sleepy mornings with Alucard. just laying in bed together, him behind you with an arm curled around your waist to draw you closer to his body. being half vampire he's not entirely freezing to the touch, but he does tend to run slightly cooler than the average person. it makes it all the more difficult to get up in the mornings when he's glued to you and soaking in the body heat you give off.
he tends to nuzzle at the nape of your neck as well, nosing along and inhaling the scent of your skin because to him that means home and safety. you're his anchor in the chaos of his life, a constant that he can rely on.
he treats you ever so gently because of that, often waking you up to the ticklish sensation of his lips pressed over the back of your shoulder, trailing feather light kisses across your skin as he tries to coax you to awareness. occasionally you'll feel the hard press of his fangs against your skin.
when you first got together, he was still rather hesitant about his more vampiric side. he knew what he was of course and knew how to use the abilities that side gave him, but never would he have even dreamed of pressing his fangs against someone's skin or teasing the points of them over someone's pulse point.
and yet with you he doesn't hesitate. he playfully flashes his teeth at you, making like he's going to bite you. he'll even go as far as to lightly nip at your nape, turning your skin pink as you finally open your eyes to blink at him blearily.
Ryland looked down at his clipboard, where he had written a reasonable script, supplied earlier that day by Adrian. Unfortunately, the moment his eyes landed on the words, his brain supplied only terrible ways to say them.
He chose the worst one.
“I need flowers with prominent reproductive structures.”
The man went completely still.
Ryland could feel his soul attempting to leave his body.
“For a plant anatomy lab,” he added quickly. “For my students. Middle school students. Not–” He cut himself off, because there was simply no end to that sentence that would improve his situation. Instead, he just weakly smiled, and added “Science.”
-:-:-
Ryland Grace is brilliant with biology, awkward with adults, and far too invested in giving his students the lessons they deserve. Simon Fleischer is a guarded florist who trusts plants more than people and has no interest in being needed by anyone again. But when a forgotten school lab brings Ryland into Root & Thorn, their lives begin to tangle in quiet, unexpected ways – through flowers, roots, and the terrifying possibility of being cared for properly.
(additional tags below the cut!)
Rating: Not Rated
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Fandoms: Project Hail Mary (2026), Iron Lung (2026)
Relationships: Simon (Iron Lung)/Ryland Grace, Adrian/Rocky (Project Hail Mary), Ryland Grace & Rocky, Adrian & Ryland Grace, Adrian (Project Hail Mary) & Simon (Iron Lung)
Characters: Ryland Grace, Simon (Iron Lung), Rocky (Project Hail Mary), Adrian (Project Hail Mary), Eva Stratt
Additional Tags: Florist Simon, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, School Librarian Adrian, Engineer Rocky (Project Hail Mary), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine Relationships, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Trust Issues, Established Adrian/Rocky, Gardens & Gardening, Botany, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, They are stupid, Good Teacher Ryland Grace, Principal Eva Stratt
Language: English
taste your beating heart by cnomad (19/19 | 112k+ | M)
canon divergent post s3A; stiles POV, spark!stiles; canon typical violence; slow build
something was wrong in beacon hills. derek was halfway across the country when he felt a call to return to his hometown, and somehow stiles had been talked into letting the werewolf stay in his guest bedroom. this could lead to nothing good.
i'll call your mom | ~2k words | post tlg; married shane and ilya; car accident on the way to the cottage for christmas; title from the noah kahan song
When the car finally comes to a stop, Ilya’s first irrational thought is, It had to be Christmas Eve.
special thanks to my love luna @myshangel for brainstorming, beta reading, and cheerleading; also tagging my pals @shanesbug @peachyjude @symphoniccowboy <3
Ilya is not sure at what point he closed his eyes. It might have been when he saw the other driver, clearly unable to stop on the ice-slick roads, barreling towards them, or the moment of impact, or the few seconds after, as Shane’s Jeep skidded on the road. When the car finally comes to a stop, Ilya’s first irrational thought is, It had to be Christmas Eve.
The sound of his husband’s voice banishes the thought. “Ilya? Baby?”
Ilya’s eyes snap open and widen in horror when he sees the blood. Shane’s face and hands, the only parts of his skin visible, have small cuts and scrapes from the shattered passenger window. Shane’s side of the Jeep has crumpled inward, and snowfall lands softly on the glass strewn across Shane’s lap.
“Oh my god, Shane,” Ilya breathes, scrambling to turn the car off and unbuckle his seatbelt. He twists himself towards Shane and unbuckles Shane's seatbelt. Ilya's hands hovers momentarily, unsure of where is the safest and least painful to touch, before deciding on Shane’s face, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Shane tries to adjust himself between the center console and the thoroughly wrecked door to his right and winces.
