#but i just wanted to post this little silly

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[fushitoru]

thinking about writing a bridgerton!gojo fic (series?)....

duke gojo, who has stirred up everyone and their mamas with news of how he is finally joining the marriage scene this season after years of fooling around. of course, to no one's surprise, he is the season's most eligible bachelor. he's the strongest, whether that be in terms of wealth or other manly pursuits gentlemen ought to be good at. gojo isn't marrying for love. he just needs to be tied down to secure his inheritance so he can gamble and fool around at the gentleman's clubs with his friends until he drops dead one day.

you seek to be the perfect daughter in front of your parents. you have been taught to be the picture of grace and nobility, proficient at all things a lady must be good at: needlework, art, music...you name it. but deep inside, you have an affinity for literature---feminist literature. you secretly feel aversion towards the idea of marrying just to be a submissive wife but will not show it. you are perfectly content marrying any man that should not harm you as long as he has the means to provide for you and make your family proud.

upon your presentation to the queen, you are immediately crowned a diamond. the first ball of the season comes, and gojo undoubtedly has his eyes sight on you as the diamond of the season. after all, why would a duke need to settle for anything less when he can buy the shiniest jewel?

on your dance with him, you give all the template responses. "i would sire as many kids as my husband desires." you are afraid of pregnancy and even more so of raising kids. "of course I read byron!" you hate byron's poetry.

gojo is content, and you, tired of all the stares and hushed whispers that have followed you through the night, leave to get fresh air outside in the terrace. only to overhear:

"a bit simpleminded. has no opinions of substance that should cause conflict. she's perfectly fine for a wife. i shall begin courting her and will soon pro---"

at that moment, you have one thought in your mind: you will never marry satoru gojo. in fact, you abhor him.

cue insults thrown back and forth. when it comes down to having to marry gojo, the most eligible bachelor and the option that will make your parents the proudest, will it be a matter of fillial piety or...love?

dear reader, this season has definitely come forth with many promises of thinly veiled hatred, jealousy, and burning passion.

oops this is longer than the silly little thought i wanted to post but welp. the smut i have planned for this is outright nastyyy

comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this

i also promise i have not forgotten about beach boy gojo :3 running into a bit of writer's block for that so my inbox is always open for ideas <3

[sleepingoreo]

What if reader has turned into a kitten or a cat? How will the hsr boys react to that?

(got this idea from this post https://www.tumblr.com/matchaitham/717357559079665664/how-un-fur-tunate?source=share )

Pairing: Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Dr Ratio

Aventurine(Kakavasha) Would spoil you with a luxury cat life. How could this have happened?! Aventurine was just on a peaceful stroll around the IPC headquarters when a sudden peculiar cat perched its head out of the corner and started tailing him. Who allowed the cat in this building? Topaz? Oh, he wouldn’t be surprised.

Unlike Topaz Aventurine was never too fond of animals himself. It’s never that he dislikes animals but rather he feels indifferent towards pets. Yet for some reason, this cat held his regard.

“Meow~” the cat's eyes falter before Aventurine’s presence.

“Are you talking to me, kitty?”

“Meow”

“Mh? Is there something you want to say, pretty kitty?”

“Meow!♡”

Communication was harder than he anticipated, but the urgency in the cat and anomalous behavior were enough evidence that he should follow through.

“Look here, Little Kitty,” he heaved a sigh, “I really don’t have the time for this. I need to go back to work,” he gently cushioned your head between his palms so he could feel the softness of the cat fur.

But in the end, despite all his protesting, Aventurine yielded to the cat’s insistence. Aventurine trailed behind the cat into his beloved bedroom. Strange why would this cat bring him into your shared room with him? The cat directed its attention to a portrait featuring both you and Aventurine, suddenly it all clicked to Aventurine. You are the cat!

“Kitty, what do you mean? Yes, I know my sweetheart is beautiful,” he would tease you pretending he didn’t catch on to what you were trying to hint. He watched the panic arise on your kitty's face.

“Meow!”

“Just playing, sweetheart,” he knelt down, opening his arm for your embrace, “Come here you good, little kitty! Aren’t you just a clever kitty?” his fingers scratched behind one of your fluffy ears. “God, you’re adorable and lovely even as a cat.”

You profusely let out meows while in Aventurine’s embrace. You would hiss at Aventurine whenever he tried feeding you cat food.

“Well, aren’t you feeling a little feisty today, sweetheart? Okay okay, I’ll get you back in no time”

He would prodigal you in luxurious cat beds and toys, even if he realizes or knows he’ll have to turn you back into your true self sooner or later. He just wants to embrace this special moment he has with you. Plus he knows he wouldn’t be able to have you stay a cat forever. You’re his lover, not his pet. Boom! Now he adores cats! Whenever he sees a cat he would think back to the situation between you and him.

Jing Yuan He would find this situation adorable and silly. Jing Yuan strolled around his garden frowning and sighing at the weeds hanging around his garden. A sudden cat perched at his feet. His thoughts immediately wandered to Mimi, yet he knew it couldn’t be her.

“Meow~”

He gently patted the cat’s head as it nuzzled against his fingers, looking up at him with familiar eyes. It was uncanny how much this cat resembled you in his head. Jing Yuan couldn’t help but chuckle to himself thinking about how’d you react when he introduced this cat to you.

“I’m sure my love would adore you,” he muttered, scratching the cat’s chin. He couldn’t help but bring himself to smile every time the cat nuzzled, brushing his head against his touch. Such an affectionate cat.

“Meow Meow!” The cat darted off expecting Jing Yuan to follow behind. Amused by its anomalous behavior, he let this little feline lead him to the bushes.

There, he watched the cat retrieve his lover’s phone, attempting to unlock your phone. The cat meowed trying to convey a message to him as a form of communication. Jing Yuan observed the strange cat’s behavior and was intrigued by the cat’s intelligence.

Before you the cat could succeed he takes the phone away from your captive. “Sorry, kitty. I need to return this to my lover,” his eyes stay falter, stretching the cat’s chin.

“Meow!” you hissed at him trying to get him to understand you ARE the cat, yet communicating with him was inefficient.

“General!” A high-pitched voice interrupted, and a purple dragon girl appeared, recognizing her as Bailu, rushing up to Jing Yuan in panic. “I-I turned your lover into a Cat! I’m so sorry!” Bailu pleaded.

“Mhhh… how fortuitous, “ he mused, his eyes relaxing on your small frame.

“I’m so sorry General! I was giving them medicine because they came in sick! I gave them something else by accident!” Bailu continued pleading with Jing Yuan, even if she knew the General was too kind to mind.

Jing Yuan can only chuckle, kneeing to your level and patting your head. “How unfortunate, yet how adorable. I’m sure we can fix this in no time,” he scooped you up in his arms, “Right my love?”

“Meow!”

He found himself adoring every moment spent with you while you’re a cat. He even prodigal a lot of cat toys and beds for you to feel comfortable. Of course, you still choose the bed with him. When you turn back into your former self, he’ll adopt a cat who looks just like you!

Veritas Ratio Let’s say he’s certainly not the brightest when you do. Ratio would cast you a disapproving look eyeing you up and down, as you can only meow at his direction. You had somehow shifted yourself into one of Ruan Mei’s creations while messing around with the Liveform Oven, creating new Cake Cats. Due to the potential danger, Ruan Mei had to return you over to Ratio for your safety.

“You imbecile,” was the first response he came up with seeing your circumstances. He surveyed you nestling in your cake as if it’s your bed which it technically is. He shook his head in disappointment as all you could mutter out were soft meows. “What am I ever going to do with your idiocy?”

“Meow~”

His heart falters at your meows. He couldn’t deny the unbearable adorableness, yet he would never express it to keep his ego intact.

Ruan Mei did assure him the effect would wear off in 60 system hours, but could he really handle 60 system hours of this? He was certainly not thrilled knowing it would slumber his intellect. Although harsh and overly honest on the outside he did have a weakness inside of his heart for you. Ratio is just an impatient man who sounds like him who cannot keep up. He never meant to offend anyone by being honest. Needless to say he certainly enjoyed it when you nap on his lap while he engrosses himself in a good book.

I wanna start improving my writing and wording, plus i really don't know my writing style. I never had a style or anything. I was also mid writing Boothill and stopped cause idk what to do for him. I love you Aventurine ur my new obession. Still loyal to Jing Yuan. I do proof read once but that's all.

[togrowoldinv]

Instagram

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You find out about Natasha’s secret Instagram while she’s away on a mission

Note: Inspired by the romanoffthereal account Scarlett is definitely running lol. Enjoy this one!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

When you walk into the living room, you hear your oldest kids giggling. You smile at the sound, but your curiosity is piqued when you notice their attention is on a phone.

“What’s up?” You ask them. Ali drops her phone into her lap and they all turn to you. You raise a brow.

“Hi Mom,” she says. Her voice is sincere but her eyes don’t quite meet yours.

“Do I even want to know?” You ask, assuming it was something the kids wouldn’t want to spend time explaining why it’s funny.

The boys stand up as if on cue and excuse themselves with a little side hug to you. They’re getting older, but still remain sweet.

“Just ask Mama,” Ali says before running off too.

You shake your head in confusion. Why would Natasha know what they’re laughing at? She’s not even in town. A mission she didn’t want to go on pulled her away for a couple of weeks.

The rest of the day is spent trying to wrangle all of the kids. You don’t find anymore sneaky laughter sessions. Settling in for the night, you lie down and get on your phone.

That’s when you see your friend sent you a post on Instagram. It’s been a while since you opened the app, finding yourself way too busy with kids and with Nat not wanting too much of the family information online.

You open the message to see a picture of a Black Widow toy along with other Avengers. Before you even read the caption of the post, you read the message from your friend.

Is this your wife?

You furrow your brow in confusion. Clicking on the photo, you see the post is written in first person from an account named romanoffthereal.

Surely not, you type in response.

You examine the photo further and wonder if it really could be her. But surely she would’ve told you she made a secret Instagram. Right?

You try to sleep, but the cold spot in the bed next to you doesn’t help. You miss Natasha. Glancing at the clock, you decide maybe she’s getting up across the world.

Your contact photo of Nat always makes you smile. A silly selfie she took one day on your phone when you left it on the table. You click on it and wait for your wife’s voice to ring through.

Unfortunately she never picks up. You sigh and put your phone back on the nightstand. Sleep never comes around and soon it’s 5am.

You get up and start on breakfast for the kids. It’s a never ending process, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The life you and Natasha have made is absolutely perfect.

As if she knows you’re thinking of her, Natasha finally calls you back.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hi sweetheart,” she replies. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You sound upset. Plus, you called me in the middle of the night,” Natasha explains.

“You knew I was upset by me saying one word?”

“I’m a spy, baby,” she jokes. “And we’ve been married forever now. I have good news though.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“One second,” she says.

You wait for her to reply over the phone, but instead you’re met with the front door opening. Natasha walks in with a grin on her face.

Whatever fruit you were cutting is abandoned. You run over to her and hug her tight.

“It’s okay,” Nat says. “I’m back.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” Nat replies.

You kiss her lips and hold her tight once again. Soon, the kids wake up and everyone is so happy to see Nat.

By dinner time, she’s soaked up all of the love she can take. Nat escapes to some solitude to decompress from the mission.

You take her a plate of food to your bedroom. She’s sitting on the bed on her phone.

“So, I have a question,” you say. She narrows her eyes. “And I expect you’ll have an answer.”

“Okay,” she says, but comes out more like a question.

“Do you have an Instagram you didn’t tell me about?”

Natasha smirks. She’s been caught.

“Which one of those kids ratted on me?” She asks.

“Wait, it’s true?!”

“It was for fun,” Nat shrugs. “For the kids to laugh at. So who told you? Was it Jack? He never could lie to you.”

“It was not the kids actually,” you say. “Although, I did see them all laughing at their phone’s yesterday and Ali said to ask you why.”

Natasha chuckles and smiles softly at the fact that she made the kids laugh. She prides herself on being humorous, even in a nerdy way.

“My friend sent me the post though,” you say. Nat doesn’t smile at that.

“Shit, I thought I made it private.”

“No, baby. You know for a super spy, you’re really bad at using media,” you tease her.

“I’ll remember you said that,” Nat says, feigning seriousness.

You laugh and lean into her. Nat wraps you in a hug so tight you can barely breathe.

“I’ll delete it,” Nat says after a minute.

“The kids like it. Just have them help you make it private,” you suggest.

“Deal.” A minute later she adds, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” you reply.

“Mhm,” she hums.

You pull away from her just enough to look in her eye. She kisses you deeply. Her want for you is evident in her touch.

“The kids occupied?” She asks.

“I turned on a movie,” you say.

“Perfect.”

The two of you don’t waste a second getting reacquainted with each other. Life with her is perfect with her silly Instagram and all.

[gojoshooter]

HER HO!NY HUSBAND : GOJO SATORU

tw. suggestive, gojo flashes his goodies

Husband!Gojo coming out of the shower with a wet muscular body and a piece of towel hanging along his waist—only to see his wife laying on the bed right in front of him.

