#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!]

[jiminrings]

PRESIDENT RINGS your m&ms... emmy nems... ANYWAY YOUR HIGHNESS PLEASE . i am begging for higher power sneak peek PLEASE PELASE i will ask once and twice until we get it and nothing more

higher power aka brother's best friend n Yearning fic sneak peek :D

waiting for jungkook to love again doesn't guarantee you a permanent romantic spot in his life, even if you've been in love with him the longest.

alternatively, you promised yourself to keep confessing to jungkook, your brother's best friend, every year until you turn twenty-eight.

Jungkook has a habit of coming over unannounced.

In between all your parents' insisting that your house is also his for him to run to anytime, to your brother realizing that being friends with Jungkook meant having to see him in unhealthy doses because he has no other choice, Jungkook effectively integrated himself to the quilt of your life.

He's a lived-in, well-loved shirt that's cut up and fashioned into a granny square, along with a hundred other versions of him that you've had the privilege of seeing; it's actually ironic because Jungkook's left a lot of his items, of himself, both in your childhood house and your shared apartment with your brother, and he's never batted an eye once about their whereabouts.

Jungkook doesn't question why your parents posted a picture of your old beloved dog wearing a shirt of his from elementary to Facebook, but he does save the picture immediately and make it his wallpaper.

He doesn't question either why Yoongi's cap collection is growing and why he keeps insisting that he bought it himself (even if Jungkook can still place the faint smell of his shampoo on it), but he does make sure every now and then to actually gift him one in exchange for the uncountable favors your brother's done for him.

Most importantly, Jungkook doesn't question you either when he sees his hairtie on your wrist when you open the door for him.

He knows not to bring up anything about your crush over him (not unless it's you starting the conversation about Your Feelings For Him, which practically happens only once a year), or how he really hates it when his hairties go missing. Even Yoongi isn't spared from his annoyance, because in Jungkook's defense, your brother's too rich to go steal from the godsend, usually-expensive ten-pack that he managed to buy on sale.

Jungkook doesn't point out the red elastic on your wrist. He ignores the starry-gazed look you only have for him, except now, your eyes are only narrowed and hollow over his sudden appearance.

That's the only thing he can't shake off.

"Is your brother home?" he asks his original intention for his visit, shifting his weight from one foot to another because of the lackluster, blank gaze you have on that keeps piercing him. "You okay?"

"Won't be home for another hour."

Jungkook laughs at your curt reply, eyes widening in sarcasm as he shakes his head, the snort that leaves him catching him off-guard too. He can’t place why he’s annoyed over the possibility of you being any less than delighted to see him, and truly, he’s trying not to sound like a narcissist; he’s only ever really cared about his image when you were concerned.

"That was a lot of attitude."

You and Jungkook don't really fight. You don't fight with each other because there's barely anything that you disagree about, but when you do fight with him (not if), it's unlike any of the fights you have with Yoongi.

You don't fight with Jungkook as if he's your brother, because he's not.

You don't fight with him either as if he's only your brother's friend, because you don't want him to be.

With Jungkook, there's guilt that settles in your bones when you don't reconcile before you go to sleep. There's an unspeakable force that actually makes you doubt yourself, when usually, you'd know to your gut that you were in the right every single time you fought with Yoongi.

With Jungkook, you don't get an unspoken promise that you'll just forget about whatever happened.

It's him, after all.

"Hey, woah. What's wrong with you?" Jungkook reacts with a frown when you refuse to grace him with a reply, following you into the apartment with a firm grasp on your forearm.

It's not the first time you've ever turned your back on because you didn't want to talk, and it's not the first time either that he's had to physically chase after you. Jungkook's been through this before: he's been through it as the occasional referee between you and Yoongi on your heated fights growing up. He knows how quickly you could shut yourself off, but he didn't know it would feel this weird being at the receiving end of it.

He didn't know it would feel this jarring.

"Nothing. Let me go," you mutter, jerking your arm away from him that only makes Jungkook huff.

He's supposed to be understanding, that much he knows. He's supposed to be the older, mature one between you both, but there's just something about you being short with him that makes Jungkook feel rewired, for better and for worse.

"So something is wrong with you," he insists, rolling his eyes when he follows you even into the kitchen, the two of you knowing well that you're just passively opening the fridge (and a hundred other cupboards) so you could lose him.

"Can you leave me alone?"

"You opened the door for me, sweetheart," Jungkook sarcastically hums, the smile on his face even more insufferable than your furrowed brows that have not loosened even once since seeing him.

"Because you're clearly here for Yoongi," you remind, the edge of your voice slamming harder than the last drawer against its base. Jungkook would wince about it if only he hadn’t spent the better part of your entire interaction loathing the way you talk to him, making his ears ring.

"Can't I be here for you too?" he offers, the sincerity coming across as half-baked pity into your system.

Jungkook didn't even look sure with his own question.

The roll of your eyes makes Jungkook even more annoyed, his irritation bordering on anger that he can't even place. He didn't even get this worked up over his fights with your brother, and the two of them have even went so close as to getting physical multiple times.

"What was that for?"

"You're clearly lying," you mutter, settling for folding your clothes angrily right in front of him. You’re not even fazed that you’re just three sleep shirts away from folding your own underwear in front of him because it’s the least of your concerns.

Now, the only thing you can think about is how Jungkook’s beyond clueless. For all you know, he doesn’t even care about why you’re acting the way you were because simply (and realistically, in your case) put, Jungkook just wants you to remain the same. He just wants you to remain as the mainstay, familiar figure everywhere he goes who makes him feel better just by giving him a default, love-sick glance and nothing less.

You’re not a dog waiting around for him by the front door.

You think you’re more of a mutt waiting to be seen at the porch when nobody else inside wants to do his tricks.

"What are we even talking about right now?" Jungkook nudges the laundry basket away with his foot, the scowl you give him making him shrink momentarily. "You're the one who's starting something and I literally just got here."

"I'm not starting anything."

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong, huh?"

The simple and seemingly mundane question makes you dart up, unceremoniously dropping the same shirt you’ve been pretending to fold in the neatest, tightest rectangle as possible.

You should be relieved at the prompt because it meant you didn’t have to bring it up out of nowhere. You should be happy at the cue because whatever you’ll answer, it would mean that Jungkook asked for it.

You should be anything but the way you’re feeling now with the words scratching your throat from the inside, because with your feelings out in the open (even more than what you’ve already given time and time again), you feel even more tense.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sora were back together?"

