#this isn't a fic sneak peek or anything

[solelifauna]

But You Belong to Me (You Belong to Me) - (Yandere Jason Todd x Reader) Sneak Peak!!

Hey guys! I just thought I'd post a sneak peek for the upcoming yandere Jason Todd x Reader fic. It isn't much but hope y'all like it!

[Exerpt]

Heavy rain pelts down onto your frame, coveted in all black; what a bleak day it was, but you guessed the weather was befitting the occasion. There are three other people standing next to you also dressed in black. There was a hand on your shoulder (you don't know whose though, and you can't seem to care either), most likely in place to comfort you, or to try at least, but you couldn't focus on anything else but the too small coffin being lowered into the ground.

It was mahogany, a deep brown casket with gold details, something fancy. You knew if Jason were alive to see it, he'd hate it. He likes–liked red, he would have wanted a red one. But no, he was busy being lowered into the ground instead. Tears streamed down your face but you couldn't bring yourself to wipe them. What good would it do you? It was raining anyway.

The funeral comes to a close, although you're not sure when (how) time passed so quickly, leaving Jason, your best friend, the boy you loved, buried six feet under. You don't know what to do, you don't know what you can do. You just stand there, unable to move. He's dead. He’s dead. You’ll never see him again, he’s dead. You'll never sit on the couch with him arguing over his book of the week, he’s dead. You'll never get to stay up and watch the stars with him, he’s dead. You'll never get to tell him how you really feel, he's dead.  

It's only when Bruce, his father, gently tries to guide you to the car you came in, you break. You lash out, twisting away from his hand as you trip over yourself trying to get to Jason’s headstone. Bruce and Dick, Jason’s older brother, exclaim in surprise and then follow after you. You collapse on your knees near the freshly lain dirt, sobbing with your full chest.

You could hear Bruce and Dick stop a couple of feet away from you, unable to comfort you in their own grief. That was fine though, you're not sure what you'd say or do if they tried to. They let you have your time with him, knowing it was just as difficult for you as it was for them, but as time ticks by another hour has passed and you’re still kneeling by his grave, no longer crying, but still unmoving. 

You stared blankly at his headstone, still trying to realize that he wasn't coming back. When you feel someone grab your shoulder this time, you know it's Alfred. And you know what he's going to say to you, the words you’ve been dreading to hear.

“It’s time to go Miss (Y/n).” Alfred says gently, his own voice filled with grief at the loss of his grandson.

You don't say anything, your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Alfred only sighs, before taking his leave. Good. Nobody was taking you away from here. A couple more minutes pass when you hear another pair of footsteps headed towards you. Bruce.

“(Y/n),” Bruce calls softly, yet voice still rough and raw from his own sorrow, “It’s–It's time to go now sweetie.”

You don't even turn around from where you were sitting. “No.” You say firmly.

Bruce and Alfred exchange a look. 

“Miss (Y/n),” Alfred starts, “ you’ve been sitting out in the rain all day. Wouldn't you like a change of–”

“No!” You shout out this time. You flinch back from the sound of your own voice, and you could tell Alfred and Bruce were taken aback by your behavior as well. 

With a sigh, Bruce decides that he'd come get you himself, any longer out here and you'd be sick for a week. His hands come around to grab you, to pull you up and you scream, kicking and fighting your way out of his hold.

“No! No, I wont leave him! I'm not gonna leave him! Let me go!” You cry, banging your punny fists against Bruce’s chest. He doesn't even flinch, he just holds you and lets you cry, kick, and scream. 

“Please let me go! He–he doesn't like being alone, I promised him–I promised I'd never let him be alone.” You cry out again, your voice fizzling into another sob as your fussing stops. You just stand there, slumping into Bruce’s arms, sobbing once more.

He doesn't say another word, he just brushes your tears away and leads you towards the limo where Dick was already situated. Alfred sits you down into the limo, making his way to the driver's seat. Bruce slides in next, eyes aghast and tired, clearly haunted by the loss of his youngest. Dick is turned away from the rest of you in a similar state. The car starts, heading towards the manor.

It was a silent and short ride over, nobody daring or having the strength to say anything. The vehicle comes to a stop, everyone numbly piling out the door and into the Manor. Dinner would be forgotten tonight as everyone went to their own respective places to continue grieving. Bruce, to the Batcave; Alfred, to the Library; Dick, to patrolling the streets of Gotham (knowing that if he stayed in the manor, he’d end up breaking something); and you, to Jason's room.

You crumpled onto the maroon carpet, gazing around his room, hoping that you'd see him pop up and tell you it was all a joke. But he wouldn't. You saw his mangled body. You knew that he was never coming back. What's even worse, is that you could still see Jason’s unfinished math homework lying on his desk, the paper slightly crumpled from when he would undoubtedly grip and erase out of frustration. Mrs. Delaurier’s algebra II homework would forever remain unfinished.

You promptly break into tears once more.

[I want to preface that the reader is NOT adopted by Bruce Wayne!]

[c0smoshit]

Comfort headcanons!!

⋆ ࣪. ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 ≫ Cloud, Zack and my bby Vincent

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ none, just fluff

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ First little fic after a while, hope you guys enjoy!!

Cloud

★ As we all know, he isn't the best comfort buddy

★ But, through all the years he had to slowly leave behind all his trauma, he definitely has softened up

★ Secretly loves the way you would fall asleep on him after bawling your eyes out

★ Obviously not much of a talker, he prefers to listen and just be there for you

★ I just love to think that it always ends up in a hours-lasting cuddling session, doesn't matter if he was the one who needed to be comforted or the other way around

"It´s fine, really" However, your puffy cheeks said otherwise as you adverted your gaze from him. Your arms hugging your body wearily, soft sniffles and of course, your ragged breathing was all you had let him see. His approach was sincere, walking slowly up to you just to place a hand on your shoulder, he sure had improved on how to just... listen over the years. "Talk to me" But still you wouldn't budge, turning your face from him, embarrassed he had to see you like this once again. So after huffing out a sigh he seemed to have been holding for quite a while now, he placed his left hand on your unoccupied shoulder and pulled you closer to him. Then you let go, ugly sobbing into his chest as you fisted his shirt. His hands trying the most soothing patterns he recalls you drawing on his back after a rough day. He would caress as tenderly as he could, not quite being used to touching a texture softer than the handle of his sword, to hear such pretty cries and not from death. "Sorry, I just-" You hiccuped after you had rambled your sorrows into the tension-filled air of your room. However, he didn't budge, muffling your priceless apologies into his chest as he opted to just hold you for however you needed him to. That was his way of showing you how much he appreciated you, everything you had done to soothe him, he will reciprocate too.

Zack

★ MAJOR comforter

★ I mean, he doesn't even have to do anything, his meere presence is just so comforting

★ He feels bad about it but he loves your face whenever you're grumpy or upset, he just finds your tear-stained cheeks so cute!

★ Oh and btw, you aren't crying more than 5 minutes when he's around

★ He would do anything to make you forget it, want some icecream? He's already bought like 10 of them. A massage? Face down lying on your mattress asap

"C'mon y/n" You felt his saddened voice ring through your ears, his hands holding your waist as you hid your face under your palms. Your cheekbones glistening and getting irritated from the saltiness of your tears, and the more he tried to sneak a peek out of the them, the worse he felt. "Look at me please" He whispered as he delicately placed his still gloved hands over yours, finally prying them off your gorgerous face. "There we go, as beautiful as I remember" You didn't know why, but at first glance, his dumb but somewhat anxious smile looking down at you made you mimic his own expression, earning a playful laugh from him. It really wasn't fair, you thought, you could never be upset around him. "What? Got something funny on my face?" He joked before swiftly moving his hands and reaching the sides of your waist, nagging your sides until he had to catch you from falling on your ass as you laughed. "You're such a dork" You giggled out after he lifted you into his arms, your feet dangling off the floor as your arms were trapped under a bear hug. Hearts beating shakily into each other the more he nuzzled into you. "Yeah, but you love it"

Vincent

★ Tbh I think he's the most compressive of the three

★ Would and will listen to you ramble for hours of necessary, he's such a hopeless romantic

★ Not a fan of physical contact but if you are, he would not complain if you wanted to cuddle with him

★ (I mean this mf is always sleeping on his coffin)

★ Will do whatever you felt more comfortable with, if you just want him to listen and be there, he will, if you want to be alone, he will leave you be (but ofc he later would be looking for you to see if you were fine)

"Who was it?" A sudden deep voice rang through your ears, making you jolt up from the floor as you looked around to spot the source of it. And of course, it was your deary sneaky vampire. "Jesus" You choked out before turning your back to him, telling him that one, he really should stop sneaking on you like that and two, of course it was nothing. Either way, as soon as he heard your pained voice he knew you required some comfort, he's been there already. The more you stepped away, the more he tried to approach you, finally getting to wrap his cold arms on your waist as your back pressed against his chest. . . . You both stayed like that for a while, rocking back and forth as he lulled you, letting you cry out your last tears before you finally felt relief, slumping down on him as sleepiness took over your features.

He huffed out what seemed a quiet laugh before dragging you back into your bed, sitting on it first as he let you nestle on his lap, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you slowly dozed off on him. His cloack sure was comforting.

Bonus!!

"Don't let such a stupid thing get into your head dummy" "Yeah, she's right y/n" You swore you couldn't feel any warmer in that moment, the girl's you've always looked up to were sweeter than ever. And yeah, it was a stupid thing you were upset about too.

Then they both took you on one of the best improvised little dates ever, taking walks and admiring the (not-so-clean) streets of Midgar. Then Aerith took you to her house, Tifa following shortly behind you as they both giggled playfully.

A cuddling session followed closely and you were absolutely living it. Snacking on some homemade food Aerith's mom had worked on the day before and nuzzling your head onto Aerith's chest meanwhile Tifa had her arms around you for behind.

"You both are the best, really"

You sighed out, your eyes not puffy anymore as you glanced at both of them. Earning more sweet comments from the brunnete and nods from the bartender.

[inmaki]

gojo fic dropping jan 3 (POSTED!) here is a sneak peek of whats to cum, if u wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!!!!

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn't just good at sex.

no — according to himself, he was some kind of sex god, to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with luscious white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he's done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you'd gotten together - going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn't blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn't initiated anything; y'know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know, your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

"bro, it'd be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!" flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

"everything'd be fine if you didn't pretend to be some incubus that gets girls to cum with a snap of his finger," geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he's resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. "that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. "how'm i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn't trust me anymore?"

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "you know y/n isn't like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow," he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she'll be begging for you in no time."

as usual, geto knows him too well judging by the way his last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. "ya think so?"

"hell yeah, man." the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a determined gleam in both of their eyes.

sorry this is short but i gotta leave the good stuff a surprise <\3 finally my kpop smut blog skills r coming in handy.. i may be rusty tho i apologize

[smilesatdawnmain]

Ultimate Au Guide (LMK)

All my Lego Monkey Kid Au’s in one big post. ( i don't wanna talk about how long this took me. don't ask me. I'll cry...)

Warning: this thing is huge

This consists of current Au’s, future Au’s, Au’s of Au’s, and anything in between!

Current Au’s;

Taken

Summary: Wukong and Macaque unknowingly have twins. Before they can realize this miracle, one (MK) is Taken away to the human realm by Nezha. All to prevent the Jade Emperor from killing this child and starting another war.

This story focuses on Qi Xiaotian, the Monkey Prince, and young “human” orphan MK as the two try to reunite while also avoiding every third party force trying to use the two for their own personal gain.

Fanfic: Yes here is the link

Ships:

Red x Xiaoxiao (Xiaotian the twin, not MK) but… you know, there might be some MKxRedSon. (It’ll be dramatic, trust me)

Shadowpeach

FreeNoodles (Tang X Pigsy)

AzureLion x Ao Lie

My art:

First (From old account. It's crazy how much of a change my art and character design has come from this first post)

Older designs I really did love Xiaoxiao's outfit here though. I should bring it back. Maybe as his "he's discovered himself" outfit XD

This should lead to all art

Fanart:

forever-in-dreamland

shiomik

pumpk1nappl3p1

litt1e-prince

litt1e-prince (Xiaoxiao's room!)

sketchskelonkey

cinnamelrollin

jeez-a

clementine-shine

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 6 or 7 /10

------

The Day the World Eclipsed

Summary: After losing his Mate and child 500 years ago, a miracle occurs when Sun Wukong is gifted with the return of his child, Qi Xiaotian. His little Star, his everything, Wukong dedicates himself to being a better Father and man. This is all tested when he is reunited with the reincarnations of his companions to the West and his long-lost Mate returned from the grave. Custody battles and shared parenting can be such a messy thing~

Fanfic: Yes, here is the Link

Ships:

-Shadow Peach (past mention, and then very slow burn forgiveness)

Spicy Noodles (possibly future, still under debate)

My Art:

First Piece (Still on my old account)

If I had to pick a cover for this au, it would be this (also on old account)

Older MK sneak peak

This will lead to all other art

Fan Art

lagt-duck

dumbbitch2-0

a-small-tired-lonely-potato 

crypticpaw

litt1e-prince

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 4 or 5 /10

----

The First Gift

(One shot) (This does have a sequel underway)

Summary: A peek into Sun Wukong and Macaque's life before they join the Brotherhood to take down the Jade Emperor. Wukong's got a big plan under his sleeve, and Macaque has no idea. With the help of the Brotherhood, Wukong is positive his plan to ask Macaque to marry him will be flawless. (Spoiler; it isn't)

Fanfic: Yes, here it is!

