

With a groan, you get up from the bed and walk to your closet, quickly putting on some boxers and a hoodie. Walking out of the room, any traces of Alessia is nowhere to be found.

You were in over your head. Completely clueless on how you managed to scare the girl away.

“Fuck!” You yelled out in frustration, but not loud enough for the people in the rooms next to you could hear.

Opening up the living room curtains, you grab your guitar from the corner of the room. Sitting on the couch, guitar in hand, you space out a bit, trying and failing to get the girl off your mind.

Playing a bit with a melody, one stuck to you, recording it on your phone.

“I look around and you’re not there? No, no.” You scribble in the little notepad hotels give out. “I look around but I don’t see you. Yeah, that’s good. Where were you in the morning? I didn’t get your number. Left without, uh, left without a warning.”

You place your phone on the side of the couch, angling it towards you and press record. You start playing the melody and singing all the lyrics you have.

—

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—

Two hours later, you pretty much had most of the song finished and ready to go into the studio. The sound of your phone ringing breaks you out of your zone.

“Y/LN.” You answer

“Have you seen the articles?” You recognize the voice of your manager.

“What articles?” Getting off the couch, you stand by the window, looking out.

“So many speculations on who you’re dating.” Alina points out.

“Which is nothing new.”

“That’s true.” It’s silent for a bit. “Any NDA’s I need someone to sign?”

“No, no. Uh, she left before I woke up, so it’d be no use. Just wish I knew more than her name.”

“So you don’t know who she is?”

“Nope.”

“What happens when she leaks it out there that she spent the night with you?” You could hear your manager getting antsy.

“I doubt she will, but if she does, maybe I could see her again soon.”

“You want to see her again?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? You don’t even know her?” Alina exclaims, thinking you’re out of your mind.

“Well, I wanna get to know her! She’s been all I could think about since I woke up. All I could write about.”

“Then, maybe you should just keep writing. And maybe she’d already realized the snippet you posted is about her.”

“I don’t even know if she knew who I was.”

“She’d have to be living under a rock to not know who you are.”

“We talked about getting breakfast last night, get to know each other more.”

“All you can do right now is be patient and hope she reaches out.”

“Yeah, I hope she does.”

[theprinceandagcd]

wip wednesday <3

i have been so MIA on Tumblr oops - sorry for all the games and things I've missed but I appreciate all the tags!! I'm scheduling this one to post at midnight on Wednesday for me bc life is a lil chaotic rn but we're making it!!

Today I have a tiny snippet of a sequel to my matchmaker kidfic that I posted over the weekend - a small handful of people asked for more with the universe, I'm a pushover, and I personally love them sm that I couldn't quite let them go yet :)

“So, when do you suppose I should ask him?”  Brie wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know, I’m only seven.”  Henry tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, catching his laugh in his throat. “Right. No insight, then, hm?”  “Insight?” Brie peers up at him, mouth open just enough that he can see her missing front tooth. “What does that mean?”  “It’s like… knowledge,” Henry explains, watching as the cogs in her brain turn. He’s constantly amazed by how bright she is, how much she actually craves learning new things. “So if you don’t have insight into when I should ask your dad to marry me, then you don’t know.”  “Oh,” Brie says, blinking. “Yeah, I don’t know. But I wouldn’t wait too long. Daddy asked, too.”  “Asked what?”  “If he could marry you.”  Henry’s heart skips a beat. “What did you say?”  “Yes, duh,” she tells him, flicking at his wrist with her index finger. “I love you.” 

tags under cut :)

@adreamareads @agostobuwan @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @dragonflylady77

@everwitch-magiks @fckngyrs @firenati0n @fullsunsets @henryspearl

@heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway @jmagnabo92

@kj-bee @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes

@onthewaytosomewhere @porcelainmortal @priincebutt @read-and-write- @sophie1973

@stellarmeadow @suseagull04 @thesleepyskipper @tinyarmedtrex @wordsofhoneydew + open tag for anyone who wants to play!! tag me if you use it <3

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

you are my sunshine (not old enough ch.9)

pairing: leon x reader

cw: oral sex, only a lil smut, so much fluff, brief mentions of labor and birth

summary: the final chapter, little snippets of your life with leon <3

a/n: i'm sorry i'm awful at fluff :( i've been lowkey dreading this chapter, but i have to give them the happy ending they deserve. thank you all for reading the series! there may be more sexy spinoffs of this, but for now, this is the end <3

wc: 3.7k

ao3 link

Before Matilda made her appearance, the nursery needed to be finished. Since neither of you had any friends or relatives with kids who’d grown up that could give you hand-me-down baby furniture and accessories, you had to go on a shopping spree. A crib, a rocking chair, a changing table, a dresser - Leon didn’t even let you look at the receipt, fearing you’d pass out and endanger the baby. 

As it turned out, a crib has to be built, which was obviously Leon’s job. This was one of the few times that you didn’t protest his insistence on you doing as little work as possible during your pregnancy. You’re all for getting rid of stereotypical gender expectations, but you would’ve posed yourself as ‘just a fragile little lady’ if he’d asked you to help build any sort of furniture whether you were pregnant or not. 

There was an added plus to Leon doing all the handy work that you had not anticipated - he looked hot as fuck doing it. You walked in to offer him something to drink and you caught him lifting his t-shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead. His biceps in the tight shirt, his abs, the v-line of his hips, the light trail of hair leading down from his belly button - you caught a glimpse of it all. It didn’t take an expert in psychology or mathematics to understand the association -  sweat plus striptease equals sex. You were no longer thinking about offering him a drink or asking him how he was doing or anything other than getting on your knees and -

He caught you standing in the doorframe, gawking at him. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” He could tell exactly what you were looking at by your face. 