Jungkook expected everything but the simple, one-dimension question. He didn’t anticipate for you to ask something that he could give you an answer to but refuse to. He just sits beside you, eerily still with the dumbest look on his face that keeps pleading you to just drop this even if you barely even started, his wide eyes blinking with confusion.

"I didn't-..." he clears his throat, looking down on his lap briefly because looking at you the whole time, as he composes his words, would mean his defeat. He didn’t know exactly why or how he’d be losing by looking at you directly as he professes the truth, but all he knows for sure is that however he does it, you’d never be the winner. “I didn't think I had to tell you, Y/N," he laughs uneasily. "I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of her."

"Neither is Yoongi, but he still got to know," you chuckle dryly, the shrug of your shoulder being far too lax that it convinces neither of you that you were really okay with it.

"Because he's my best friend," Jungkook exasperates, the tired sigh that leaves his lips making you buckle by the knees despite being seated.

You never wanted to disappoint him. You never wanted to be looked down upon, most especially by Jungkook, because every little detail adds up into your head like an overtired piggy bank you don’t ever want to let go of, even if keeping it close to you means it would lose its value.

You’re keeping score, even if Jungkook never did. You’re more wired than he’ll ever be, and just the slightest slip of his attitude (even the tiniest upset sigh from his lips or a clench of his jaw) makes it known to you that he wouldn’t understand how it feels to be pathetically reliant over the slightest chance at love.

"Am I not?" you snap. "Will I just be Yoongi's little sister to you forever?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that's not what I meant," he spits defensively, brows knitting in genuine disdain because he can’t even think how a vile thought has ever crossed your mind.

"Then finish the sentence, Jungkook," you goad. “If I'm not your best friend, and if I'm not your best friend's sister either, what exactly am I?"

Jungkook sharply sucks in a breath, screwing his eyes shut as you mess with every last bit of his inhibition. He never liked fighting with you, and whenever you actually did, he’d be ridden with guilt even before said fight is concluded. He doesn’t like hurting you that way because Jungkook knows, truly, that he’d be more capable of inflicting it on you than you ever could for him.

Or so he thinks.

He knows he does it every time (even if he shoves the fact deep to the back of his memory) that he comes around. He knows he does every time he gives you either a carefree laugh or a sorry hand on the small of your back every time you confess.

He even knows he’s hurting you now.

"I didn't tell you because I know you would disapprove."

"When has that ever stopped you?" you scoff, the soft, lived-in quality of the hairtie on your person suddenly making your wrist itch. ”If I never saw her story, that's just it then? If I never asked Yoongi, you wouldn't tell me?"

"Why's it such a big deal?" Jungkook throws his head back in disbelief, briefly recalling the way he looked happy, content, in the picture Sora shared from last night. “Why does it matter so badly to you whether I get back with Sora or not?"

"Because you matter badly to me!" you exclaim, digging your nails into the palms of your hands to stop them from flailing and finding their way to Jungkook’s arms to hold him still, not because he’s thinking about leaving, but because you don’t want to leave and you want to be reminded of it. ”Are we not best friends, Jungkook? A-are we— are we just people who see each other practically everyday?" you swallow the lump in your throat. “When I see you, I tell you about how my day went. I tell you about what I'm thinking. I... I've never withheld anything from you.”

There was never a time you’ve hidden anything from Jungkook. He’d been the witness of everything, both significant and pointless, in your life. He’s your best friend. He’s your Jungkook, whether or not in the way you want him to be.

The only thing is that Jungkook can’t say the same for you.

.

.

.

heh... this has been living in my drafts since december of last year n i'm beyond glad to finally get this out, meaning i could Finally scratch the itch in my brain n get back to regular programming (aka putting out big fics atleast once a month) :D

to get ahead of questions, YES this is a general fic, meaning it will be posted here on tumblr this april 21st, 12 am kst 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but if u wanna read it now, along with a couple hundred exclusive pieces (get to know here), then head to my patreon :D

[vxlenst3in]

Bubbles and Love

After receiving a hefty punishment by the aliens, for breaking the "no dating" rule, you just wanted to take a relaxing bubble bath to calm down. Mr. Goldie Locks aka Luka had other plans.

tags/warnings: fem!reader x luka, bathtub sex, gentle sex, lots of praising, tooth rotting fluff before they fuck, mentions of punishment, mentions of death in like one sentence, luka worships the ground you walk on (not literally) (yet), mentions of toys, luka is a man who likes to grab what can i say, penetration, no protection

wordcount: 1.3k-ish again..

authors note: hiyaa! after waiting like 5 months, i've finally wrote a part 2 for my punishment - luka x fem reader fic. i decided to go for the gentle bathtub sex, that someone requested a few days ago. it just felt better to write smth gentle after the rough first part. kylie, i know ur gonna see this, i will work on all the freaky luka fics after this and your ideas will be used!! don't you worry :) it isn't required to read the initial fanfic to understand this part 2, but not reading it might cause confusion here and there, so yeah.

You let out a heavy groan, as you sank into the warm water beneath you. It was over. The punishment was finally over. You repeated in your head over and over again. No matter how pleasurable it was, the post-nut clarity hit the second you got off stage. It certainly took a toll on your mental health, but you were sure it was going to be okay over time. For now you were going to enjoy the lovely bubble bath, you had prepared for yourself, and no one was going to disturb y-

“Hi there.”

The sudden voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Out of reflex you pulled your hands out of water, causing it to splash the mysterious person next to the bathtub. It wasn’t until you turned your head to them, that you saw the soaked gold locks covering parts of their face. Beneath the hair, you could make out a smug grin and even the blonde lashes peeked through.

“Ah” He chuckled. “Just put new clothes on, now I’m all soaked again..” With each word the realization slowly hit you. It was just your boyfriend. And you just splashed him with water. He pushed back the soaked hair strands, revealing the rest of his pretty face.

“You could’ve knocked or something- What are you doing here anyway?” You exclaimed, feeling a little guilty, even though it technically wasn’t your fault. He was the one who sneaked up on you!

“Well, I missed you!” He confessed. Even though the confession was rather teasing, than anything.

“We were strapped together just an hour ago, and you already miss me?”

“How dare a man miss his girlfriend? Anyway, bathing without me? How rude” Luka shot you his signature smirk. One that you’d normally see right before you receive a bullet through your body.