Ships:

Shadowpeach

My Art: Amazingly I've never drawn anything for this one

Fan Art: None

Status: Completed

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 0/10 (it's super Fluff)

-----

Tragedy of Six

Summary: The world was never the same when The Lady Bone Demon attacked. By her hands, many were injured, and many more were killed. The Brotherhood could not escape this touch, losing their children to her conflict. Yet unknowingly, these same children survived. They are being raised by The Lotus Prince Nezha, who is being forced to train and prepare these children to be soldiers for the Lady Bone Demon. (And inspired Fic on both Taken and "Blood and Bones" by EmerialynCodeVenice)

Fanfic: Yes, here is the link

Ships:

Shadowpeaxh

Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Sandy X The Huntsman Spider

Any future ships with the 6 kids are up for debate and what the audience likes best

My Art:

Link This should lead to all art

Fan art:

violetjedisylveon

Status: Uncompleted

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 9/10

--------

Fix and Mend

Summary: Macaque is trying to find his way in the world and his current place in life. Getting himself a part-time job at Pigsy's Noodles he discovered two very interesting facts. 1, Wukong clearly has the hots for him, and 2, MK is secretly dating Red Son. Now he just needs to figure out what to do with these two tidbits.

Fanfic: Yes, here is the link~

Ships:

SpicyNoodles

ShadowPeach

My Art:

I amazingly only drew one thing for this one so far

Other Art:

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 1/10

----

Choose Your Own Adventure

Summary: This is a Tumblr-focused Choose Your Own Adventure. Completely decided by the votes of the audience. The first two are basically a test to see how well I can do something like this.

Fanfic: No, but it is here on Tumblr

-First Adventure (Completed)

Second Adventure (In Progress)

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 2/10

----

Future Au’s:

Fading Moon

Summary: MK believes he is a normal human boy, with a normal human Dad, and normal not ancient Uncles. That is until he meets Red Son, the Demon Bull Prince, and the truth of his heritage starts to unfold. As well as discovering the unfortunate fate of his Baba, a person MK had never had the chance to meet until he was 19.

Fanfic: Not yet? A have a lot written for this though

Ships:

Traffic Light Trio~ (Red Son X Mei X MK)

Sandy X The Huntsman Spider

ShadowPeach (Past mention)

Macaque X Erlang (Not sure what this ship is called. Present mention.. and.. toxic version of it. This story is a whirlwind people)

Free Noodles~ (Slow burn~)

My Art:

I do have a master post just for this au since I plan it to be more tumblr focused for now Link

Fan Art: None currently

Status: Incomplete

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 6/10

--------

The Second Gift

(Squeal to The First Gift)

Summary: Being together with Wukong could bring Macaque no greater joy. No means or way could make his life better than where it was. After a strange occurrence with his magic, Macaque realizes happiness can always grow.

Fanfic: Not yet but it is slowly getting there~

Ships:

Shadow Peach

Gajasimha shipping (Azure X Yellow Tusk)

My Art: None yet

Fan Art: Nada~

Status: Still in progress

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 0/10 FLUFF BABY~

-------

Missing the Then and Now

Summary: Macaque wakes up with no memories of where he is, or WHO he is. The explanation for this is a large and very deep injury that wraps around his entire skull. Almost like something squeezed until he popped. Now, however, he finds himself on a ship with some Monkey Kid, his family and friends, and a sun-kissed Monkey King who won't stop looking at him. And what is worse, none of them want to explain how he got this way.

Fanfic: Nothing yet. But man the word doc is getting pretty hefty

Ships:

Shadow Peach (Past mention)

Shadow Peach (Slow burn/One-sided for a time?)

Macaque X The Mayor (past Mention) (this one is really wild guys.)

My Art: None so far

Fan Art: None so far

Status: It's on it's way

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 6/10

--------

Eternal

Summary: When Macaque was killed, he expected his soul to be taken to the Diyu. Instead, he finds himself stuck to Wukong- the very man who ended his life. When Soul collectors come to see what the hold up is, they inform him that as the two had been tethered in life, so too are they in death. Macaque will only ever be free when Wukong has found peace and moves on. This goes on for a long time, yet when Macaque feels the tether start to loosen, he panics and realizes- he doesn't want Wukong to let him go.

Fanfic: I have too many Word docs and this is one of them~

Ships: ShadowPeach

My Art: None yet

Fan Art: None Yet

Status: Stuck in the world doc abyss

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 7/10

-----

Torn Between A Star

(A sort of alternate direction for "The Day The World Eclipsed)

Summary: Macaque survives the fight against Wukong, forced to return home. Terribly weakened and knowing he could not defend the egg that housed Wukong and his child, he flees to his Sister- Princess Iron Fan. Together they live there until the child is born. 5 years later, Wukong's Journey To the West is done. Returning home to no mate or child, he is desperate to track them down and bring them home. A certain Bull King and Iron Fan stand in his way.

Fanfic: So... Word doc. Big one. Real sad.

Ships: Shadow Peach (Past mention and struggling with current romance)

My Art: There will be some

Fan Art: Maybe one day?

Status: THE DOC HAS IT IN IT'S CLUTCHES~

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 5/10

--------

When Lions and Dragons Meet

Summary: Taking place in the years of Wukong's Journey Westward, Wukong stumbles upon his Brothers. Wanting to settle things Wukong meets up with Azure Lion to find peace- and surprisingly finds it. For a second. That is until he finds out that Azure Lion has had... relations, with a certain Dragon that currently accompanies Wukong and the other Pilgrims in the form of a horse. And is not keen on letting Azure continue this courting.

Fanfic: I swear guys- I got- I got soo many words docs. There aint a fanfic but there will beeee one day.

Ships:

Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Shadow Peach (Kind of a mention?)

My Art You are getting some art. It's cute

Fan Art: ...I mean... if ya want to?

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 2/10

----

Seen Through My Eyes

Summary: Wukong thought Macaque had abandoned him when he was trapped below the mountain. His Mate never visited, never once showed his face. Then, many years into his imprisonment, someone stumbles into his cave. They blindly feel around, unable to see anything in front of their face. To Wukongs shock, it's Macaque. His Mate's pure white fur is tainted black, his ears bigger than normal, and his eyes- his eyes are gone. He smiles, however, hearing Wukong's heart. "I finally found you".

Fanfic: None yet

Ships:

ShadowPeach

My Art: I personally drew some stuff but never posted it

Fan Art: I dare you all XD

Status: Sitting in a Google doc, festering away from the angst

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 8/10

-----

The choices we make, and the regrets we take with us

Summary: Lady Bone Demon had whispered a secret into MK's ear just seconds before Wukong arrived. Now safe from her clutches and seeking the Samadhi fire, surprisingly with Macaque helping them out, Wukong notices that MK can't stand to look at him. What had that Witch whispered to make MK's gaze so steely?

Fanfic: Nope~ Not yet~

Ships:

FreeNoodles

ShadowPeach (Past Mention)

My Art: yes!

Fan Art: None

Status: In my Google Docs and covered with sobbing emotions from the one person I let read it

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 9 or 10/10

----

Au’s of Au’s:

I'll have you all know that ALL of these were given to me by YOU GUYS. You are to blame for putting these in my head! XD

UnTaken

Summary : A "What if" to my Taken Story. What if MK was never Taken and actually got a chance to grow up with Xiaoxiao and his parents? Xiaotian would probably be called Xiaohua in this one, and MK would go back to being Qi Xiaotian.

Fanfic: No, but it's on its way

Ships:

ShadowPeach

Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Red Son X MK? Maybe Red Son X Xiaohua? Maybe they both fight over him?? Maybe they share him?? I dunno yet.

Tang X Pigsy

My Art

This will lead to all art

Fan Art: Would be cute but none yet~

Status: Tumblr grown so far but I got a good amount of stuff written in a google doc

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 0 or 1 /10

-------

Taken Apprentice

Summary: Based on Taken once more, but with the twist that instead of taking MK to the human world, Nezha took MK with him to the celestial Realm. From there he raised MK himself as his apprentice. Hiding him with a glamor and instilling a misguided loyalty to the Jade Emperor. The Jade Emperor is insistent one of the twins must still die, but agrees to keep MK around, hoping to find a chance to kill the other twin instead and keep the loyal MK as his own bodyguard.

Fanfic: I... I don't think it'll be a fanfic. Like- Oh my gosh, so much writing. I wouldn't know how to stop.

Ships:

Shadowpeach, of course.

Probably Red Son X Xiaoxiao again

Some Azure Lion X Ao Lie

Uuuuuuuuu- other wise I dunno?

My Art

Only one thing so far

Fan Art: I would die if you did

Status: Tumblr based so far. I haven't written anything for this. I will only if begged and bribed.

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 4/10

-------

Taken Reverse/Swapped

Summary: Another Taken Au. XiaoXiao and MK are born, but instead of MK being taken Xiaoxiao is instead. He would be Xiaohua in this one. Xiaohua, who is abandoned at an orphanage, winds up being taken in by the Spider Queen when he shows promise as a thief. Xiaohua is living the life of crime, while in return MK (Xiaotian) is being raised to follow in his Father's footsteps as a hero. The two eventually meet and clash.

Fanfic: I haven't even finished Taken there is no way XD

Ships:

Hmmmmmm. Mabe MK X Red Son?

Maybe Enemy to lovers Xiaoxiao X Red Son? I dunno

ShadowPeach

Sandy X Huntsman Spider

My art

The start of the madness

Fan Art (looks into your very soul)

Status: It exists in tumblr and thats it right now

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 4/10

------

Taken back

Summary: yet Another Taken Au “what if”? This one inspired by the concept of… what if MK had been found by Wukong after being Taken by Nezha. Fate bringing the two together. Unable to resist the sweet little boy’s charms, Wukong takes him to have a playdate with his own son. From there, MK’s life is turned upside down as neither Xiaotian nor his parents want to send him away. Seems… he’s found his home. But what consequences will this bring??

Fanfic: …I wrote a kind of thing for it… it’s here on tumblr xD here be thing

Ships:

*shadowpeach

*I dunno what else

Fanart:

My art: I got stuff!

Status: tumblr only as of now.

Angst rating: I wanna say 1/10 but… eventually they’ll figure out who MK is. Eventually angst will strike. 5/10 maybe

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Parent Trap

Summary: Based on Taken once more. Isn't quite like the normal LMK lore. When MK and his twin brother Xiaohua were babies, their parents separated, each taking one of the infants with them. MK went with Wukong, and Xiaohua with Macaque. When the two get older, they manage to miraculously meet at a Summer Camp and discover the truth. Now these two working on a plan to reunite their parents.

Fanfic .... T-There might be one in the future... maybe...

Ships:

ShadowPeach (Past Mention and reunion)

Ao Lie X Azure (Slow burn)

Macaque X Mayor (The kids are trying to end this one)

My art:

Only this so far

Fan art: None currently

Status: This one is in a word doc, okay?? There is writing on it!

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 2/10

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The cancelled Au’s??

Strange title I Know, but it’s the best way to describe this section

-The Day the World Eclipsed (the Original Plot)

-most may know this, but I changed the plot of the Story within the first few chapters. When Wukong left to head to the City, intent on finding a new home for his son… he was originally intended to go through with that.

I have Many MANY chapters of this unfolding- of Wukong actually going through with abandoning MK.

It was farrrr different than what the story has changed to now. And I love the direction the story is now going, but I had a lot of angst planned for the original :)

One day I might even post what originally was intended to happen.

Angst Rating: (1 being not that bad and 10 being it intending to stab you in the heart and twist)

Angst Rating: 10/10

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You did it! You are at the end! Feel free to either comment here or ask in my ask box about any of these~!

[peachsayshi]

Hi Peach! I’m pretty new around here but I’m here to get in on your WIP tag. I wanna take a sneak peek at two different things but to save the effort for you to not do that I would really wanna see what the next Older Brothers Best Friend Geto x Reader pt. 4 🫣

“whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same pt. 4”

⊱ ─── [ ❦ ] ─── ⊰

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ older brother’s best friend geto x female reader ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni)  ↬･tags: (check my masterlist for previous parts) tension; alcohol consumption; reader is gojo’s sister; reader has a big fat crush on geto; size difference; kind of angsty but that's because I'm keeping this as an on going drabble as ideas hit me; this ends a bit abruptly but there will be more parts once I conjure up some other ideas( age gap; reader is 22 and geto is 27

⥽ notes: hello! thank you so much for reaching out, and I'll be happy to add you to the tag list! I was originally going to share just a snippet, but in honor of suguru's birthday I decided to go back and clean up the next part to share with you! I know I said I was taking a break from geto fics but something sparked when I reread this XD I hope you enjoy this update hehe

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You're hyper aware of the confined space, of the sound of the car slowly purring when Suguru hits the acceleration, of the intoxicating aroma wafting off of his body, and of the gnawing, aching silence that's hanging heavy in the air.

The two of you haven't said a single word to each other once you dropped off your friends. Suguru tried to eliminate the awkwardness by turning on the radio, but the sound of the low bass was only matching the erratic pace of your heart.