You didn’t say anything, just walked closer, dropping to your knees in front of him. 

“Honey, what are you doing?” he asked as if it wasn’t entirely obvious. 

You still declined to respond, mind fixated on one task, your small hands found their way to the zipper of his jeans. Before actually ripping off his clothes, you looked up, asking, no, begging, for consent. You saw the two sides dueling behind his eyes - should he do the ‘right’ thing and offer to do this in the bedroom or at least, grab a pillow for your knees, or should he give in right here and now? As usual, arousal beat reason and he nodded, gently running his hands through your hair, pulling it back for you. He sighed, fully resigning himself to the fact that he was not going to be the hero in this situation.

When his cock sprung out, ready, like it’d been waiting for this moment, Leon said, “Do you think this is wrong to do it in the nursery?”

With his dick in hand, already stroking it because you both knew how this was going to pan out anyway, you said, “Leon, we had sex to make her. It’s a human thing.”

“Isn’t a blowjob a little diff-” he tried to say, but was cut off by a groan when you licked one long stripe from his balls all the way to the tip and then immediately took as much of his cock into your mouth as you could. 

You pulled off to ask, as a tease, “What were you saying?”

“Never mind,” he said, his hand on the back of your head coaxing you to continue.

He watched your head bob up and down and said, tilting his head back as if to speak to God, “What did I do to deserve this?”

God did not respond. And neither did you, mostly because you had his dick down your throat - Leon’s not God’s - and were trying not to choke.

You might’ve told him, “you deserve so much more than this because you’re such a good person and yadda yadda yadda” or, more likely, you would’ve said, “it’s not like I’m doing you a favor, in fact, it’s mostly selfish, I’m trying to memorize the way you look right now, so I can touch myself later while picturing it”. That is, if you couldn’t goad him into fucking you. 

You lost yourself in the sounds of his moans, and your mind was entirely empty until he pulled your head away. He didn’t respond to the pout on your face, instead he said, “close your eyes,” with a devious smile. You obeyed without question and he finished himself off. You didn’t see it, of course, but you felt something hot and sticky hit your face in spurts. 

“Wait there and keep your eyes closed,” Leon said and grabbed something from across the room. 

He wiped your eyelids and lashes with a tissue because, despite being naughty enough to come on your face, he didn’t want you to get any in your eyes. 

Then he said, “you can open your eyes now.”

When you did, you smiled at him - instinctively, though well-timed because Leon had grabbed his phone and was taking a picture of you.

Half-amused, half-surprised, your mouth was wide open, but you couldn’t help laughing when you saw his shameless grin. 

“You look pretty like this,” he said, patting your cheek.

“I’m sure I do,” you said, a bit sarcastic.

“You wanna see?” he asked, proudly holding out his phone to show you the picture of yourself. 

You looked at it and said, “I suppose I can see the appeal.”

“Yeah, see,” he zoomed in, “I got a good shot of your tits, too.”

“You act like this is art.”

“Is it not?”

“A photo of jizz on my face, which as you noted, also captures my cleavage.”

“Exactly. It’ll come in handy later.”

“Double entendre?”

“Huh?”

“Come in hand-y.”

“Unintended, but I wish I had thought of that.”

“You’re a builder, a photographer, and a comedian. How lucky am I?”

“You forgot a fine artist,” he pointed out, “I did a fantastic job painting your face in my opinion.”

“Gross,” you laughed and playfully smacked him on the thigh.

He helped you stand up before finally pulling his pants back up. You were about to exit the room to find a washcloth when you said, “Send me that pic, so I can get it framed for you as a father’s day gift.”

You winked at him and then made your way to the bathroom, all the while, you could still hear his laughter from down the hall. 

You were biting your nails waiting for Leon to speak with Chris. Leon said they’d have a talk after your little dalliance with Chris while Leon was away. The guilt festered inside you until the moment Leon set up a time to meet with Chris. Much to your disappointment, you were not allowed to mediate. You really hoped ‘have a talk with’ did not mean get into a physical fight, similar to the one in the parking lot outside that club. 

He was gone for a lot longer than you thought he’d be. You knew this meant one of two things: either it was going phenomenally well or it was going catastrophically badly. 

According to Leon, it went well, and since he came home with a smile on his face rather than any bruises, you took him at his word. 

It was awkward at first. They met on a Saturday at the park because Leon was trying to quit drinking again and you wanted him far away from any temptation in case things went awry - no bars, you told him. 

Leon sat on a park bench overlooking the Potomac, watching couples walking hand-in-hand, families, friends, getting lost in thought, when Chris sat down beside him. 

“Hey,” Chris said, unintentionally startling Leon. 

“Jesus, when did you get there?” Leon, the dramatist, held his hand over his heart like he was about to drop dead from fright. 

“About five seconds ago.”

Leon didn’t respond, but refused to break eye-contact, trying to see if he could get Chris to speak first. 

But it was Leon who bit the bullet and began with, “So…” “Look, I’m sorry,” Chris began, “and I know that doesn’t cut it, but I want you to know that I mean it.”

“Were you going to tell me?” Leon asked in a prickly tone. 

“Honestly, no. I didn’t want to ruin what you two have.”

“Didn’t think of that beforehand? What if she hadn’t told me?”

Chris looked toward the sky and sighed in genuine contemplation, “I don’t know… I’ve made a lot of bad calls. If you want someone to blame, blame me.”

“Blame doesn’t get me shit. I just want to know that my girlfriend and my friend won’t go behind my back like that again.” It was a threat. And if you do… the rest was left unspoken. 

“Swear on my life. I can’t swear on hers, but she loves you, but I think you already know that.”

