#I gave up trying to edit bc I would never be happy with it

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[nottswitch]

— dreaming about… shopping with theo 👜

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; theo m-list ; how to request

༉‧₊˚. this man would buy you stuff. there’s no point in arguing, because he would anyway, whether you like it or not. you don’t want something bought? don’t look at it. you look - you get, simple as that. if the first time he tried to buy you something you’d refuse, he’d be genuinely surprised. he wouldn’t understand how you could even have objections, because in his mind, he’s hella rich, he has more money than he can realistically spend, so of course he will, on you, don’t you get it? you want to try paying for it yourself? nah, his card’s pressed to the terminal before you can even blink. if you even insinuated that he was trying to buy your love, he’d be really hurt. he’s expressing love, not buying it. theo just wants to see your happy, pretty smile, and if your favourite things make you smile - ready-set-bought.

༉‧₊˚. a day at the shopping center isn’t just a day, but a date, and one of theo’s favourite ones, bc he gets to spoil you and spend so much time with you? yes, please. he’s not the type of boyfriend to sit outside the shop and wait for you while on his phone, no. he trails after you, carefully studying the clothing options and giving his input. he’d tell you straight up is something doesn’t fit, as well. not in a rude way, of course. “bella, you look gorgeous, but this colour would really make your eyes pop.” a human hanger, clothes you pick out hanging from his arms and shoulders as you make your way to the changing room. lingerie shopping? he’s the first in the store, already picking out sets before you even step inside. you absolutely have to make a show out of trying them on. he’s sitting in the couch, sipping espresso from the tiny cup that the shopping assistants offered, waiting for the first look. you open the curtain and his eyebrow immediately goes up, a sly smirk making the corner of his mouth go up. "what do you say, teddy?" you ask, turning around to check your ass in the mirror. "stupenda" he murmurs appreciatively, slowly nodding and roaming your form with his hungry eyes. you smile and disappear behind the curtain again, oblivious to the fact that theo has to adjust the front of his trousers – who gave you the right to look this hot? you end up buying everything, which isn’t even that useful since he’s taking it off at home anyway.

༉‧₊˚. when you go grocery shopping, you’re trying to be all cute and climb into the shopping cart, but theo gets actually concerned, because he thinks you’re tired already. "piccola, i told you not to wear heels to the grocery store, but you never listen." you laugh, finding his worried eyes adorable, and explain that it’s just a couple’s thing, to ride the shopping cart. he raises his eyebrow, but finds the whole idea pretty amusing, especially after seeing you all happy and cute in the cart. makes puppy eyes at you, asking you to push him in the cart down an empty isle, while no one sees. you spend half an hour searching for theo’s favourite and rare chocolate bar which you can only find in this particular store. if you can’t find it, he has no problem drilling the poor employees about it; he isn’t rude, just really persistent. you end up with more bags than you planned for because he takes two of everything non-perishable. "i know you’ll send me off to get you these cookies at midnight at some point, so i’m just thinking ahead, love."

༉‧₊˚. all about the famous ikea shopping trips because he gets to tell you which positions he’d take you in on which bed (or any surface, to be honest). absolutely adores book shops, especially obscure and second-hand ones, where he can go hunting for rare editions of his and your favourite books. he loves the smell of old books, too, so he can stay there for a long, long while, and it might be the only shop which you have to drag him out of at some point.

bonus: playlist

❥ cars & clothes & calories by blackbear ft. tyler carter

❥ supermodel by måneskin

❥ champagne & sunshine by plvtinum & tarro

❥ espresso by sabrina carpenter

❥ light switch by charlie puth

[midnight-els]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the West Wing would have been even better if they'd had a White House cat. Some headcanons bc I was thinking about it today:

Jed gave the cat a very grand, biblical name. Everyone else has shortened it to something very stupid.

Obviously all of the press and the public adore the cat. There's a minor upset in a polling themed episode when Joey confirms that once again the cat has higher approval ratings than the president. Josh is cross that they are polling on this at all.

There is one chair in the Oval Office that is The Cat's Chair. The staff know not to sit there as you'll get a. covered in fur and b. screamed at by an irate cat trying to force you off. They never warn any of their least favourite congresspeople about this.

The cat wanders around in the background of episodes, often being chased or petted by the extras.

The cat is not allowed in the situation room. The cat is always in the situation room. They had to come up with a special bug detecting protocol for the cat in case anyone tried to take advantage of this.

Ripped from the headlines plot about a congressional investigation into something related to the cat, based on the incident about Clinton's cat's postage.