You squeeze your hands into two small fists on your lap, keeping yours eyes on the road as you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your cheeks sting with embarrassment, the heat scorching the apple of your cheeks. You bounce your leg up and down, trying to steady your breath as you muddle through your jumbled up thoughts. A shiver ripples along your exposed spine when you recall the bubbly tone of your friends voice, cringing to yourself as you hear her sing "isn't that also the name of the guy you have a crush on?"

You would do anything to hurl yourself out of the car at this very second.

You aren't even sure if you should apologize profusely for her behavior, or to try and offer Suguru some semblance of an explanation behind her statement.

A hand finds your thigh, a gentle touch bringing your awareness to the present. You gaze down and stretch out your tense fists, fingers spreading where the tips barely touch Suguru's palm.

You freeze.

He lightly traces his thumb back and forth, the tender gesture forcing your will to look up at him.

His sharp eyes are still on the road, and he relaxes into his seat while using his other hand to steer the wheel. "Relax, sweetheart," he coos warmly, a hint of a grin ticking at the corner of his mouth, "I'm not going to bite."

There's a tickle in your throat when you speak, your voice leaving your body in timid horror. He makes it so hard for you to conceal yourself - like you're a an open wound bleeding freely before his eyes.

"I'm mortified," you admit quietly, shameful tears forming as the champagne bubbles in your veins.

Suguru's hand doesn't leave you, but hearing your reply cracks the gentle grin on his face.

"Why are you mortified?" he replies steadily, his brow quirking with intrigue but there's a playfulness in his tone that makes you wary, like he's trying to pry the answer out of you himself.

"Um, because of what she said-" you exhale, as you turn away once Suguru tries to catch your stare. You return to look at the tips of your fingers so close to his palm, the slither of distance sending tingles up your forearms.

"Don't sweat it. Besides, nobody is worse than Satoru, right? He's particularly embarrassing when he drinks," Suguru consoles.

You swallow nervously at the mention of your brother, wishing that Suguru didn't bring him up at this very moment. You mindlessly extend your index finger out, the pad slightly ghosting Suguru's knuckle, and your heart flutters when he flexes at the featherlight contact.

The car halts abruptly, and your heart stops.

You didn't even notice that you made it back home.

The street lights around you glow like a thousand stars, a dewy mist hindering their radiant halos. Suguru lifts his hand away from your thigh to shift the gear into park, and you feel an unwanted chill from the vacancy.

"Yeah," you anxiously snigger, trying your best to play off the moment with ease but there's something in your heart that's stopping your performance.

You're defenseless against the influence of the alcohol in your system, the mask you've so carefully been wearing cracking to lay bare the truth beneath.

You breathe out as you undo your seat belt.

"It's just..." you carefully add on, your courage bravely egging you on to just tell Suguru how you really feel.

There's no point in lying, you reiterate. Come clean.

When you turn to face him, you find yourself faltering once again. He looks bigger than he is with you both trapped inside the vehicle. The expanse of his broad shoulders stretching across miles. His dreamy eyes pierce through your own irises, plunging themselves right into the depths of your soul. You're suddenly shrinking under the heat of his gaze, curling into yourself like a small creature hiding in it’s shell.

Suguru tilts his head, always considering you thoughtfully.

"Just?"

You angle your body towards him, wishing you could just pour out your feelings in an effortlessly cool manner. You think about how Utahime, Shoko and Mei Mei act. Each one of them moving and flowing with self assurance that you can only admire.

Right now all you have is the softest parts of you, your delicacy at the forefront. All the drinks you've consumed have eroded away the shield of your concern, and you feel everything spin once again while Suguru remains firmly in his own place.

Strong. Poised. A beacon that your heart keeps gravitating towards again and again. It pounds in your chest - thump, thump, thump - and the longer you linger in his space, the less you find yourself willing to resist your own desire.

"Remember when we um...when we kissed?" you feebly inquire, a slight shiver making your shoulders tremble.

Suguru's eyes dip to your lips, the memory an anchor of temptation that constantly weighs him down when he's around you.

"You were...guiding me, a-and you said something along the lines of how some guys like it when the their partner can be...assertive..." your body moves faster than your mind can catch up with itself. You inch closer, leaning your torso forward as you tilt up your chin to place your face directly in front of his. "There's...there's something I need to tell you..."

Suguru's expression transitions from curiosity to caution. He visibly stiffens when you close the gap, your innocent lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.

"Sweetheart," he mumbles warily, but releases a petite sigh when you press firmly down.

A peck so small for a gesture far, far too big.

"Would it be so bad if I said it?" you wonder, when you notice him visibly stiffen. "Would it be so bad if we just-"

Your mouth goes dry at the thought, your stomach twitching with uncertainty. Your hands find his shoulders, and you trace the outline of his lips with your own, lingering for just a minute as you hold his gaze.

You faintly lick your lips before moving in for a real kiss.

Just like he taught you.

You feel his palm against your waist, a wave of goosebumps bumping all over your bare skin. Suguru parts his lips to grant you entrance, and you hungrily slip your tongue in for a taste. You ribbon your arms around his neck, whimpering gently when he digs his fingers into your flesh. He eagerly returns the kiss, in the same way he did before when the both of you were lying horizontally on his couch. Your lips crush together, your tongues locking into ties and twists.

He drags his electric touch upward, slipping underneath the flimsy fabric of your top. You gasp into the kiss as his fingers tease the curve of your breast, grazing the underside and making you sink your own digits into the forest of his shadowy mane.

But just when you've almost lost yourself into the haze of your addiction, Suguru suddenly pulls away.

Your name spills out of his lips in frustration.

You widen your eyes slightly.

For as long as you've known the man he's always ever addressed you with one of his many cutesy pet names.

His "sweetheart", his "doll", his "princess".

Every one of them left his lips with indifference but they always held so much affection while maintaining a safe distance of attachment.

But hearing your name, which always leaves his lips like an affliction, which he only calls out in moments few and far in between, seizes your heart pitifully.

"We shouldn't," Suguru points out, his voice deeper than the color of his midnight hair. "We can't."

You thought about the girl he was kissing on the night of his party. The way his body tangled in between the fabric of her purple dress.

"Why not?" you press, anticipating your long awaited answer.

You wanted to hear him say it himself - to admit that there was somebody else. Maybe the rejection will help you finally get over this long winded crush. Maybe the heartbreak is just what you needed to set yourself free.

Suguru's hand was still resting precariously underneath your top, but neither of you were perturbed by the intimacy of your bodies loosely intertwined.

"Because," he breathes out bitterly, “I told Satoru that I wouldn't."

Your jaw goes slack, your mouth dropping in obvious surprise when you part your lips.

"You...what?"

There's a twitch in his jaw. He dotingly presses his forehead against yours, allowing his eyes to flutter close. Leaning into the touch of the one thing he's forbidden to have.

He slithers his hand away, and your body twinges in agony, like it's begging him not to. Tears prick your eyes, but you aren't sure if it's because you can feel your heart crumple or if you're simply overwhelmed.

"I shouldn't have-" Suguru murmurs, "I shouldn't have let things go so far."

"But-" you sniffle, blinking back your tears and your reaction makes him instantly pliable, like you can mold him easily between your fingers

"Satoru is too familiar with every part of me. Too familiar with my history. The good, and the bad." Suguru explains, "And he's fiercely protective of you."

The truth sinks in, the awareness of yet another obstacle in your way.

You slump in your seat, feeling foolish for not considering the extent of how deep their friendship lies. "Oh."

Your hands fall away from around his neck, and you fidget as you shift to look forward. Your chest hiccups as you try to resist the full shattering of your docile composure.

Suguru's eyes don't leave you.

"I should...um,..." you announce with a furrow of your brow, shedding all aspects of your embarrassment and grief in the hopes to leave them behind in the front seat of his car. "I should go..."

You gather your things, ignoring Suguru when he calls out your name a second time. You slam the door behind you, your heart effectively dwindling into nothing but ashes at your feet.

One tear falls, and then another. You initially perceived that the strike of rejection would bring you a sense of catharsis, a final out of the clutches of these sinking emotions… but you didn't expect the sting to hurt this dreadfully.

You carry your feet with as much strength as you can muster to your front door, fumbling with the keys as you struggle with blurry eyes. You sniffle quietly to yourself again when you insert it into its lock, taking a minute to compose yourself before stepping inside.

You freeze taking a step over the threshold when a brush of warmth traces the outline of your waist.

There’s a shadow that drowns out the light behind you, whispering for your return.

You spin on your heel to find Suguru behind you, his lamenting eyes apologetic.

You quickly wipe any rogue tears away, clearing your throat as he takes another step forward.

“Please,” you beg, “let’s just forget about it…”

Suguru nods his head - not because he wants to, but because he has to.

He doesn’t ask for permission when his hands grip your waist, nor do you deny him the access.

“Please, don’t cry,” he soothes in return, his voice angelic and lovely. “Seeing you upset kills me”

You know it’s the truth.

Suguru has always been blunt about how soft he is towards you - even going as far as putting Satoru in his place when your brother tries to overstep.

“I’m fine, just tipsy…” you lie.

Suguru doesn’t point out your fib - taking it at face value even though he doesn’t want to. You nuzzle into his arms when he extends his embrace, enveloping yourself into his protective hug.

One his hands seeks your jaw, and he cradles it with care, ensuring to handle your fragility with a delicate caress. He tilts your face up towards his helpless eyes, hoping you’ll eventually make peace with this like he did. His thumb traces your bottom lip, he tugs at the muscle and watches it gently bounce back. Resisting the urge to kiss away whatever pain he’s caused.

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t want this, because I do,” he confesses, maintaining a balance between the scale of your relationship lest you feel weighed down by him. “You make me feel things that I shouldn’t.”

He seals the truth with an honest peck and a spark ignites inside you but you hastily put out the flame.

Yet, his admittance eases some of your woes and you count the minutes passing as you two linger into the kiss far longer than intended.

tags: @brownskinnedgirll @chibigetoo

[blacktofade]

thinking about gem impulse skizz dubcon somno (that one series of them + the gemtho fic have set me off so much i am losing my mind)

Oh anon, you caught me at the right time (after a long day and two margaritas lmfao), cause boy am I thinking about this!!!! Dropping my thoughts under a cut because nasty and long.

This is gonna be so disjointed because I want to immediately write a full fic of this, but I will never have enough time so this will have to do. But anyway, I am very much thinking about CNC maybe even full on noncon where it's Gem visiting them in Arizona. Maybe Impulse cooks them dinner and they plan on having a few drinks and watching a movie.

Gem's on the chaise of the couch next to them, Prim curled up beside her, and Impulse laughs and nudges at Skizz because they only make it 20 minutes into the movie before her body starts drooping like she's fighting sleep.

And he has no idea that Skizz has slipped her something.

But Skizz doesn't say anything until after the movie, and he just looks at Gem, where she's fully asleep now, and goes, "We should put her to bed, huh?"

And Impulse watches him gently lift Gem and carry her back out to the guest house. And there's no one around to see two middle aged men sneaking away with a tiny unconscious woman.

When Skizz sets Gem down on her bed, he immediately starts to undress her, and Impulse is all, "Wait wait, what are you doing?" And Skizz goes "You expect her to get a good night's sleep in that outfit?" as though it's in any way rational.

I really like the idea of Impulse being SUPER weak to peer pressure and basically cracking at the first hint from Skizz. Like, he doesn't know how to argue against Skizz because Skizz makes it seem like he's the one being unreasonable. Makes it seem like Gem's going to wake up mad that Impulse didn't tug her little denim shorts off to make her comfortable.

And maybe Gem isn't wearing a bra under her crop top and Skizz glances over at Impulse to check his reaction, and Impulse is looking away, face bright red, but after a second, his gaze slides back toward her like he can't help himself.

And when Skizz gets Gem's shorts off, she's wearing these innocent looking little white briefs and a horrible part of Impulse's brain thinks about how he'd like to see how see-thru they go if he gets his mouth on them.

Maybe Skizz plays with the waistband of her panties and finally admits, "She asked me to do this. I slipped her a little something during dinner."

And Impulse has to decide if he believes him. Because maybe he can tell from Skizz's tone that he isn't telling him the full truth. But Skizz looks at him and says, "Don't you trust me?" and what the heck is Impulse meant to do?

Maybe Skizz pulls the gusset of her panties aside, just to give Impulse a little peek. And Gem's kinda wet, enough that Impulse can convince himself that she did ask for it.

Which means he doesn't fight Skizz when Skizz carefully eases Gem's underwear off, and he draws in a shuddering breath when Skizz nudges Gem's thigh apart so they can both get a full look at her.

And Skizz spreads her with his fingers and asks, "She looks like a virgin, huh?" And Impulse knows that's not a thing, but he gets what Skizz means. She looks untouched.

Skizz slips his middle finger into her, pumping gently and he shakes his head, saying, "Dude, you gotta feel this."

And it's only natural for Impulse to reach out and when Skizz pulls his hand back, he gets a finger into Gem instead, just to find out how warm she is inside, how easy she is.

But Skizz ends up holding her legs open as Impulse gets his mouth on her, finally gets a taste, and he keeps talking about how Gem's probably having the best dreams right now, how Impulse is giving her exactly what she wants.

And Impulse stops caring if it's true and he's so breathless when he asks, "Can I fuck her?"

And Skizz starts nodding before he's even done asking and says, "Yeah, let's get her in a better position.