“I do know that, yeah.”

A woman jogging, a couple with a picnic basket, the boats in the Potomac - Leon watched them all pass in front of his eyes. Time passed quickly as he aged, and wisdom brought him the revelation. A sense of urgency, too. “Fuck it, I forgive you,” he said. 

Sometimes - far too often - Leon was too forgiving, and people had been known to take advantage of his kindness. Forgiveness was his knee-jerk response, he was a natural people-pleaser. A therapist had advised him to weigh the pros and cons in situations like this and to be a little bit selfish in his choice. This time forgiveness was the right decision. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I didn’t want to lose your friendship over this,” Chris said.

“Yeah, well, I’m getting out of shape, so you’d have an edge over me if we fought, so I feel like forgiveness is my only option,” Leon opted to lighten the mood. 

“You think I don’t already have an edge over you?”

“Are you challenging me right now?”

“No, I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Do you think you would’ve beaten me back at that club?”

“Hell yeah. You were wasted. I could’ve taken you down in one punch.” “That’s where you’re wrong. My alcohol intake would’ve lowered my inhibitions and my pain tolerance.” “Sure, but you were practically tripping over your own feet.”

“If you could’ve beaten me, then why didn’t you?”

“Because Claire pulled me away.”

“You said you could’ve taken me down in one punch. You got more than one in, and guess what? I’m still standing.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe I didn’t want to leave you unconscious in the parking lot.”

“Hmph. I guess I should thank you then.”

“Let’s just call it even… after everything that’s happened.”

And that was the last they spoke of the matter. 

The day was nice, though, so they lingered at the park. Leon watched as a mother walked by with a stroller and smiled, thinking of you. 

He realized that he wasn’t sure if Chris knew.  

“I suppose I should tell you the good news.”

“You’re retiring,” Chris said, assuming that was the answer. “Yes, but no, and who told you that?”

“Just a guess.”

Leon couldn’t hold back the secret. With a hint of giddiness, he said, “I’m gonna be a dad.”

“No fucking way.”

“Way.”

“Holy shit. Congrats.”

Chris went in for the hug, and Leon accepted. Yeah, it went well.

You weren’t sure how to feel about having a full-on baby shower, but Leon’s friends - now, your friends, too - insisted on planning you one. 

“We have to celebrate,” Claire insisted, “this is the first baby to be initiated to the friend group.”

“Initiated? Is that what they’re calling being born these days? ‘Initiation to life’,” Leon joked. 

“Ugh. I don’t even want to think about giving birth,” you said.

“Sweetheart, I hate to tell you this, but,” Leon said, pointing to your bump, “you’re gonna have to do it.”

“I’ve heard it’s not that bad, you know, once you get the epidural,” Chris offered.

“You’ve heard it’s not that bad? From whom?” Claire asked in disbelief. 

“Women I know,” Chris responded. 

“We’re like, the only women you know,” Claire said, “and neither Jill, nor I, have ever given birth.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need to,” Jill said, “I take care of babies

for a living regardless.” She tilted her head towards Chris, who didn’t deny the accusation.

“Agreed. I could never do the whole pregnancy thing,” Claire said, “this one is much stronger than me.” She playfully nudged you. You didn’t believe that for a second, but you were fully aware of how rough pregnancy was, and may never have wanted to go through with it if it weren’t for Leon. 

Claire appointed herself as party planner, so she gave the orders - to everyone besides you. “The future mom deserves some rest,” she said. 

“But the future dad doesn’t?” Leon said. 

“Men,” she scoffed, “you’re all the same.”

Cake, decorations, invitations - they handled it all. Leon was the one to write the guest list. You didn’t know many people in the city, but it was far from lonely. Your tight knit circle, which would soon add another member, was all you needed. 

“Just keep it short,” you said. 

Claire, Chris, Jill, who else did he know? Hunnigan? He’d pretty much patched things up with her, might as well. Ashley? Leon hadn’t heard from her in a bit. Definitely should invite Sherry, she’d come. Ada? No way. It’d be a little funny to send her an invite though. Too bad Leon didn’t have her address. It came down to this: Claire, Chris, Jill, Hunnigan, Rebecca, Helena, Ashley, Sherry (Jake, by extension), not Ada. 

“Does this look good, honey?” he asked, handing you the list. 

You didn’t look up from your book, What To Expect When You’re Expecting. Oh, if only a book could tell you. “Just tell me how many people we’re having,” you said.

Leon counted on his fingers like a grown man should. “Including me?”

“Sure.”

“10.”

You could handle 10. Hopefully, they didn’t expect anything fancy. You struggled to fit in your party outfits, and you rarely had the energy to do a full face of makeup and style your hair these days.

The day of the shower, Claire walked in at 11:30 AM, cake already in hand, frantically calling Jill. 

“I can help you put up decorations,” Leon offered.

“I don’t trust your interior decorating skills,” Claire said. 

“Fine, put me to work wherever I can be of use.” His tone was already snippy. 

You walked downstairs in a pink sundress and got a standing ovation from the two people in your living room. Claire put a sash around you that said “Mama to be”. Flashy glitter wasn’t really your style, but it was kind of cute, and apropos of the event. 

All of Leon’s friends were lovely, and you shouldn’t have been surprised - they’re Leon’s friends, of course they’re sweet. 

Ashley had always been a story to you. She looked even prettier in person than in the tabloids, and she really was America’s sweetheart, her bubbly personality was as real as her blonde hair. As it turned out, she has a great taste in baby clothes, too. 

Similarly, Sherry was only a voice over the phone until the party, granted you’d seen a picture of her once. She brought a man with her - you’d heard only a little about him, but they seemed like a cute couple. You could see yourself attending her baby shower. She seemed like she’d be a good mom. 