Pregnant Wife!Yn who had been insecure of her growing belly and weight since a couple months due to her pregnancy, watches Gojo check her from head to toe, an unexplainable look on his handsome pale face.

Sitting upright, she fixes her loose garments. Maybe he’s finally come to the realisation of not being such a big fan of my mom body.

Husband!Gojo sensing her dejected mood, snaps out of his internal thoughts as he decides to reach out and sit next to her instead.

“Baby? Something’s bothering?” he asks softly, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.

Pregnant Wife!Yn ever a self-conscious overthinker, mumbles while looking up at her husband, “I saw you gazing at me few a many times now...” she fixes her garment again, in embarrassment “like... weirdly. You start looking stiff all of a sudden, as if you want to confess something. About my bad shape maybe.”

At her confession, Satoru pauses, lips parted open slightly and not sure which part to explain first. He brings a wet but comforting hand on her swollen belly.

“Silly girl. Are you worrying about your plump little adorable tummy again? I told you I like it.”

Pregnant Wife!Yn frowns, not really sure of his words. “Really? Then how would you explain everytime you stopped to stare at me? Your face doesn't seem as if you love it—or even like it, Toru.”

Husband!Gojo who shakes his head, body turning more towards her distressed wife. “I don't like it? I love you and every part of you babe, you know me.”

Yn sighs softly, looking down with an upset face. “I do... but maybe i shouldn't have asked for a baby. I just... I feel like you'd have appreciated my old body more, Toru.”

Satoru snaps his head towards her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. This was his last straw. She has to know what his pregnant, innocent wife does to him.

As he stands up slowly from the edge of the bed, he makes sure she's all eyes and ears. “Oh really now. Then I must give you a real reason to never regret your baby with me...”

Undoing the towel hooked on his dripping wet waist, the white haired man reveals his lower half of the riches. As her eyes set down, there comes in view an almost fully hard wet length of Gojo Satoru.

Pregnant Wife!Yn being taken aback, is unable to react for a good few first seconds, mouth agape. Light hue of read crawls up the neck to settle on her cheeks, when her husband hums in question.

“Mm? You see this? This is what you do to me, silly girl.”

Everything seemed suddenly more reasonable—Gojo stealing those frequent long gazes, his odd body language while he checks his pregnant wife out. Gojo gets aroused.

Pregnant Wife!Yn tears her gaze away from his manhood, cold sweat making her feel more or less like her currently out of shower dripping wet husband. Oh the thoughts that might be running in his perverted brain, all the ways he could take you in and you wouldn't be moving away with all the weight you bear of his baby, but comply, and relish, and whine.

“Oh-oh...” she mumbles shyly, the revelation lessening her insecurity effectively more than all sweet words combined could have ever had.

an. husband gojo >>> also this is my 1k readers special! ty for giving my writings your time, love y'all. likes & rbs are appreciated <33

tags: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - perfect match

a/n: watch me suddenly appear out of nowhere after the school year has finally ended to post something!! i'm sure absolutely no one is surprised that tsukishima is the centre of this fic, but tbh idk how to feel about it (it's definitely longer than my usual ones but i didn't proofread it, so idk if the lenght is an advantage or not) but i hope you'll like it ^^ with school being over for the next two months i'll finally have time to write, so expect more works soon!!

summary: you and tsukishima decide to help your friends get together, but the plan is long forgotten when you realize what your own feelings are.

warnings: nothing really, canon yamayachi (my loves), some light swearing, bad writing

tsukishima kei did not expect any of his friends to bother him in the middle of the night. hell, he didn't even expect any of them to disturb his alone time at all. and yet at exactly 2.34 in the morning, right as he was about to turn off his currently binge watched tv show and go to sleep, he felt his phone buzzing on the nightstand. 

his eyes focused on your name, written in white font on his phone screen, surely shocked by the sight.

'why are you calling me at 2 in the goddamn morni-'

'is yamaguchi interested in anyone?'

your question caught him off-guard even more than the call itself, his brows furrowing in a weirded-out look. 

'if you're asking for yourself, i'm positive that he is not interested.' 

tsukishima heard a sigh of annoyance on the other side of the call and could only imagine the exact look on your face in this very moment. 

'well, thank god, because i'm not asking for myself.' you said. there were muffled sounds of someone preparing food in the background. 'i'm asking for yachi.'

the blonde boy smiled unconsciously.

'he does like her.' the boy stated, turning off his laptop as he put it back on the desk. 'so much so, in fact, that it can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

you squealed with excitement, a giggle leaving your mouth at tsukishima's remark. 

'perfect! now, listen carefully.'

that singular phone call created an alliance between you and kei. an alliance with only one goal; getting your two best friends to finally confess to each other. to both of you, it was almost infuriating how blind they were; how they didn't notice just how obvious it was that they both shared the same feeling. constant blushing at as little as a mention of the other's name, the stolen glances, the very obvious pining - all of it seemed to be non-existent in the eyes of both yamaguchi and yachi.

but lucky for them, you had a plan.

his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, as if awaiting a sign from you. tsukishima still thought of your 'master plan' as rather silly, but seeing the determination on your face, and the frown that appeared when he called your idea stupid was enough for him to sigh and go with it this once.

the four of you were currently occupied with studying for a math test coming up next week, everyone nose deep in their notebooks. well, everyone except for kei.

the boy cleared his throat almost theatrically, drawing the attention of the three of you.

'yamaguchi, i think i'll have to pass on the movies this weekend.' he said, the tone of his voice as lifeless as ever. 'akiteru insisted that i go to one of his games, so i guess you'll have to take someone else.'

the freckled boy looked a little troubled upon hearing the information. both you and tsukishima were well aware that the tickets to the cinema were already paid for; yamaguchi would definitely be sad if it all went to waste. 

'well, i guess i can ask hina-'

'yachi, didn't you tell me last week that you wanted to go to the movies with someone?' you barged in before the boy could even finish his sentence, your friend freezing in her spot at the mention of a conversation you had not that long ago, cheeks flushed pink at the mere thought of going somewhere with yamaguchi one-on-one. 'maybe you'd fill in for tsukki?' 

the girl glanced at you, panic in her eyes as an awkward silence filled the room, everyone waiting for her to answer. you gave her an encouraging smile, as if trying to non-verbally tell her to go for it, to use this as a chance to get closer to the boy she liked for so long. 

'if yamaguchi doesn't mind...' she mumbled quietly, head turning to face the boy who was already shaking his head. 

'of course i don't.' yamaguchi smiled, his small dimples showing up in the process. 

you glanced over to look at tsukishima, a triumphant smile on your face as if you just won a volleyball tournament. his hair was slightly messy, and his glasses were sliding off his nose, two of the top buttons on his school uniform unbuttoned, showing a bit of his collarbones. surprisingly enough, the blonde boy smiled back; a small, quick smile that your eyes barely noticed. you had no idea what it was, but something about that singular smile made your heart beat faster. 

don't. the main focus of this entire thing is to get yachi and yamaguchi together. not to think of tsukishima and how attractive he looks- 

shit.

developing a crush on tsukishima kei was certainly not part of your plan. 

at first, you tried ignoring it as much as you could, focusing solely on your friends and getting them to date. as time went on and yamaguchi and yachi started getting closer, you almost felt a sense of relief - you could finally stop spending so much time around tsukishima, which made your chances of getting over your stupid crush higher. 

but it wasn't as easy as you thought. tsukishima was intelligent, pretty, and his snarky remarks and judgy personality actually drew you to him even more with each passing day. through the countless conversations and numerous phone calls, he proved himself to be more than just a salty, mean guy that everyone viewed him as.

'soon enough, they won't even need our help.' you mumbled to yourself as you opened your bento box, a smile on your face as you noticed your mom homemade onigiri inside. 'i don't know what i'll do with myself then.'

tsukishima scoffed, closing the textbook in front of him.

'maybe start focusing on your own love life for once.'

'hey! it's not my fault that i'm a good friend.' you stated, mouth full of food, as you looked up at your friend sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking through the tasks assigned for next week. 'besides, it's not like i'm the only one.'

tsukishima adjusted his glasses, looking up at you for a mere second before focusing back on his notebook.

'touché.'

'oh, come on.' you whined out, dissatisfied with the lack of response from the blonde boy. 'you won't miss this even a little bit?'

alright, maybe just a bit-

'no.' tsukishima stated firmly, fixing his posture as he highlighted one of the important sentences written down. you heard a bit of hesitation in his voice, and the few seconds of silence before hearing an answer couldn't help but make you wonder. you decided to ignore it this time - he was focused on something else right now, there was no need to disturb him. 

'do you think yachi will like my outfit?'

tsukishima was sitting at the edge of his best friend's bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up to see the twelfth - no, thirteenth shirt that yamaguchi has tried on already. the boy sighed, turning his device off. 

'it's your first official date, i'm sure she doesn't mind what you wear.' he stated, gaining a frown from yamaguchi.

'you didn't answer my question.'

'alright, i think she'll like it.' the blonde haired boy said, reaching out for a bag of chips, opening it with a loud sound. 'but i'm sure she'll focus more on the date itself rather than what you're wearing.'

ever since announcing to their friends that they're going on their first official date, both yamaguchi and yachi were full of stress, constantly overthinking every little detail from their outfit to whether or not the date will go well or not. tsukishima found it rather comical - it was only a date after all. why stress over it so much? he never went on one, obviously, but he always thought that when the day came, he'd approach it calmly.

'do you have any tips on how to not freak out?' yamaguchi asked suddenly, catching his friend off-guard. 'during the date, i mean.'

'how can i know? i've never gone on one.'

the freckled boy looked at tsukishima, a confused expression on his face as he processed his words.

'oh.' he paused for a second, his voice quieter when he continued speaking. 'i thought you and y/n were, you know, a thing.'

huh?

to say tsukishima was shocked was an understatement. he genuinely had no idea what to say; he never even let a thought of you and him being more than friends, 'partners in crime', as you loved to say, slip through his mind. never did it occur to him that someone from the outside would see your relationship as being something more than a merely platonic one. 

well, maybe there was something to it after all. 

yamaguchi's words made him wonder - although he did find you annoying at times, it was only occasionally and to a very little degree. that in itself was very rare in tsukishima's eyes, as he found most of the people surrounding him at least normally annoying. you, on the other hand, were a completely different case. your jokes, no matter how awkward or downright cringe, made him crack a silent laugh more often than not, and every time he saw you smile, his lips uncontrollably curved up into a small, barely noticeable one themselves. 

'oh, no, absolutely not.' the blonde blurted out after a long minute of silence, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. 'there is not a single bone in my body that would want to date her. now get up idiot, or you'll be late to your date.'

the moment tsukishima opened his bedroom, after walking his friend to the bus stop, he immediately plopped down on his bed, phone in hand, instinctively opening messages to write to you. surprisingly enough, a message was already waiting for him.

'yachi almost cried because of how stressed she is T-T'

'do you think we should spy on them to make sure it all goes well?'

he found himself smiling at the words on his phone screen, quickly typing back an answer. 

'do you really not have a life of your own?'

'idiot.'

only after a few minutes did he get a response from you.

'can i come over?? i'm bored :33'

a harmless message, one might think. in reality, tsukishima was freaking out at the mere thought of hanging out with you for a reason other than setting up your friends, his cheeks a light shade of pink as his eyes kept digging a hole through his phone. 

you weren't any better than him - hands slightly shaky as you awaited a response for what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes. you had no idea what took over you; was it a sudden wave of bravery or rather an idiotic spontaneous choice to ask tsukishima that. but nonetheless, when you finally got the response, you felt ecstatic.

'alright.'

'bring some snacks.'

'kei, i think yamaguchi is he- oh, that's certainly a new face.'

you stood in front of the door with an awkward smile, facing tsukishima's older brother, akiteru, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. to say he was surprised was an understatement - he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. as if a friend that's not yamaguchi coming over to tsukishima's house was so out of the ordinary that it could become a national holiday. 

'come in.' the younger male appeared in the back of the hall, an oversized dinosaur shirt and shorts on. his expression was softer than usual; not until he looked at his brother, whom he gave a sharp stare, signaling him to let you inside and don't make such a fuss about it. 

you sat down on his bed, awkward silence filling up the room. not wanting to make the conversation about your friends as per usual, you slowly realized you don't know what to talk about, trying to think of something, anything, as you began unpacking your bag filled with snacks. 

surprisingly enough, it was tsukishima who spoke up first. 

'wanna watch a movie?' he asked, opening his drawer to pull out two bottles of soda, hidden there so that his brother doesn't devour all of them. 'unless it'll make you even more bored than you were before.'

'well, if you have a boring taste in movies-' 

'says the one who looks like their favorite movie is mamma mia.' tsukishima scoffed under his breath, turning his laptop on and starting to search up movies. you looked at him, a dramatic expression as you pretended to be offended. 

'and you look like you're about to mansplain the godfather to me.' 

a short silence filled the room before you heard the blonde boy let out a short, muffled laugh at your comment. 

'you couldn't be more wrong.' he sat down next to you, a small smile still on his face. 'i found it kind of boring, actually.'

'what do you like, then?'