The cat LOVES Air Force One. The Secret Service do not love having to get him on board or captured to get back off.

Leo and the cat are best friends. They're basically this meme. Leo's the grandma. Jed is the mom.

Aside from Leo, the cat loves the secretaries best. They always have lots of treats for him in their desks. Debbie is the only one he doesn't get on with; she has resorted to using a plant mister to spray him when he tries to get on her desk.

Josh thinks he and the cat are archenemies. The cat hasn't paid more than 2 seconds notice to Josh in his life.

CJ and the cat are archenemies. CJ was very pro-cat until she caught it fishing in Gail's bowl one day. Now she's at war to keep it out of her office. She's still trying to convince Danny to write a piece exposing the cat's dark side to its adoring public. Carol is very tired.

Sam wants so badly to be best friends with the cat. The cat thinks he's trying too hard. Will ends up exactly the same way.

Toby and the cat have never properly interacted and both are very happy to leave it that way.

The cat is supposed to stay in the residence during big events. Abbey stopped enforcing that after he got out and scratched Lord John Marbury when he picked him up against his will.

The cat has a secret service code name. One time, the code names are changed and an overenthusiatic reporter tries to break a story on the first lady's 'unusual activity' by following what he thinks is her code name. It's the cat's. CJ dines out on this for weeks.

The cat occasionally goes missing. The secretaries and Charlie have a recurring B-plot where they have to go and recover him. Somehow, the cat has always ended up somewhere relevant to the A-plot.

The cat properly goes missing after the incidents with the Thanksgiving turkeys and the goat in CJ's office (aka prime cat territory). Each time she claims she'll be nicer to the cat when it returns. Each time it lasts about two days.

Margaret thinks the cat has psychic powers and frequently provides warnings based on her interpretations of 'the signs'. Usually she's right.

The cat somehow makes off with the final edits for the state of the union one time (of course they were only handwritten on one piece of paper). Chaos ensues.

Jed tries to send the cat to Manchester partway through the series. After large-scale outcry from the staff, press and public he is returned to the White House. Unfortunately, after a couple of months as a barn cat he is even more badly behaved than before.

The cat is in both Jed and Abbey's official portraits.

[dracoxsworld]

Can you do a fic where ron was jelly bc the reader was being too friendly to draco and had to show her who she belonged to ?

Hello friend! Thank you so much for the suggestion! I hope this is good enough for you :) I’m doing some requests as I prep the next part of arranged, I’m very excited.

WARNINGS: dom!ron x sub!reader, kinda rough sex ngl, jealousy, angry ron, p in v, oral sex both sides receiving, fingering, reader has female anatomy.

photo edited by me :)

You and Ron have been together for quite a while. Everyone knew you were together, no one even questioned it. Ron liked it that way.

You were his and nobody could do anything about it. He had always had a slight jelousy for his best friend, Harry Potter. He always got everything he had wanted. Ron thought Harry could get any girl he wanted with ease. So when Ron met you and got into a relationship with you, he is never going to let you go.

This was his opportunity to show the school, his family, the world, that he wasn't Harry Potter's lame and single best friend, he had the prettiest girl in school on his arm; and he was particularly protective.

Some of your peers liked to use you to annoy Ron; or try to make him feel insecure. This of course, included Draco Malfoy. You were a tad naive to realize it. You were simply thinking he was just trying to be your friend. It started out as you both being assigned as partners in potions. Draco was well aware of you and Ron being together; and used that to his advantage. He’d flirt with you, constantly talk to you, all while Ron would watch, just thinking.

“So Y/L/N, what’re you doing after class today?” Draco asked, side eyeing Ron, who was seated with Seamus. (Not a good mix, by the way.)

“Oh! I’m not sure, I need to study for Transfiguration…I’m struggling a bit.” You said while chewing on your bottom lip, reading the inked-in instructions for the current potion you both were assigned.

“I can help you with that, you know.” Draco suggested. This had caught your attention, you looked up from your potions book and smiled politely.

“Oh, no I’m okay, I believe Ron is assisting me,” you declined, looking over at your red headed boyfriend; who was watching you both the whole time. His arms were crossed, his eyes were darker than usual.

“Are you sure?” Draco voiced again, stepping closer to you, sliding the potions book away with one hand. You got nervous, just before you could respond, Professor Snape announced that class had dismissed, and you’d have to finish todays project tomorrow.

You swiftly grabbed your bag and ran out the door, leaving some of your belongings on your desk.