You were nervous to meet Hunnigan, but you shouldn’t have been. Similar to how you felt when you met Ada, you could see how Leon liked Hunnigan, and you felt bad for harboring a bit of a vendetta against her. She was nothing but friendly, and she even apologized for the fact that she didn’t let you speak to Leon while he was away. 

“No, it’s okay,” you told her in response, “I understand why you did it”. You hoped she knew what you meant, which was “you got the love of my life home safely, nothing else matters”. 

When it came time for you to open your gifts, you realized the purpose of baby showers. Clothes, bibs, pacifiers, diapers, you name it, you got it. 

You weren’t expecting a gift from Leon. After you’d opened your gifts from the rest of the partygoers, Leon stood up, and said, “Can I take my turn now?”

A hush fell over the room, as many of your friends were privy to the event that was about to unfold. Leon got down on one knee. 

“Yes!” You said before he could open his mouth to give you a speech he’d prepared and immediately forgotten. It all amounted to “I love you”, his mantra when it came to you, plus four new words: “Will you marry me?”

You nodded with your face already buried in his neck, hiding your tears from the audience that surrounded you, clapping as they watched the spectacle unfold before their eyes. 

Leon slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly. “How’d you know my size?”

“You’re a heavy sleeper.”

“You measured my finger in my sleep?”

“I sure did.”

“You did a good job picking out the cut, too.”

“I had some assistance,” he admitted, looking at Claire and Jill, who were both grinning ear-to-ear. 

As were you.  

A package arrived a day after the shower. No return address. It had your name on it, but Leon insisted on being the one to open it because he was paranoid about it being anthrax or whatever. It was not anything deadly. It was a gift, in fact. A teddy bear with a note that said, “Congratulations!” signed “A.W.”, and you both knew who it was. Ada, of course. 

“Aw,” you said, “that’s so thoughtful. I wish we knew her address so we could send her a thank you note.”

“Very thoughtful,” Leon echoed your words, but they seemed to hold a greater weight when he said them. 

“What?” you asked when you noticed the amusement on his face. 

He told you about the charm on the key to the jetski - the one Ada gave him back in Spain when he was famously rescuing the president’s daughter. 

“Would Ashley recognize it?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“I was gonna text her.”

“You have her number?”

“Yeah, she gave it to me. I’m stealing your friends and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

The baby arrived early. On Halloween of all nights. Your water broke at a get-together with friends. You couldn’t party while pregnant, but you could eat a fuckton of candy and wear a cute costume. Leon drove you to the hospital without changing his - or your - clothes, so you both showed up in costume. One day you would be able to tell Matilda how you and Leon were dressed as Daphne and Fred from Scooby Doo the day you got to meet her. What To Expect When You’re Expecting did not contain any information about how to prepare for labor when you’re wearing a Halloween costume. Like most of life’s greatest joys, Matilda Grace Kennedy took her sweet time to arrive after a long, exhausting labor.

It was all worth it. One night, looking down at your baby girl you sang to her as Leon looked upon you both fondly.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are gray.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.

I love you more and more everyday.

The other night, dear, while I was sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear, I was so happy

That I hugged you all day long. 

You’d noticed the confusion on Leon’s face towards the end of the first verse, but he didn’t comment until the song was over. Once he was done clapping for you - which made you roll your eyes - he said, “The lyrics - did you change them? Or am I misremembering the song?”

“My mom changed them. She used to sing to me when I was a baby, and she thought the song was too sad so she made up her own words. They’re hers, not mine, but I’m gonna pass them on.”

“How does the original go?”

“The ending of the first verse is ‘please don’t take my sunshine away’, and the ending of the second verse is ‘I was so sorry that I hung my head and cried’.”

“Those are depressing. Yours are better. Plus, you have a beautiful voice.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. If you sang to me, I’d fall asleep, too,” Leon said, pointing to Matilda who was passed out in your arms. 

One afternoon, you heard Leon in his home office - he was singing something. You approached quietly, knowing that if he heard you, he’d stop. On your tiptoes, you pressed your ear against the door, and heard him singing your mother’s version of You Are My Sunshine. It was a catchy tune. 

You didn’t tell him about it at the time, but that night, he was holding Matilda in the rocking chair in her nursery, and you walked in to find him singing it to her. You started to tear up and couldn’t even blame it on the pregnancy hormones anymore. 

Leon didn’t notice you standing in the doorway. He was much too focused on the little girl in his arms. Towards the end of the song, he stopped, forgetting the lyrics, so you jumped in and sang the ending for him. 

“I didn’t know you were standing there.”

“I know. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to stop. You have a beautiful voice.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“She likes it.” You pointed towards the sleeping baby. 

“I wish I could sleep like her.”

Once Matilda started sleeping through the night, so did you and Leon. According to scientists, dreams are our subconscious processing our waking hours, reliving our days in fragments. Agent Kennedy - briefly Officer Kennedy - a man married to his work who carried a gun as his sidekick, had frequent nightmares. Leon S. Kennedy, your husband who carried a little girl up on his shoulders while you walked alongside the Potomac on spring mornings when the cherry blossoms were in bloom, had only good dreams.  

[suzukiblu]

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 

So maybe an idiot. 

A very hot idiot, though. 

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 

The hell? 

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 

Bernard is mystified. 

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 

Weird. 

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 

That sounds amazing, actually. 

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 

And so is his belly button, it looks like. 

Ngh. 

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 

“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 

"What?" Superboy says. 

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 

. . . well, that can't be good.