'horror movies.' tsukishima stated, eyes focused on the screen. 'but tadashi gets easily scared, so i often don't have a chance to watch them.'

'same with me and yachi.' you said, unconsciously scooping a bit closer to the boy as you tried to get a better look at what he was searching up. 'i love them, but yachi jumps at every small scare on the screen. sometimes, she even gets scared when there's nothing happening at all.'

'they really do match each other.' he mumbled, putting the laptop on the bed as he pressed play on a movie he chose. his eyes quickly glanced your way to get a nod of approval on his choice.

'yeah, they do.'

and we could, too.

'are you and tsukishima dating?'

you almost spat out your drink, the words coming out of hinata's mouth catching you so off-guard you were close to choking. 

the three of you, along with kageyama, were currently cleaning up after volleyball practice, the boys racing on who would clean more balls off of the floor.

'no, we're not.' you said in a clearly sad tone with an obvious hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. 'what the hell made you think that way?'

the orange haired boy stopped in his tracks, his signature smile disappearing for a minute as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

'oh! i remember now.' he said after a short while, his grin coming back. 'yamaguchi told me that you two are close.'

'he did also mention that he seems happier around you.' kageyama added, joining the conversation. 'seeing tsukishima happy must be pretty scary.'

not really, you thought. but at the same time, what confused you more was what kageyama said right before. 

he seems happier around you.

yamaguchi has been kei's friend for the longest time, so any of his observations must be true, or at least that's what you liked to believe. but would that mean that tsukishima kei, the salty, closed-off guy whom everyone finds intimidating could possibly like you? was there truly a possibility that he enjoyed spending time with you? 

as you finished cleaning up the hall, saying your goodbyes to your two friends who ran off to practice volleyball somewhere else, a familiar, tall figure appeared in the doorframe, sharp eyes staring at you with an expression that you couldn't exactly decipher. 

'want me to walk you home?' he asked, hands in his pockets. 'it's getting late.'

you looked at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto your cheeks before quickly nodding as an answer.

'sure, let's go.'

most of the walk was filled with silence on both parts, exactly as you expected. even though it might've felt awkward for some, you did enjoy his presence in itself enough that a conversation wasn't necessary. 

the boy stopped in his tracks mid-way, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his phone and an old pair of white, wired earphones, showing them to you as a silent question of whether you wanted to listen to music with him or not. you agreed without a second thought, a small smile on your face as he put on one of his playlists. 

'i really like this song.' you mumbled, eyes lighting up upon hearing the familiar melody. with both of you wearing the same set of headphones right now, you were practically forced to walk closer to each other - hands constantly brushing against one another, a faint blush on your face as you tried to ignore it and focus on the music. 

tsukishima, on the other hand, couldn't shake away the thoughts roaming around his head. he felt as if what he was doing now was incredibly unlike him; and maybe it was. but for some reason, he didn't mind being like this around you. less cocky, sarcastic, mean and more... gentle.

he could feel his fingers brushing against yours from time to time, and it drove him crazy. should he go for it and play it off nonchalantly, or just ignore it? should he even make the first move or wait for you to do it?

before he was able to decide, tsukishima felt your hand reaching for his, heart rate immediately speeding up as your fingers shyly intertwined with his, looking the other way to hide your anxious expression.

his hand was much bigger than yours, but somehow it fit perfectly with yours. as if they were created solely to hold one another and nothing else. the plan to get your friends to be together was long forgotten by now - your mind was clouded with thoughts of tsukishima only, and little did you know that his wasn't any different. 

you glanced his way only to find his eyes already on you, hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant look. only now did you notice that the two of you were standing in front of your house, the boy adjusting his glasses as he waited to see what you'll do next. 

'i guess i should go home now.' you mumbled, but you still didn't move an inch, hand not leaving his. 'see you tomorrow?'

his hand squeezed yours tightly before taking it away, an unusually warm and welcoming smile on his face. 

'sure. see you tomorrow, idiot.'

but as you slowly made your way towards the door, tsukishima couldn't shake away the feeling in him, telling him to go for it. and as much as he tried to resist it, he just couldn't anymore. 

'wait.’

before you could fully turn away, tsukishima kei's lips were already on yours, a sweet, long kiss that felt as if he was waiting to do it for years. his hand traveled to your waist and it didn't take long for you to react; lips moving swiftly with his, noses bumping into one another before you pulled away, a giggle escaping your mouth as you saw just how red tsukishima's face was.

‘don't laugh at me, moron.’ he said, immediately catching the reason for your laughter as he flicked you in the forehead. ‘your whole face is red, too.’

‘i didn't expect you to do this.’ you mumbled, eyes focused on his as you reached to hold his hand again. ‘didn't expect my feelings to be mutual, either.’

‘i'm glad we feel the same.’ his face leaned in closer to yours, a wave of confidence taking over him as he placed a short kiss on your forehead. ‘but i would still prefer to properly ask you out. if you'd say yes, that is.’ 

‘of course i would.’ you smiled, ‘i'd be stupid not to.’

‘should we bet on how long it takes the others to realize we're dating now?’ tsukishima smiled at you, eyes not leaving yours for even a spare second. you laughed at his idea, giving his hand a squeeze. 

‘get ready to lose, kei.’

‘you wish.’

taglist: @moonswolfie

[ao3commentoftheday]

I was reading your answer to the anon who is caught up in worrying about fic reception and perfectionism, and was wondering: what would you suggest for a fic writer who is hung up on how they view their writing? I write for myself first and view any outside praise is a bonus; I have a healthy relationship with my stats. But when I go to write, even if it's something I don't intend to post, I still get hung up on making sure the fic is up to the writing standards I set for myself.... Help?

Where do your writing standards come from? Are they realistic for you to achieve? And what will happen if you don't meet them?

A reasonable standard for writing a first draft is getting some broad strokes ideas down on the page in order to find out which parts of the story you really do want to write and which parts seem interesting but might fit better into a different story.

And unreasonable standard is to expect that you have the story fully baked and ready to be transcribed directly from your brain onto the page with no need to switch scenes around or remove a side character or add in an extra chapter to set up something that's coming later.

Writing is an iterative process. You write and then you rewrite and then you rewrite again, and eventually you'll find the story that you want to tell and the way that you want to tell it. For some people, the means gathering all the ingredients together and eventually baking a cake. For others, that means staring at a huge block of marble and gradually chipping away at it until they've got a statute. There are an infinite number of ways to go about doing it, but expecting to write the thing down perfectly from the very first attempt is just setting yourself up for failure.

I tend to draft my stories in my head before I write them down. For me, it is more transcribing than it is writing. But that's because I've spent hours or days or weeks thinking about my story and telling it to myself over and over again, without writing it down. I've worked out the kinks and adjusted the plot and figured out the characters in my head first, and even then when I've got it 90% done, I'll still adjust things when I sit down and write.

A lot of perfection is about trying to avoid the shame of failure - but you're creating your own definition of failure here, and your definition might be too broad. It might also be too negative.

Every failure is an opportunity to learn. By seeing what doesn't work, you have a better chance of finding out what does. A lot of writing is failing to tell the story you want to tell, looking at what doesn't work in the way that you told it, and then trying to tell it a different way to see if you got closer to what you're trying to say. Give yourself those opportunities to tell it wrong. What's wrong for this story might be the perfect way to tell the next one or the one after that.

Every failure also contains some smaller success. Find those successes and celebrate them. They're still worthy, even if they aren't the end goal.

If all of this is too difficult right now, then I recommend trying to write something you don't care about as much. Choose a silly idea or a ridiculous premise that you'd usually throw away because it's too different from what you usually write. If you're less invested in the story, you might be able to loosen up a little more and allow yourself to be freer and make some mistakes.

You could even set out to write something purposefully bad. Create the next My Immortal. Do all of the things you berate yourself for, but do them on purpose. Recognize that nothing bad happens to you as a result.

I'd love to hear from others in the notes. Have you experienced something like what anon is describing in their ask? How do you cope with setting standards that are too high or unreasonable? How do you push past that need to perfection and find a way to learning what is actually good enough?

[koolades-world]

Can you do headcanons of an MC who tries picking the brothers up but MC fails to pick them up

Like maybe ever so slightly they lift them but then they immediately fall down, likely taking the brother they tried to lift up with them

“YAY I’M DOING I- oh shit down I go” thud

haha omg yes!

i literally couldn't wait to do this one from the moment i saw it in my inbox. this one has all the funny but silly cute potential!

my post schedule will return to normal now for anyone who was wondering! it'll probably be a little bit before i post more regular fics just because of how time it took up and for creative purposes. i definitely feel like all the fics started to bleed together and felt the same to me. it wasn't any ones fault of course, it just made me realize how much i defaulted with my format and such

enjoy <3

Mc who tries to lift the brothers and fails

Lucifer

he'll humor you only because you asked very nicely and pleaded with him

he doesn't expect much out of you, but he's happy to let you try

did not expect you to get as far as you did

he will be freaking out and trying his best not to fall on you when you inevitably go down

Mammon

he's nervous not because he's worried you'll fall

but because you wanna lift him? you wanna put your arms around him and carry him?

he lets you to prove that he's not at all shy!

(he didn't have long to relish the moment before you both toppled over)

Levi

at first he's totally against it for the same reasoning as mammon

he can't believe anyone wants to be that close to him

but all you have to do to convince him is give him puppy dog eyes and he caves

afterwards, he makes you promise to play some games with him to make up for that fall

Satan

he wasn't paying attention when he agreed

he was reading and just nodded along with everything you said

was surprised when you had him get up and you tried to lift him

he fell back onto the seat he was sitting on and has you rest with him :)

Asmo

he's very excited!

honestly he's thrilled you want to carry him

he will jump into your arms and you will have to catch him, otherwise he'll complain about it later

at least if you fall, he'll be in your arms and he'll get the chance to snuggle with you <3

Beel

he half thinks you're joking at first

he stops laughing once he realizes you're actually not

your confidence and enthusiasm only makes him more nervous

he lets you though, and ensure that you're next to something soft you can both fall on

Belphie

honestly, he doesn't really care

you could drag him wherever you wanted and as long as he doesn't actually have to do anything, he's on board

once you fall, he's not moving

it's nap time, right there on the ground where you fell. good luck getting him to move so you can get up haha

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Leon Day

Summary: The reader makes Dean breakfast on Leon Day and explains what the day is. While she has some fun things planned, Dean shares some of his own future plans with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,000ish

Warnings: language, 15x20 finale spoiler (fic takes place post 15x20 though)

A/N: Enjoy!

_______

“Y/N,” said Dean, scratching his head when he came into the kitchen for breakfast. “I haven’t been in a coma lately right?”

“No...why would you ask that?” you said. Dean pointed behind him to the string lights hanging in the hall, colorful lights twinkling along the wall. “Oh that? It’s Leon day.”

“Who’s Leon?” he asked, padding over to his usual stool, yawning and curling into himself. You ruffled his hair and slid a cup of coffee in front of him.

“It’s June 25th. Exactly six months from Christmas,” you said.

“Is it Leon’s birthday?” he asked. “Whoever he is?”

“No silly,” you said, returning your attention to making pancakes.

“Can I have chocolate chips?” he asked. “Please.”

“Uh we’re out of chips but blueberries instead?” you asked, holding up the package.

“That’s fine,” he said, spinning in his seat. “So...lights?”

“Well Leon is Noel backwards and since it’s six months from Christmas it’s kinda like a mini-Christmas day,” you said.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well most people have never heard of a devil’s trap but that’s a thing that exists too,” you said. He hummed and sipped on his coffee, crossing his legs on his seat. He looked younger like that and you smiled, hoping he was in a good mood this morning. “I only decorated a little bit.”

“So it’s like Christmas? I didn’t get you any presents,” he said.

“We don’t have to do presents. It’s more about, doing things together, making cookies, having a nice dinner together. Maybe take a day off from hunting,” you said. You put your back to him and finished with his pancakes, dropping some fresh blueberries on top for him when you were all done. You hummed and slid the plate in front of him, giving him a fork and knife along with a glass of water.

“I uh, actually wanted to talk to you about hunting. Sam and I saw something online,” he said. You sighed and poured more batter into the pan.

“A new case?” you asked, forcing a smile into your voice.

“This big house in Lawrence. Not obnoxiously big but it’s big, big enough for like eight people I’d say,” he said.

“Is it haunted?” you said, watching the batter bubble and begin cooking.

“It’s for sale. We were thinking of buying it. He was gonna talk to Eileen and I said I’d talk to you about it.”

“About…”

“Buying it,” said Dean. You turned and frowned at him, Dean shoveling his second pancake into his mouth. “What?”

“First off, chew. Second, why would you guys buy a house? You’re not suddenly going to become the Property Brothers are you?”

“No silly. The house would be for us. Obviously we’d ward the shit out of it but yeah, house. What do you think?” 

“Why would we get a house?” you asked. Dean rolled his eyes and you put the rest of the pancakes on a plate, bringing them over and taking a seat beside him. “Like, is there something wrong with the bunker?”

“Nothing wrong with her. But Jack and Cas are up working in heaven and the world’s not so scary...and I did have a house in heaven when I was there.”