Which ends up being Skizz on the bed, leaning back into the pillows, Gem cradled in his lap with his hands tucked behind her knees, opening her up for Impulse, who doesn't waste any time before getting his shorts and underwear down just enough to free his cock.

It doesn't even occur to him that he should wear a condom. He's so used to not having to with his wife, who got her tubes tied after their third kid.

But he slides in deep, moaning Gem's name even though she can't hear it.

GOD maybe Gem comes to for a moment, and she groans in confusion, automatically trying to push Impulse away, but Skizz pulls her hands back and kisses at her jaw, making soothing sounds.

"Don't worry," he says. "He's taking care of you. We both are."

And Gem makes all these beautiful tired noises before she eventually passes out again and Impulse starts fucking her a little harder cause he's so close.

And Skizz says shit like, "Yeah, that's it. God listen to how wet she is. You did that to her, dude. I bet you could make her come."

And it's like an earworm in Impulse's brain, cause now he wants that so badly he feels insane. So even though Gem's absolute dead weight against Skizz, Impulse gets his hand down to play with her clit, trying everything he knows to make her feel good.

And just when he's losing hope, that she's too far gone, too deeply asleep, she shifts, grunting, breathing getting heavier as she tightens around him rhythmically. He knows without a doubt he's managed to make her come, and it's that thought that has him shoving deep inside of her and letting go.

He plays with her a little after. When he pulls out. He likes seeing his cum drip out of her, likes seeing that she's a little open after he's fucked her.

Skizz looks down, smiling. "Was that good? Was she nice and tight for you?"

Maybe riding the high, Impulse asks, "Are you gonna have a turn?"

But what Skizz wants is to jerk off on her face. So he gets her on her back again and straddles her chest and she looks so tiny beneath him. But he loses control so quickly and he wets her lips with his cum, easing his fingers into her mouth to make sure she passively swallows some.

And Skizz is insistent that they clean her up after. He says it's because no one likes to sleep while they're still sticky after sex. But there's a voice in the back of Impulse's head saying they're covering their tracks. They're making sure Gem never finds out what they've done to her.

Before they go, Skizz kisses her cheek and then they let her sleep. And in the morning, over coffee, Skizz asks if she slept okay. And Gem nods and laughs and says, "I don't know what's in that mattress, but I slept like the dead. I don't even remember falling asleep."

And Impulse's stomach rolls uneasily.

YUM FUCKING YUM!!!

Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk and thanks for letting me get this out of my system.

[seijorhi]

So that's how the parrot (?) emoji looks for you. It used be a beautiful amazon rainforest macaw. It's beyond ugly now.it's hideous

I remember when I followed you, all your asks were anonymous. I assumed there's some rule that you only accept anons. Ahnkbvcv. I couldn't decide an emoji to pick I saw 🐦 anon and decided to be a bird.

Happy spooktober. Currently I'm binge reading all of your kuroo works 🫦✨️🫶

Can we pleaseeee get a sneak peek on what you're working on(if you want to ofc)

Take care 𐭩. Ilysmmmm

🦜

the emoji still looks the same to me??? :((

but i do have a soft spot for my emoji anons. only a few of you are left but <33 y'all have my heart ghfjdkjhgfd

also funny you should mention kuroo and spooktober cuz i was daydreaming today about final girl n thinking of how kuroo is such a magnanimous little psycho that, after one particularly bad breakdown, he decides to offer poor reader a way out. if she's so desperate to leave her big, strong, loving husbands (bigamy might be illegal but so is hacking people up 🤷‍♀️) he'll give her that option. of course, he isn't just going to unlock the door and let her walk out of there so easily.

she was the one who said she'd do anything to leave.

so when he and akaashi take a trip back to her home town and bring back a friend, the choice should be easy. if she wants to go, he won't stop her, all she's gotta do in return is take one of the knives, akaashi's machete, his bat – he's not picky, really – and hack 'em up a little. give him and the guys a show. a farewell gift, in a way.

if she can't bring herself to kill, they'll let bokuto have his fun with them instead, and she'll stay right where she belongs. if she can, well, kuroo'll be too busy fucking her in the mess to remember any 'promises' he might've made.

also uhm i am still working on the jjk iseaki fic but i am also working on another fic as well, which the snippet below the cut belongs to hehe

Without the roar of a crowd, every noise on the court in amplified; the squeaking of shoes, the thwack of palms meeting leather, shouts ricocheting from both sides as they scramble for the ball.

Scramble isn't the right word, though. It flies through the air between the players, choreographed chaos.

One of the players, a dark haired behemoth, shoots up and connects with the ball, slamming it over the net with a terrifying force – you feel the impact in your chest when it hits the floor.

A whistle rings out.

"Oh my god," Aya breathes.

The behemoth turns, dark eyes zeroing in on your figure from across the court. His nostrils flare.

Alpha, you realise. He's one of the alphas.

[suzukiblu]

i am literally for real obsessed with your timberkon pink kryptonite fic so i definitely would love to see another sneak peek, but i'm also loving all the superfam stuff you're putting out!!! something that i wish you would write because i love your works (and have since the darcy lewis stucky days) and i think you would do amazing things with the pairing is jaytim, but i know thats not everyones cup of tea

(i realize now that you were probably aiming for an ask rather than a reply so here it is in your inbox too hskdhsh)

Thank you! ❤️ And oh, asks and replies were both fine for this, no worries. I try to just specify in-post whenever I have a preference but it's not gonna bother me either way.

I DO like JayTim to read, but I've never really felt a particular bug to write it myself? At least not yet, anyway, that may one day change. Though I miiiiight still put Kon in the middle because I am who I am and all, haha.

I'm planning to update the pink K fic on AO3 tomorrow, though I'm pretty sure I've already posted enough of chapter two in excerpts on Tumblr to have posted basically all of it by now and I'm trying to avoid doing that with chapter three, sooooo instead please accept the beginning of this very niche Superfam omegaverse pack dynamics AU instead. I've been looking for an excuse to post this whole big long thing anyway, lol.

Read-more for length, 'cuz there's kind of a lot here, haha.

.

The representative from the wet nurse agency shows up fifteen minutes early with an unusual-seeming omega who can't be a day over nineteen, being generous. Bruce makes a note to look into the agency's hiring practices a little more closely. The current situation is something of an emergency, unfortunately, and he's only had time to run the intermediate-level background checks so far.

Maybe this isn't the prospective wet nurse, he halfheartedly hopes, and they're just another representative; one who's in training or just here as backup. The kid smells like milk, though, and also why the hell would the agency send out an omega representative? Omegas are typically secretaries and clerks and almost all do in-office jobs, where they're "protected" from the outside world.

The practice is stupid and demeaning and borderline abhorrent, but it's a step up from the days when an omega couldn't get any job that wasn't as a nanny or a sex worker or some fucked-up combination of the two. Clark being an actual reporter is something that was practically unheard of two lousy generations back, and even now Clark is still an unusual exception in his field. Typically, an omega writing for a newspaper would be doing gossip or advice or something domestic, not investigative journalism.

So no, there's no way that this particular omega is anything but a wet nurse candidate, unusual-seeming and concerningly young or not. And Bruce had insisted on the candidate coming to meet them in person, even when the agency had very unsubtly implied that it would be better to just have the milk delivered.

Bruce is absolutely looking into this agency's hiring practices. An omega this age should barely be presented. One who's already allegedly producing enough milk to be a viable wet nurse for what they're requesting . . .

It's concerning, yes.

"Master Bruce, the representative from the Waterton Agency and her associate," Alfred introduces politely, gesturing between Bruce and their guests. He doesn't look or smell disapproving, even in the mildest notes, but Bruce knows he is.

Of course he is, with an omega who might be being either abused or taken advantage of or outright trafficked in the manor.

Bruce should've run a better background check.

"Hello, Alpha Wayne. My name is Ellen Travers," the agency representative greets tightly as Bruce steps into the parlor. She's a harried-looking blonde beta with graying hair who looks very unhappy to be here and is doing a very bad job of hiding the nervous dissatisfaction in her scent.

She doesn't introduce the omega.

Bruce puts on his stupid "Brucie" grin and strides right up to Travers, sticking a hand out to shake. She puts on a weak attempt at a polite smile in return and takes it.

"Hello there, Beta Travers, thanks so much for coming out here on such short notice!" Bruce greets her with a lie of cheerfulness, but Travers continues to smell nervous and upset and her smile is no less forced. And the omega . . .

The kid smells downright sullen, which is not a typical scent to catch off an unfamiliar presented omega and doesn't do anything to make him seem any older.

And yes, he's definitely unusual. He's much taller than Travers–about Bruce's own height, in fact–and has a very broad build and a surprising amount of muscle on him on top of that. Bruce knows full-grown alphas who'd kill to be built like this kid. He's also much more "handsome" than "beautiful", and frankly couldn't look less like the kind of sweet and pretty little things the agency had advertised on their website if he tried, much less the soft and maternal type Bruce had been expecting to actually have show up, given the specific requests he'd made.

Well, it does make sense. Bruce obviously wasn't going to provide the agency with either a Kryptonian genetic profile or a Kryptonian pup's exact dietary needs in search of a suitable wet nurse, but the nutrient requests that they'd made would likely necessitate an omega of a similar build to Clark's to supply–hell, the kid even resembles him a bit, funnily enough. They've already had four agencies tell them that they simply didn't have an appropriate candidate on staff, and the milk samples they'd been able to provide hadn't proven very helpful.

Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, but Martha had at least had the advantage of having a pack bond with him. A packmate's milk always does miles better by a pup than a stranger's or any kind of formula ever could.

Though she'd had some very odd cravings while nursing him, she'd told them. And Clark had still grown up underfed, even with formula and yellow sunlight to supplement–the Fortress had observed marked evidence of childhood malnutrition in him, he'd said.

Occasionally Bruce wonders what a properly-nursed Kryptonian raised under a yellow sun from infancy would've actually turned out like.

The thought is . . . well. A thought.

A thought that still makes him leery of how Jon Kent might grow up, sometimes.

Those concerns aside, though, the really unusual thing about this omega isn't either his physique or his face. Bruce is perfectly used to omegas with "nontraditional" looks after knowing Clark and Diana this long, to say nothing of various other Justice League members or other superheroes and villains he's known, or of both raising and reuniting with Jason. But this omega isn't as demurely dressed as mild-mannered Clark Kent would be; he's wearing opaque sunglasses and an alpha-cut studded leather jacket and alpha-style jeans and an inconveniently inaccessible plain black T-shirt with no sign of a nursing bra underneath it, nothing soft or appealing in either his clothes or his posture. If anything, he looks aggressive; tense and guarded and ready to start some shit. Even Jason usually puts up a temporary illusion of traditional omega mannerisms when he's meeting strangers as a civilian, if only so he'll be underestimated. This kid isn't even pretending to make the attempt.

And the kid smells completely and undeniably stray, too. Bruce can't catch a single note of packscent coming off him. Not even the scent of whatever pup got him milked up enough to qualify for this job. Unbred omegas sometimes lactate in heat or when under stress or if someone in their pack either has or adopts a pup, but a stray who doesn't smell particularly distressed or anything like he's on his cycle shouldn't be producing any milk at all.

At least not without using the kind of stimulants that Bruce explicitly forbade when filling out the agency application, anyway. Those medications are necessary for some omegas, obviously, but in this situation . . .

Kryptonian pups don't respond well to getting anything like that in their milk, they've already very thoroughly learned.

The omega also has spiked stainless steel piercings in his ears, snake bites under his mouth, and two curved barbells in his left eyebrow. All his other jewelry is heavy alpha-styled rings and bracelets, and his nails are painted a chipped black. And he is, notably, not wearing any kind of collar or necklace, and his neck is completely unmarked.

Bruce is in no way oblivious to the obvious message that an uncollared and unbitten omega's neck presents when left so obviously bared. Especially on a stray one who's dressed like an alpha and standing like he's expecting a fight.

He cannot imagine why this kid is working as a wet nurse.

None of the theories that come to mind bode particularly well, though.

"This omega is our most fitting candidate for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, her smile turning increasingly forced. Bruce thinks he can safely translate that expression as that of a beta who did not in any way agree with that assessment but was stuck following orders. "She fulfills all of your nutritional requests, including the necessary iron content and the prioritized fats and proteins, and, of course, is not taking any manner of lactation-inducing stimulants or supplements."

"He," the omega corrects, sounding dubious. Travers's mouth tightens. Bruce knows a lot of old-school traditionalists who won't call a male omega "he" or a female alpha "she", no matter what said omega or alpha's preferences happen to be, and makes another note about looking into this agency more thoroughly.

Much more thoroughly.

"She isn't available for direct nursing, unfortunately, but her milk is a perfect match to your requests and she produces both excellently and reliably; her supply will be more than enough for your needs," Travers continues as if the omega hadn't spoken, and the omega's lip curls in obvious annoyance as he rolls his eyes with no attempt to hide his exasperation even in the presence of an unfamiliar alpha.

Bruce thinks of Jason with a brief pang, and pushes the thought aside. It's not the time.

Maybe he could've asked Jason for help with this, if he'd been a better father. A better alpha. A better . . .

But he wasn't, so now there's an annoyed stranger standing in his parlor instead of a content packmate curled up in their nest.

"Really?" he asks, tilting his head and blinking down at Travers with a deliberately surprised expression. "The consultant made it sound like you'd need multiple donors, for the amount we're asking."