[mickeym4ndy]

A lil snippet of this fanfic where Yevgeny meets Ian for the first time as a teenager, after his friend is injured and Ian is the paramedic on duty. (Mickey moved states to be close to Yev & Svet right after getting out of prison and hasn’t seen Ian in 16 years).

————————

The red head’s eyes were darting around the hospital reception, like he was looking for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. Yevgeny eyed him suspiciously.

“What you still doing here, anyway? Didn’t think you guys stuck around after bringing people to the hospital.”

The paramedic’s - Ian, Yevgeny reminded himself - eyes widened. “Uh, yeah, I uh… I had some paperwork to fill out from another case,” he answered. Yevgeny nodded and turned away, planning to go see if he could get a snack from the vending machine. Before he could leave, though, Ian spoke again.

“Your friend okay?”

Yevgeny nodded. “Yeah. You were right. Broken ankle. He’ll be out for the rest of the school year but he should be able to play next year when the season starts up again.”

“Good. That’s good.”

At the thought of the next soccer season, Yevgeny’s stomach dropped. The school could easily kick them off the team for all this.

Ian’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Is uh… is your dad on his way? Is he coming to pick you up?” Something about the guy seemed nervous, but Yevgeny didn’t dwell on that for too long as thoughts of having to tell his parents he was kicked off the team filled his head. Yev shuddered at the thought. God, his parents were going to be so pissed.

“Shit. Yeah, he’s on his way. Should be here any minute.” Yevgeny’s eyes anxiously flickered towards the hospital doors, waiting for his dad’s surely explosive arrival.

His dad was a pretty fair parent, his mom being the stricter one. His dad scared other people, Yev knew that. But he didn’t scare Yevgeny. Underneath the tough exterior and tattoos, he was a nice dude who cared about his family more than anything.

But, Yevgeny knew he’d fucked up badly tonight. It would probably go on his permanent record, and if there was one thing his mom always enforced, it was the importance of not fucking up his future. Soccer was his chance at a college scholarship.

Plus, he had promised his dad he wouldn’t go along with any of Jackson’s stupid plans, but he did. And his dad fucking hated lying. Yevgeny never really lied to his dad. Honestly. He told his dad when he had his first kiss, his first beer. Even though all of his friends lied to their parents and said they were chilling at a friend’s house when they were going to parties, Yevgeny always actually told his dad the truth. Mickey had always told Yevgeny that he could tell him anything, call him at anytime if something happened, and he’d be there for him.

But Yevgeny hadn’t told him they were planning to sneak out of the hotel this time. So yeah, between lying and fighting with the other team to the point his friend landed in hospital, Yevgeny knew he was going to be in some deep shit once his dad arrived.

“You okay?” Yevgeny looked back at Ian. His dread must be pretty apparent on his face. His mom always said he was like his dad in that way, no fucking poker face. That and they pretty much had the same face.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just, ah, realizing I’m probably gonna be grounded for the whole summer.”

Ian chuckled, but there was something dark behind his eyes. “Well, could be worse.”

And yeah, Yev knew that was true. His mom and dad never went into too much detail about their childhoods, but Yev gathered enough information about their pasts to know that the both of his parents got punishments a lot worse than a few months with no social life. Still, it was the summer before senior year, and he was bummed he was going to miss out on it because he was stupid enough to listen to fucking Jackson.

“You hungry? Have you eaten?” Ian pulled Yevgeny out of his thoughts.

“Was just gonna get something from the vending machine,” he answered.

Ian shook his head. “Wait here. The staff cafeteria is 24 hours. They know me there. I’ll go grab you something to keep you going until -“ Ian faltered. “Until, uh, your dad gets here.”

Yevgeny was quick to refuse. “No, no, that’s fine man, you don’t need to do that.” But Ian wasn’t having it.

“No, it’s fine. It’s late and you should eat.” He paused before he said, “besides, you’re 17. You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ll uh…” He turned and looked at Yevgeny, and Yev realized it was the first time since the conversation started that the guy was actually looking him in the eye. Ian’s face held the same haunted look he was wearing in the ambulance. “I’ll come back and wait with you until your dad gets here.”

Yevgeny went to protest because he’s not a fucking kid, damnit. But the red head was already half way down the hallway.

Yevgeny watched as the guy walked away. He didn’t really understand why the dude was doing all this for him, why he seemed so concerned about him. Surely he saw this sort of stuff all the time in his line of work. He especially didn’t understand why Ian looked at him like he’d seen a fucking ghost.

Yevgeny didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, though, because pretty soon he heard the familiar voice of his father come through the doors of the hospital.

“YEVGENY MILKOVICH!”

[wikiangela]

Ohhhh please some alive shannon for the poor? 🥺🫴

hiii, of course, here's a lil snippet for you <3 (so much of the current chapter is a mess of disjointed pieces of dialogue, and there's some parts I'm rewriting and it's a mess rn lol but I'm getting back to fully working on it istg haha)

“Dad?” Christopher’s voice reaches his ears just as he’s about to turn around and leave the room.  “Yeah?”  “Do you love mom?” His voice is so small and quiet, but it feels like the loudest sound in the world in Eddie’s ears. For a second the question knocks the breath out of him. He didn’t expect that at all, though with all the yelling and arguing their son surely witnessed or overheard, he shouldn’t be surprised. He always tried to make sure that if there’s one thing he never wants Christopher to question in this whole situation, is that both his parents love him more than anything. But he never thought he’d get asked this, of all things. “Christopher,” Eddie turns back to his kid, sits back down on the bed. “Listen to me very carefully, okay? Your mom and I might not be together anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I do, I love her, and I always will.” “Then why did you break up?” His kid asks with a frown, confusion in his little face. Eddie doesn’t feel prepared for this conversation, not all on his own. Shan should be here, right by his side for it. But she just left a few minutes ago, she doesn’t live with them, so he can’t really blame her, not this time

[mudandmire]

Ghost

Azriel made a deal with the Mother ten years ago: his service in return for Eris's life. Azriel leaves no impression on the world anymore, no footprints or sounds. The only thing he leaves behind are rivers - endless erosions of blood through the stone he bore the day Eris died. His obedience, in return for Eris's survival. There is no other way.