“You still haven’t told me about whatever space time continuum crap you broke in order to be back from the dead.”

“Jack just said it was alright so I’m back and considering you weren’t up in Heaven like we all thought you were, we all decided on a do over. I missed you and I liked that house but I want you in that house with me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying...let’s go live in a house and maybe I hunt every once in a while, maybe I run point for some other hunters, if we decide to go that route. Maybe I do something different for work. But I’m also saying, I like waking up and having pancakes and having random holidays and being happy and I can decide to do what I want, for me. I want a warm happy house with my family. You can decorate it for whatever holidays you want if I can have that.”

“We can have that,” you said quietly. You reached over and he already was meeting you there, hugging you with a happy sigh. “You’re really ready to leave all this behind?”

“We can always come visit this place. But I think our family should grow up the way we didn’t get to. We deserve that at the very least.”

“And you said you didn’t get any presents,” you said, holding him tight.

“I may have known you were planning this,” he teased. “I waited a little longer to share the news than I was hoping to but I figured you wouldn’t mind your Leon day present.”

“No, no I don’t,” you said. He kissed you and grinned before he hopped up. He dug around in the pantry and pulled out a bag of peppermint white chocolate chips. “Well now you’re just bragging.”

“I heard we were making cookies,” he said, dropping them on the counter. “Later though. After my yummy breakfast.”

“After your breakfast,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Love you. Best mini Christmas ever.”

“Love you too sweetheart. This Christmas you’ll have a whole house to decorate. Think you can handle that?”

“Absolutely. As long as I get some help?”

“Yeah I think you can swing that,” he said. He kissed your temple and hummed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “So where’s my present in all this? I mean, I got a house and like a life changing decision for you and I got pancakes?”

“You fucking love pancakes,” you said.

“Guilty as charged,” he said. 

“I’ll make you them every single day if you want, how’s that sound?”

“Every single day?” he hummed.

“For the next week.” He chuckled and nodded. “Love you.”

“Love you back Dean.”

___________

[pomefioredove]

FLIRTY PROMPTS FLIRTY PROMPTS!!!

May I ask for "I just want you to be happy! And perhaps a little bit naked." with Lilia, pretty please 🥺

I've been looking forward to this oneeee

summary: "I just want you to be happy! and perhaps a little bit naked" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is probably yuu, not proofread, Malleus being Lilia's wingman instead of the other way around for once LOLLL a part of this event

"Come on, just one taste?"

Lilia pouts; he knows the power he wields with his cuteness, and he somehow finds a way to use it in every possible situation.

"I worked so hard!"

Your gaze drifts from the bowl of... something he's holding out to you to Silver and Sebek as they shake their heads behind him, trying to save you from your fate.

"...I just ate," you say. Silver sighs with relief.

Lilia huffs. "Again? What does the cafeteria food have that mine doesn't?" Silver opens his mouth, and Sebek shoots him a glare.

"Oh, well... More for me!"

You watch, shaking your head as the elder fae leaves the lounge, the warm bowl of brown sludge cupped between his hands.

Silver and Sebek follow, the latter grilling the former about respect.

"My... what do we have here?"

Malleus, for as tall and imposing as he is, appears in the lounge without a sound, filling the vacancy that the others had left behind.

"Lilia's cooking," you say. "He's been getting really into it lately."

Malleus blinks. And then he laughs. "Ah... aha. I thought I smelled something burning again. He really is quite smitten with you, isn't he?"

"Smitten?"

Now, that's a new one. You can't help but smile, deflecting the word in a single awkward laugh. "I don't think so,"

Malleus raises his brow, as if surprised by your denial. As if it should be obvious...

What a silly thought.

"Do you doubt my sincerity, child of man? I haven't seen Lilia so taken with anyone in... some time. He's rather adamant on impressing you with such things,"

He gestures to the bitter scent wafting from the kitchen.

You want to say that's not possible; Lilia is flirtatious by nature, but actually being interested in you...? Let alone going out of his way to woo you...?

You turn towards the arched doorway that Lilia had left from earlier. Malleus follows your gaze with a subtle smile.

"Well... I have a club meeting to attend. Good evening, child of man... unless you would like to join?"

"What?" you look back to him like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh... no, not this time. Thank you, though."

He gives you another knowing smile and takes his leave without another word, departing and deserting you with your thoughts in the lounge.

You're not alone for long.

"Still here?"

A streak of black and pink drops down from the ceiling in front of you, changing the feel of the room to one of mirth and mischief.

Lilia smiles, studying your pensive expression carefully. "Fufufu... have you changed your mind? Want a taste of my soup after all?"

"No," you blurt out. He laughs at your nervousness.

"Oh, my... did I startle you? And here I was, starting to think that you'd grown used to my surprises..."

You roll your eyes at the tease in his voice and take a generous step back. His distaste for personal space is the last thing you need right now...

"That's not it. I was just... talking... to Malleus..."

Lilia narrows his eyes. The crimson is even more striking in the dark of the lounge... "Oh? About?"

"Nothing," you lie. It's pretty obvious. "...You."

"Little old me?" he asks, shuffling a little closer. He says it like a question, though he's not really looking for an answer.

...Almost like he already knows. Why do you suddenly feel so nervous?

"He was just... speculating..." you say. "...About you and I."

Vague... but not vague enough. Lilia seems to understand what you're implying immediately, another impish grin playing at his lips.

"Was he? And what did he say?"

You force a laugh; it's all you have left. "It's... it's funny, he thinks that you've been doing all these nice things to impress me because... because you like me,"

Lilia goes silent for a moment, cradling his chin in his palm as he watches you deflect the undeniable tension with another laugh.

And then, he starts giggling along with you.

"Fufufu... Oh, how innocent... mm, yes. Malleus is a smart boy, but he lacks social awareness. Otherwise, he would know I am not trying to woo you with cooking..."

You force another chuckle, though this one sounds weaker, scratchier. Of course, you should have known.

The chances that Lilia actually likes you... like-likes you... that he even thinks of you as attractive...

"I just want you to be happy..." Lilia goes on, his smile as merry as ever. "And... perhaps a little bit naked."

Pause.

He's always had a terrible enjoyment of pulling the rug out from under you, but this is almost insidious.

Lilia seems to enjoy your speechlessness, his grin only widening.

"Oh, my... you look flustered. I truly hope you didn't take my homemade meals as flirting, otherwise, you're in for quite a surprise.

...because I haven't even started yet,"

[nights-at-crystarium]

While I'm ancient-trio-posting, wanna hear a bit about their dynamic?

Hythlodaeus and Hades are old friends, roommates, even. A genuinely mature, established couple. I haven't really thought too far back in time yet, so maybe childhood friends to lovers because no one else in my story has this trope yet. I leave it open-ended for now. What matters is that they're very chill and stable together.

Azem, not-yet-Azem but a mere apprentice of Venat, has a certain secret, harmless to the world, but potentially ranging from laughable, cringy, personally embarrassing to legally punishable, should it be brought in front of the Convocation, like all lies it's doomed to be revealed in time, he already hangs out with one of the Big People and there are talks about Venat's retirement, our little not-yet-Azem feels like he might get recommended, and must find help with his silly secret before that.

Hythlodaeus, Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, has ever been kind and patient with not-yet-Azem's concept submissions, and generally seems like a reliable and open-minded person, so our guy asks for his advice on the matter. Of course he isn't let down, the nitty gritty of it I'll leave for later. The important part: he and Hyth grow closer, and Hades, already being joined at the hip with Hyth, is in on the secret as well. It's just a vulnerability that I use as a means to win over Hades's heart. Be genuine, beg for his help, rely on him, and he's yours.

Venat retires, the new Azem takes the seat, his secret's safe/resolved (forget about it, it's played its role of the glue for our trio), things are chill for a while, the trio grows into a proper throuple, Hades is recommended for the seat of Emet-Selch by both his lovers, but by Azem most ardently (and selfishly: he feels like a white crow among the Convocation and wants another freak on the team. Hades finds it sweet though).

The status quo moves to the known canon where Azem travels a lot, sometimes summons his buddies to his side, he tends to disappear from Amaurot for weeks and months on end, Hyth and Hades are left to themselves, seemingly things are the same as they've always been, but the joy of reuniting with their wayward lover, and the pining when he's gone, is bigger in Hades than Hyth. Of course they, the two mature people holding hands from the beginning of times, don't discuss this.

Azem may not even realize what he's doing- well, ain't that most azems in a nutshell. He just exists, loves his partners, shines for them with equal warmth like sun. It's not that Hyth doesn't like being sunkissed, no, it's Hades who gets a bit too excited, tries to mask that however he can, perhaps HythHades pretend that nothing's changed, but, yknow, subtle cracks. Hades's heart grows more fond due to the time and distance that separate them so often. Of course he's terrified and he sees what this does to the balance of their poly, it's not welcome, but it won't go away.

Enter Hyth's self-esteem issues, and how neatly that weaves into his following sacrifice to bring forth Zodiark. Even though Azem's nowhere to be seen, it's fine, he'll return, it's just a tantrum, the Convocation will forgive him, Hades will be left in good hands, he and Azem seem to be happier without Hyth anyway. (no, no, no, no-) Of course, the latter's left unsaid, only a smile on display and vague words of affirmation for the shellshocked Hades.

Through the sacrifice Hyth drives up his value. He's forever important to Hades now, forever on his mind, his guiding star. I view Hyth's selfless act as selfish too (just as Raha's but he isn't relevant here), a desperate act of a soul not only loving, but desperate for love. Hyth gets what he wanted. In a fucked up way, he's happier as a part of the moon. He never has to contend with the sun again.

[shortkingvince]

Solomon's Lovely Apprentice

Minors DNI

Solomon wanting to be bred knowing full well it would be impossible to get him pregnant, and the fact he wouldn't even want to actually be pregnant if it WERE possible, but loving the idea of being pounded so hard it defies biology...

Dom!Top!MC x Sub!Bottom!Solomon

Warnings: Solomon has a breeding kink without actually wanting to get pregnant, he just wants to be pounded to death, he wants to be the one to be bred, reader is amab. Pronouns are gender neutral.

No actual sex in this part, just Solomon's imagination running wild. An old man can dream.

Also I wrote this at 3 am with a wrist brace on due to an injury, Obey Me brainrot hit so hard that I defied such weakness /j

This is being posted at 4 am, I am eepy deepy

Solomon: Am I pregnart? /ref (This is not an MPreg fic, I don't do pregnancy fics in general, I just thought it would be silly to write Solomon desperately wanting to be bred until he can't even think)

Yes there will be a part two

NSFW under the cut

Pants filled the air, frustration welling up in the white-haired sorcerer as he desperately palmed at the tent in his pants. This had been happening far more often lately, his fantasies running wild each time he thought about you, his favorite apprentice.

He found himself rushing off to his room regularly now, unable to keep his thoughts of you at bay. He always looked so composed on the outside, but it felt like he had a raging wildfire on the inside. One that only you could quell.

He had been dropping hints here and there. Some were less obvious, with others being so obvious that he knows there's no way you aren't playing dumb on purpose. He had been doing everything he could to rile you up and get you to just take him then and there, but each attempt ended in failure.

His mind drifted away from his frustrations for a moment, fantasizing about the things he wanted you to do to him. He thought about you finally, finally bending him over and practically ripping his clothes off, giving him barely any time to use a spell to sound proof his room and lock the door.

His cock only continued to protest against the confines of his clothing. In one quick move he all but ripped his pants and boxers off, just how you did in his fantasy but without the damage to his clothes. He thought about how you'd waste no time in touching him, exploring his body and the markings he had from all the pacts he was in.

You'd trace each one, teasing him as your faint touches only fueled the blood rushing to his weeping cock. You'd trace your hand around his thighs, going so close to where he wanted you before you pulled back, staring down at him like he was some piece of prey.

He could barely control his breathing as fantasy you went back again and squeezed one of his thighs, making him let out a shaky breath. He finally let his hand start to travel towards his cock, imagining it was yours instead. Fuck, he needed you. The demon brothers were always dragging you away, giving him little time to have you for even a day.

The frustration that was building up at that thought vanished as soon as he touched his cock, making him let out a small gasp of surprise, as if it wasn't his own hand touching him. His eyes were squeezed closed as he continued to imagine you, your strokes were slow and teasing, circling the head of his cock every so often. It felt like you were trying to drive the poor man mad.

He suppressed a shiver as "you" suddenly circled a finger around his rim, hearing "you" mutter a spell that lubricated your fingers as you teased the outside of his entrance. Normally he'd be embarrassed by the moan he let out as his finger breached his hole in reality, but he couldn't care less since all he could focus on was you in his imagination. He gave himself a moment to adjust before he started to move the finger inside of him, and he couldn't stop himself from imagining how you'd look at him as you fingered him. How you'd mock and tease him for getting so worked up over one finger. Or maybe you'd coo at him, telling him how pretty he looks under you. Either one was driving him wild as he slipped a second finger inside of himself.

He started off slow at first, using his fingers to drag along his insides in a way that made him shiver. It wasn't long before his patience ran thin though, quickly ramming his fingers inside and out of him as he moaned your name into his empty room, the wet squelching causing his face to heat up in embarrassment at how he was acting, but he just couldn't stop himself. He used his other hand to tug at his cock, stroking himself fast as he got closer to his release.