You ran to your dorm room, feeling a sense of panic. You were hoping Ron wasn’t think you were engaging with Draco’s behavior, that you weren’t flirting back.

You shook your head at the thought. Ron knows better, you told yourself. He would never think I’d do that.

Does he?

You had opened the door to your dorm quickly and slid in and slammed it, locking it. You set your bag in the floor and flung your body onto your unmade bed. “Stupid Y/N. It’s so obvious he was flirting with you.” You mumbled to yourself, your face squished into your duvet. You sat up and looked in your body-length mirror.

Your hair was a bit of a mess, probably from you flinging yourself onto your bed. You ran your hands through your hair to make it look a bit nicer, and gave yourself a small smile of reassurance.

Knock knock knock knock

You jumped, and turned towards your door. “Please don’t tell me your name is Draco Malfoy.” You groaned.

“You’re damn right it isn’t.” Your boyfriends voice boomed through your door. It startled you, it was his voice but it sounded different. “Ron?” You fled out.

“Yes, open the door.” Ron demanded. You did as you were told and unlocked the door and peeked through. You saw your beautiful boyfriend looking down at you, looking not too happy.

You looked down and noticed he had the belongings you had left at your desk in his arms. Some potion bottles, your book, and some quills. You then noticed his knuckles looked slightly stained with red, and bruised.

You looked back up at him with your lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, still peeking through the small crack in the door.

“Are you going to let me in?” Ron asked impatiently. You nodded and let him in, closing the door behind him. Ron set down your supplies on your desk neatly. Setting the potion bottles up on their designated shelves, putting your quills in ink you had, and setting your book in your built in shelf in your desk.

He turned towards you and slowly walked up to you. You were picking a hangnail, unable to get even a sound out. “Draco has taken quite a liking to you.” Ron seethed. You shook your head. “I disregarded him, Ron. You know I’d never—“

“I’m not worried about you, pretty girl.” He specified, his hand lifting your chin towards him. You licked your lips, looking at his. He smiled down at you. “I’m going to show him that you’re mine, he’s going to hear you. He’s going to see you all fucked up from me.”

Your underwear was wet, your eyes widened and you rubbed your thighs together at his words. “On the bed, pretty.” He prodded you, pushing you towards the bed. You listened, wanting him to do whatever he wanted to you. To be honest, you loved it when he got this way. There was something about it that immediately turned you on.

He took off he belt, keeping his eye contact with you. You sat up on the bed, your eyes scanning him up and down. He took off his uniform pants, sliding off his shoes with them. He crawled on top of you, his hands beginning to fiddle with your button up shirt. “These bloody buttons-“ He grumbled before crashing his lips into yours, it was aggressive but loving all at once. It was demanding, you stood no chance of taking over. You let him have control.

He got fed up with your shirt at one point he just ripped it off, buttons flew everywhere. “Ron!” You exclaimed, breaking the kiss.

“Shut it, you have hundreds of those blasted shirts.” He spat. He kissed you again, harsher, and unclasping your bra. He threw it across the room carelessly, not taking any attention off of you, he pushed you back toward the headboard of the bed, putting you in his lap so you were straddling him. His hands were everywhere; your hair, your waist, the hem of your skirt, etc.

Ron’s fingers crept past your skirt, and they lightly grazed your clothed heat. You moaned in his at the feeling immediately. “You drive me fucking crazy, do you understand?” Ron mumbled in the kiss. You nodded, hardly containing your sounds of pleasure from his fingers teasing your soaking wet core, your panties still acting as a barrier. “I want to hear your response.” He prodded. “Yes Ron, I understand,” you whimpered. Ron’s hips grinded upwards towards yours, as his finger continued to tease your core still clothed.

“Please–“ you begged him in the heated kiss. You wanted him now, you didn’t care how. Ron broke the kiss, still teasing you “Please what, princess?”

“I want your mouth,” You pleaded, your face pink from embarrassment. “What a perfect idea, pretty. Only if you moan my name loud enough will determine if I let my pretty girl cum, how does that sound?”

You moaned, his fingers were still lightly touching you. You needed more, this wasn’t enough. You tried to grind towards his fingers more, and he immediately took them away. You whined, it felt like torture. “Don’t be a brat.” He demanded. He slid himself out from under you, so you were laying in the pillows and on your back, and flipped your skirt up into your belly. He laid on his stomach and inches himself close to in-between your legs.