Yet the decade passes, and The Autumn Court is falling into turmoil. In the midst of the heatwave drying out their crops, trying to discover who wants him dead, and delicately balancing his bargain with the Night Court and the unpredictability of his volatile father - Eris finds an even greater secret. One he probably wasn't ever supposed to know.

AH first chapter is here!! I'm ✨terrified✨ This is for all the lovelies who inspired me, but also those who were so so kind and liked my little pet project. I have little experience being in such a forward, loving community, where every praise you have is shared. I adore it, I'm working to be more like y'all because there's nothing like kindness shared ❤️

I have no idea what I'm doing 🫠. I am Completely Obsessed with this idea - it's taken over all my thoughts at work, too, so that's fun. Hope you enjoy a lil snippet from the chapter :D

...

The woods hang their breath; fog in the trees, swirling through the limbs of pines. The flurry comes down faster collecting in the strands of Eris's hair and in his sooty eyelashes.

At his side, his blade weighs heavy. The two males continue to talk over the body sprawled in the snow. Their voices ring from far away, lost to the near silence the forest has collected around them in this little clearing.

Azriel makes to take a step toward Eris, but jerks back like a string being pulled taut. He shifts to right the strain, casting a narrow-eyed glance to the barren branches, as if something sits there—watching.

"Would you stop running your mouth and get the knife?" The second male points a long, pale finger to the bag in the snow, having been shucked off in relief when they made it to the clearing.

The knuckles on his fingers are raw, a ruddy red color from dragging a body through the cold. Azriel's shadows follow his gaze, the rage filtered through them that he has no allowance to feel. He watches him; finds the aspects of his face and the clothes he wears and documents it. The male isn't all that impressive, and apart from having the same pointed ears high fae have, he would've easily mistaken him for a lower rank: a farmer, perhaps.

White flakes catch on the dark, muddy brown strands of the fae's hair. He brushes at his runny nose as his beady, dark eyes scan over the clearing.

They sweep over where Azriel is standing, and continue on.

"Got it!" The second male shouts, echoing through the still silent woods. Not a bird calls back. Not a single scamper of little paws through the crunch of snow and twigs answers.

Foolish fae, they should know better than to trust a silent wood. Azriel thinks to himself, the shadows chittering in agreement.

The first male rubs his hands together, the friction faint, his breath pooling like great clouds in front of his narrow face. "Fucking finally." He says, and pulls out a crumpled, awkwardly folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Now, give it here."

He passes the knife over. An unassuming silver shine that catches the watery light, it's hilt wrapped in worn leather. It looks like it would be lost in an armory and never found again.

Azriel feels the muscles along his shoulders tense, his legs stiffening in the snow as if being rooted to the earth. He's much more comfortable with the knife in the second males hand—a little bit awkward, unaware of consequences tied to the blade like a red ribbon.

The shadows go shrill, piercing through the muffled drone of Azriel's thoughts. They bring forth the accompanying jolt of his heart—the twist deep in his stomach as he catches the mad glint in the males eyes as he holds the knife aloft.

"Ten thousand gold marks, Lachlan." He whispers, nearly to himself. There's a sheen on his thin, pale lips from how many times he's licked at them. "And we've got it."

A smile, crooked and strangely excited, grows on Lachlan's face.

Foolish, the shadows whisper, delighting in the wait just as much as Azriel is. Unwise creatures—their spilt blood will be refreshing.

The second male pauses, just enough for Azriel to catch it and take it as his cue.

…

Tag list -

@c-starstuff-man0 @futurehunt @chunkypossum @somnolentsoul

(please please lemme know if I missed you or you want off or if I did it wrong fanks :])

[archon-maenad]

yknow I wrote out this whole post explaining why I don't often consume original media of what I post about and how worm isn't an outlier there, in a lot of unnecessary detail, and then realized I was just dancing around the point.

I am literally just not fucking emotionally strong enough to read worm. I am a lil bitch who cannot imagine actually having to follow in detail step-by-step the tragedy of taylor hebert.

but the problem is that I really want to read worm! because being on wormblr instead of just reading fanfic has like. shown me how deficient I am with the actual characters. I can write for hours about earth bet cultural trauma but when it comes to people I'd have so little if I wasn't consuming snippets and learning about smaller canonical moments via posts.

and I want to change that. I want to write actual literary analysis on worm as a story, not just worm as a world. but all my posts of the former can't match up to mine of the latter because I haven't read the source material!

so like. I should read worm on principle. I want to read worm. and I literally don't think I am emotionally sturdy enough to force myself to do it.

maybe I can start by just reading every chapter bonesaw is in or referenced. that way I can learn and write more about my favorite girl in a way that doubles as exposure therapy to the story.

(the fact this sounds viable says so much about all the ways my brain is broken lol)

[dpsisquared]

A lil only one bed snippet, for funsies 🛏️💙💚 (Hopes Dimileth)

"I am terribly sorry about this, Byleth." "You said that already," she said, her face frustratingly impossible to read. "A lot." It wasn't that Byleth was rude-- quite the opposite, he realized once he became accustomed to her mannerisms. Her responses were just so alien to him, a complete reversal of the cloying noble etiquette he'd known all his life. She should be angry with him, and if she wasn't the most honest person he'd ever known, he'd suspect her of lying to spare his guilt. It had been his foolish whim to steal off to the town and masquerade as a knight, indulging the selfish impulse to temporarily cast off the burden of his station. Byleth had caught him at it-- if a wretch such as him had any strengths, stealth was definitely not among them-- but rather than admonish him, she'd simply tagged along for the trip, a quiet, reassuring presence at his back.