If one goddamn barely-presented kid is actually producing enough milk to even half-feed a Kryptonian pup . . .

"This omega produces sufficient quantities for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers replies with another forced smile. She must know how ridiculous a statement that is, when she's talking about a stray kid and not a fully mature omega with at least a couple of litters under their belt who's well-established in a stable pack, but she says it with conviction all the same.

"Oh, good!" Bruce says brightly, because he's supposed to be a stupid knotheaded playboy who wouldn't know a damn thing about nursing either way. "That'll be convenient, then."

Frankly, he only wishes one omega could produce what they need right now, but requesting that much milk from one agency for just one pup would be immediately flagged as suspicious, and definitely turned down outright. They're still looking for other candidates under false names, but at the rate they're going, they're going to need to keep supplementing with formula, which already hasn't been going well.

If Clark could get milked up himself, this wouldn't be a problem, of course. A Kryptonian omega could easily produce more than enough for one Kryptonian pup, especially under a yellow sun. Clark nursed Jon without a problem for years and was actually overproducing when he was, Bruce knows very well.

Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Not since . . .

Clark would never forgive himself if something like that happened again.

Never.

And Kara and Karen are both alphas, and Jon's a beta and only ten anyway, and the only other living Kryptonians they know of are either remorseless criminals imprisoned in the Phantom Zone or the sickly little pup who's slowly wasting away upstairs.

Formula and concentrated yellow sunlight haven't been enough. Clark can't get milked up anymore. They haven't been able to synthesize any appropriate supplements either in the Fortress or in working with the Justice League or STAR Labs or even in collaborating between them.

And the pup is just getting weaker, and quieter, and sicker.

A human wet nurse probably won't even help that much, at this point, but . . .

Well, it's the best chance they have to keep the pup alive until they can synthesize something. Maybe the only chance, now.

"We strive to provide to our clients' convenience, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, and the omega rolls his eyes again. Bruce is less and less convinced of him being an adult in any way but the presentation of his pheromones.

It's rude to address an unfamiliar unpacked omega directly, especially as an alpha. Technically Travers is chaperoning them in a professional situation, though, and Bruce has increasing suspicions about this omega's personal standards so far as "manners" go anyway.

And everyone knows Brucie Wayne is stupid and shameless, of course.

So he flashes the kid a grin, and he says, "Well, it's great to meet you, we appreciate you making the trip! What's your name, Mr. . . .?"

The kid blinks at him, clearly surprised both to be spoken to and to be called "Mr." instead of "Miss" or "Ms." or even "Omega". Travers looks absolutely scandalized.

Bruce really doesn't approve of the kind of traditionalists who won't introduce an omega or use their stated pronouns, though, so fuck if he cares.

"Her name is Carly, Alpha Wayne!" Travers interjects quickly, her tone a little bit too bright to be genuine. "Short for Caroline."

"Just Carl," the kid corrects, shaking his head. Travers's mouth tightens again. It's not a very typical omega name, so no surprise.

It occurs to Bruce to wonder if Carl might be a trans alpha, which he probably should've thought to wonder as soon as he saw how he was dressed and got an impression of his personality. Obviously the kid's at least not currently on HRT if he's working as a wet nurse, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of him being transgender all the same.

Actually, affording gender-affirming care is definitely a reason that a kid like this one would be working this job, especially if said kid's family weren't supporting them. Wet nurses make more money than most other fields that omegas without a diploma can expect to get into, at least short of sex work, and Carl is very obviously too young to have graduated college yet.

Actually, Bruce still isn't even sure if he's old enough to have graduated high school yet.

He's going to burn down this whole damn agency if they're knowingly employing a minor as a wet nurse.

"Nice to meet you, Carl," he says easily. Carl's eyes narrow consideringly, and then he folds his arms and smirks, crooked and casual.

"Sure," he says. "Nice to meet you too, Wayne."

Travers looks agonized. The last non-alpha stranger who called Bruce "Wayne" instead of "Alpha Wayne" was a beta terrorist who was in the middle of kidnapping him, and he's not sure any omega who wasn't an active supervillain ever has, so he's not surprised by her reaction.

Carl is still watching him with the same cocky smirk, though, an obvious challenge in the expression and his posture both. Bruce puts another point towards the possibility of him being a trans alpha, though he's not stupid enough to actually ask if he is, especially not in front of someone the kid works under. Presentation aside, Carl might not be out, and Travers is currently at least professionally following traditional manners, so Bruce doesn't have much hope for this agency being all that progressive and doesn't want to accidentally get the kid fired.

Though if Carl is a minor, Bruce is going to have to see if he can't slip him a business card and find him another job. Especially if he's going to be burning down the agency he's working for.

"Why aren't you available for direct nursing, if you don't mind me asking?" he asks in a curious tone, because he still can't smell a pup on the kid and most wet nurses who aren't nursing their own pups do direct nursing, and he wants intel about the agency's typical practices. Carl shrugs.

"Stubborn tits," he replies, pushing his chest out as he gestures at himself with no apparent sense of shame or self-consciousness, and Travers looks increasingly agonized. Bruce is just increasingly missing Jason, himself. "Milk flows too slow and the pups always get all fussy and stress out about it. Which, whatever, pups are weird anyway, they're not really my thing."

"'Weird'?" Bruce repeats, carefully noting the lack of possessives in reference to any potentially dysphoria-triggering anatomy. Still not a confirmation, but another point. Carl shrugs again.

"I'm afraid Carly doesn't bond appropriately with pups, Alpha Wayne," Travers interjects quickly, and Carl scowls at her. "She has an unfortunate detachment disorder."

"I 'attach' fine," Carl grumbles sourly, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just don't like kids."

Travers grimaces. Bruce keeps pretending to be an oblivious idiot. He has met omegas who don't like children. They exist.

They're just all deeply, deeply traumatized people. Or clinically insane.

Or both, frequently.

So . . . "detachment disorder" seems likely, yes.

Bruce doesn't consider either sex or gender to be the end-all be-all of a person, of course, but there are certain biological imperatives that no one can deny as existing, and a lactating omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–really, just about any omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–is not ever going to say they "just" don't like kids. Usually the problem with omega wet nurses is them liking kids too much, in fact, and getting distressed or depressed when the parents wean the pups and they won't be seeing them again. The decent agencies have psychological support for that in place and typically offer paid leave between long-term clients. The Waterton Agency does up to a month, which is one of the reasons Bruce chose it.

So yes, Carl is almost definitely traumatized.

Though really, a wet nurse who won't be around much isn't the worst thing, considering. Neither Clark nor Jon started developing any especially noticeable powers until they were older, but they can't assume anything based off a sample size of two, especially when said sample size is made up of biological relatives. And even if they didn't have to worry about that, well, the manor is frequently full of vigilantes and the cave is right underneath it. There's a lot that a regular guest could notice, especially over however long they might need to be nursing. Especially because nursing is a quiet, out-of-the-way activity that takes a while, and it would be very easy for someone to forget to keep their voice down or to not do a damn quadruple-backflip off a chandelier at the wrong moment.

And there's a reason Clark and Lois brought this problem to the shadows of Gotham, as opposed to staying in bright and sunny Metropolis with it. They've got something to hide right now, and a lot to figure out.

Plus if even a molecule of kryptonite gets involved in this situation, even secondhand . . .

Power Girl and Supergirl and Steel are the ones taking shifts watching Metropolis right now, and everyone is just going to leave it at that. Superman isn't coming out for anything less than the apocalypse.

"Well, the Lane-Kents will probably want you to meet the kiddo either way, if you don’t mind," Bruce tells Carl, offering an easy shrug. "Peace of mind, you know how it is."

"Not really," Carl says. Bruce debates slipping the kid a psychiatrist's business card, but he'd probably take it as an insult.

"Er, yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says awkwardly. "Actually, we were expecting Alpha Lane to be with you . . . ?"

"Lois is currently stuck in Metropolis traffic thanks to Metallo bashing up half of downtown this afternoon and Clark is upstairs getting the kiddo around. Little guy just woke up from his nap," Bruce replies with a pleasant smile, making another note of how Travers left off the omega member of the couple's last name, and also apparently doesn't expect to be meeting said omega at all. He is increasingly regretting choosing this agency, though he may yet manage to do some good in the world by subtly dismantling it. Or maybe just by buying it outright and doing a little restructuring.

Or a lot of restructuring.

"Wait, it's not your kid?" Carl asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Travers looks pained. The Waterton Agency isn't Gotham-based, so Bruce isn't sure why she apparently expects Carl to be up on the Wayne pack's current members, especially considering how she keeps talking over and outright ignoring him. Bruce has a hard time picturing her bothering to provide the information herself, at this point.

"Oh, no, just doing a favor for some visiting friends," he replies smoothly, still wearing the same pleasant smile. Which is a lie, of course, because actually the Lane-Kents are part of his secondary pack and "visiting friends" therefore in no way covers what they are to him. The Wayne pack is both his primary and his family pack, obviously, and the Justice League is a loosely-connected tertiary pack, but his secondary pack lacks both an official name and public recognition, because explaining to the public why Brucie Wayne's secondary pack is two award-winning reporters from Metropolis, a random museum curator in Gateway City, a decorated Navy SEAL, and occasionally a cat burglar with commitment issues is just not going to work out for anyone's secret identities.

And that even without counting how everyone knows about Lois Lane and Steve Trevor's respective very public connections to Superman and Wonder Woman, much less ever explaining anything about Selina. Bruce, meanwhile, still isn't sure how he ended up in a pack with any of these people. Clark and Diana definitely have a lot to answer for either way, though.

Mostly he blames Clark. Diana has more decorum. Clark is just . . . Clark, so now Bruce gets a scarf and cookies from Martha Kent every Christmas, never mind that he's technically Jewish, because God forbid he ever tells her that and she starts sending him Hanukkah presents instead. He cannot handle eight nights' worth of Martha Kent's colorfully-wrapped scarves and lovingly-packaged cookies. That's just not a thing he can do.

He doesn't even celebrate holidays, except when Dick cons him into it. Which admittedly he's been doing more often again the past few years, but–

This is off-topic, Bruce reminds himself, but then gets distracted as Carl cocks his head a little and frowns over something. Bruce instinctively wants to brace himself for trouble at the sight, because that frown actually very strongly reminds him of Clark's "what the hell weird and concerning thing did I just notice with my super-senses" frown, but A) Carl doesn't have super-senses and B) Bruce just heard the stairs creak, which means the actual Clark is finally on his way down to meet them. No one else in the manor would ever make the steps creak any way but deliberately except for Lois or Jon, and Jon is out on a walk with Damian and Titus while Lois is, again, currently stuck in Metropolis traffic. So: Clark, definitely.

Also Clark tends to make the stairs creak a lot louder than either Lois or Jon do, given the very notable size difference there.

"Has Alpha Lane authorized you to make decisions for his pup's care, Alpha Wayne?" Travers asks with another forced smile. Bruce is resolving to check specifically her background too, at this point.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, good ol' Clark's right here," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "It's his pup too, and he knows much more about ones this age than I do anyway."

"Yes, well, omegas tend to get a little . . . irrational about the idea of sharing their pups with a wet nurse," Travers says "politely", like she thinks she's stating a fact. Bruce would say something cheerful-sounding and subtly insulting back, typically, but Carl's frown is deepening and he looks a little bit . . . odd, maybe, or . . .

There's a strange little pup-call from the stairs, very quiet and echoing in unusual registers but still recognizably one all the same, and just as recognizably resigned-sounding. It's a pup-call that clearly expects to go unanswered, at this point, which is something that Bruce would like to never hear again in his life, given the option.

Though it's better than a pup who's given up on calling at all, he supposes.

He tries not to grimace at that thought, though he's sure Clark's grimacing enough for the both of them right now after hearing a call like that. The pup is starving, and they just can't feed him properly. At this point sending him back where he came from might be kinder.

Honestly, if Bruce didn't know exactly who his parents were, he might've already insisted on that.

It's just–

The pup calls again, even quieter. Travers looks perplexed.

"Er," she says. "I apologize, Alpha Wayne, but is the pup ill? We can't be around them if they are, it's against agency policy."

"Oh, the kiddo just sounds like that," Bruce replies dismissively, and then lies, "Vocal chord deformity, apparently. We're not sure what caused it, pediatrician thinks it's something genetic."

Well, it is genetic. Jon calls in exactly the same registers, and according to Martha and Jonathan so did Clark.

So it's genetic, yes. Just not a deformity.

Carl's expression looks–odd, still. Bruce isn't sure what to think of it, but it makes him a bit wary. A detachment disorder doesn't imply an actual negative reaction to the presence of a pup, obviously, but . . .

Clark steps into the parlor with Lor-Zod sitting on his hip, the pup no older than two or so and looking small and listless in his arms, his dark skin all washed out and his previously bright eyes gone dull and tired. When he first crash-landed in Metropolis in the rocket he'd been wrapped up inside, Clark said he'd popped out of it energetic and excited and clamoring for attention in toddler-level Kryptonian, but he's been slowly fading ever since, wasting away without the nutrients that they just can't provide him. He's probably only made it this long thanks to the sun.

Again, Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, though he was already at least three by the time they got him, which probably helped. A pup Lor's age is capable of eating solid food, obviously, but milk or formula is still a major part of a pup's diet until they're four or five, if not older, and the longer the better. Hell, most kids still at least semi-regularly nurse for as long as their dam can manage to stay milked up, or even until they present themselves. No one can wean a damn toddler and expect them to thrive.