It wasn't enough, it just wasn't enough. He needed your cock so badly. He needed to be bred by you even though he knew it was physically impossible for him to get pregnant. Hell, he didn't even WANT to get pregnant if he could, but the thought of you fucking him so hard and deep that it defied the literal laws of nature turned him on so badly that it hurt. He needed your cum deep inside him, pounding your seed from previous rounds even deeper into him until he couldn't even think properly.

He couldn't stop himself from letting out a deep moan as he finally came all over his shirt, having forgotten to remove it earlier in his frantic state. Once he finally snapped back to reality and gently pulled his fingers out of him, he couldn't help but cringe at the feeling of his cum seeping through his shirt. That only made him think about what you'd say if you saw him so desperate like this though, frustration welling up again as he felt himself rub his thighs together.

Fuck.

He used a spell to clean his hands quickly as he grabbed his DDD, searching for your name as he finally sent you a message.

monSOLO: "Please, I need you so badly, just come over and fuck me already."

monSOLO: "I know you've seen my hints. I've seen how you look at me when I've given you them. Come over. Please."

monSOLO: "I know you're reading my messages right now. Fuck...come over. Please."

He was almost ready to give up and accept defeat until he suddenly saw the three moving dots signifying you were typing. He gripped his phone as if it would slip from his hands any moment. His cock slowly started to twitch back to life as he read your message.

MC: "I'm coming over right now. I hope you aren't planning on using your legs too much tomorrow, I'm not letting you go until I've drained every last drop I have into you."

Fuck. You truly were going to drive him mad, in the best way he could ever ask for from his lovely apprentice.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

A follow up to this post

When I think about Vox's former husband I like to imagine that he wasn't a bad husband. He was a very okay guy, some rich Richard, not so terrible for the 50s standards. Vox wanted to hate him so desperately. Yet Richard wasn't easy to hate; he wasn't abusive or particularly oppressive. He was just... condescending. He didn't take Vox being cold or mean or aggressive seriously enough to mind it. To him Vox was just his silly, little wife going though some mood swings, while Vox dreamt about them becoming mortal enemies because that would mean that he is finally someone equal to the other man. That's why it pisses him so much when Alastor pretends he doesn't care. Even when Richard caught Vox once trying on his clothes, contrary to Vox's fears he didn't got mad, called him a freak or even realize that something is "wrong". He was like Aw baby, you liked that Dietrich's look so much? You should have told me, you know I'm an open-minded man. Oh, stop crying, we will get you a nice pair of pants tomorrow, how about that?

Vox was crying because he was scared as hell of being punished but also because something that was his private, happy ritual when he felt truly at peace was taken away from him and turned into a feminen fad.

[sequinsmile-x]

The Beginning in the End

After his gentle suggestion, it's all she can think about, a new life away from everything they'd endured. A life where she, Aaron, Jack and the tiny baby growing beneath her skin could live in relative peace.

A life where none of their monsters were waiting for them in every shadow or around every corner.

-x-

Hi friends <3

This massively, massively got away from me. I know none of us are surprised. This is based on this ask and the Instagram post series it inspired!

This one sparked my anxiety for some reason, I think because it's not AU but it also kind of is....anyway, I'd really appreciate knowing what you think!

-x-

Words: 5.4k

Warning: Pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily huffs out a breath as they step onto their porch, her arms crossed over her chest as Aaron digs through his pocket for his keys. He smiles as he turns back to look at her, the slightly forlorn expression on her face nothing short of adorable.

“You know,” he says, placing the key in the lock and turning it, pushing their front door open before he steps towards her, his hands on her waist as he pulls her closer, “If you were anyone else, I’d think you were pouting.”

“I don’t pout,” she narrows her eyes at him as he stamps a kiss against his lips. She says, her words muffled between kisses as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. She hums as she kisses him, her fingers trailing through his hair before her hands drop to his shoulders. She smiles as she rubs the material of his shirt between her fingers, “I will miss relaxed, honeymoon you though.”

Aaron chuckles and kisses her, his hands firm against her lower back, “It had to end at some point, sweetheart.” 

It had been a week of pure bliss. Just the two of them in a villa she’d paid a little too much for in Santorini. Seven days spent celebrating their love for each other, sunbathing and barely keeping their hands off each other. They rarely had time just for themselves so they treasured it, spent every moment just being with each other. She was looking forward to seeing Jack, to seeing the team, but she would miss the time she’d had with her husband, how soft and relaxed he was in linen shirts she’d packed for him and a beard she knew he’d shave off at the earliest opportunity. 

“Shame,” she mutters, starting to step back from him, but he stops her, a smile flashing across his face as his hand slips down from her back to her thighs, his fingers skimming under the hem of her shorts as he pulls her upwards. It makes her yelp, her arms tightening around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, “Aaron,” she laughs, joy dripping from her voice, “What are you doing? What about the suitcases?” 

“I’ll get them in a minute. It’s tradition,” he says simply, adjusting his hold on her as he turns back towards their front door, “I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold.” 

She laughs and kisses his cheek, “Maybe if we were in our 20s,” she mutters, rolling her eyes when he continues forward as if she hadn’t spoken, “Fine,” she says, hiding her smile, “But if you hurt your back I don’t want to hear about it.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She sighs contentedly as he walks them into the house, the familiar comfort of it washing over her, pushing away some of her remaining post-honeymoon blues. Aaron kisses her again as he squeezes her thighs, his fingers pressing into bruises barely covered by her denim shorts. He made no secret of the fact that he loved relaxed, honeymoon her just as much as she loved that version of him, but he was excited for the future too. Excited for the life they would continue to build together. 

“Put me down,” she giggles against his lips, unhooking her legs from around him as he settles her back down to the floor. She smiles as she pulls back from him, “You’re a silly, sentimental man sometimes,” she kisses him again, “But you’re my silly sentimental man.”

He winks at her, a spark in his smile that she knows the rest of the team would never believe existed. A part of him for her and Jack and the future children that they were already trying for that she would do anything to protect. He’d fought for it, fought to stay soft and kind after everything that happened to him and she’d done the same. 

“All yours sweetheart,” he says, catching the corner of her lips with his before he steps away, “I’ll get the suitcases.”

She nods and steps further into the house, smiling curiously as she spots a box tucked just inside the front door. Jessica had been over whilst they were gone so she must have brought it in from the porch. Emily lifts it and rolls her eyes when she sees a card on top of it, Clyde’s distinctive handwriting staring up at her. She steps into the living room and puts the box down and opens it, smiling softly when she sees half a dozen champagne glasses, a brand that she knows her friend loves embossed on the inside of the box. She sits on the couch and opens the card, raising her eyebrow as she reads it. 

Darling,

Congratulations. Pass on my regards to that husband of yours. 

Make sure you use these glasses to celebrate both the marriage and the job when you finally take me up on my offer. 

Clyde 

She shakes her head and lets the card drop to her lap as the front door closes. She smiles at Aaron as he walks into the room and joins her on the couch, “Jess is bringing Jack home after school. He’ll be excited to see us,” he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, tilting his head at the gift on the coffee table, “Who is that from?”

“Clyde,” she says, passing him the card, “He sends his regards.”

Aaron hums as he takes the card from her, his wry usual comment about her old boss dying on his lips as he reads it, “What does he mean when you finally take him up on his offer?” 

She suppresses a yawn, the time difference finally catching up with her now she was home, “Oh, every time he gets in touch he offers me that job again,” she shakes her head, “Apparently he’s keeping it open for me in case I change my mind.” 

It had been just over a year since she’d turned down his initial job offer. If it hadn’t been for Aaron, for the relationship that had come out of nowhere and somehow been right in front of her the whole time, she thinks she would have gone. That she would have taken the opportunity to start again, to be somewhere new where she wasn’t haunted by the versions of herself that no longer existed. She hadn’t even considered it when Clyde asked, already turning him down before he could finish. Aaron had asked her if she was sure. A failed attempt to cover his pre-emptive heartbreak painted across his face as he told her she could go if she wanted. 

She’d kissed him and told him she wasn’t staying for him, but for her. For the first time in her life, she felt happy, the good days outweighed the bad, and she was done sabotaging her own chances at the happy ending she now knew she deserved. There were moments when it was still hard, when she’d spot something out of the corner of her eye and convince herself it was Ian, but it was something she was willing to live with when she knew she had Aaron to bring her back to herself. His touch and soft, gentle words he’d whisper against her skin when she woke up scared in the middle of the night the best comfort she’d ever known. 

Aaron frowns curiously as he looks at the small card in his hands, his expression immediately melting into a smile as he looks up at his wife, her amusement at his confusion painted across her face. 

“Just how often does Clyde offer you a job?”

She shrugs, gently pulling the card from his hand and discarding it on the table, letting it fall next to the box of crystal champagne glasses “Every couple of months or so since I originally turned him down.” 

He frowns, “You never told me.”

She giggles, squeezing his hand as she rests her head on his shoulder, “You don’t exactly like him, honey. I thought it was best I didn’t mention he kept trying to poach me.” 

His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and his mouth drops open, surprise and self-doubt curdling in his gut, making it churn as he continues, “Do you ever wish you had taken him up on it?”

Emily’s smile slips from her face at the crack in his voice and she shifts closer to him, her skin, still somehow warm and sunkissed from their honeymoon, pressing against his as she climbs into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, her fingers running through his short hair as she pulls back, her eyes full of love as they meet his.

“I could never regret staying for this,” She says softly, her hand migrating to his cheek, her thumb against his lower lip, “If I’d been alone when he asked, if I’d still felt completely adrift…I might have. Maybe in another lifetime, it would have been right for me.” 

Her naked honesty, the way her voice is full of reflection instead of regret, is a salve on his concerns, his arms squeezing around her middle as he hauls her impossibly closer, but there was still something lingering in the back of his mind. It wasn’t doubt in her, or her love for him and Jack, but doubt in some of his own choices, how he kept making the same ones again and again, forever returning to a job that had taken so much from him, inevitably putting it first even as it felt harder and harder to do. His eyes drift over to the card again and he kisses his wife’s temple, taking a second to breathe her in before he replies. 

“How about we do it in this lifetime?” 

She smiles at him, her mouth falling open into a soundless laugh as she shakes her head, and pulls back to look at him, “You’d…you’d do that?” 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

She laughs again, swallowing thickly, “Aaron…this isn’t…we can’t just…what about Jack?”

He cups her cheeks, his smile sure and comforting as he strokes his thumb back and forth over her jawline, “There is a lot to think about, Jack’s feelings about it included,” he leans forward and kisses her, “But if you want to do this, if you want to go, we should at least talk about it.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and nods, a shaky breath escaping as she answers, her lungs full of hope. The thought that she might just be able to have everything for once, that she wouldn’t be sacrificing part of herself for the other, blooming as wide as her smile. 

“Okay,” she says, placing her hand over his on her cheek, linking their fingers together and squeezing. A physical manifestation of their love for each other, of the fact whatever they did next, they’d do it together, “We’ll talk about it.”

___

They do talk about it. And they talk about it some more. And suddenly, it's all she could think about, a new life away from everything they'd endured. A life where she, Aaron and Jack could live in relative peace. A life where none of their monsters were waiting for them in every shadow or around every corner.

In the end, it feels strangely easy. She tells Clyde that she’ll take the job, the relief that courses through her the moment she does far outweighing her irritation at his glee that she’d given in. She gets some satisfaction out of the way his smile drops off his face, his reaction clear even over the video call, when she reminds him it means Aaron will be coming with her, their dislike of each other something she found as childish as she did amusing. 

Telling the team is hard. They don’t hide that they are hurt, and confused, and she has to stop herself from apologising, Aaron’s hand tight around hers under the conference table as she explains why they are doing this. He lets her take the lead, ready to step in if anyone gets too accusatory or aggressive, and she’s grateful for it. She knows that without her, Aaron would have stayed at the BAU until the bitter end. Whether that was retirement, injury or because he simply had no other choice but to leave, and the thought of it makes her ache. That he’d stood still to allow everyone else to progress and change for the better. 

It felt like nothing short of a privilege that she’d been the one who could help him move forward, that he’d allowed her to love him like that, and she’d spend the rest of her life trying to feel anything close to worthy of it. 

At their leaving party, held in Dave’s backyard just like their wedding had been only four months previously, she turns down every drink Penelope tries to force on her, claiming she wanted to be clear-headed to travel the day after. Emily watches her friends, the family she’d found in the most unlikely of places, and it feels bittersweet. The joy of what was to come mixed with the sadness that came with leaving this all behind. 

She was used to leaving, to being the one to go, but she wasn’t used to having something that was hard to leave behind. It reminded her a little too much of Paris, of when she hadn’t had a choice. When she’d woken up dead to almost everyone she loved, the dirt from her burial still on the cuff of Aaron’s pants as he explained it all to her. She had to remind herself that this time she wasn’t losing them, that they would still be in her life and that they’d visit whenever they could. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

She smiles when Aaron steps behind her, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her back towards him. She turns her head to kiss him, her lips soft against his as she links their hands together on her abdomen, “I’m okay.”