“Shane, look at me, sweetheart. What hurts?” Ilya asks.
Before Shane can reply, Ilya hears an unfamiliar voice. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Are you both okay in there?”
The other driver. Shit. “Trying to figure that out!” Ilya calls back. He turns back to Shane, who has opened his eyes slightly. “Shane, what hurts?” Ilya asks again.
“My side,” Shane grits out. He tries to take a deep breath in and grimaces. “You okay?”
Jesus Christ. He can barely breathe and he’s asking about me? “I'm fine. I was not on the side of the car that just got hit,” Ilya says. He opts not to tell Shane about the stiffness in his neck and shoulders. Whiplash, he can assume, and certainly not his most pressing concern right now. “Can you move? Can I move you?”
“Where?” Shane asks, his eyes meeting Ilya’s.
“Fuck if I know, but we do not have to stay here. Maybe this guy who hit us can drive us somewhere. Least he could do.” Ilya attempts a smile.
“Okay,” Shane croaks, squeezing his eyes shut again.
“I will go around the other side and try to open your door so you can get out,” Ilya says, but as he begins to back out of the car, Shane grabs his arm with a groan. “The pain is worse?” Ilya asks. Shane nods.
Ilya’s mind races. Should he even try to move Shane before he knows what’s wrong? What if moving him hurts him more?
“Maybe my ribs are broken?” Shane says. His voice goes up like he’s asking a question, but Ilya can’t tell if Shane is asking him, or himself, or whatever godforsaken force of nature has it out for them tonight. Even though it’s only been a few minutes since the crash, and not nearly enough time to collect himself, Ilya realizes he has not checked the state of Shane's body under his clothes. He can't see any blood seeping through Shane's sweatshirt and jeans, so he takes this as a good sign. As good as things can be while still being completely fucking terrifying.
Ilya cranes his neck and calls out to the other driver, who is lingering at a distance by his pick-up truck. “Hey!” The man hurries over. He's middle-aged and wearing a frightfully ugly Christmas sweater.
“Can I help you guys? I’m so sorry, the ice made the side roads slick and I couldn’t stop and just – ” The words pour out of him until Ilya holds up a hand.
“I need you to call 911 right now. My husband is hurt and we probably need an ambulance,” Ilya says, as calmly as he can. His heart pounds loudly in his chest, in his ears, but he has to make sure Shane gets what he needs right now.
“Oh my god. Yes. Yes.” The other driver’s hands fly to his coat pockets, and Ilya turns his attention back to Shane.
“The other guy is calling 911. It will be okay,” Ilya says. He brushes the broken glass on Shane’s lap onto the floor, hoping to avoid Shane injuring himself more in the time it takes for emergency services to arrive. Ilya's hands return to their natural place, cradling Shane’s face.
“Okay,” Shane repeats.
The other driver leans in through the window. “I’m calling now. I’m Greg. What are your names?”
“I am Ilya. This is my husband, Shane,” Ilya replies as Greg dials and holds his phone to his ear. Ilya faintly hears the 911 operator’s voice coming through Greg’s phone.
“Your hands are cold,” Shane says, and Ilya turns back down to where his hands grip Shane’s face. It dawns on Ilya only then that they’re sitting in their totaled car without any outerwear to combat the biting cold and snow. He reaches into the backseat, grabs their coats, and puts his own on. He goes to drape Shane’s over him when he sees Shane’s eyelids flutter closed.
“No, Shane, keep your eyes open,” Ilya says, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “You have to stay awake, okay?”
“Concussion protocol?” Shane asks. He blinks and a crease forms between his eyebrows. Ilya has to suppress a hysterical laugh. What he wouldn’t give for this to be a typical hockey injury, surrounded by other players and fans. And the Centaurs’ medical staff.
“How old are you guys?” Greg calls. “And do you have any preexisting medical conditions they need to know about?”
“I am fine. Is not for me,” Ilya insists. “Shane is thirty-one. He is very healthy, but we are athletes so he has had concussions and other injuries before. He is complaining most about pain in his side. He might have broken ribs?”
Greg nods and relays the information to the 911 operator. After a long pause, Greg turns back to him, face grim, and says, “We’re 20 minutes from the nearest hospital. EMS are on their way and will be here as soon as they can, but this weather really isn’t helping.”
Fucking Christ. Thanks for the reassurance, Greg. Ilya only nods. He turns back to Shane. “Did you hear that, moya lyubov? The ambulance is on its way. You just have to stay awake until then, okay?” Ilya says.