Before you could even reply, the blonde was already taking off his clothes. You let out a defeated sigh, as you scooted over to make space for him in the bathtub. It was truly a mystery how he always managed to find the energy for all of this. Luka never seemed to show any kind of exhaustion, and it was worrying.

His clothes landed somewhere on the bathroom floor. No matter how many times you saw him with little to no clothing, you never got used to it. Something about his body, that just made your heart beat faster and leave your mouth dry. He felt the same about you, every dip and curve on your body, every mole, freckle and inch of it just made you look beyond ethereal. Not that he only wanted you for your body.

After Luka settled behind you, both of his hands were already pulling you back by the waist. The blonde let out a satisfied sigh, when he felt your back press flush against his chest. The noises from outside of the bathroom were suddenly starting to drown out, it was just the two of you in this moment. When he finally settled his hands on your thighs comfortably, you gently turned your head to listen to his heartbeat. As expected, it sounded like it was gonna beat out of his chest. His golden eyes stared down at you, before pushing a few strands of hair out of your face. He caught himself genuinely smiling. What a loverboy…

In the shock of this “moment of weakness”, he quickly had to retort to something that would distract him. Your eyes followed his hands, as they scooped up some bubble foam. Before you could even process it, he had put it on his face in the form of a mustache. You could only raise your eyebrows at the action.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

“You love meeee~” Luka singsang, his proud smirk returning.

He looked silly, and adorable at the same time. Not that you were ever going to admit it. Not that you had a chance to, when you suddenly felt his hands run up and down your body. Squeezing and paying extra attention to his favorite parts of you. What a needy man.

“You can’t be serious, Luka” A judging look formed on your face, not that he cared.

“So very serious, love.”

“At least get rid of that bubble mustache..”

“Fine…” He sighed in defeat.

—

“Easy now. Still so sensitive, my love.” Luka cooed at you, while slowly sinking you down on his dick. His hands resting on the fat of your hips to have a better grip on you. Your own breath got caught in your lungs. The vibrator from earlier pulled however many orgasms out of you, so everything was, in fact, still sensitive. The stretch of his dick felt more painful than usual, and you weren’t sure how you were going to get it any further.

Luka on the other hand felt like he could already cum. His dick twitched repeatedly, while he slowly sank you down on him. He was aware of your pain, and for once, felt sorry about it. Unlike all the other times where he’d enjoy seeing the tears stream down your face. This time, he wanted to make this as enjoyable as possible for you. Only gentle love was in his mind, as he heard your little whines. “I know…Oh, I know~” He whispered into your ear, while pressing soft kisses down your shoulder. “Almost there, sweet girl. Doin such a good job for me..”

When you finally reached the base, both of you could only groan out. His words went straight to your heat, pulsating around him ever so slightly. It didn’t take long before he started moving, it wasn’t exactly a thrusting motion, but more of a grinding one. Luka simply couldn’t find the strength to move his hips anymore than that, and neither could you. But it was enough, enough to feel heightened pleasure from the earlier overstimulation.

His hands began roaming again, while he continued to press kisses to your upper body. The purple fingertips knew every spot to make you feel even better, with just simple actions. He was talented, in many ways.

“Luka…! Feels good…” You moaned out. Your hand finding one of his to intertwine them.

“Yeah? Feels good for me too, sweetheart..You look so pretty” He praised, happily intertwining his fingers with yours. The sight below him was beautiful. His lovely girlfriend all splayed out for him like this? He never thought he could be in such a vulnerable state around someone, while still feeling comforted and happy.

With each roll of his hips, a jolt of pleasure got sent through his nerves. By now, his grinding had also found your g-spot, but if that wasn’t enough, his previous roaming hand had found its way to your clit, gently rubbing it in circles. God, he was close, and he needed you to be as well.

“Sweetheart…so close, you gonna cum with me?” He breathed into your ear, his hot breath tickling it. You could only nod in agreement, as you slowly felt the knot in your stomach build up. His touch was so endlessly gentle, yet he made you feel so high with pleasure, you couldn’t explain it. The water, which was barely warm at this point, was the only noise that could be heard in between moans and whines.

The gentle rubs on your clit slowly turned into more rough ones, while the roll of his hips got faster as well. Luka buried his face in the crook of your neck, as he chased his high. “I love you…” He murmured into your neck right before cumming. It didn’t take long before your own high hit you, and you came with his last words echoing through your head.

Luka didn’t even realize it until a good minute after. Those words slipped out in the heat of the moment, not that he didn’t mean it, it was just-

“I love you too, Luka.”

©vxlenst3in - do not steal, modify, translate or repost my work.

[imnottkyle]

Box Dye Professional - A Solivan Burgmansia x GN!Reader FluffFic!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI

Tags Kinda?: TKaTB VN, Solivan Burgmansia, Sol, fluff, kinda weird in some parts tbh, gender-neutral reader/no mention of reader's gender.

Warnings: It's Sol, so yeah... However, this fic is fluff, so no warnings really, just Sol gets a little weird over being near Reader.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Meowdy folks, your newest TKaTB fic writer has arrived! I am so totally hyped to be writing again, and I hope that you have as much fun reading my fics as I have writing them. This is actually my first fic in SEVEN years, so please have mercy ｡･(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣ ꞈ˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

If you're still reading my intro here, I would like to let you in on a special tidbit! I am now starting a Stalker!Reader x Sol fic yayayayayay!! I just think it would be amazeballs to see someone outfreak his freak. Okay, I'll shut up and let you read <3

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Fingers moving nimbly with the charcoal, you sketched away at your muse, sharp eyes taking in his every detail. You told yourself it was simply because you wanted a good grade for this project, that you wanted to prove the authenticity of the piece, that those brief moments of eye contact didn't make your heart jump. Get a grip, you had only known Sol for a few weeks (even if it felt like a lifetime), now was not the time to start crushing. As you continued to scratch at the paper, your mind couldn't help but fall back to the reason you were here in the first place; your father, your home.

"___…?"

You startled, nearly causing the pencil to streak a nasty gash across your paper. "Sorry, what was that?" You asked, full gaze on your subject. "Something on your mind?" He answered, relaxing out of his pose for a quick stretch. "Oh, it's nothing, just got to daydreaming aga-" The sentence trailed off, your eyes sneaking off to peek at the bit of skin that showed when he stretched. No, stop it eyes, focus! Quickly pretending to notice a stray bit of fuzz on his shirt, you pointed it out, successfully hiding your wandering glance. Sol let out a soft chuckle as he picked off the fuzz, "So quick to notice the smallest things, aren't you? It's quite charming." he murmured rather gently. "Oh yeah, just like how I can't help but notice your hair dye is fading awfully! Tell me where you got it done so I know never to go there." You playfully retorted. The green-streaked, or rather yellow-green streaked, man groaned out loud, hiding his face in his hands.