He kisses her cheek, pressing his hand against her belly, “Are you sure you don’t want to tell them?”

She smiles, unable to help herself, warmth spreading through her chest at the mention of the tiny baby growing beneath her skin. They’d found out she was pregnant shortly after she’d accepted the job in London and they were both delighted, their happiness muffled into each other’s skin one morning as they celebrated and tried not to wake Jack up in the next room. She was excited, another puzzle piece seemingly falling into place, but she wanted to keep it between just her and Aaron for now. Partially down to practicality. Any pregnancy she had would be high risk, due to her age and previous injuries. But also because, in a potentially selfish way, she simply wanted to keep it a secret. 

She wasn’t someone who could be easily persuaded out of anything. It was a trait that had often made people call her stubborn. Wilful. Set in her ways. But she knows if there was one thing that could talk her out of leaving it would be seeing her friend's excitement at knowing that she was having a baby. Joy that would quickly turn to sadness once they realised it meant they’d be growing their family on another continent, far away from all the pseudo aunts and uncles Jack had always had. Even without outside influence, without Penelope’s over-the-top enthusiasm or what she was sure would be backhanded compliments from her mother, Emily had her moments of doubt. Brief, fleeting, seconds that would overwhelm her whenever she thought about it too much after the stick turned pink that she was taking something away from her children by taking them away from all of this. Then she’d look at Aaron. See how much lighter he seemed since they’d decided to leave, his shoulders looser and his eyes sparkling. She’d see Jack’s excitement whenever they talked about it, genuine enthusiasm as he spoke about his new school, his new uniform, to anyone who’d listen, and she knew they were doing the right thing. 

She didn’t want to get talked out of leaving, not now she had so much more to protect, so when she suggested to Aaron that they keep the baby a secret he’d agreed, even if he did repeatedly ask her if she was sure. His smile always fond and non-judgemental as he checked, his love for her, for the life they were building, written all over his face for anyone who cared to look. 

“I’m sure,” she says, catching the corner of his lips in a kiss, “Besides, imagine how much fun we can have with it when we do tell them.” 

He chuckles, his laugh drawing attention their way from the others, and he mutters against her cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

“Come on lovebirds,” Derek yells in their direction, “You two will have plenty of time to be all over each other on your flight tomorrow.” 

Emily rolls her eyes but steps forward anyway, keeping her hand wrapped up in Aaron’s as she goes, “You know you’ll miss us, Derek.”

She’d miss it here, she’d miss the comfort of it, the sense of home that had come with the place that had taught her she could be part of a family, but she was excited for what the future held. 

___

“Your husband is in the car park.” 

She sighs as she looks up from her paperwork, her eyebrow arched as her eyes meet Clyde’s before she looks back down at her desk, “You know,” she says, turning a page in front of her, “The whole point of hiring me to run this unit was so that you didn’t have to be here all the time.” 

He chuckles, his arms crossed over his chest, “Well, it would have been that simple if I hadn’t also had to immediately try and find maternity cover for you,” he winks at her when she glares at him, “Mighty inconvenient.” 

She hums, her hand pressed against her bump as she leans back in her chair, “Oh you’ve got me,” she says, smiling as she feels her daughter shift under her palm, “I decided to have a baby the moment I moved country not only to take advantage of the local maternity leave laws, but because I knew it would piss you off.”

Cylde laughs, “Wouldn’t put it past you, darling,” his smile only gets wider as she rolls her eyes again, “Your husband is waiting for you. Go to him before I have him arrested for loitering with intent.” 

Emily stands up, her hand against her lower back as she grunts, “He’s probably brought me dinner. I told him I’d be here late,” she says, shrugging on her coat, “I’ll be back after we’ve eaten.”

“Oh no, go home,” he says, waving her off, his smile getting wider as she frowns, “He threatened me once before over your wellbeing, and that was before you were married to him and carrying his protégé. Call it… self-preservation.” 

She presses her lips together to suppress a smile and she reaches for her bag, “You know, you two need to get over this rivalry at some point. Plus,” she says as she gets to his side, sympathetically patting his shoulder, “I think we both know he could take you in a fight.” 

She laughs as she walks away from her office, purposely ignoring his protests before she turns and waves at him as she steps into the elevator. She sighs as the doors close, running her hand over her bump as she leans against the wall. She would have once argued with Clyde over going home, insisting that she was fine, but she was exhausted. Ever since she’d tipped into her third trimester she’d been tired all the time, a bone-deep exhaustion she had never known was possible, and despite wanting to prove herself in her new role, something she felt like she had to do before she took 6 months off to have her little girl, she wanted nothing more than to go home and snuggle with her husband and son.

“Let’s go see what Daddy has brought us to eat, sweet girl,” she says, scanning her ID as she walks out of the building, exchanging a smile with the security guard as she does so. 

Their car is one of the few left in the parking lot and she knocks on the window when she approaches, her smile wide when Aaron looks at her, the clunk of the doors unlocking immediately following. She pulls the door open and climbs in, grunting as she throws her bag over into the back seat. 

She sighs contentedly as she smells fried food, “Oh what did you bring me?” 

“Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her cheek as he passes her a McDonald's bag.

“Oh I love you,” she groans, snatching the bag from him and pulling it open, shoving fries into her mouth like she hadn’t been fed in days.

“Me, or the food?” He asks, watching her with amusement flashing in his eyes as she looks up at him.

She smiles, “I can love two things,” she says, leaning in to kiss him, the taste of salt passing from her lips to his, “Hi by the way. Clyde said we should just go home.” 

“Hi,” he replies, kissing her again before he sits back, “I’ll let you and your cheeseburgers continue your love affair.” 

“Burgers?” She says excitedly, looking deeper into the bag, absentmindedly doing her seatbelt up, “You got me more than one?”

“Yes,” he replies as he turns on the engine, “But, dessert will be the fruit salad I made for you earlier.” 

“You drive a hard bargain,” she says, unwrapping a burger, “But baby girl and I agree to your demands.”

He laughs and reaches out, one of his hands landing on her stomach for a moment, smiling at the feel of his little girl kicking before he places his hand back on the steering wheel, “She told you that, did she?”

Emily nods, “She lives inside of me. I just know. Where’s Jack?” 

“At Thomas’s house, his mom picked them both up from school.” 

Jack’s adjustment to moving had surprised Emily the most. She’d worried about him, half convinced she had turned into her mother because she was upheaving his life for her job. No matter how often Aaron told her it wasn’t the same thing, that this was once and Jack was excited about it, it was only when she saw her son thriving in his new school with his new friends that she was able to completely relax. He’d told her one night, half asleep as she read a bedtime story with him, that he had more friends here. That he wasn’t the kid whose mom had died anymore - just the new kid, a title that eventually faded over time. 

“We’re going to have to get her a huge gift at Christmas,” she says, taking another bite of her burger, “That woman is a saint.” 

He casts a glance at her when he stops at a traffic light, love for her blooming in his chest, the flowers of it crowding his lungs and leaving him breathless. He’d always thought she was beautiful, even back when he didn’t trust her he’d thought it. Anger he couldn’t internalise at feeling that way for another woman when his marriage was crumbling aimed at Emily when she had done nothing wrong. As he got to know her, as he got to see that her beauty was so much more than skin deep, he fell in love with her. Feelings he couldn’t name until it was too late and his hand was wrapped around hers when she was in a hospital bed, a promise that he’d bring her home pressed against her cool forehead before she was taken away. He sometimes couldn’t believe that this was his life now, that he lived with the woman he loved and his son, that he had a little girl on the way. 

It felt too good to be true and after his worst nightmares, few and far between these days, there would always be a second when he’d think he was back in his apartment in DC. Long before Emily and when Jack was still in hiding, as if everything else since had been a dream. Then Emily would be there, pulling him against her chest, her hand linked with his as she dragged it to her belly, the roundness of it, the shifting of their daughter, enough to bring him back to her. To the beautiful house they’d bought in Chelsea. To the life he would have once thought was beyond him. 

“I spoke to Dave today,” he says and she hums curiously, her focus mostly on her food, “He said he and Penelope are planning a visit. I put him off for now, said something about Jack’s school.” 

She smiles gratefully at him, “Thanks, honey,” she says, reaching into the bag for more food, “I know you don’t fully understand it, but once she’s here we’ll tell them,” her smile gets wider, “It will be much harder to hide a baby than a pregnancy.” 

She’d decided, after a lot of back and forth, to keep her entire pregnancy a secret from the team. She couldn’t even fully explain why, aware that her friends weren’t people that her daughter needed protection from, but she wanted to fully settle into her new life before she let anyone else into it. 

“I don’t have to understand, sweetheart,” he assures her, “I’m always happy to take your lead.” 

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it, “You, my love, are very close to getting lucky tonight.” 

He chuckles, “Oh really?”

She hums, “Between the burgers and all the sweet shit you’ve been saying, you’re getting there.” 

“Well,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at her, a spark in his smile that she’d never seen before they moved, something that had made all the upheaval worth it all by itself, “I’m always lucky when I’m with you.”

She laughs loudly, rubbing her stomach when she feels a corresponding kick, a chastisement from within that she needs to calm down, “Okay, now you’re definitely getting lucky,” she says, checking her watch, “What time is Thomas’s mum dropping Jack home?” 

“She isn’t,” he says, “It’s a sleepover.” 

Emily beams at him, “Then let's get going.”

___

She huffs as she makes it up the porch steps, leaning against the stone wall as she tries to get her breath back, “Remember when I used to be able to walk up the stairs?” 

Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss her forehead, “You did just have a baby sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll be taking them two at a time again soon,” he says, kissing her forehead again before he pulls away. He gently lowers the car seat onto the ground so he can dig his keys out of his pocket and he smiles when his daughter doesn’t wake up, “You excited be home, Lucy?” 

Emily leans down, barely suppressing a wince as she does so, and she adjusts the blanket over the little girl, “Jack is so excited to see you when he gets home from school, sweet girl,” she says as she stands up straight and looks up at her husband, “We should get her inside, it’s cold.” 

He unlocks the door and stops her from lifting the car seat, his smile soft as he picks it up instead, “It’s tradition that I carry my girls over the threshold.” 

She playfully shakes her head at him but lets it go, following him into their house and closing the door behind them, crowding him from behind to look at her baby, never tiring of seeing her face, “Daddy is a sap, Lucy. But you get used to it.” 

Aaron sets the car seat down and this time Lucy wakes up, her face screwed up as she starts to cry. Emily immediately unbuckles her and lifts her into her arms, shushing the newborn as she rests her against her chest. 

“Do you need anything?” Aaron asks and Emily shakes her head, slowly walking towards the couch. 

“No, we’re okay,” she says, lowering herself down, holding Lucy securely against her, her lips against the baby’s dark hair, “Right baby? We’re okay.” 

Aaron joins them, unable to bear being too far away from either of them. It had felt like he’d left half his heart at the hospital the night before when he’d brought Jack home, Emily’s insistence that she’d been fine still ringing in his ears as he settled into their empty bed. 

“I can’t believe she’s finally here,” Aaron says, running his knuckles down Lucy’s soft cheek, “It’s strange to think we knew about her when we left DC,” he wraps his arm around Emily’s shoulders and gently pulls her closer.

“I know,” she says, tilting her head up to look at him, “Feels like no time at all and a lifetime all at once.” 

He nods and kisses the side of her head, his fingers drawing aimless patterns on her arm, “Do you ever regret it? Moving here and starting again?”

She shakes her head, and looks back at her little girl. Lucy was less than two days old, untouched by anything other than love and joy and Emily would do anything she could to make that last as long as possible. She knows she could have continued to be happy in DC, but she isn’t sure that she could be this happy, and she wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

“No,” she says, “Not for a second.” 

“Me neither,” he replies, resting his cheek on the top of her head, “So, have you figured out how we’re going to tell everyone about this little one yet?” 

“You know that photo you took in the hospital that you love?” She asks, slowly trailing off. 

Her wide smile tells him everything he needs to know.

___

Dave is making coffee when he hears Penelope scream.

It makes him jump, ageing him by about 10 years as she runs into the bullpen, seemingly unaware of the reaction she had caused, ignoring all the agents around her with their guns raised as she runs towards the team with her phone in the air. 

“Have you seen this?” She exclaims, “I can’t believe-”

“Pen, what’s going on?” Derek asks, his fingers twitching over his gun, “You screamed like you were being attacked.” 

She scoffs, “Oh I wish,” she grumbles, again ignoring as everyone around her groans and reholsters their guns, “Look.” 

She shoves her phone into Derek’s hand and his eyebrows shoot up his head, “Oh..what the fu-”

“What is it?” Dave asks, exchanging a look with JJ before they stand on either side of him to look at the screen, disbelieving laughs leaving them as they shake their heads, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

On the screen was a picture of Emily in a hospital bed with a wide and tired smile on her face and a tiny baby in her arms. The photo was accompanied by a one-line caption.

We’ve been keeping a little secret…

“Did they just…surprise announce a baby?” JJ asks, grabbing the phone to look at it a little closer.