“I’m tired, baby,” Shane murmurs. He has slumped further into his seat, his body zapped of the energy required to keep itself upright. Tears glisten in Shane's half-lidded eyes. Ilya can’t tell if the tears are from pain or fear, and he isn’t sure he wants to know.
“I know. I know. Here, let me get my phone.” Ilya fishes around in his pockets. “We need to call your parents so they can meet us. Stay awake and talk to them.”
Ilya finds Yuna’s contact in seconds and hits call. He holds his phone on speaker between himself and Shane, and the phone rings once, twice, before Yuna answers.
“Hey, you! How far out are you and Shane?” Yuna asks brightly.
“Yuna,” Ilya says, and pauses as voice catches painfully. He did not realize how close he was to falling apart until he heard his mother-in-law’s voice.
“Ilya?” Yuna says, clearly and instantly alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“We were in a car accident on the way home. Shane is hurt. His ribs, maybe. The guy in the other car called 911 and we're waiting for the ambulance. Can you and David meet us at the hospital?”
“Oh, honey. Of course. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Ilya hears various rustling sounds as Yuna gathers herself on the other end of the phone.
“No, I am fine. With Shane now, trying to keep him awake.”
“He’s going to sleep? Ilya, did he hit his head?”
“I don’t know,” Ilya says. A tear falls from his eye onto Shane’s lap and he looks to Shane helplessly, knowing that his barely conscious husband is not in any position to help him explain what just happened to them. With a tremulous voice, he continues, “It all happened so fast.”
“Okay, honey. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Can I talk to Shane? Is he lucid enough?”
“Yes, you are on speaker. Talk to your mother, sweetheart.” Ilya moves the phone closer to Shane. He swipes at his eyes with his free hand and runs his through Shane’s hair soothingly, eventually coming to rest at the back of Shane's neck.
“Mom?” Shane says, sounding so young and so small. More tears trail down Ilya’s cheeks.
“Oh, Shane. Hi, honey. Your dad and I are going to meet you and Ilya at the hospital, alright? You just have to hold on until then.”
“I’m trying, Mom. I swear,” Shane says. His eyelids begin to droop again.
“No, no, no. Stay with me,” Ilya says.
“Ilya, we’re getting in the car now!” Yuna says.
“I do not think I can stay on the phone and take care of him at the same time. My mind is… everywhere,” Ilya says.
“Okay,” Yuna says, resolute. “Okay. Take care of him, then. Call me as soon as you can. I love you both so much.”
“I love you,” Ilya says around the lump in his throat.
“Love you,” Shane repeats.
“I love you. I’ll see you soon,” Yuna replies, and hangs up.
“Baby,” Shane says. Ilya can only see a sliver of his brown eyes. “I think I'm going to sleep now.”
Ilya didn't think it was possible, but his panic spikes further. “You can't. I know you're tired. Remember, the ambulance is coming. They will take care of you. You have to stay awake until they get here.” Ilya lowers himself closer to Shane’s face, so neither of them can see anything but each other.
“I can’t,” Shane whispers, and his eyes are already closing. “I’m sorry.”
“No. I am sorry. I am so sorry. Please stay with me,” Ilya pleads, shaking Shane’s face gently. “I love you, Shane. I love you more than anything.”
“I love you, Ilya,” Shane says faintly.
"Shane?" Ilya gives him another slight shake, with no response.
An animal noise leaves Ilya’s mouth, part gasp and part sob. Footsteps pound against the pavement, coming to a halt when Greg peeks in.
“What happened?” Greg asks, panicked.
Ilya can barely see through his tears. “He passed out. I tried to keep him awake but he kept saying he was tired. He needs help now.”
“Oh, god,” Greg says. He pulls out his phone. “I called 911 seven minutes ago. Hopefully they’ll be here in another ten minutes or so.”
That isn’t soon enough for Ilya. Ten seconds wouldn’t be soon enough for Ilya. He turns away so this stranger, who caused this, can’t see his anguish.
“I’ll keep an eye out for them. You all stay here,” Greg says. As if Ilya could ever leave Shane like this.
The minutes stretch long as Ilya sits in silence with his husband. He can tell Shane is still breathing, but this fact is cold comfort. Ilya feels like he might suffocate if he does not do something, so he carefully tucks Shane's coat tighter around him and buries his face in Shane’s hair and starts talking again.