Or even survive, in Lor's case.

Lor opens his mouth in another weak, resigned little pup-call, and Clark's own mouth tightens as he restrains himself from answering it and giving the pup false hope for milk he just doesn't have, and Bruce steels himself to–

Carl croons.

Travers startles. Bruce is . . . surprised, a bit. A detachment disorder doesn't really imply the kind of omega who'd croon at a pup they've never seen before in their life, after all.

It's an unusual and unpracticed croon, as if it's a sound Carl doesn't make very often, which Bruce supposes would make sense. Lor responds to it immediately, though, shifting weakly in Clark's arms and pup-calling again.

Carl, with absolutely no manners or decorum whatsoever, sweeps right past Travers and Bruce and Alfred and just plucks Lor straight out of Clark's arms. Which–forget the kid calling him "Wayne"; that's a damn etiquette breach. Hell, Clark probably only didn't take Carl's head off for snatching up his pup without permission because he's so clearly dumbfounded that he actually did it.

Bruce is slightly less dumbfounded due to having spent five seconds in the kid's presence, but still, what is he–

"Carly!" Travers chokes in horror. Carl very obviously doesn't even hear her and just starts purring at Lor and cuddling him close in a way that really doesn't even slightly imply "detachment disorder".

And then Bruce figures out what was "odd" about Carl's expression, before.

"Huh," he says, a little bemused. "Did he just go into feral drop?"

"Alpha Wayne, I assure you, this is not the Waterton Agency's standard of behavior!" Travers sputters, sounding even more horrified, and Clark just blinks and tilts his head.

"I think he did, yeah," he says, looking perplexed. Carl continues ignoring everyone in the room except for Lor and just purrs louder at him as they both nuzzle into each other. Lor makes more very distinctly Kryptonian pup-calls at him, and Carl croons back with no apparent concern over their strangeness, sounding absolutely goddamn enamored.

That is definitely not a detachment disorder, Bruce thinks. There is no possible way that an omega with a detachment disorder just went into full feral drop over a pup at first sight.

Or possibly first sound, he's realizing.

Bruce is perfectly aware that omegas can feral-bond with distressed pups whether they mean to or not, but he's never seen it happen this fast outside of a warzone or a natural disaster. He's heard hearsay and read studies about particularly compatible sets that have done it under less stressful circumstances, but distressed and starving pup or not, he wouldn't have even expected a human omega to be capable of bonding with a Kryptonian pup like that.

Or at all, frankly. Deliberately created and carefully cultivated pack bonds are one thing, but . . .

Lor chirps, the sound still a little quiet and fragile, a little weak, but also undeniably hopeful, and Carl gives him a low, rumbly purr in reply and yanks up his inconveniently-cut T-shirt to expose his chest with no trace of hesitation or modesty. He's already leaking sweetly-scented milk, already adjusting his grip on Lor to let the pup get at his chest as easily and comfortably as possible, and Lor latches without a moment's hesitation and immediately starts to nurse.

And then Lor purrs. Carl just watches him with undeniable adoration, still paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else in the room.

Alright, then, Bruce thinks carefully.

Well, that just happened.

"Thought you didn't like kids, Carl?" he inquires casually, putting on an easy grin, and Carl finally seems to come up enough to remember that the rest of them exist, though he still doesn't actually take his eyes off Lor.

"I would literally become a supervillain if this kid asked me to," he replies dreamily, keeping Lor cradled in one arm and tracing a finger down the pup's cheek with a soft, besotted expression that's unmistakable for what it is even with the sunglasses on. He looks like he might just burn down the world if someone tried to take Lor away from him right now, and his pheromones are so all-encompassing and so cloyingly sweet that Bruce genuinely might need to see a dentist after this.

"Well usually I'd say we keep Batman in the loop on that kind of thing around here, but if the kiddo asks, it only seems fair," he jokes with a laugh.

"I would drop-kick Batman off a roof for you," Carl informs Lor lovingly as he strokes his cheek again and then skims a fingertip along the little barely-visible scar splitting his eyebrow. Lor keeps purring sweetly and Alfred coughs to conceal a low chuckle. Clark looks a little pained to be watching one of his pups nurse from another omega so easily and eagerly, but his mouth quirks in amusement at the comment anyway. Bruce doesn't dignify any of them with a response, because he is an alpha with dignity and also is in no way threatened by a passing comment from a barely-presented kid who clearly isn't even combat-trained.

. . . although he also isn't going to be stupid enough to try coaxing Lor away from the omega he just feral-bonded with just yet either.

Then Tim walks by the doorway, takes one look at Carl with Lor, and trips over literally nothing and into a full faceplant on the foyer floor. Bruce pauses, then raises an eyebrow.

"Alright down there, Timmy?" he asks. Tim scrambles back to his feet, looking more genuinely mortified than he's ever seen him.

"Fine!" he blurts. "Fine. Everything's fine. All the things are fine. Uh. What? Who?"

"This is Carl," Bruce says, gesturing to the kid. "Wet nurse from the Waterton Agency. And his escort, Beta Travers. Carl, Beta Travers, this is my son, Tim Drake-Wayne. And also Clark Lane-Kent and his pup, Chris Lane-Kent, who I'm assuming you've figured out are your prospective clients."

"Yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says with a grimace. "We gathered."

"Ngh," Tim says, looking at literally everything but Carl and Lor. His face is bright red, which is an unusual amount of embarrassment for him to be showing just over tripping. Typically he masks that kind of thing a lot more effectively. Bruce would almost think he was actually embarrassed by watching Carl feed Lor, but Tim's literally never been affected by anything but passing curiosity when seeing a pup nurse before, so that seems unlikely. And he's a male beta, if still an unpresented one, so it's not like he's got any reason to care all that much about it anyway.

So his reaction does seem a little odd, yes.

Hm.

"Chris," Carl coos adoringly down at Lor. Bruce is in no way stupid enough to think that he absorbed any of the rest of that introduction or has even noticed Tim's presence at all. He wouldn't even put money on him having noticed Clark's presence, in fact, except as a pup-delivery system. The kid is very clearly in love with the pup in his arms and doesn't give a damn about any of the rest of them at all.

Detachment disorder. Sure.

[writingmyheartsout]

So the editing and proofreading is taking long, longer now that the new Thunderbolts trailer is out and I got...distracted, very much distracted...

But speaking of Thunderbolts, meanwhile, you all wait I want to give you another spoiler, of another fic I have in the works (one that I started when the first teaser trailer was out).

A Thunderbolts Bucky story, Born with a broken heart. And here's a little sneak peek. (still very much unedited and yeah, this will be an unresolved feelings with a hint of sad )

"Buck..?" you said almost surprised when you saw him in a grocery store, browsing through products almost uninterested.

He looked...different..way different from when you knew him.

And you wondered what happened. 

He was equally surprised when he saw you. He looked up at you, his old friend and smiled. Maybe the first proper smile in years. 

"It's good to see you."

He sounded even older now, more tired, but still the same somehow. But he definitely looked older and...tired. Depressed, almost.

"Same..." you replied cheerfully, moving closer and hugging him sideways almost on instinct. 

But at your touch, he almost flinched, so you just moved back, still looking up at him gently.

Yep still very much tall you thought.

"How are you? I don't think I saw you much around these days..”

He flinched at your touch but caught himself quickly. He wasn't used to this contact anymore. It's been ages since he had a proper, close touch with someone.

"I'm... Alright," he replied slowly, but in a way, you could tell he was lying. He looked at you curiously, scanning you with his eyes. 

"I'm retired now.”

Even after years, you could tell he was lying, but you brushed it off for now, not wanting to make him uncomfortable among other people, in a grocery store

"Isn't that a good thing..?" you asked truthfully, tilting your head to the side in confusion. 

"I mean...you could live a life now, couldn't you?”

He chuckled at your innocence. "It's a good thing, yes," he agreed. "I don't really have to do anything anymore. And I don't really do anything anymore."

He looked up again and began browsing again, more carelessly. He was only doing this for show, anyway.

"Guess I just have more time to think, you know? It's a curse.”

[terapsina]

EPILOGUE - Part 2 - She's Come Undone and Set Free- Angry BAMF Elena Fic

relationships: elena/elijah, elena & rebekah, elena & caroline, elena & bonnie, caroline/klaus, bonnie/rebekah

summary:

She’d been free. Freed from a conscience she couldn’t afford to give up again. Free from the grief she’d never actually wanted to abandon, not until the choice was taken from her. But also free from the two brothers that had been taking choices away from her from the moment they’d come to town.

And she didn’t want to give that freedom up. She wouldn’t. Not ever again.

/or/

When Elena feels her humanity returning she finds herself focusing on having finally been free from the Salvatore brothers, and doesn't abandon her justified anger. Unfortunately, she also realizes that her sire bond to Damon isn't fully broken and goes to Rebekah for help, help that involves a little trip to New Orleans.

On the way, Elena will have to deal with her newly returned humanity as well as some long-awaited truths about Caroline's old relationship with the older Salvatore.

There are some things that even the most compassionate person could never forgive.

read on AO3:

                   Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Epilogue Part 1 | Epilogue Part 2 | ...

sneak peek:

Rebekah had been stubbornly ignoring the sight of Caroline's judgemental eyes on the periphery of her vision for the past three minutes. The younger vampire didn't say anything, and yet the eyes seemed to be getting louder with each passing moment anyway. "What?" she finally snapped, once it became clear that unless she chose to acknowledge it, this might very well continue for the rest of the night. "You're doing it wrong," Caroline informed her. Rebekah tried to remind herself that she actually rather liked the blonde baby-vampire now. Unfortunately, after forty-eight hours of getting subjected to Caroline actively micromanaging every single, last aspect of this particular day... it was rather hard to remember why. She took in a fortifying breath and made herself remember how much she was looking forward to the sight of Bonnie lying beside her on some European beach in that new dark blue bikini Rebekah had seen her packing into a suitcase - an evening with cooling sand beneath them, still-warm light from the sunset playing across the lines and dips of Bonnie's relaxed form; the feeling of Bonnie's hand in her own as Rebekah pulled her into the frothy waves for a midnight swim - and that any new murder attempts on Rebekah's part would instead certainly result in a rather sad and lonely trip through Europe. Killing Caroline wouldn't be worth losing that. Plus Nik would probably bitch about it from now until Earth got swallowed by the expanding hunger of their sun. On the other hand... "It's a marshmallow, how exactly can I be burning it wrong?"

[after-witch]

The Price of Flesh WIP sneak peek (TPOF!Ren x reader)

have a lil WIP sneak peek of the "reader runs away after Strade dies and TPOF!Ren finds them years and years later" multi-chapter fic I've been working on!

note: kidnapped reader, violence

--

"What should I do with you?" He asks, and the last bit trails off a little into something almost sing-song that matches the way he dances the knife back and forth in front of the camera. In front of you. It makes your stomach clench and drop, makes your muscles tighten.

And oh, you hate this. You hate how it brings you back to Strade. You hate how it brings you back to Ren, too, a different Ren from the one in front of you. Half-formed, still waiting to crawl out of whatever oily cocoon he fashioned for himself in the years after you left.

Strade liked it when you and Ren gave him ideas on how to play with the two of you. Hurt you. Maim you. Never enough to kill, because where's the fun in that? And if you didn't come up with something, he'd sigh and call you boring, not a team player, maybe he ought to find someone new. So it was smarter, then, to play his game.

It was how you stayed alive long enough to get out.

But what's the game now?

Even though the situation is so fucking familiar (tied up and half-naked and in front of cameras being streamed to strangers who want you to hurt and die so, so much) you're in new territory that leaves you feeling like you could step off the edge at any moment. You don't know what Ren really wants, if he wants you dead or alive, if he'd really gut you like a fish in front of the cameras and have no qualms about it.

Or if there's anything you can do to keep yourself around another day.

"I don't know," you push out, teeth sticking to the inside of your dry mouth. "I don't know, I don't fucking know."

Ren--not-Ren, you suppose, with his mask and voice changer and the act he's putting on--tilts his head, quirking it comically like he's in a goddamn anime and not a serial killer murdering people on stream for profit.

"If you don't know, how am I supposed to know?"

"I don't know," you say, lips curling in disgust.

"So I've heard," he murmurs. He drops down, crouching on your level, and your chains rattle as you try to gain enough purchase to move away from him.

You can't, so you don't.

The flat part of his knife presses against your cheek, tilting only a little, slicing across the bandage that had been slapped onto your cheek somewhere between being drugged in the car and waking up in a cell.

The cut isn't deep but the sting smarts. Not enough to satisfy him or anyone watching, but enough to get your attention--Wake up.

"C'mon," he whispers, low enough that you realize the people watching the stream won't here. "Play with me, won't you? You used to be good at this."