"Is it really that noticeable?"

"Yep."

"Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have tried a different dye. I guess it really is that bad, huh?"

Okay, now you just felt bad for teasing him in the first place, that embarrassed expression that he wore, only tugging at your heartstrings further.

"Well, I was staring at you pretty hard- er -for the sketch, I mean. Maybe it isn't that noticeable from afar."

It was definitely noticeable from afar, but there was no way that you were going to say that to his face. You took a breath, a flash of brilliant courage (or maybe stupidity) overtaking you. The sketchbook and charcoal fell into your lap as you leaned in closer to your classmate, "Um, if you aren't doing anything later, maybe I could help you fix your hair. I'm somewhat of a bathroom salon pro." At this, you saw Sol's face brighten, "R-Really? That'd be nice, thanks." he smiled, voice soft. "Just shoot me a text when you're on your way, and I'll get everything set up. You beamed back, heart already pitter-pattering way more than necessary.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Your bathroom looked stupid. It was as if you became painfully aware of every wonky detail in your entire apartment. Two of the shower tiles were crooked, there was a weird blue stain on the floor, and the sink had lime growing on the edge. You had tried everything to get rid of the lime buildup, but in the end you had given up and just accepted the shit. So why now of all times, did it bother you so badly? Was it because Sol was on his way? Was it because you were afraid he would notice and think you were a slob? Why did it even matter in the first place, he was just your classmate, just your project partner.

Lime- 1

Your Idiot Brain- 1

You- 0

For the millionth time, you wished that you would listen to your own advice and calm down. It's not like Sol would even think anything of this, you were just being a good friend and helping him out. You let out a groan and simultaneously heard a knock at the door. Collecting as much of yourself as you could, you headed to the door, opening it to reveal your crush's classmate's handsome face.

"Hey Sol, got the goods?"

"Of course."

He held up the shopping bag, giving it a little shake. You grinned, this was certainly going to be a fun evening. "Well don't just stand there, come in, silly!" You said, before practically dragging him inside the apartment by his sleeve. Whatever nerves you had before had nearly dissipated, leaving you to feel rather giddy. Hair dyeing was fun, you would know. Having done this countless times to your own head, you found the whole process to be rather therapeutic, a welcome metamorphosis. You could have sworn that Sol had mumbled something as you dragged him along, though when you looked back on him, he simply smiled. Wait, was he blushing? It was then that you realized how tightly you had gripped his sleeve, fingers brushing dangerously against his wrist.

"Oh, god, sorry." You loosened your grip, allowing him to regain his left hand.

"It's okay." He replied, setting the grocery bag down on the bathroom counter.

How you wished you had a clock or something, because right now the awkward silence was, well, awkward. Seeing him just stand there suddenly reminded you of something, "Oh wait here, I'll get you a chair!" you spun out the doorway only to reappear a second later, "Did you want anything else? Water, snacks? I have some chips and um, fruit snacks…?" Maybe this whole hosting thing wasn't exactly made for you. Sol, however, didn't seem to mind your scatterbrain, chuckling once more before replying, "A glass of water sounds nice." he rose to his feet, ready to follow you. Aaand now you found yourself panicking, as to whether or not you had somehow left your stinky socks in the cupboard.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

There was now a man in your kitchen. The way he so easily reached into your high cupboards was honestly kind of impressive. Men were like cows, or semi-trucks, you forget how big they are until you see one up close. Or maybe you were just weird and lonely. "Oh, don't drink the tap water, it tastes funny." You interjected, quickly grabbing a water jug from the refrigerator, before extending your hand to take the glass Sol was holding. Once more, you couldn't help but be acutely aware of your fingers brushing against his as you took the glass, heart fluttering at the contact. Pouring the water, suddenly became a very serious task, your eyes focused like lasers, hands steady and balanced. This might be the most perfect glass of water you had ever poured. Handing him the glass, you spun around to place the water jug back in the fridge, quickly taking note of what all it contained in case Sol got hungry later.

It was your cup, or at least a cup that you had used at some point. Your lips had once been pressed to the cool glass, perhaps even at the same spot his were pressed to now. Your lips, your thirst, how he wanted to be pressed up against you, easing your craving.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Good grief, he must have been parched, the way he chugged the water down. You quickly offered him another glass, but he declined, strange. Back to the bathroom it was, unboxing the dye and getting things set up. It was decided that you would sit on the chair, Sol taking a seat on the ground (you gave him a cushion, of course) so you could better see his hair. Shaking the bottle of dye, you broke off the seal and squeezed some directly on his head. You felt the man jolt, "So, no instructions?" he asked, pointing at the instruction sheet that now lay in the trash. "Just trust me." You declared, using your bare hands to work the dye into his hair. Now this action caused Sol to whip around abruptly, "___!! Your hands are gonna be stained if you do it like this! Why don't you use the gloves!?" You groaned, grabbing onto his head, gently trying to guide him back into position, "It's fine, besides, the gloves just inhibit my amazing abilities." You gave yourself a grin, you were a seasoned professional after all! Well, you still had hair on your head, so that had to mean something.

"So, do you usually do this on your own?"

"Mm, yeah, sometimes Hyugo helps out."

"Oh that's nice. I almost feel bad for taking his place right now, except I'm having too much fun."

You let out a giggle, waving your green, stained hands in front of Sol's face. He simply turned back at you and smiled, "You're so reckless."

Your hands matched his hair. Your hands matched his hair. And they would be stained like that for a few days. Stained like him, marked to match him, branded as his.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A few more squeezes of hair dye, and even more idle chatting, it was nice really. Gently running your fingers through Sol's hair, making sure each faded highlight was coated evenly with fresh green pigment, it was soothing. However, you found yourself scooting your chair closer every few minutes, as if Sol was somehow sliding away. Oh, that's right, the cushion. It was just a random pillow, actually, which turned out to be quite slippery on the bathroom floor. You let out a small huff of frustration before scooting closer one final time. Thighs spread apart, Sol sat in between them as they pressed against his shoulders, firmly locking him in place. You heard a small mumble escape the man's lips, it sounded like a curse, but you didn't bother to pry.