He teasingly licked slowly up the inside of your thighs, making you moan his name, your hands in his red hair pulling it like reins. He hummed as he got closer to your core, with your now saturated panties. You felt lightheaded, this wasn’t fair, you needed him desperately more than ever. Your core was aching for his mouth. “Fuck Ron, please please!” You cried desperately. He finally complied, hooking his fingers under your soaked panties and pulled them off.

“My goodness, excited are we?” Ron teased, licking his lips. Your pussy was dripping, begging for him to clean you up. He went in immediately afterwards, slowly licking your core up and down. Focusing on each inch. In circles, his tongue went. He planted a few kisses, and went back to licking up your juices. You threw your head back and screamed his name, forgetting you both didn’t set a Muffliato spell. Oh well, Draco’ll definitely hear you.

He hummed as he ate you out, making it even more pleasurable. “Ron, fuck!” You moaned loudly, felt like you shook your dorm walls. You saw him smile and he was licking every inch. His tongue abused your hole, going in and out as his thumb played with your clit. “God, Draco wishes he could lick your cunt like this, fuck Y/N.” Ron groans

You felt a knot forming in your stomach, your legs were shaking violently. “Ron, I’m close!” You moaned. He immediately backed away. You moaned in frustration.

“Ron please, I can’t take much more,” you begged. Your boyfriend shook his head at you and laughed. he took your jaw in his hand “You’re going to earn it, you’re going to learn to not even look in Malfoy’s direction. Understood?” Ron demanded. You nodded, tears falling down your cheeks. Your core was dripping, making a wet spot on your sheets.

“You’re going to pleasure me” Ron announces.

You got up on your knees, which were very weak. Ron’s hard cock was easily visible in his boxers, he slid them off letting it free. He got up from the bed and stood towards the edge. You got on your stomach with your legs in the air and crossed behind you, taking his length in your mouth immediately, licking off the pre-cum.

“Fuck baby, you already know what to do.” Ron groaned, collecting your hair and making a ponytail with his hand, wrapping it around his fist. This made you groan in his dick, rolling your eyes back, but still staying stable enough. You pumped him with your hand and he guided your head, bobbing it up and down on his dick. He again, had a majority of control. That bastard.

His dick was hitting violently against the back of your through causing the urge to gag. You free hand was balled up in a fist with your nails going into your skin making crescent-shaped indents, trying to distract yourself from the urge.

“Take it, look at me.” Ron demanded, your eyes fluttered open and looked at him. “Malfoy couldn’t fuck your mouth this could, could he? Huh? You’re stuffed with my cock.” You made noises at his response, rubbing your thighs together. You shut your eyes again trying to focus on not orgasming right there, even with the absence of his touch.

“Eyes on me, I said.” Ron’s voice boomed again. You whined and opened your eyes agin and looked at him. He threw his head back, his mouth agape, “Pretty girl, I’m close,” He groaned, eyebrows together. You bummed around his dick, head being pushed on it up and down violently by his hands gripping your hair. His hand pushing you on his dick started getting off beat and sloppy, you knew he was very close.

You went faster and faster, ignoring the tears and sweat rolling down your face. You felt his warm liquid roll down your throat as his dick twitched and his loud moans were all you heard.

He hands gently ran through your hair, he pulled out of your mouth and looked down at you. His smile was wicked, but you still saw the love behind it. “On your back, on you go.” You excitedly complied. Your body was aching for him, begging him to fuck the shit out of you. you flipped your skirt up to expose your cunt, soaking wet from his sexual torture. Ron hovered over you, his arms on both sides of you, he leaned down and left sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbones, leaving bite marks. You moaned his name and begged for him to pleasure you.

“You’ve been patient enough, pretty girl,” Ron said sweetly, he likes himself up to you, and teased your slit with his cock. You whines and dug your nails into his back.

He entered into you, giving you time to adjust. You felt so full, so good. “Ron, fuck.” You whined.

“Pretty girl, you feel so perfect; so warm and tight, fuck.” Ron groaned into your neck. His pace was slow, it hit the right spot, he knew you so well. The room was full of your moans and the smell of sex.

Ron had sped up, the sound of your skin slapping together joined the sounds of pleasure you both were making together. His dick was hitting your g-spot like a arrow on the middle of a target. Over and over again. Meanwhile, he continued to leave hickeys on your chest, collar bones and shoulders.

He then sat up and tossed your legs over his shoulders, exposing you more. He railed into you, more aggressively now. Your eyes were full of tears from pure pleasure. The knot in your stomach was forming again.

“Ron, please– let me-“ You moaned, looking him in the eye.

“I am too, cum in my cock baby, come on,” Ron grunted.