[han-jislay]

underrated bokuaka fics #2

these are only some fics i have read, they're all underrated!! they make me feel giddy and they feed my bokuaka addiction.

ex revenge hot line | Lxnn word count: 63, 388

akaashi's side job is to get hired from someone who got hurt to date their ex and break their heart

↳ a little angsty at the end, but happy ending never the less. "you're not evil, just heartbroken."

say yes | kazzydolyn word count: 7, 721

5 times bokuto asks akaashi a question and 1 time akaashi has a life changing question for bokuto

↳ very cute and makes me feel single in 100 ways. 5+1 trend!!

call me koutarou | kazzydolyn word count: 2, 888

akaashi tries to break the enduring habit of calling bokuto "bokuto-san"

↳ i see this as very canon, this story is so well depicted! not ooc at all.

soft blue | groaninlynch word count: 6, 031

akaashi is unaware he lost his sketchbook and bokuto takes a sneak peek

↳ literally the reason why i wanted to make this list. 100% underrated!!! i love this so much

the great mystery of a hickey | sunnybluesky word count: 25, 479

hinata, atsumu and sakusa go on a mission to find the mystery lover that gave bokuto a hickey

↳ a bit long, and the trio is a bit stupid but it's bokuaka so no complaints

i pretend you're mine, all the damn time | glitterati word count: 4, 326

bokuto asks akaashi for kissing practice because of a girl

↳ oh how the turns have tabled. this story got me hanging by a thread.

cat and kid | norio word count: 2, 817

kenma gets a misunderstanding about akaashi and his cat, bokuto-san

↳ norio's works are so good yet underrated!!! this story was a rollercoaster and i swear i had no idea what was happening. poor kenma must've felt 2x worse.

the impaled | norio word count: 2, 184

bokuto is a vampire hunter and akaashi owns an antique store

↳ you know when you want a part two so bad?? yeah. this one is the one.

cookies and cream | norio word count: 5, 840

akaashi has a habit of stress baking

↳ i think this is one of my favourites, i love baking and bokuaka, what a perfect combination.

nine hundred lies | norio word count: 8, 454

akaashi is a big fat liar. happy ending

↳ it's a happy ending, but akaashi lies through his teeth. do you think there's a confession?

one in a hundred | norio word count: 4, 080

though he has no proof, bokuto thinks dating akaashi would be easier if he didn't try to break up with him all the time

↳ akaashi second guesses himself so much, it projects onto his relationship. damn

4am | talonyth word count: 13, 448

akaashi doesn't call often, let alone at an ungodly hour

↳ i was quite conflicted about this story but it's actually quite good, especially at the end! almost like a slow burn. but medium. so medium burn.

wing man | CheekyBrunette word count: 8, 366

kuroo doesn't let anyone date bokuto that doesn't meet his standards. fortunately, akaashi does

↳ bokuroo is like peak comedy and friendship goals! oh to have a friend like kuroo. this story was quite nice and it's more of kuroo's pov than anything.

hanging by a moment | gabstar word count: 1, 169

finding the perfect moment isn't always easy

↳ my descriptions are so bad oml, i can't really remember what this was about, but i do remember that akaashi and bokuto has their own pace, and a lot of people like to interfere.

[pavlovianfuckery]

there's a joke about being railed somewhere in here

A/N: Re-uploading all my fics after having a slight mental breakdown and deleting everything, bone apple tea and all that anyway

AO3

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Summary: Look at the notes, there's not as much as a crumb of plot here, there's just me cocking my brain like a splatoon gun and firing it an a poor, unsuspecting word doc until this came out.

Pairing: Blaine DeBeers/F!Reader

Notes: bit of dirty talk and knife play, CNC, uhhhh oral sex with a gun??? no use of y/n

Length: 3300~ words

You had to admit that out of all the things you had expected to be doing tonight, running hadn't exactly been at the top of the list. Considering how he usually likes you pretty and prefers having easy access, him telling you to wear something disposable and to skip the heels tonight should have made it obvious what sort of thing he had in mind for tonight. Not that you didn't usually end up winded by the end of it, but it had yet to involve what could only be described as some sort of messed up game of cat and mouse. But then, there's a first time for everything. At least now the location makes sense. No nosy neighbors, or anyone else either for that matter. If he was planning to fuck you until you screamed yourself hoarse, there's worse places to do that than an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. Not that he'd said it explicitly but it had been pretty heavily implied. He'd been pretty vague though, so you suppose 'don't plan to be nice' could mean almost anything.

On some level this entire situation feels very silly, but you can't deny that it's fun. Hiding behind some old shelving you do your best to keep quiet, despite the hysterical little giggle bubbling in your throat. It's even more difficult since you have a rough idea of how this is going to go once he catches you. Because he will. It might not even take very long. The building isn't all that big and you can hear him moving around, which makes it even harder to be quiet. When the lights come on, you nearly yelp. Most of the bulbs are broken but a couple still work, bathing the worn down brick walls in softly flickering yellow light. Then he's moving again, step by unhurried step. He keeps getting closer to where you're hiding, and at this rate you're going to have to make a run for it soon. The only reason that he doesn't see you sneaking a peek is that he has his back turned, and you only barely manage to duck back down before he turns around. Even in sneakers it's difficult to keep your steps quiet, every small sound echoing around the empty space, but you try. Slowly moving around the back of the huge shelf, you try to hurry but not rush. The door isn't that far away, just up a few short steps and then around the corner, so in theory, you could make it. It takes you a few seconds to realize how quiet it's gotten. That can't be good.

You hadn't been sure if you'd be able to take this seriously and actually try to resist, but it turns out that it's not that hard, not when you only narrowly avoid banging your head on the wall, rough bricks scraping your shoulders almost raw from the impact.

"There you are." His voice isn't quite a growl but it's close enough and between that and the surge of adrenaline, struggling comes a lot more naturally than you'd anticipated. Not that it does you much good. When you try to push him away and wiggle out of his grip, he just laughs, slamming you back against the wall and knocking some of the breath out of you. "Was hoping you'd try a little bit harder, though." Then he steps back and let's go, gesturing for you to run again. "Go on." You only make it a few steps before you find yourself flattened against the wall again.

"Wha-"

"Changed my mind," he cuts you off, summer-sky eyes glittering with amusement as he casually slips a hand around your neck, pinning you down. With his other hand, he reaches into a pocket. You're not sure what he's going to do and you can't really see what he's doing either. When a few flicks of his wrist have a flash of silver flickering at the edge of your vision, you freeze.

He's just as casual when he ghosts the knife across your collarbone. The blade is so sharp that it almost doesn't hurt when it slides over your skin, drawing sluggish drops of red to the surface, and even though it's barely a scratch it still has a whimper sticking in your throat. You can only try to stay still and just breathe as he lazily drags the tip of the knife over your chest. Every little cut sends a shiver through you, making heat pool low in your belly. It's impossible to see exactly what he's doing, just feel the sting of the lines he's etching into you. It seems to be mostly random but then he pauses, a second of hesitation before sliding the blade across the top of your left breast. While the other cuts had been almost thoughtless, just little straight nicks and crisscrossing lines, this one has his full attention. As he drags the tip of the knife over your breast his eyes go half-lidded, focused on this new line. It curves, it goes deeper and it really hurts. It unsticks the whimper caught in your throat and it's all you can do not to start struggling again. Even if it wouldn't kill you, you don't exactly cherish the thought of impaling yourself by accident and ending the evening prematurely. When he finally stops, you're both a bit short of breath.

As he bends down and runs his tongue over your swollen and tender skin, you very nearly forget how this was supposed to go. Just his breath burns but you still start to melt into his touch. Until he bites you. It's not hard enough to break skin but it still hurts like hell, making you yelp and remember that right, you weren't supposed to go along with this. As you start wriggling he tightens his grip, making your head spin as you struggle for breath.

"That's a bit better." Hooking the blade over the edge of your tank top he grins at you, teeth stained pink. Instead of making a straight cut, he leverages the spine of the blade against you as he cuts with jerking little motions, causing the very tip of the knife to dip into your skin as the thin fabric parts under the blade without offering barely any resistance. When the top falls completely open you're left with a dotted line from your sternum all the way down your stomach, and for a second you half expect him to put his mouth on you again. You're almost disappointed when he doesn't. Instead, he glides the knife under first one strap and then the other, a quick flick of his wrist making the slim elastic snap and leaving you completely bare from the waist up, nipples pebbling in the cool evening air. "And that's perfect. Well, almost."

As he goes to slip the blade into the waistband of your leggings he loosens his grip just enough that you manage to get free. This time you make it up the short concrete steps and almost to the door before he catches you again. Though perhaps catch isn't quite the right word, because rather than try to grab you he pushes you. It's not hard but still enough to make you stumble on the last step and nearly go down.

"You fucking asshole," you spit, only barely managing to grab the railing to keep your balance. Despite the want slithering low in your belly, putting up a bit more of a fight suddenly seems like a better idea. Whirling around you're so ready to aim a punch right at his smug face that it takes you a second to even notice the gun.

"Someone's forgotten her manners," he tuts, clicking his tongue as he gestures with the pistol. "On your knees, sweetheart." And that has no business sounding quite that good right now, but you do as he says. Maybe the gun should put you off more than it does, but it does little to temper the heat steadily growing between your thighs. He really hadn't been kidding when he'd said that he wouldn't be nice tonight.

"You expect me to put my hands behind my head, too?" It comes out harsh and sarcastic, and perhaps the attitude is ill-advised in this situation. You doubt that it's actually loaded, but that's hardly the point of this little game, anyway.

"No," he lets out a humorless little laugh as he steps closer, tilting your chin up with the barrel of the gun. For a second he hesitates, eyes flicking over your face. Then there's cold metal pressing almost gently against your lips. "Open." Despite being fairly certain that it's not loaded, fear still wraps around the molten want in your belly, cold and sharp like razor wire. It's not enough to deter you though. Everything about this is uncomfortable, from how you try to avoid it sliding over your teeth to the unyielding concrete making your knees ache. The long, shaky exhale he lets out as you run your tongue over it makes it almost worth it, though. Still, he pushes for more. "Suck it like you mean it, doll." Keeping your eyes fixed on his, you wrap your lips around the barrel of the gun. The taste of metal and gun oil floods your mouth but with the way his eyes go dark and a breathy little half-moan escapes him, you hardly notice it. You make sure to be messy with it as you suck, making the dull metal shine with saliva as you gag yourself on it. The effect it has on him isn't lost on you, especially not from this position.

"Fuck, your mouth is pretty," he groans, abruptly pulling the gun away. For a second you think that me's going to replace the gun with his cock but instead, he grabs you by the back of the neck. Being yanked to your feet isn't exactly comfortable either and you fight him the whole way, even if it's only on principle. The swift kick you aim at him barely connects with his thigh but it still has his eyes hazing over with red as he slams you against the railing. "Vicious little bitch," he snarls and now you're not sure if he's actually angry or not. As he manhandles you until you're bent over the railing it hardly matters, though.

"Fuck you." You aim another kick backwards, only hitting air.

"Yeah?" His breathing is ragged as he twists your arm behind your back until your shoulder aches in protest. This time you can't see the knife but you can still feel it as he slides it between your skin and the waistband of your leggings, a quick slice parting the elastic. Even though they almost fall down on their own he still yanks on them, making the seams pop and rip as he pulls them down. You're not sure if it's planned or just him being impatient, but rather than taking them off in any reasonable way he reaches down between your legs and hooks the knife over fabric stretched taut between your thighs. From there all it takes is a few rough cuts to make the already-stressed garment fall apart into two separate pieces. The anticipation of what's next has you aching, but you still offer up some token resistance as he kicks your legs apart.

"Don't worry baby," he coos in your ear, voice almost sickly sweet as he grinds himself against your bare ass," this'll only hurt a little." He's a bit slow at getting his fly open, but you suppose that can be blamed on his apparent refusal to put the knife away. That should probably worry you more than it does but then his hard cock is rubbing against you and it doesn't seem terribly important. When he slips between your legs and rubs against your entrance he groans. "Damn," he reaches around and gropes you, the tip of the knife pricking the inside of your thigh, "look at you. Fuck, you're wet." He's anything but gentle when he finally drives into you, hard enough to make you cry out.

"Don't move," he grunts, but it's not exactly easy. With the way he's bent you over he's already forcing you onto the tips of your toes, and with the railing supporting much of your weight, every thrust threatens to make you lose contact with the ground completely. The railing digs into your chest and makes it hard to breathe too, but the second you try to move into a more comfortable position he slides the knife up to your neck, holding it there. You can't tell if it's the spine or the edge so you do your best to stay still, though it's not entirely successful. "I said, don't move."

As you swallow, the blade pressed against you only barely breaks the skin, but the sting of it brings everything else into sharp focus. The way he moves inside of you, slowly pushing you closer and closer to the edge, every noise falling from that pretty mouth of his, the sound of your flesh smacking together. The filth he's pouring right into your ear.

"Maybe I should," he pants against the back of your neck, the words coming in fits and starts as he pounds into you, "should make you walk home after this. All marked up..." he bites into your shoulder hard enough to bruise before continuing, every word making the tension inside of you wind tighter and tighter, "and fucked so full of me that you're dripping with it. Let all of Seattle see what a whore you are."

Even though you know he's not seriously asking, you still can't keep from whimpering in response. Your world is shrinking until all that exists is his voice and his cock and the knife, keeping you trapped between them, pushing you closer and closer to the point of no return. And he still won't stop talking.

"Would you like that? If everyone saw," he lets go of your arm, grabbing onto your hip for more leverage instead, "if everyone knew what you let me do to you?"

"Yes," it comes out in a feeble little sob, but you're too far gone to care. He gives a throaty little laugh, slowing down.