"Sorry, but you aren't running away so easily." You chuckled, teasingly tugging at a dye-soaked strand of his hair.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin." He murmured with a returned chuckle, though there was little he could do to hide the heat in his voice.

"Hmph, atta boy."

Cheeks flushed, you were never so glad that Sol couldn't see your face. Pumpkin, that stupid nickname he had given you a while back. It was cheesy, but for some reason, you found yourself enjoying it, a rather endearing feeling. Your gaze softened as you tenderly stroked Sol's hair, the warm feeling in your chest only blossoming more. He had been one of your first friends this year, one of the only friends you had actually made on your own. A leap of faith, a single rooftop lunch, a chance at being partnered with this man, had quickly turned into some of your most treasured memories. And now you had started to question yourself; was this love at first sight?

Haah.. The way your fingers tangled in his hair, the gentle tug at it, fuck. The scent of you, snaking around him as he knelt between your thighs, clamping him in place. Your presence was inescapable, all-consuming, just the way he liked it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"You look like a seaweed monster!" You giggled, standing in the mirror next to your dye-soaked friend. He simply frowned in reply, "And you look like a sea urchin."

"Huh? That doesn't make an-!!"

You were cut off abruptly as Sol yanked you close, tousling your hair with his hand. Satisfied, he pulled away, now examining the both of you in the mirror. "A seaweed monster and his little urchin." He teased, smiling at your disheveled reflection. "Idiot, now my hair is all messed up!" It was a false protest, your face betraying you, a heavy blush now spreading to your ears. Sol was so close, you couldn't help but inhale his scent, feel the warmth radiating off his body, and hear the rapid beating of his heart. It was beating just as fast as your own, and somehow it seemed as if it was in perfect sync. Could it be that Sol felt just as nervous as you did? That he perhaps harbored a small crush of his own?

"Uh, let's get you rinsed off, I think the dye might be seeping into your brain…"

"Huh?"

"Never mind!!"

You quickly extracted yourself from his space, smoothing out your hair, and instantly feeling the chill of your apartment once again. Had it always been this cool in here? After a brief crash course on how to use the extendable shower head, you let Sol rinse his hair on his own while you tidied the rest of the bathroom. A few moments later, his green-streaked head popped back up, wet bangs covering his eyes. "Uh, ___? Can you pass me the towel?" You handed him a towel as he pushed the bangs from his face, beads of water running down his pretty face. Focus, focus, focus! Judging by Sol's raised eyebrow and flushed expression, you were pretty sure your jaw was somewhere on the ground right then.

"Er, sorry…!"

"N-No it's fine!"

"I'd let you look at me like that all day if you wanted~"

"Did you-?"

"Hm? No, it's nothing!"

The man smiled back in reply, rubbing his hair with the towel.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You had brushed his wet locks, dried his hair with your blow dryer, the same one you've used since middle school, and sent him on his way. The apartment was silent now, save for the sound of your heart pounding against your ribs. You were sprawled out on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, completely alone, and yet the faint scent of Sol seemed to cradle you no matter where you moved. He smelled like soap, laundry, almost sterile. But underneath that all there was a hint of a woody musk and, oddly enough, a sweet, candy-like smell. Maybe he had a thing for sweets. What kind of sweets did he like? What kind of foods did he like? What was his favorite flavor? You wanted to know more about him, everything about him. There was no point in fighting it, you gave in, curling up into your blankets as if they could somehow offer protection from your own realization. You liked Sol. You really liked him.

[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.

[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

moss_cat13 on Insta

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: originally intended to be a fanfic, it is now an interactive story here on Tumblr. Link here

Ships: ShadowPeach

My Art: None yet

Fan Art: None Yet

Status: incomplete

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

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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

———-

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~!

[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

[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

[sturniolohohoho]

RESORT STURNIOLO FIC ~ 3 Nights

SNEAK PEEK INTO MY CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE FIC!

c/w: fluff, teasing, flirting

a/n: this isn't smut but it feels pretty damn near

__________________

The resort’s restaurant glows under soft string lights, the air warm and thick with the scent of grilled seafood and salt. You run a hand down your outfit as you step inside, and Chris, who’s been leaning against the entrance, scrolling through his phone, looks up.

And stops.

His lips part slightly, his head tilting just enough to make it obvious he’s taking in every detail. The black button-up he threw on for dinner suddenly feels too tight.

“Damn,” he says, voice low, just for you. “You’re really gonna make me suffer through dinner looking like that?”

Your stomach flips. Hard. You blink, caught completely off guard by the way his voice dips, how his eyes linger. Heat crawls up your neck. “W-what?”

Chris lets out a breathy chuckle, stepping closer, voice dripping with amusement. "I mean—yeah, you look good. Not that you don’t always, but—" He exhales, shaking his head with a smirk. "Forget it. Just… let’s go sit down?"

You swear your brain short-circuits. Chris was never this direct before. Flirty, sure, but never like this. You scramble for something to say, but your thoughts are just a blur of holy shit.

Dinner passes in a blur. You barely taste the food, barely register the conversations around you. Every time you glance up, Chris is already looking, eyes flicking away a second too late. The air between you feels charged.

It doesn’t take long before exhaustion starts creeping in. The warmth of the day, the ocean air, the subtle tension thrumming in you is tiring. Chris notices before you even say anything.

“You tired?” he asks, watching the way you suppress a yawn.

“A little,” you admit, rubbing your arms. “It’s been a long day.”

He pushes his chair back, standing before you can even think about it. “C’mon, let’s head back.”

__________________

The night air is thick with the scent of salt and jasmine, a gentle breeze sweeping in from the ocean. The waves crash softly in the distance, rhythmic and soothing. You hug your arms to your chest, the warmth of the day still lingering but fading into something softer.

Chris walks beside you, hands in his pockets, his gaze shifting between you and the path ahead. It’s quiet, just the two of you under the dim glow of lanterns lining the walkway. The only sound beyond the waves is the occasional rustle of palm trees swaying in the wind.

After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “You know, I don’t get how you do it.”

You glance at him. “Do what?”

Chris exhales, running a hand through his hair like he’s debating saying it at all. “Just… be like this. Look like that.” His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful than teasing. “And act like you don’t even notice.”

Your steps falter, heat blooming in your chest. “I—I don’t—what?”

He laughs softly, nudging you with his shoulder. “Never mind.”

But you can feel it—a shift in the way he’s looking at you, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. Or maybe he has, and you’re just now noticing.