After a few more thrusts, you both hit your point, both of you groaning simultaneously, Ron then pulling out and collapsing next to you. You both were covered in sweat, and each others fluids. Ron’s hands ran over his chest that was rapidly going up and down.

“Y/N?” Ron perked up, holding himself up by one arm, looking down at you.

“Yes, Ron?”

“I love you, you know that, right? I just can’t stand Malfoy talking to you like that..”

“Of course, Ron. I love you too. He’s not really interested in me, he just does it to piss you off, I think.” You replied, your hand on his cheek. He gave you a doubtful look.

“However, I should talk to Malfoy more often, that was quite fun.” You chuckled. Ron rolled his eyes at you, and gave you a kiss on the nose.

[sukunasweetheart]

I was rereading some of your fics and got inspired so please hear me out🙏

Reader being college!sukunas pretty little gf but going through a bit of a insecure phase. Having to wonder if sukuna using her for her body. While also having to endure people trying to flirt with him at every party (sukuna has never and would never flirt or cheat but since reader is going through something, she's obviously bothered)

This continues for a few weeks, reader brings it up but sukuna always gets annoyed and shuts it down(Sukuna and reader both not knowing how to efficiently communicate). Reader's insecurity is kind of building up😕 so atp shes debating whether to break up with him because shes just so tired of feeling like she's not enough.

One night reader gets drunk during a night out with maki and nobara so they have to call him to go pick her up. Sukunas kind of mad since she hasn't called or texted him all day so he calls her out on it while driving home. Reader being a emotional drunk decides its the perfect time to unleash how she feels. Sukuna listens to her and starts worrying when reader very briefly mentions a break up. So when they get home sukuna gets her to spill the beans before she knocks out. Meanwhile sukuna spends all night thinking about how to reassure reader that he loves her (he doesn't want to lose her😭)

Next morning reader wakes up in his arms and he tells her he wants to talk about what happened last night now that shes sober. So they have a serious talk about it (tears were definitely shed)

Edit: THIS WRITING WAS GNARLY IM SO SORRY😭i had a vision but i couldn't put it into words correctly. i gave up near the end but i kind of just wanted to hear your thoughts😖

AWWWW THIS IS SO ADORABLE FR

i love the angst and happy ending, always 😘😘😘 it hurts so good </3 just them being so unsure of each other and what to do, even if its clear that they both are so deeply in love <3

very relevant angst bc someone like sukuna would find it very difficult to understand what it feels to be insecure... it makes you wonder how much patience he could have for someone who is intensely insecure (me)

anyway i can imagine drunk reader being a sobbing, bumbling mess when shes at home with him, talking in a way thats barely comprehensible, weeping in between sentences and sukuna just not knowing what to do with you except wipe your tears away (he'd call you cute if you weren't actually so upset) but then you mention that maybe its better off if the two of you break up, which wipes the smile off his face

imagine him wracking his brains at night while he observes your sleeping face, not knowing what to do... he'd never thought that what he was doing now wasn't enough in making you feel secure with him and that he was making you so unhappy

maybe what you need is more verbal affirmation, bc sukuna is so action oriented, he realises he doesn't nearly as often tell you that he loves you and only uses gestures to show it instead.

idk this might be corny but imagine you and him practicing saying 'i love you' while sitting face to face, holding hands, and for the first time you see his ears get pink, its certainly not something he says often. you bursting into laughter at the stiff way he says it makes him even more bashful.

"stop fucking laughing! it's your turn now, hurry up."

but when you say it, it sounds so natural and genuine and sweet, even when you're saying it in between laughs. it makes him wonder how you're doing it.

anyway, seeing sukuna's ears get so pink and seeing how awkward he is for a change, is strangely healing to you and probably helps you gain some confidence back bc who else could incur such feelings in him other than you?? especially when he usually has such an idgaf attitude :)

[canadianno]

TCOLC AU Bishop refs!

They're done holy FUCK. The art here is kind of old, so some of the proportions are a little wrong, but I don't really mind all that much. 15 hours and 89 layers later, all 5 bishops are done. On one canvas because... I didn't wanna make new ones I'm ngl.

Each bishop has an everyday outfit and a crusade outfit! If you're drawing them at any point (now or in the future) and you have questions about the designs, don't be scared to send an ask my way, I'm always happy to clarify stuff.