“I believe the term is ‘hard launch’ in the vernacular,” Spencer said, frowning as he looks at the picture, “They left 30 weeks ago.” 

Derek scoffs, “Our friends just announced they had a baby out of nowhere and that’s what you’re stuck on boy genius?”

Spencer sighs, “The average pregnancy is 40 weeks, and seeing as the baby Emily is holding doesn’t look premature…”

Dave chuckles and shakes his head, “They knew she was pregnant when they left.” 

They fall into silence, happiness for their friends mixed in with confusion, the shock of the early morning announcement, settling over them. 

“Oh I am going to kill Emily Prentiss,” Penelope says eventually, her eyes shining with happy tears, “Right after I hug her and meet that gorgeous baby.” 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks , @ptrckjcne , @lyds102 , @glockleveledatyourcrotch , @hotchnissenthusiast , @danadeservesadrink , @ssamorganhotchner , @emilyprentissisgod , @notagentprentiss , @freesiasandfics , @emilyshotchniss , @thecharmingart , @paulitalblond , @hancydrewfan , @camille093 , @whitecrossgirl , @rawr-jess , @jareauswife , @ms-black-a , @beebeelank , @aubreyprc , @psychopath-at-heart , @criminalmindsgonewrong , @fionaloover , @kinqslcys , @prentissinred , @ccmattis-22 , @denvivale317 , @thrindis , @hotchsguccitie , @cmfouatslota77 , @alexblakegf , @prentissxhotch , @emobabeyy , @victoiregranger , @stormyweatherth , @wanderingdreamer009 , @ssablackbird , @luhwithah , @lex13cm , @dont-emily-me , @mrs-ssa-hotch , @itsmytimetoodream , @capsshinyshield , @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Beginnings Part 2

Part 1

A properly written version of these Paris Olympics headcanons. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, and they meet on the plane to Paris.

Author's note: Part 2 because brevity is not my strong suit!!!

---

Crazy. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. 

That’s all Gale can think as he approaches the dining hall around 4:00 that afternoon. He keeps nervously running a hand through his hair and then frantically trying to fix it again, not wanting to look like too much of a mess for this… thing. That he isn’t sure is a date. Or not.

On his way to the dining hall, he realized belatedly that there’s a bit of grain staining his shirt sleeve, courtesy of Whiskey begging him for ear scratches while she finished her feed. He was already a few minutes late, and going back to his room to change was not an option. So he stepped into one of the bathrooms in the village and dabbed at it frantically with water, trying to get it out, but eventually resigned himself to the fact that he’s just destined to make a fool of himself. Luckily it’s only a small spot on the back of the sleeve. With any luck, it’ll go unnoticed. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this. That’s the theme of today, and it will continue to be the theme of today. He almost wonders if it’s actually happening. If he and John actually agreed to wander around together in lieu of doing it with any of their existing friends. But they’d remembered to exchange numbers this time, and there is no doubting the text on his phone that says ‘I’m outside the dining hall! See you soon!’ with a little smiley face emoji at the end. It makes Gale’s chest feel funny. 

“Buck!”

Gale turns his head to see Bucky standing by a bench outside the dining hall, and Gale waves, willing his heart rate to calm the fuck down. “Hey! You’re here.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him as he approaches, and he holds his hands out to the sides. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“No, I just…” Gale shakes his head at himself. “I’m glad you’re here.” He’s blowing this already, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that stained your shirt today,” Bucky muses, reaching out to tug at the back of Gale’s shirt sleeve.

“Whiskey,” Gale says by way of explanation. Then he rushes to add, “The horse. Not… not like the alcohol.”

Bucky lets go of the sleeve, smoothing it back down over Gale’s bicep. “I know.”

“I didn’t have time to change. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Well.” Gale motions ahead of them, towards the Seine across the road from the dining hall. “Shall we?”

They set off in a random direction along the water, suddenly very aware of the fact that neither of them know where they’re going. They turn away from the river after a few minutes, wander past a few training facilities, run across the road in front of a bus that honks loudly at them, find out exactly which buildings they have the clearance to access. They grab an early dinner of ‘artisan’ sandwiches at one of the cafes, and Gale laughs when Bucky accidentally drops his last bite on the ground and is immediately swarmed by pigeons. They stop to take pictures – both genuine and silly – at multiple Olympic logo statues, and Bucky fights the urge to post a photo of them together on his social media, not yet ready to invite that kind of media storm. It’s nice, in a way. Just getting to exist with a person without worrying about the press. Even if it can only last a day. The media will be all over him again as soon as podium training starts, and he knows Gale will have his fair share of reporters after him with his events coming up right after opening ceremonies. 

But for an afternoon, they don’t have to be Olympic athletes. They don’t have to worry about medals or training or their image. They can just be together, enjoy the company, enjoy the beautiful, blue-sky day. It’s so simple, a few hours spent walking around aimlessly with someone he just met, but it gives Bucky a sense of calm that doesn’t normally exist within him.

By about 7pm, they find themselves in some bar not far from the Olympic Village, promising to themselves that they’ll be proper tourists and take the city by storm another day. As they weave their way through the crowd, hearing a babbling mix of different languages that drowns out any actual intelligible words, Gale trails behind Bucky towards the bar. A young, attractive bartender greets them as they snag two empty seats.

Gale turns toward Bucky and leans in, cheek to cheek, so Bucky can hear. “What do you want?”

“Oh, uh,” Bucky stammers, thrown off. “Whiskey?”

Gale nods and motions to the bartender. “Puis-je avoir un verre de whiskey pour mon ami, et… ah, un French soixante-quinze, s’il vous plaît.”

Bucky’s brain stops working. Suddenly all he can do is stare at Gale’s face and watch as he leans on the bartop, nodding and smiling at the bartender.

The bartender is smiling back. “Avec du cognac ou du gin?”

Gale tilts his head. “Que recommandez-vous?”

The bartender presses his hands against the bar top, leaning in close, conspiratorially. “Le cognac.”

“Ah oui, je veux ça.” Gale nods and grins at the bartender again. They continue speaking back and forth using what are probably words but to Bucky sounds like pretty, cursive gibberish. He recognizes that twinkling look in the bartender’s eyes, the suggestive upturn at the corner of his mouth, the way he leans too much on the bartop in an attempt to be close, friendly. He’s flirting with Gale, quite shamelessly. Bucky just can’t quite figure out if Gale is flirting back.

So Bucky does what any rational person would do when the near-stranger they're crushing on is getting flirted with by someone else. He leans in close to Gale, getting his attention, and he reaches a hand up to gently stroke a loose strand of hair back off of his forehead. He pushes every ounce of sweetness and softness he can into his smile so that Gale focuses those pretty eyes on him instead. The bartender takes the hint and goes about preparing their drinks.

“Jealous?” Gale asks lowly as he turns around on his bar stool, so he’s leaning back against the counter. Bucky doesn’t really answer, just makes a noncommittal huffing sort of noise. Gale shakes his head. “You barely know me, John.”

Bucky shrugs, leaning against the bartop. “I know enough.” He hesitates over his next words, but what the hell. “I want to know you.” Gale takes a deep breath that settles into a smile, and Bucky knows he didn’t fuck up even as Gale looks straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. “What did you just say to him?”

“I ordered you a whiskey, and myself a French 75. He asked if I wanted cognac or gin, I asked what he would recommend, he said cognac, and I said I’d take that. And then he asked if I wanted to hook up when he got off work.” Gale looks casually over at Bucky, who is not making any attempt to hide the alarm on his face, and he chuckles. “I’m kidding. He just asked if I’m here for the Games, and we talked a bit about that.”

“He totally wanted to hook up with you though.”

“Did he?” Gale shrugs and looks out over the crowd of people filling the room.

“How did you not notice?”

“I’m already here with someone else who I can’t take my eyes off of.”

As Gale levels a suggestive look back on him again, Bucky wills himself not to blush. He knows he fails. “I didn’t know you spoke French.”

“Oui,” Gale teases. The bartender sets a glass of whiskey down in front of Bucky, and then hands Gale his cocktail. Gale’s attention is all on Bucky now though. “Est-ce que tu aimes ça?”

Bucky takes a shaky breath before sipping his drink, looking at Gale over the rim of his glass. “I don’t know what you just asked me, but yes.”

Gale laughs and lifts his glass to his mouth, lets the taste of the cognac and champagne linger on his tongue. He looks back at Bucky, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of him. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

“Is that good or bad?” Bucky asks. His voice sounds confident, full of suggestion, but inside he’s teetering on an edge, waiting to see if Gale’s going to push him off or drag him up.

“Mmm.” Gale takes another sip, lets Bucky stew in silence, as if he has to think about it. Then the corner of his mouth pulls up in that way that Bucky is coming to love, and he says, “it’s good.”

So Bucky leans towards him, grabs the hair at the back of his head, and he kisses him. The taste of whiskey collides with notes of cognac and lemon, smokey and sweet. He kisses Gale in a way that he’s rarely kissed anyone else before: gentle and wanting, asking and taking, soft and smooth like a love song. And Gale lets him.

The night goes by in a haze after that, full of laughter and stories and casual touches. They both order a second drink and toast to the Games. It feels like they could talk forever, and it would still never be enough. John has never in his life believed in soulmates, but he also can’t come up with a better explanation for the way Gale Cleven just casually wandered into his life, flashing a smile and booking a rent-free stay in his mind like he was simply coming home.

John Egan never really thought he was the type of person someone could find a home in. But maybe he could be. 

When Gale’s phone rings in the middle of their maybe-probably-definitely-date, he mutters something by way of apology and accepts the call. “Hi Marge.”

“Benny says you’re not in your room. And you’re not with me. So where are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?” Gale replies. He can hear Marge rolling her eyes.

“Gale, where are you?”

“I’m out. With a friend.” His eyes dart over to Bucky, who is making a show of not listening in too much.

“All your friends are here with me,” Marge counters. “So… how does that work?”

“I’m… with John?”

He hears her take a deep breath, can picture her nodding and putting her head in her hand. “The gymnast. Seriously Gale, you went out with the gymnast?”

“You told me to be social,” he points out.

“That’s not what- okay, you know what. Fine. That’s fine. Good job. Gold star.”

He tilts his head back with a fond smile. “Marge, I’m a big boy. I can go out if I wanna go out.”

“I know-” she pauses. “You’re not sober, are you?”

This almost makes Gale laugh. Almost. Marge knows him too well, can parse out nearly everything he’s thinking and feeling from his voice alone. “Mmm, almost. Mostly. I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know you’re not drunk, you idiot. You don’t get drunk.” This is true. 

“I’m fine, Marge. I’m good, actually. John’s… I don’t know. I’m having fun. He’s… well, he’s amazing.” He looks at Bucky again, and this time his eyes are locked right onto Gale. He looks pleased, as if no one has ever said that about him before, which Gale knows is definitely not true. What he doesn’t know is that Bucky has never particularly cared if people like him or not, never cared what they said about him. Until now.

Marge sighs. “Just be safe, okay? Don’t… don’t do anything stupid. I know you won’t but I have to say it anyway. And don’t have unprotected sex!”

“Marge!”

“And I want to meet him.”

“Goodbye, Marge!”

“Love ya babe.”

Gale hangs up the phone in exasperation, and when he looks up again, Bucky is stifling a laugh. “Girlfriend?” he asks, and he’s only half joking.

Gale shakes his head emphatically. “God, no. I love Marge, but not like that.”

“She’s on the jumping team, right?” Bucky remembers reading about her. Gale, Benny, and Marjorie. The three young hotshots on the U.S. equestrian team, all from the same training facility.

Gale stirs the remains of his drink, listening to the ice cubes clink against the glass. “Yeah. We grew up together, actually.”

“She sounds like a good friend.”

“She is. But I don’t wanna think about her right now.” Then Gale leans over and kisses Bucky again, short and sweet. When he pulls away, Bucky wishes he wouldn’t, even though they’re in the middle of a crowded bar.

He asks Gale if he wants another drink. Gale politely refuses. “I don’t drink much,” he confides. 

Bucky starts to nod; they are Olympic athletes, after all. But then he pauses, squinting at Gale like he’s trying to calculate exactly what those words mean. “You don’t drink much,” he repeats slowly. “But your horse is named after alcohol?”

Gale laughs, and Bucky momentarily wants nothing more than to make that happen again. “She’s named after a plane that my great grandfather flew in World War II,” Gale explains. “Hundred Proof.”

And why does that make all the sense in the world? Everything Gale says makes Bucky fall a little more. “That’s… unexpected. And amazing.”

Gale looks pleased in that way that he only seems to when talking about his horse. “A special name for a special mare.”

And a special guy, Bucky thinks.

Even so, the drinks Gale did have were strong, and he can feel it in his head, in the way the world takes just a fraction of a second too long to catch up when he turns around. He’s on that edge where the alcohol is still making him pleasantly relaxed, but it’s almost to the point of reminding him of things he’d rather forget. Plus, he has to be up early tomorrow, and he’s sure Bucky does, too. Bucky must see something on his face, some sort of discomfort or unease, because he puts a hand on the small of his back, stilling him as he looks him in the eye. “Wanna head back?”