The gentlemanly thing to do would have been getting back to camp early, but goddess forgive him, he'd reveled in her company, stretching out every menial task he performed to prolong the comfort he didn't deserve. Every word he coaxed out of her, every muted expression and elusive, soft smile felt like a victory greater than any battle won. And because of his selfishness, they were now trapped in this inn-- in this single room-- to wait out the storm. "I shall sleep on the floor, of course," he said, as if that paltry sacrifice could make up for a blunder of this magnitude. "Why?" she asked, gesturing at the bed with her chin. "'s big enough for two." Again, that honesty, that utter lack of guile, charmed him and flustered him in equal measure. How could she suggest they share a bed in such an impassive tone? As if the size of the bed were the issue, and not-- well, he didn't want to let his thoughts wander down that particular path, lest his depravity show on his face. "No, I must insist, Byleth. I could never forgive myself if your reputation was tarnished by my foolishness." "Reputation?" She wrinkled her nose in confusion, and he found even that expression positively endearing. He was starting to suspect that he was, as Sylvain had accused, a goner. Finally, realization dawned on her face. "Oh. You don't need to worry about that." "Nonsense! With your skill and your exceptional contributions to the Kingdom, you will surely have the opportunity to marry well, particularly in Faerghus where I-- where the nobles are so very fond of you, and--" At that moment he wished that Byleth was more like his other blunt swordsman friend, who would have given him a look of disgust to stop his rambling long ago. "That's not what I meant," she said. Her gaze was averted, hiding half her face from him, but he swore he could make out the slightest hint of pink on her cheeks. It was gone before he could be sure, and she turned back to him, face blank once more. "Anyone who knows you knows you wouldn't dare. And anyone who knows me knows you'd be dead before you could get it out of your pants." "Ah." He huffed a laugh despite himself. "That is quite reassuring, actually."

[werepuppy-steve]

taylor (@steddie-island) and i have been in the trenches for the past week creating the most beautiful (and smutty) steddissy au and i'm very 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 about it. it's still mostly headcanons right now with inklings of plot sprinkled in, so i thought i should make a worldbuilding post about it since it's officially being added to my wip pile <3

tagging some people i think would be interested in this: @dangerous-disposition @tboybuck @patchworkgargoyle @thefreakandthehair @starryeyedjanai

@corrodedbisexual @sidekick-hero @spectrum-spectre @munsondickprint @augustjustice

@worstsequence @rozzieroos

it doesn't get real graphic under the cut but putting it under one bc it's a lil long

the beginnings of it are touched on here, but it's expanded a little bit.

it's a modern au. steddissy are still in that platonic/friends with benefits stage: steve and eddie are dating but chrissy is very happy and content being single. she likes that it gives her more freedom to do things without having a controlling partner breathing down her neck every time she turns around.

they're streamers. i don't have their niche's fleshed out yet but they do collabs with each other a lot.

we went into dirty details in dms about the three of them sexting constantly, which turns into them rolling out their onlyfans accounts. they already have so many things filmed just from their texts alone, so why not make money off of it?

some more headcanons and ideas were thrown around (along with taylor giving me snippets of her own steddissy wips that you should def ask her about if she's willing to share them 👀) that i'll probably make a separate post for.

it's been established that chrissy is a squirter

but between all the filthy smut, there's love. so much of it that i get choked up just thinking about it.

i started thinking of people who are in mostly online spaces and have probably never interacted with the queer community in real life, and how they wouldn't have the kindest opinions.

so eddie would get all of these tweets that are like "you're gay but you enjoy having sex with a woman??? [confused math lady] make it make sense." he ignores them at first because randos on the internet aren't entitled to his relationships, but it becomes frequent enough that he starts getting accused of "calling himself gay for clout" and dragging steve and chrissy into it, and then he has to address it.

he does it in a video because he's still dramatic.

"having sex with a woman doesn't make me not gay. i've been gay since i was 15 and a boy gave me my first hickey. chrissy is my platonic partner. yes, she's very cute and adorable and it makes me want to scream sometimes, but i'm not attracted to her because she's a woman. i'm attracted to her because she's my best friend and my feelings for her run so much deeper than romantic love. chrissy doesn't even label herself with a sexuality. she just likes people.

steve is my boyfriend. i'm romantically involved with him and physically attracted to him because he's a man. steve, however, is bi, so he does find chrissy attractive as a woman, and there's nothing wrong with that. they're also not interested in dating each other. the three of us fool around with each other because it's fun and we like making each other feel good and we trust each other. it's nobody else's business what we do."

and because he's a petty little shit (a trait he learned from steve) he posts a video of him and chrissy having the most tendernasty missionary sex, complete with kissing and hand holding.

then it turned into the three of them being roommates. and then somewhere along the line it turned into chrissy being steve and eddie's surrogate and the three of them coparenting (a big win for steve "breeding kink" harrington), because at this stage in their relationship, they're pretty secure in knowing that chrissy is their life partner. they're not Together together, but they know she's not going anywhere.

i think that for them to get to this point, something would've had to happen between chrissy and someone outside of their relationship. someone she's had frequent collabs on onlyfans with, who maybe wanted something more and called her a hypocrite when she said she wasn't looking for anything serious, because of steve and eddie, and wouldn't listen when she insisted that it was different with them.

she tells the boys this and it turns into her coming with sobs of "i'm yours" as she rides steve while eddie fucks him. taylor mentioned they dp her and i said that that would be the moment it kind of clicks for them that this is how they were always meant to be.

and it gave me thoughts about possibly arospec chrissy. she loves her boys with her entire being, but she knows it's not romantic love. like eddie says, it feels deeper than that. to call it "romantic" almost feels like it cheapens their relationship (she knows it doesn't, she knows that eddie and steve's romantic feelings for each other are real and just as important). she's not sure if she's ever felt romantic love for anyone.

and that's all we have for now, outside of the smut alkgjldkfgj. none of them actually care about who the kid belongs to. they've got chrissy's light hair and dark eyes.