When you finally step into your shared room, closing the door behind you, your heart is still hammering, and you don’t know if it’s from the night air or from him.

__________________

He raises his eyebrows and nods, throwing his stuff onto his bed. Sitting on the bed, he looks up at you.

"Well, you wanna shower first or me?"

You scoff, shaking your head as you dig through your suitcase. “Why are you saying it like that?”

Chris smirks. “Like what?”

“Like—it’s weird.”

“I didn’t say anything weird,” he defends, raising his hands. “But if you wanna picture me in the shower, that’s on you.”

Your mouth drops open, and you launch a pillow at him. “Shut up, freak.”

He catches it with ease, laughing as you grab your stuff and disappear into the bathroom. The warm water does little to cool the heat still clinging to your face.

By the time you step out in your pyjamas, Chris is sprawled on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He looks up, eyes flicking over you in a way that makes your stomach flip before he grins. “Took you long enough.”

You roll your eyes and flop onto your own bed as he grabs his clothes and heads into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the room, and you try not to think about it—but of course, now that you are trying, it’s impossible not to.

A while later, the door opens, and Chris steps out, towel-drying his hair.

He’s shirtless, his damp curls flopping over his forehead, and his sweatpants sit just low enough to make you want to throw something at him again.

He catches your expression immediately and smirks. “You good?”

You make a face. “Ew.”

Chris snickers, tossing his towel onto a chair before dramatically flexing. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”

You grab another pillow and chuck it at his head. “Go to sleep, loser.”

Still grinning, he flops onto his bed, hands behind his head as he watches you settle in. “Night, weirdo.”

You huff, turning away, but the warmth in your chest lingers as the room falls into quiet.

__________________

You shift in your bed, and look at the digital clock resting beside you. 2:00am. Staring at the ceiling, shifting under the covers, listening to the soft hum of the waves outside.

Chris, apparently, is just as restless.

“You asleep?” his voice cuts through the dark.

You turn your head to look at him. “Obviously not.”

He exhales a soft laugh. “Me neither.”

Silence stretches between you again. Then, hesitantly, Chris shifts, rolling onto his side to face you.

“You ever get that feeling where… I dunno. Everything’s so quiet, but it’s like your brain won’t shut up? It's like every time I finish thinking a thought another window pops up in front of it, then I try and delete that window but missclick, and it's just a whole mess?”

You chuckle. “All the time.”

He hums in understanding, and then, in a movement so casual it makes your breath catch, he reaches over, tugging at the edge of your blanket. “C’mere.”

You hesitate. “What?”

He shrugs, voice soft. “Just… come here.”

Your heart stutters, but somehow, you don’t overthink it. You step off your bed and right onto his, and he lifts his arm slightly, just enough for you to settle into his arms.

It’s not weird. It should be, but it’s not. His body heat is comforting, his arm draped loosely around you as if it belongs there. Your heart is pounding, but he doesn’t say anything about it—just shifts slightly, making himself comfortable, his fingers idly tracing patterns against your back.

You swallow. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Chris chuckles, his breath warm against your hair. “Yeah. Totally.”

Neither of you move away.

Eventually, his breathing evens out, and your eyes grow heavier, the waves outside lulling you to sleep. And just before you drift off, you feel him squeeze your side—just once, just barely.

You pretend not to notice.

__________________

guys i keep getting butterflies while reading this shit SOMEONE RELEASE ME FROM MY OWN DELUSIONS

[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.

[aro-of-argentum]

The Judas Arrangement

WC: 2,629

Notes: This is a snippet from a Dabi/Touya Todoroki xReader project I'm currently working on and I wanted to share it as a sneak peek for the full fic I will eventually be putting out! Mentions of character death, grief and attempts to manage it, mentions of arranged marriage, Natsuo is doing his best, it isn't enough.

Beta'd by: @teaspacebar

You were sitting in the same place you always did on January eighteenth, staring at the words carved into stone. Beloved son and brother. The sentimental phrase made your stomach turn. Touya was beloved, certainly, by you, by his siblings, and even by his mother, despite the strain in their relationship toward the end. But the man who paid for the headstone couldn’t have cared less. Endeavor had pushed his family to move on from the boy’s passing as soon as the cameras were pointed elsewhere, and despite their grief, they obeyed. You were the only one that visited this place now, the only one that tended to it.

Your knees were settled into the dirt at the base of the stone, and you remained, as you always did, despite the chill that seemed to seep into your very bones. The sound of footsteps on the earth was your alert you were no longer alone.

“You shouldn’t be out here like this, you’ll freeze.”

You knew he meant well, you honestly did, but for some reason you’d woken up in worse condition than you had in years for these visits. You were emotionally raw, and there was no room in your heart to be understanding of Natsuo’s feelings when the only thing you felt was despair.

You swallowed thickly to dislodge the lump in your throat before you spoke. “I’ve asked not to be disturbed while I’m here.” You continued to stare into the stone, eyes glassy but refusing to drip in front of your fiancé. He’d try to care for you if he saw you cry, and you couldn’t handle that right now. You wouldn’t have the patience to thank him and tell him he was being a good partner and dote on him in return.

He explained, “It isn’t your usual day,” as though that excused the interruption.

“It’s his birthday, Natsuo.”

“I know that.” He sighed, a tiredness creeping into his voice, though if it was caused by your behavior or the day, you weren’t sure. “That’s how I knew I’d find you here when you stopped answering my messages.”

A hum of disinterested acknowledgement left you as a vague awareness pinged in your brain to tell you that, yes, your phone had been buzzing the whole time you’d been here. You’d left it tucked in your bag anyway. “Why did you come here?” There was no accusation in your tone despite the 12-year-old little girl in your chest screaming that Natsuo should come here because he cares, not just to find you.

“My father asked to see us for lunch at his agency. We’re going to be late if we don’t-”

“Go without me,” you refused without hesitation. “Tell him I’m sick; I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.”

Natsuo was quiet for a moment before he admitted, “He wants to know about our plans for the wedding. And an explanation on why it was pushed back another six months.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

He sighed your name. “We have to-”

“I already agreed to the contract,” you reminded him. “You’re the one that’s holding out on hope of something that’s never going to come.”

The choked noise of hurt surprise that left him did not escape your notice, and yet you still refused to turn to look at him. “Y/n, please.”

“Just-” you had to smother the irritation bubbling in your chest, knowing it came from your emotional distress more than anything he’d done. “Natsuo, please,” you barely withheld the mimicry, “go away.”