“I love you, Shane. So much. I am so sorry. It was my idea to go to the cottage for Christmas. If we stayed at home in Ottawa this never would have happened. You have to wake up, and you have to be okay. Your parents need you. Your friends need you. The team needs you. But no one needs you more than me. I do not know what I would do without you. I love you. I love you.”
After what feels like an interminable wait, Ilya hears distant sirens and snaps upright. “They're here,” he says, mostly to himself.
After some shuffling with the car door, various faces and hands appear around Shane’s Jeep, pulling his body out into the evening air. After a moment of staring blankly at the space where Shane was, Ilya realizes someone is speaking to him.
“Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Where are you hurt?” a young female voice asks. A paramedic has climbed onto the seat next to him and is looking at him with urgency.
“Please help him,” Ilya says. “Please.” He peers around her, out of the car, where two other paramedics lay Shane on a gurney in front of them, and begin to talk over him indistinctly once they realize they will not get a response from Shane himself.
“My teammates are helping him. They are checking his vitals and trying to see why he is unconscious. Your husband, right?”
“Yes.”
“I promise they’ll do everything they can for him. But I’m sure he would want you to get treatment, too. I’m Louisa. What’s your name? Are you in any pain?”
“Ilya. My neck is sore. And my shoulders.”
“Okay, Ilya, I can give you something for the pain in the ambulance and examine you further there. Do you feel alright to walk? No dizziness? No wounds I can't see right now?”
Ilya shakes his head, unable to take his eyes off of Shane. The other paramedics lift the gurney onto its wheels and begin moving Shane towards the ambulance. “Will he be okay?”
Louisa reaches out to touch Ilya’s arm cautiously, and follows through when Ilya doesn’t flinch or pull away. “You called 911 right away. You didn’t move him and risk complicating his injuries. We got here as fast as we could, and we will do everything to help him. We will know more about what we can do once we get to the hospital, too.” She smiles warmly, reassuringly.
Ilya tries to smile back, but recognizes all too acutely that her answer is evasive. She can offer him no guarantees. He takes a deep breath, opens his car door, an exits onto the empty road. Louisa makes an “after you” gesture, and he walks as quickly as he can to where the ambulance sits, lights flashing, on the slick pavement. He climbs in next to Shane, and Louisa follows.
“We will need to work, so I’m sorry, but I can’t advise you to hold his hand or touch him. But I like to think people can feel their loved one’s presence in an emergency, especially spouses. He knows you’re there for him,” Louisa says.
Ilya folds his hands together and squeezes until his knuckles turn white. God. I can only hope.
Had an idea at work but couldn't write it out until now lmao
Down on his luck Steve who refuses to give in to his parents and is desperately trying to figure things out for himself. But putting himself through school (i can never decide between nursing or education) is expensive. So he works two jobs, trying to save up and taking a few classes here and there, and the one job is in a restaurant. It's a fancier place, usually gets him decent tips, but the best nights are the ones where he's not waiting tables. The best nights are the ones where he plays the piano and sets the mood and has a little more freedom to enjoy himself.
Enter Rockstar!Eddie, who got out of Hawkins quick and never looked back. Who's at this fancy place for a work dinner and, as his bandmates (Jeff) demanded, he's trying to behave himself and remember which fork is which. But that's just not possible, not entirely, when he catches glimpses of a beautiful face, a face only rarely darting up from the piano in front of him. And look, Eddie's only human. He's smitten just from glimpses. He manages to get through the dinner, constantly watching to see if the piano man will look up again, but he's still playing by the time they're wrapping up.
So he skips out on riding back to the hotel with the others, goes to the bar area and decides it's not that creepy to wait for him. He waits and waits and waits and listens for the music to stop. The bartender is all but shoving him out the door when it does. With no other choice, he waits outside, smokes a cigarette to calm his nerves while he looks for a head of chestnut hair with an angel's face. Just as he's about to give up, he sees him. And he recognizes him. But just as much as that dismays him, he's still got hope enough to give it a shot.
He doesn't think Steve will recognize him anyway, but even if he does, Eddie's never been accused of making the best decisions.
So he slinks out from the shadows, which is a bad decision, and tries to get Steve's attention, which is a bad decision, and surprises Steve, who's first instinct is a fight response, resulting in Eddie getting punched in the face.
Because bad decisions.
Steve is obviously very apologetic, takes Eddie back home to get him ice for his face, and Eddie can't even protest because Pain. But once his face is numb and Steve's cleaning up the blood from his nose (very bruised but not broken) he's kinda staring and Steve, clearly embarrassed, is doing concussion tests. When asked "what's today's date" he responds with "our future anniversary". And when Steve asks him "what's your name" he responds with "your future husband" and Steve gives up on questions after that.