"You're so close, aren't you?" His voice is like razorblades wrapped in cotton candy, sharp and brittle and so sweet it almost makes your teeth ache. Not waiting for a response, he slams into you hard enough to make you see stars. "You going to come for me?" When he finds the spot that makes your knees almost give out, he drills into you mercilessly, right there. "Come for me like a good little whore?"

"Anything you want," you moaning and frantic, struggling to form words. "Just please, don't stop, please..."

"Anything?" You don't have to see to be able to tell that he's grinning at you, you can feel his teeth at the back of your neck. Every thrust knocks a helpless little wail from you, echoing around the empty building, making it hard to talk.

"Yes, anything, just let me-"

"Say it, then." He drives into you again, and your release is so close that you can almost taste it, and with the way his breath hitches and his voice wavers, he can't be that far behind. "You're my whore."

"I'm your whore," you gasp, head swimming as you tremble against him. At this rate, it feels as if you'll fall apart no matter what he does, but it feels so good to say it so you do it anyway."Yours, only yours."

"Again," he groans, and for a few seconds, he's almost still, just nudging against that spot inside of you. Rather than pushing you over the edge he's dragging you right up to it, inch by inch, so slow that it feels as if you're going to break into a million tiny pieces. "Louder, sweetheart."

And that does it, whether he means it to or not. As your release crashes into you, you fuzzily hope that whatever he wanted to hear is in there somewhere. When your knees give out he's quick to catch you, trapping you between his body and the railing as he fucks you through it. You're going to be sore after this but between the rush of adrenaline, lack of oxygen making your head spin and him dragging your pleasure out for as long as he can stand it, you can't bring yourself to care. What you do care about is the filthy noise that he makes when he comes, pushing as deep as he can go and filling you until you really are dripping with it, as if he's been saving it all for you. Maybe he has.

As you slowly start coming down, you remember that right, you're naked except for your shoes, and that makes you let out a choked little laugh. Dropping the blade from your neck, he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Something funny?" Still a bit out of breath, he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades before pulling out, setting himself to rights. Not that there's a lot of that, since he looks fucked out but otherwise pristine. It's almost unfair.

"I'm naked," you giggle, not quite sure how to explain why that's hysterical.

"Mm, I've noticed." He drawls, idly poking your ass with the tip of the knife before putting it away, making you yelp at the sting.

"You're not actually going to make me walk home, are you?" You're pretty sure he's not, but it never hurts to make sure. Straightening up and leaning back against the railing you try to convince your back and knees that yes, upright is better, and we're going to walk, not crawl out of here. It's not entirely successful and you're definitely going to be sore tomorrow, in more ways than one.

"Wasn't planning on it." He quirks an eyebrow at you, clearly not following your train of thought, "You want to?"

"No, just," you bite your lip, not sure how to put it. "Are you really going to let me ride bare-assed and freshly fucked in your car?" At least that seems to get the point across, even if it does make him look at you as if you've grown a second head.

"Obviously not." At your confused look, he sighs, "Just stay put." When he walks out and closes the door behind him, there's a few seconds that you think that maybe he really is letting you walk, and the sound of the car door opening and closing doesn't really help. But then the door opens again and he's back, holding a wadded-up bundle of something out to you. "Not that kind of monster, doll." He doesn't quite meet your eyes as he thrusts it into your hands. "Try not to get blood all over it."

You have to fold the pant legs up several times and the t-shirt is too big for you, but they're both well-worn and soft and the way they both smell like him makes something loosen in your chest.

The drive home is quiet and you spend most of it in a satisfied sort of daze, alternating between looking out the window at the passing streetlights and watching him. Deciding to survey the damage you flip the passenger side mirror down, pulling the neckline of the shirt out of the way. It's not so bad, the blood has mostly dried up and nothing looks to be very deep. It's just random lines, except in one place. Some twisted part of you wishes that you could keep it, but since it'll be gone in a day or two you're not sure if you should comment on the 'B' decorating the top of your left breast, about three inches tall and already scabbing over. In the end, you decide not to say anything. What difference would it make?

⁂

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

If you liked this spicy snack even a little, please consider supporting your local smut-slinger and hitting the reblog button on the way out, perhaps even drop a comment if you're feeling generous, it really helps with the motivation side of things a lot!

[blorboazula]

Agatha All Along Fics

they're all in one AO3 series but here's a masterlist anyways (it also has upcoming WIPs that will be linked when I post them.)

Standalones

Try To Save Agatha: a sneak peek of an AU in which the coven thinks the only way to save Alice is leaving Agatha in the cabin with her mother. Alice thinks they're wrong.

Purple Bundle: Teen accidentally turns Agatha into a baby.

Safe as Kittens: Teen accidently turns the coven into kittens.

The Devil is in the Details: the one in which Agatha being left-handed is important to me, so I wrote about it.

Agatha All Along Week (2024): well, exactly what the name says.

A Mass Murderer & Her Protective Coven Mates: short multi-chapter. the one in which Wanda shows up at Agatha's door five years later, with questionable plans, and instead is greeted with protective Coven and forcibly thrown into a mentor/mentee relationship with Agatha.

The Child on the Porch: Wanda doesn't find her twins, somehow she brings another witch's child into the realm of the living.

All The Carved Lines: runes are Agatha's thing, and if she's anything, it's resourceful (aka a failsafe rune from centuries ago is very useful when you decide to kill yourself).

Series

Reaper!Agatha

the AU where Agatha gets a job and her own cunty half skullface and sexy costume.

the kiss of death (is not what you think): the kiss in episode 8 ends a little differently.

"I didn't volunteer for a job," says witch who kissed her way into having a job: turns out, borrowing Rio's powers does mean Agatha got a job now.

don't you recognize me, Alice?: Agatha pays Alice a visit, there's some closure.

no body, no crime: Agatha reaps Wanda.

visiting hours: Agatha watches Nicky from afar, feat. Wanda pestering her.

status report: turns out "borrowing" powers from basically the evolution of a witch is a little permanent.

A Coven of Coven-less Witches

the coven as a found family + Vidarkness having a second chance at stuff.

mission: kill the baby daddy: so... the Road went overboard when giving Agatha's powers back.

the quiet extra parental unit: Billy really appreciates how quiet it is to be with Agatha.

monopolizing the familiars: in which Billy is just a little envious that all the familiars decided to cuddle Rio, and Agatha does not think he's adorable.

about clingy witches: detective Billy is detecting and connecting the dots, oh, of course Agatha knocked up a Reaper.

stitches and runes: Agatha's working really hard on a decent speech, and stressed about it. but at least teaching Billy to stitch protective runes into clothes is relaxing. (also, kinda manoeuvring around Rio being a human-sized koala).

it's all fun and games until the baby bump: it's not that Billy isn't happy about this, he just didn't expect to be suddenly hit by the realisation that now Agatha would have an actual child of her own.

Salemite's Blue

Agatha is technically Billy's dad, the coven is his real family, it's all wholesome (and angsty at points, as a treat).

Agatha, You Are The Father: turns out, even the Scarlet Witch can't make a soul on her own.

Protect the Witchling: Wanda kidnaps Billy, nobody can harm the emo baby witch.

It's Called "Coven of Chaos" For a Reason...: drabbles, snippets, little scenes that keep bouncing in my head. Coven of Chaos being chaotic.

The Gentlest Bloodied Hands: direct aftermath of Protect the Witchling, Agatha watches over Billy and it's having the hardest time keeping him under the "mentee" label.

[sidgeno-ficrecs]

this delicate place by @ljummen

sidgeno (2019, explicit, 32.8k) **content notes: mental illness, anxiety attacks, depression, trauma and its aftermath

“Are you?” Taylor asks unexpectedly. “Am I what?” Looking up from the stove, Sid finds her watching him with an odd look on her face. “Happy.” It should be an easy question to answer. Sid has escaped back to Canada after a career ending injury. It doesn’t dawn on him exactly how much early retirement has affected him, until Taylor introduces him to a YouTube channel where a firefighter talks about his own struggles with his mental health.

Hey Geno,

I just watched this video and realized that I’ve had several panic attacks over the course of a few months. I had one a few hours ago. I haven’t experienced anything traumatic, but anxiety (I assume, based on your description in this video) has been sneaking up on me. A week ago, I bought two plants, like you suggested in another video. Today’s panic attack was triggered by me noticing that they were dead (the plants, I mean).

I feel stupid for reacting to something so trivial. I haven’t watched that many of your videos, but from what I understood, you actually experienced something bad. So why am I broken for no reason?

this is a hard time of year.

it's dark, it's cold (if you're in the northern hemisphere), and for me at least, it always seems like the post-holiday winter stretch is when bad things happen. it's easy to get lost in your own head and spend hours dwelling on what's gone wrong, or what might go wrong, and get stuck in a negative feedback loop that can be so, so hard to break out of.

i've mentioned before that i don't love fics that diagnose sid (or geno, but it's usually sid) with certain neurodivergencies because in my experience it leads to people talking about him like he actually has x or y and it makes me uncomfortable, but i re-read this fic last night because i've been feeling down recently and i think it deserves a moment in the spotlight.

this story is a very raw, honest look at what it can be like to deal with depression and anxiety, from the perspective of someone who never has before and doesn't know what's going on and needs an extra push to see what's happening and get help.

depression is a lonely, isolating experience, and that's part of what makes it so dangerous. it's so easy to not notice that you're withdrawing and losing yourself until it's almost too much to climb out of, and on top of all that you've lost all motivation to take steps to get better. it's a vicious, evil little trick the brain can play on you, and @ljummen walks us through sidney's experience with it with care, honesty, and compassion.

this fic made me feel seen. it can be hard to read—sid has panic attacks and we as readers experience them right along with him, along with the other symptoms of depression—but if you're in a space where reading about it won't make you feel worse or trigger anything, i really recommend it. we see sid struggle, we see him be in denial of what he's dealing with—what does he have to be depressed over, after all? what trauma does he have to deal with?—and, crucially, we see him turn a corner and start to get better.

i think that's the magic of this story. sid manages to step outside of the black pit he's stuck in long enough to take steps to get help, and he meets someone who knows him and understands what he's going through, and they fall in love despite the obstacles in their way. it's a story about someone whose life isn't going the way they thought it would, but who manages to see that's not necessarily the end of the world, and for me at least reading this story gave me comfort and hope.

yes, it can be dark at times. life can be hard, so hard that it seems easier to just go back to bed and try and wait it out. but you also might meet someone who sees you, and knows you, and is there for you, and who you can see and know and support in return. there's light out there, if you can peek outside the curtain to look for it.

i hope you're all taking care of yourselves. be gentle with your own mind if you've been having a difficult time. reach out to the people who love you—they want to be there for you, even if you're hearing that little voice that says you're just a burden.

and if you're up to it, read this story, which will hopefully provide you a little comfort and escape and hope, like it does for me when i'm having bad days.

read it here on ao3!

and don't forget to leave a comment!

[instantpansies]

and so it begins

First Chapter!!! Most Recent Chapter!!!

as we all know, Perry the Platypus won the @hellsite-hungergames and killed @hellsite-hall-of-fame.

the first polls, in which you people chose: - third person - author's notes in the middle of text - weird epithets to denote speakers - smirking

i'll be working on the first few chapters as i have time and releasing them one by one on ao3. my user is twenty_four_manticores and i'll be releasing this fic under the pseud instantpansies!

example of what we can all look forward to here. (holiday special sneak peek here)

current ship names in running: Pellsite, Perrysite, S.W.C.N. (Ship Without a Cool Name) - compiling a suggestion list and will run again with new options in a bit. round one poll

giving perry a tragic backstory here and here.

y'all decided i shouldn't refamiliarize myself with the og hunger games here.

messing with povs, decided here.

capital building doorway message here

i'll be releasing additional polls throughout the writing process to really crowdsource this fic. it'll be so much more authentic that way. they'll be released at random times but i'll have a featured tag on my blog with all the posts related to this fic. updates will follow.

finally, i will be open to all suggestions at any point! if we have a lot of people asking for things i'll make a poll! tell me what you want and i'll make an effort to get it in there, no promises though.

guidelines: hellsite-hall-of-fame has asked to keep this fic relatively sfw. while there will obviously be some violence and MCD, we're keeping this strictly smutless. pg-13, people, i'm rating this fic T on ao3!

tags to search on my blog if you only want to see fic content: - #enemies to lovers angst hurt no comfort 200k hellsite hall of fame x perry the platypus (all) - #the fic (all) - #LORE (things i might add later/won't be in the story but might help add some texture as i'm writing. mainly stuff from blogs involved acting in-character) - #hellsite hall of fame - #perry the platypus - #hellsite hunger games - #fic polls (if you only want to see polls) - #fic suggestions (anything y'all give me to work with that isn't in a poll!) - #chapter announcements

also, all pnf/mml/hng/etc posts are organized under #dwampyverse, not their own individual tags (except perry the platypus and dr doofenshmirtz)

disclaimers below cut

please note: i am a student with a ridiculous schedule and adhd. i make absolutely no promises to update this fic in a timely fashion.

fair warning: i've written fanfic before on my main pseud (twenty_four_manticores). i don't write smut but i occasionally write ~weird~ things. if you have a problem with any of my writing i don't care, send anon hate right here on tumblr dot com and i'll defend myself (or not) as i see fit.

what the hell am i doing. i write oneshots. i don't have the attention span for this. oh no. oh no