The man was dejected, you could feel it without having to see him, and it rang through his voice when he finally relented, “I’ll see if he’ll meet with us tomorrow. Do you want me to bring you a blanket?”

A pulse of guilt pushed through your chest at his words, because of course, even when you were being belligerent and hurtful, Natsuo cared, he loved you, and wanted to make sure you were alright. “No. Thank you.” You needed the cold; it was a biting reminder of what you’d lost.

He sighed but pushed no further, and a moment later there were receding footsteps.

“He’s been doing that more lately,” you explained to the open air behind Touya’s headstone, the fatigue in your voice plain as day. “His expectations of me are growing, and he thinks I shouldn’t still be here, that I shouldn’t still be feeling this way. He doesn’t understand why I can’t-” you stopped, sentence unfinished at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Natsuo, please, just leave me alone.”

A voice you didn’t recognize responded, “Sorry to disappoint, but the guy that just walked out of here looking like a kicked fucking dog is long gone.” The man’s tone was low, dangerous, and his phrasing almost felt like a threat. You braced your hands on the ground beside you, slowly moving to stand until he spoke again from behind you. “No, no. Don’t get up. Don’t turn around.”

The command was clear, and your skin crawled at the sense of danger that was clawing its way up your spine. “What do you want?” you asked, eyes searching for something, anything, that might be able to help you right now.

“Now that we’re alone, you and I are going to have a little chat.” The rasp in his voice spoke to overuse and strain, and you couldn’t help but wince at the memory of the first time you’d done that to your own voice, just after a funeral when you were twelve. “Who was he?”

“My fiancé,” you answered, tone as cold as the air around you.

“Not him,” he clarified, “The headstone.”

A huff of a dark and humorless laugh escaped you. “Would you believe me if I said the answer was the same?”

He snorted. “Dates say he was a kid.”

You could hear the unspoken question of ‘how’ in his statement, so you answered it. “We were arranged.”

“And you’re grieving? What, seven years later?”

The question was almost mocking, and you knew it was stupid to be snarky right now. But knowing that didn’t stop you. “You never loved anybody like that?”

There was a pause, nothing audible in the near-freezing silence that covered the cemetery. Then, “Tell me about him.”

You actually laughed that time, gaze still downcast at Touya’s name. “Is that your thing? You corner people at their loved ones’ graves so you can watch them cry?”

He chuckled and for a moment you thought you recognized the sound, but the rasp took back over. “Just you. Tell me.”

Your fists clenched where they sat on your thighs, nails digging into your palms as you attempted to gather the words. “He was smart, and strong, and kind,” you decided was as good a place as any to start. You wanted this man out of your space as soon as possible, and maybe playing his game was the way to do that. “He was my best friend, and I loved him, at least as much as a child can understand what love is.” You could feel fresh tears in your eyes, still doing everything in your power not to let them fall.

“I thought you said it was arranged.”

“Yeah, we got lucky; got along like a house on fire.” You laughed barely audibly at your own joke, and heard him snort before immediately coughing and clearing his throat. Odd, you thought, given the lack of context for that comment, unless he’d seen the Todoroki name and assumed. “We spent every day together, went to all the same schools, did quirk training together, he was everything to me.” The sentimentality of your rant nearly had you forgetting the reason you were on it in the first place. A nostalgic, though slightly saddened smile crossed your features when you added. “We even called each other husband and wife.”

“And the new fiancé?”

Your expression soured, and you didn’t have the bandwidth to consider how messed up of you that was. “His younger brother. He offered to fulfill the marriage contract so that my family would still be taken care of.”

“Tch. Noble.”

Your irritation bubbled out of you before you could stop yourself from spilling your guts to the stranger that still stood behind you like a ghost. “Yeah, except he wants to get married because he’s in love with me and he refuses to accept that I won’t ever feel that way about him.”

“Why not?”

“Because Natsuo’s not him!” You almost shouted, gesturing toward the headstone. You felt a tear finally slide free, and you were quick to wipe it away, despite the fact you were sure the man hovering behind you could see it. Perhaps you could blame it on the phenomenon that it’s easier to open up to strangers than people you know that this was all suddenly ready to pour out of you for the first time in your life. “And maybe it was a long time ago, and children don’t know what love is, so how do you explain to someone that while all of that is true, you don’t think you could ever be in love with them. Because just being near him felt like waking up with the sunrise on your face, and losing him felt like loosing the sun, and you haven’t been able to find anything that feels like that since.” When your words ran out, the sobs finally ripped free of your throat, tears flowing uninterrupted. You did your best to catch your breath enough to speak again. “So, if you’re gonna steal my wallet or kill me, now would be a great time, cause even if I could so something about it, I might let you do it anyway.

“I am freezing and I am miserable and I wish To-” Another sob broke off the end of your sentence, the end of your wish that he was there to comfort you, to wrap you in a hug and lean down to burrow his head into yours and let his body heat and affection chase it all away just as he did when you were kids. You were so wrapped up in the idea that even as you heard the man behind you move closer, you made no attempt to protect yourself. You sat still, head bowed, and eyes closed, nails digging so hard into your palms so hard you were certain you’d bleed if not for your quirk.

The first thing you felt was heat. Rolling in waves like someone had opened a furnace door. His knees hit the ground, and you felt the man’s arms wrap around your waist. His chest pushed into your back, and his chin landed lightly on your shoulder, head knocking softly into the side of yours and pressing there.

Your eyes shot open as you froze, shock overtaking every other emotion in your body as you tried to reconcile the fact that this person somehow knew.

You heard him speak again, now so much softer in tone and volume, though the rasp was still present. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you sooner.”

You voice felt lost, and you barely managed a broken whisper of, “What?”

His arms tightened around you, grip almost crushing when he spoke again. His voice was choked and watery, and quiet enough that if you weren’t so close you were sure you wouldn’t have heard him. “I saw photos of the family a year ago, you were with Nats, I thought- fuck I should have known. I should have come to get you, I’m so sorry.”

He seemed to be spiraling, hold on you fluctuating as his arms tensed and relaxed and tensed again. Your own thoughts were running at light speed, and your eyes finally trailed down, filling with emotion when you saw the scarred and mutilated skin of his arms, the staples at his wrists. “Your arms…”

The muttering over your shoulder stopped, and for a moment you weren’t sure he was even breathing. When you moved, there was no resistance in his hold, so you turned to face the man. Your gaze trailed up the sleeves of his jacket, and you found more of the same purpled skin where the garment ended at his throat. More scars, more staples, and his eyes.