They obviously make out about it, even though they keep accidentally injuring Eddie further by knocking his nose.
And Eddie is right, it is their anniversary after all.
If you've been reading my posts about #space archives for years, now you can learn what the fuss is all about! If you have not been reading my posts about space archives, here's the summary.
28-year-old archivist Alexandra Lawrence always dreamed of spaceflight, but her chronic illness left her grounded working in an archive for a defunct space exploration company. After she has an unsettling encounter with an alien specimen from the Tereus expedition, Xandra digs into the mission records and learns some of the crew never made it home. Xandra is used to being sick, so she can’t tell if the lingering effects of her exposure are something to worry about or one more way her body is letting her down. With multiple fatality notices in front of her, she needs to find out—fast.
As Xandra explores the records, she discovers more secrets buried in the archive: betrayal, violence, and crewmembers’ growing suspicion that something about Tereus isn’t right. Between contradicting narratives and corporate redaction, records alone won’t be enough. Xandra has spent years accepting the limits of her sickness. If she wants answers, she’ll have to embrace her dream and visit the expedition site herself to learn the truth of the mission’s end—or maybe meet the same fate as the doomed crew.
Interested? Open the read more to learn how you can get a copy:
Library
If you live near me and are a user of the Mid-Continent Public Library system, there are copies to borrow in print and in Overdrive. If you live further from me, you may be able to request a copy be added to your library, although it depends on how your system sources books.
Print
It's being retailed through small bookshops. If you live in the KC metro area, you can allegedly purchase a copy from Monstera's Books, Rainy Day Books, Basement Books KC, and KD's Books. You can purchase it online through Monstera's Books.
Ebook
The ebook is currently available in the following places:
Everand (30 day free trial available)
Bookshop.org
Barnes & Noble
Booktopia (Australia)
Kobo (Canada)
Audiobook
The press at one point said they hoped to apply for a grant so they could make an audiobook. If that was an NEH grant, god help them. I haven't heard anything about this since, so I doubt it's imminent, at the very least.
Which makes you the most money?
I'm only including this because I've seen other indie authors get asked it. I am not getting any royalties from bookstore sales, and I'm ok with that. The press is a non-profit, and they're paying me a stipend that honestly will probably be more than the royalties would've been. I have no idea what the ebook finances situation is, but presumably I'm not seeing any of it or they would've told me. I will make a small amount from the exclusive copies, but that's before calculating in the administrative effort of processing orders, driving to the post office, figuring out the tax implications, etc., so for all I know I'm going to lose money on those. Basically, do not make your selection based on what you think might help me out! Just purchase whichever version you prefer, if you wish to purchase at all.
Come get upset about my doomed space commander with me!
i'm kat, 30, bi, and filipino-american. welcome to my superman/david corenswet sideblog! (my main is @play-detectives)
here you'll find 18+ fic (both my own and those of others), pics, and gifs of and about superman and david corenswet, including his characters from other media like twisters and hollywood.
reader is always fem unless explicitly stated otherwise, and i never use y/n. if you'd like to be added to my taglist, fill out this form!
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Clark Kent
hot under the collar (6.6k) - 18+. You're an editor at the Daily Planet who's usually pretty covered up at the office, but a heatwave and a broken air conditioning system at the office makes you show a little more skin. When Clark sees the beautiful tattoos on your arms for the first time, he has a bit of a crisis about it, but it's nothing a walk and some ice cream can't fix.
the pull between two things (2.3k) - 18+. You give Clark some new cologne and you can't resist him when he smells this good. Inspired by David's Boss The Scent campaign
appetizer (1k) - 18+. Before he takes you out to dinner, Clark follows through on a joke you crack. He loves eating pussy.
Scott Miller
WIP: eyes on you (tbd) - 3 times Scott Miller gets caught staring at you + 1 time he owns up to it.
absolutely NO AI is used in the creation of these fics. please do not put my work into generative AI.
james: i think lily and i will probably get married
sirius: married? we're so young
james: I know but I think about my parent’s friends and plenty of them got married just out of school. Everyone says when you know you know, and I think I know.
sirius: and what? you've known since you were 11?
james: no of course not. I wasn’t really in love with the actual Lily when we were young, but now I know her... i mean on top of being gorgeous and funny and whip smart she’s also one of my best friends and that’s also what everyone says you’re meant to look for
sirius: i'm your best friend though
james: Well, I can’t very well marry you, you’re in love with Remus.
sirius: true. you're wonderful but you can't really compete there
james: you dont know that, i would be good to you pads