[tswaney17]

Shadow Puppets

For the amazing @leiaamidala!! I'm your Secret Santa this year, and I hope you love cheesy, Elriel fluff! Thank you for being such an amazing person and a wonderful friend. I wish you a year full of happiness and cheer (and confirmation 😘)!! ❄🎄

This fic is based on the artwork linked here.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: minor language. Mostly tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 1,136

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read here.

Azriel shadow-walked them to the front door of their home from the River Manor. Typically, he preferred to fly. But with Elain two months from giving birth to the twins, and their adopted Illyrian son, flying became too much of a challenge to do so safely. Especially since Kaden was still learning how to properly fly, having not been taught before he was left at the orphanage, nor during his time spent there.

It was something Azriel could relate to more so than anyone else. That fear of flying becomes ingrained into your mind without realizing it until you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with a looming drop before you.

Kaden had tremendously improved since they began their flying lessons, but he still struggled to maintain himself if caught in a wind draft and Azriel preferred not to have his pregnant wife in his arms should he need to save his son.

So, when it was the three of them—soon to be five, gods spare him—he preferred the easier method of transportation. He still couldn’t believe they were going to be a family of five soon. He didn’t know what he did to be blessed with such a beautiful wife and the most perfect children. Lord knows he had done atrocities for the sake of his court. But somehow, through all the darkness surrounding him, Elain saw the light he never knew was shining inside of him.

A soul to match hers.

Read More

~~~~~

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[blorb-el]

trick or treat! :D

a lil snippet of kryptonians with fangies for you......... •́ᵥᵥ•̀....

600ish words, gen, kon and clark, no particular warnings, does not really fit into canon timelines, just early on in their relationship. written mostly just to dabble in kon's voice as a warmup for wsbf :D

---

Superman sighs after a second. His thumbs press very slightly on Kon’s cheek, and then he lets go. “It looks like your fangs are impacted.”

Kon drops his head, shakes off the weird after touch feeling of Superman’s hands on his face.

Wait.

“Say that again.”

“Your fangs are a little impacted. The left one’s grown in lopsided,” Superman says. His brow’s furrowed again but in that way that means he’s thinking, not in the way that means he’s mad. “My left, your right, that is.”

“My... fangs.”

Superman nods, still thinking.

“Okay,” Kon says slowly, and feels the roof of his mouth again with his tongue, as if he hasn’t been constantly doing that the last two weeks. “My fangs?”

It comes out a little loud. Superman’s attention snaps back to him, the full spotlight of it. “Did I not…” He trails off, looks a little pained.

“Tell me about growing fangs?” Kon says, a little hysterically. This is possibly the best thing that has happened to him since the Justice League continued to allow Young Justice to exist.

Superman winces. “I guess not,” he says. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it.”

“But you don’t have fangs,” Kon says, brain still trying to wrap itself around the idea that extra teeth have been in his skull this whole time and he may be about to look twenty times cooler all the time.

Superman looks at him, head tilted again. “They’re retractable,” he says.

Okay. That makes sense. Out of every single superhero Kon has met thus far, Superman is probably the only one square enough to have fangs and not show them off. “And how do I un-retract them?” he asks. That has to be priority one.

“Well, they’re impacted right now. And they’re still growing in. So you don’t.”

This is pure Superman. First tell a guy he has fangs and then immediately say he has to be responsible about them. “Can we un-impact them?”

Superman nods, thinking. “There should be something about it in Kandor,” he mutters to himself, and then refocuses on Kon. “I need to do some research first, but yes.” Kon's maybe-not-so-subtly trying to look at his teeth while he talks. They seem disappointingly human looking. He’s about to make a comment when Superman - huh. Superman lets out a breath of air that on anyone else Kon would call a snort. “Still retracted,” he says.

This might be difficult. Kon gathers all his resources, and hits Clark with his widest eyed, pleading-est stare. “Can I see them? Please?”

Superman looks at him a moment, mouth twisted up into a smile at the corner. Then he drops his head down a little and moves his jaw and tongue in a strange kind of way. He swallows, and then smiles again, slowly opening up from his normal closed-mouth smile to a bared-teeth smile to a wide sort of awkward grimace.

Holy shit. His canines have been replaced with fangs. Twice the size of his other teeth. Superman opens his mouth wider, and Kon can faintly see the tips of his human looking canines just above his gum line, where they’ve retreated to make room for the fangs to slot in. It changes his whole face shape into something leaner, more dangerous, more alien.

Kon needs his teeth to be fixed ASAP. “Holy shit,” he says without thinking. “I mean. That’s so cool. Why the hell would you ever retract those?”

Superman’s eyebrow drifts up. His lips close over his weird grimace. Even with his mouth closed his face still looks strange - his jaw’s opened a bit, to make room for the huge fucking fangs. “I try not to scare people,” he says, and there’s a strange wry note in his voice that makes Kon think he maybe should back off. Still. Goddamn.