A watery gasp filled your chest. You’d had daydreamy conversations when you were children about one day matching an engagement stone to those eyes. “Touya?”

He nodded, the movement small, hope in his eyes and something almost a smile on his lips when he pressed his face into your hand where it cupped his cheek. A sigh relieved the tension in his chest, the worry that all the changes in him would make you see him as a monster.

“You’re here.” Your disbelief was evident in your tone and your eyes.

“I’m here, it’s me.”

“You’re alive.”

“I’m alive.” His volume remained quiet, withheld, like he was scared to shatter the bubble around the two of you.

You smiled through the tears now freely flowing down your cheeks, which despite there being no sign they’d slow down, the man in front of you seemed content to continually wipe away with his thumbs as his palms cradled your face. Warmth spread from his touch, hot, but not enough to burn, never enough to burn you, even if he could. He’d always touched you with that kind of careful awareness of his quirk. “How?” you questioned, hands latching onto his wrists as overwhelming confusion and concern took over almost everything else. “In the park- you- we didn���t-”

He flinched at your grip but made no attempt to remove it as he cut you off. “I promise, I can explain, but I don’t have a lot of time right now, I-”

His own sentence was cut off by an explosion close enough to rock the ground, followed immediately by a phone ringing in his pocket. “What-” you tried with wide eyes, but your own phone blared Natsuo’s ringtone from your bag.

“Shit! Y/n, I have to go.” He moved to stand up, his hands pulling away from you as he did, and you panicked.

“Wait!” You stared up at him with wide eyes as your heart and mind raced alike. Your breathing grew labored as you considered what you were about to ask, but what else could you do when your best friend, your purpose in life, your everything was back within reach, staring down at you, about to leave you behind again. “Take me with you.”

“It’s not safe, I can’t-”

“It doesn’t matter! I can’t lose you again,” you were begging; you didn’t care. “Don’t leave me.”

His jaw tightened for only a moment before, “Fuck! Come on,” he commanded, pulling you to your feet.

You made no attempt to grab your things as he stormed away with you in tow, and you couldn’t help but notice that even though he’d said he was leaving, he’d never dropped your hand.

“You have to stay close to me, you have to do everything I say, without question, and you have to call me Dabi. Good?” He threw the question into the air, knowing you’d be listening. He waited until he heard you respond with an ‘okay’ far too sure, before shaking his head, unable to determine whether he was happy or terrified for what he was about to do. “You’re not going to like where we’re going.”

And now, as his fingers intertwined with yours to pull you along as the pair of you broke into a run, you cleared the boundary of the cemetery, leaving your things, your grief, maybe your entire life, at the headstone of Touya Todoroki.

[zepskies]

Back after a shooort mom break lol and here for the WIP game 😘

Now, I could be really mean and force you to share more of If I Stay, but I'm gonna be a good girl for once and wait a week before I scream at you again 😂😇

But please do tell me more about the following:

✨ Dean Winchester: Shelter -> Uh, more alpha!Dean? Yes, please! And I remember we talked a lot about a visit to Sam and Eileen, and I get just giddy thinking about Dean Jr. 🥹

✨ Russell Shaw: Breaking Point -> Omg!! Freaked tf out when I saw this!! I already caught up on the ESC one-shots and Bubbly and queued them for next week, and I so can't wait to see what you'll come up with here. That teaser at the end of Bubbly was wiiiiild and made me so goddamn excited to exchange theories with you! (Again, fangirling on the highest level here) 😂🫶

✨ Jason Teague: Red-Eye -> Awww, Jason! It's been a while! Is this still part of the teacher series or are we meeting a new reader? 👀

Btw, I have your LOTR fics on my tbr too, but just so you know, I'm a reverse-Supernatural in that case – a total Sam girl!! Lmao 🤣

Welcome back, lovely!! Hope your week hasn't been too stressful and that baby boy isn't climbing your shelves. 😂💗

LOL hey now, you got your sneak peek on If I Stay (Part 2)! 😜 But I'll be happy to tell you more about the rest of those...

⋆˙⟡ Shelter (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader || Against the Wind Epilogue) - It's just an idea at the moment, but YES more alpha!Dean and in my head the premise will be exactly what we talked about: a visit to Sam and Eileen, Dean reuniting with Dean Jr., and Sam getting to meet Dean's new mate (AKA: you). 😘

⋆˙⟡ Breaking Point (Russell Shaw x Reader || Every Second Counts-verse) - Omg yay!!! I'm so glad to hear that you've caught up. I hope you enjoyed the little sequel stories. 🥰 Ahaha I actually just started writing Breaking Point TODAY because so many people were outraged after that cliffhanger in Bubbly. 😝 Girl yes I can't wait to fangirl with you and exchange conspiracy theories about the Shaw Family History. 🙏🏽 I've read some major spoilers from the books so I'm taking them into account for this one-shot (which already looks like it's gonna be over 5K 😂).

⋆˙⟡ Red-Eye (Jason Teague x Reader) - God it's been so long since I've written anything for him, but I LOVE Smallville. I think Jason is like a college AU Dean. 😂 But this story is actually a different reader from Assistant Hottie and Miss Professor, though if you've read those I'm so grateful - and I hope you enjoyed them! 🥰

Red-Eye is set in a kind of AU Smallville world. You can find a mini sneak peek here! (You guys on Patreon will get a proper sneak peek after If I Stay.)

Btw, I have your LOTR fics on my tbr too, but just so you know, I'm a reverse-Supernatural in that case – a total Sam girl!! Lmao 🤣

Omg thank you, friend! 🥹🫶🏽 lol I started writing for LOTR over 20 years late, but it's making me so happy tbh. And I don't blame you! There's literally no LOTR without Samwise. 💜

[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.”

[kiyasepicverse]

Still Heroes Together [FIC]

READ IT HERE!!

💚

Pretty much a fic of me letting out some still lingering frustration I had with the fandom more than I had with the actual chapter 431. (Not saying I don't dislike it, but then again it just wasn't anything I cared much for to actually rant about it. I voiced whatever I had to say on my main blog and I'm sure no one needs or wants to read whatever else I have to say which isn't much or anything honestly...)

Now, a BakuDeku fic it may be, you know I had to throw in my BurnBunny in there because why not? I was also in the mood for another "Miruko and Midoriya being friends" fic. That's my "could have been a cool duo" there. Anyways!

🧡

SNEAK PEEK!