Gale nods. “Yeah, yeah sure.” And then Bucky is grabbing his hand, and Gale’s foggy brain spends too long focusing on how big Bucky’s hand is, how it nearly engulfs his own. He thinks about what hands like that could do and it makes him shiver before he chastises himself for wandering so far.

“You okay?” Bucky is looking back over his shoulder at him, a concerned little smile teasing at the corners of his mouth, and yeah, Gale is okay. This whole day has been wildly outside of his comfort zone, and yet he feels okay. John Egan feels safe, somehow. And Gale wants to wrap himself up in that feeling.

He nods again. “I’m good.”

–

It’s 10pm, and outside, the sun is just setting over Paris. “I can’t get used to that,” Bucky muses. “Sunset is so late here.”

Gale looks at him, and he finds that he can’t look away. “It’s beautiful, though,” he says, and he wonders if Bucky knows he isn’t just talking about the sun.

As darkness falls over them, they half stumble their way back to the Olympic Village. Neither of them are drunk, but they are just this side of tipsy. And they can’t stop talking and laughing as they try to figure out where the heck they are and how to get back to their little apartments. They’re still hanging off of each other, like it never occurred to either of them to let go.

“That one!” Bucky yells, pointing enthusiastically towards a building to their left.

Gale pulls back on his hand though, shaking his head. “No, it’s not the right color.”

Bucky stops and tilts his head, squinting at it even though it’s dark now and there’s no way squinting is gonna help. “You sure?”

“Yeah, our building is white. We need to go closer to the river.”

Gale is right. Their building is right on the Seine, and it is, in fact, white. By the time they find it, it’s nearing 11pm. They stop outside of Bucky’s door, hands locked together as they stare at each other like awkward teenagers after a first date. “I guess this is goodnight, then,” Gale says hesitantly. 

Bucky shrugs, uncertain, but then he shoves out the next few words before he loses his nerve. “You could come in.”

“Aren’t you sharing a room with Curt?”

Bucky smirks, darting his tongue over his lower lip, and the way Gale clocks that movement is very satisfying to him. “Curt’s not gonna be back for a while yet. Trust me.” Bucky has absolutely no idea where the guy went, and he’s not sure he wants to know. All he knows is that Curt told him he’d be out late, so if he wanted to bring his little blonde horseback rider back home with him, that would be alright. Bucky punched him in the arm, and Curt insisted he was just doing his duty as wingman. That and he legitimately wasn’t going to be back until late anyways.

“Alright then,” Gale whispers, and the way his voice goes all deep is enough to make Bucky practically drag him through the door.

Bucky’s room is pretty much the exact same as Gale’s. That is, minimal. Small, with white walls and wood floors, basic furniture including an open wardrobe and some shelves. And, of course, Paris 2024 comforters spread over top of two of those cardboard, anti-sex beds that everyone has heard so much about. For sustainability, the Olympic committee said, as the “intimacy ban” from Tokyo has supposedly been lifted. Right. Bucky, however, knows for a fact that such a ban didn’t really work anyways.

“Cozy,” Gale quips as the door closes behind them.

“They like to make us feel special,” Bucky agrees sarcastically, tugging on Gale’s hand again to pull him closer.

Gale lets himself be pulled forward, so he and Bucky are almost nose to nose. “Wouldn’t want us thinking too highly of ourselves.”

Bucky tilts his head and looks down at Gale. Gale has never in his life felt short or small in any way, but Bucky is a good couple inches taller than him and has quite a bit more bulk. When Bucky wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him even closer, though, Gale thinks he likes it. And Bucky is completely obsessed with the way Gale is blinking up at him, his lips parted, watching Bucky like he’s a puzzle he wants to solve.

“I think pretty highly of you,” Bucky murmurs. Then he kisses Gale again, slow and sensual and nothing like he’s used to. But it feels right somehow.

Gale pulls away and looks down at his feet, putting a hand on each of Bucky’s rock-solid biceps. 

“Is this okay?” Bucky asks him.

Gale looks back up at him and bites his lower lip with a breathy laugh. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Letting himself be propositioned by someone he just met at the Paris Olympics. Benny and Marge will have a field day if they find out. Gale himself can’t quite sort out how he got here. All he knows is he doesn’t care; he wants this. So he nods and says, “definitely.”

Then he pushes Bucky back against the wall and… wow. Bucky isn’t used to that. It’s usually the other way around for him. He finds himself gasping as Gale’s surprisingly strong hands grip his shoulders, as soft lips find his own. He can feel the cold wall through the back of his shirt, but he focuses on the warmth radiating from Gale’s body pressed against his and lets his hands settle on Gale’s slim waist as he relaxes into the kiss.

Gale pulls away and Bucky tries to follow, but he opens his eyes to see Gale looking at him, pupils blown wide. “You know,” Gale says. “Part of the reason I flirted with that bartender was to see if you’d care.”

So he admits it. He was flirting. “I cared,” Bucky tells him.

“I know.”

Bucky nuzzles Gale’s neck, nipping at the fragile skin, and he relishes the way it makes Gale’s breath catch. “Is that okay? That I cared?”

Gale tilts his head ever so slightly, giving Bucky better access, and Bucky thinks he has his answer. But he wants to hear it. “I liked it,” Gale confesses. “And I liked the way you touched my hair, too.”

Bucky pulls back so he can look Gale in the eye again, and he reaches a tentative hand up toward the side of Gale’s face, where a wayward strand of blonde hair has fallen down over his forehead, right above his eye. With gentle fingertips, Bucky brushes the strand back, just like he did in the bar, and it makes Gale’s cheeks flush as he averts his eyes, looking down at Bucky’s other hand firmly holding his waist.

“Like that?” Bucky asks. Then his fingers trace a line to the back of Gale’s head, where he twines them in soft hair and grips it experimentally, urging Gale to lift his head again. He presses their lips together and bites gently at Gale’s lower lip, swallows the gasp that follows. “Or like that?” He whispers against the corner of Gale’s mouth.

“Tout ça,” Gale says quietly. All of it.

Bucky puts both hands on Gale’s waist again and spins him around, so they’ve swapped places. Gale now pressed between Bucky’s body and the wall, Bucky kissing him with more passion than Gale’s ever been kissed with before. 

“Do that again,” Bucky growls as he tugs at the hem of Gale’s shirt with insistent hands. 

Gale lets him pull it up, over his head. “Oh? Ça te plaît?” The shirt drops to the floor at their feet and immediately Bucky’s hands are back on him, running up and down his sides, exploring his chest and abdomen and the small of his back with a desperate curiosity. 

“À votre tour. Allez,” Gale grunts, tugging at Bucky’s shirt. “Only fair.”

Bucky obliges and pulls away just briefly to pull his shirt off, letting it join Gale’s on the wood floor below. He sighs deeply when Gale’s hands touch his bare skin, gliding gently over his broad shoulders, his biceps, his back. “I want to look at you,” Bucky whispers.

He takes a step back, his fingertips tracing down over Gale’s arm as he pulls away until only their fingers are brushing, keeping them linked together. He inhales deeply as he takes in the sight of the man he’s so readily invited into his world. This perfect, perfect person. Piercing blue eyes analyzing him, messy blonde hair just begging to be pulled, rock solid abs and strong shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, where Bucky’s hands have decided they belong.

“My god, Gale, you’re…” He doesn’t have the words.

“Parfait,” Gale breathes, eyes roaming up and down Bucky’s body. Strong and imposing, nothing but well-trained muscle, equally messy dark curls that Gale wants to feel between his fingers, the broadest shoulders he’s ever seen up close. Everything about Bucky’s body screams power, and yet everything about how he looks at Gale, how he touches him, is affectionate.

Gale rushes forward, letting his fingers grip Bucky’s soft hair as he kisses him, hard. Their hands can’t get enough of each other, touching everywhere they can find. Bucky stops him, though, when Gale pushes him towards the bed.

“No,” he pants. “It won’t hold our weight. Trust me.”

Gale quirks an eyebrow at him, amused. “Make a habit of bringing athletes into your room?”

“Just once,” Bucky admits, leaning in again to suck at Gale’s collarbone. “I was young and stupid,” he mutters.

“And now?” Gale asks, his hand on the back of Bucky’s head, urging him to keep doing that.

Bucky laughs against his skin. “Might still be stupid, but the decision to bring you here sure wasn’t.” Spending time with Gale today was quite possibly the least stupid thing he’d ever done. “Hold on,” he murmurs. He’s tired of this standing against walls business.

He slips out of Gale’s hold and grabs the thin comforter off his bed, laying it out on the hard floor. Then he takes both of Gale’s hands in his and guides him down, until they’re both on the floor with the comforter underneath them. Bucky’s back is pressed against the cardboard base of the bed, Gale effectively in his lap, straddling him.

Gale presses forward and nips at Bucky’s ear, at his neck, at his jaw. Bucky’s head is spinning from the feeling of Gale’s bare skin under his hands and against his chest. Gale has an absolute fascination with Bucky’s shoulders, unable to keep himself from running his hands over them again and again, his fingernails scraping gently across them and making Bucky shiver. They’re grinding against each other now, and they both feel dizzy from the pleasure.

Bucky starts working at Gale’s belt, trying to get it off, but that’s when Gale pulls away. Bucky worries he pushed too much, but Gale has that soft half-smile on his face. “Hey now,” he says gruffly. “Buy a guy dinner first, why don’t you?”

And seriously, the way Gale’s eyes are twinkling at him like that and the way his soft hair is already a mess just from Bucky running his hands through it over and over, the way this man makes Bucky’s heart beat too fast, too fast, too fast the entire time they’re together… He can’t stand it and he never wants it to end.

So he pulls his hands away from the belt, puts one back on Gale’s hip and the other on his cheek and says, “Tomorrow. I’ll take you for dinner tomorrow.”

Gale nods, pleased, and kisses him again, rough and beautiful and better than anything Bucky has ever experienced before. And he knows that he’s already falling for Gale Cleven. Has been since the plane.

It’s going to be one hell of an Olympics.

[sunlit-haruka]

What Your Favorite Milgram Ship Says About You!

if you saw this posted earlier, no you didn't ^-^ Disclaimer: Everything in this post is a joke. Politely, please do not turn it into a genuine ship discourse post. Would you really do that to me? a silly little guy who simply wishes to be silly?

Haruka/Muu: You are constantly in a trenches defending your commonly misinterpreted favorite characters with your fucking life.

Haruka/Fuuta: Your ideal relationship dynamic is the "His pronouns are they/them!" meme, with a side of Doomed Yaoi for flavor.

Yuno/Kotoko: You think that both of them would be fixed if they just kissed a girl.

Yuno/Mahiru: This is the same joke as Yuno and Kotoko, but with the added factor that you desperately want your future partner to take you out to a cute cafe.

Fuuta/Mikoto: In every fandom you join you, without fail, start shipping the first two male characters with a somewhat interesting dynamic.

Fuuta/Kotoko: You would let a woman physically abuse you if she looked hot while doing it. It's alright, this is a safe space.

Fuuta/Yuno: You are severely disappointed in the lack of male tsunderes.

Muu/Rei: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of a lesbian situationship.

Muu/Yuno: Your ideal relationship dynamic is just…girls being friends. Gals being pals. Besties, historians would say.

Muu/Es: Your favorite romance trope in fiction is when the usually calm and serious one gets flustered and blushy over their crush

Shidou/Mahiru: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of saving someone's life, and your ideal relationship dynamic is MEN 👏 GETTING 👏 PEGGED 👏

Shidou/His Wife: You have on at least one occasion called Shidou a malewife. Shidou/Mikoto: Your favorite male character in any media you watch is always the older working man who doesn't look like he's gotten a day of sleep in his life and also probably gets called a sopping wet cat.

Mahiru/Kotoko: Your ideal relationship dynamic is that one scene from Class of 09 ("you wanna be sexed up abusive lesbians?").

Mahiru/Fuuta: You think that every anger issues-riddled boy needs a ray of sunshine to balance them out.

Mahiru/Mikoto: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of horoscopes. Mahiru/Mikoto/Fuuta: You fucking eat slice of life college AUs like they're a full course meal.

Mahiru/John: You like the dynamic of Mahiru/Fuuta, but you like John more. Kazui/Hinako: You just want good things for Hinako, and really, who wouldn't?

Kazui/Shidou: You just want good things for Kazui, and really, who wouldn't?

Kazui/Mikoto: I think you just want to fuck Kazui.

Kazui/Fuuta: Oh you REALLY want to fuck Kazui. Kazui/Shidou/Mikoto: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of smoke breaks.

Kazui/Mahiru: Your ideal relationship dynamic is Team Mom / Team Dad.

Amane/Anyone: https://youtu.be/wf9k3heENYc?si=xhcAjtzpnqOts-1f

Mikoto/John: You just want good things for John, which in all fairness, probably could've saved us a lot of trouble.

Mikoto/Kotoko: You either want one of them to put you on a leash, or you want both of them to put you on a leash. There's no in-between. John/Kotoko: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of beating each other's asses.

Milgram/Therapy: You are the only correct person in this fandom.