(Note: I would greatly appreciate it if people didn't make suggestive jokes surrounding any of the designs, I'm not comfortable with them! Love yall <3)

Ramblings below! Edited note: tumblr likes to completely break my posts when I add a cut sometimes, which happened here, so I'm not gonna put one in hopes that it doesn't kill my formatting again. Hopefully it automatically "read more"s this post. If it doesn't I'm very sorry 🙏

🌿 Leshy: It's to be noted that my Leshy is transmasc, literally just because I think he deserves it, it's cool as fuck. I really wanted to give him the classic top-surgery scars because, I'll be honest, they're fun to draw, but I had to find a reasonable explanation for it because he's not a mammal. Anyway that's how I ended up with an entire evolutionary explanation for why he would have those. I will never be given the chance to explain it in the fic ever, so it shall just be random information I have forever. I love him he's silly.

🍄 Heket: While I am a big supporter of tomboy Heket, I also think she deserves to be cool and wear pretty frills whenever the fuck she wants. She's awesome and her shirt is supposed to look like a mushroom. It's also worth noting that the crosses on the bishops heads are specific, with Heket having two crosses with double prongs. She has them like this in-game and there's probably a cooler explanation for it but. I have my own silly headcanons bc I do what I want! Also, since I can't decide for the fucking life of me if she's a toad or a frog, I've decided she's just. Both. Both of them. Her mom was a frog her dad was a toad. Is this possible irl? No but COTL is a fantasy world I do whatever the fuck I want.

🌑 Narinder: Main thing I note for Narinder is that he has distinct facial markings, you just have to look closely. Another note is that his clothes have a repeating cloud motif because of the fog in the gateway- which, trust, it was his own idea. Lamb doesn't know why he chose it but they're not gonna argue. Narinders' main robes are made of wool, but his crusade outfit is made of cotton so it's easier to repair if damaged. His crusade outfit has the Big Pants because he's mostly gotta fight with his feet now, since most of the time his hands don't function reliably enough to hold a weapon.

🪸 Kallamar: Kallamar is funny to me because he's the only one here who's plantigrade, meaning he's got human-esque legs. Another notable design aspect is that he has a tail, when squids do Not Normally Have Those. That's because my Kallamar isn't fully a squid, and you can kinda sorta blame my mutual for that. Not really it's me who gave him the tail. Anyway, no matter how you draw him or what outfit he's in those 3 dark red jewels on the golden chain thing gotta be on him somewhere- they're sentimental to him. He usually wears them as a crown, but in the crusade outfit they're around his neck to be safer. Also, on the crusade outfit, he has stolen a set of Shamuras gloves. Brat little brother <3

🔮 Shamura: Their main outfit really closely resembles their bishop robes and that is intentional! They made the robes themselves, and it would've been close to an exact match had the Lamb banned them from using golden colored cloth. This is only partially because Lamb doesn't like them, but also because they don't want the bishops trying to start a mutiny, and walking around in bishop robes is a pretty easy way to collect weaker followers like flies. Shamuras' crusade outfit is also pretty unique compared to the others, and one of two reasons is that it's meant to resemble their old crusade outfits when they were younger. The second reason is that they look really cool. The outfit is designed for mobility, mostly, and before you say anything, the hip windows are because Shamura usually holds close range weaponry in the second set of arms and hates the way they snag on fabric when its there.

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys as my breakup playlist pt.3

⟡ featuring: hinata, semi, iwaizumi, kenma

⟡ cw: angst, mentions of cheating, heart broken hinata my baby, these also might be longer than the last two whoops. also can you tell i was angry while writing kenma's? ps thank you for 200 followers mwah<3

⟡ an: its that time again (waterparks ((fandom)) edition bc im obsessed)

⟡ part one, part two

⟡ hinata shoyo: never bloom again - waterparks

You and Hinata dated for four years from your first year of high school to your first year of university. Honestly, it could have been a lifelong relationship if it weren’t for Brazil. Hinata told you he was leaving the week after graduation. After telling you, you cried and yelled at him, pounding at his chest while crying ‘how could you do this to me?’ in between sobs but after a while, you had calmed down and you agreed to try a long distance relationship. Hinata visited you whenever he could, holidays, your birthdays, any reason to see you but it wasn’t enough for you. Hinata would always be everything to you but you couldn’t bear the fact that he was so far away, and sure you both called and texted each other but the time difference between Brazil and Japan made it difficult and Hinata could see it in your eyes whenever he visited, whenever you sent him a picture of yourself, whenever you facetimed…you were tired. It got to the point where you would cry yourself to sleep almost every night because you missed him and just wanted to be by his side, so with so much hesitation, you called him one night and told Hinata you couldn’t do this anymore. You needed him, not his texts, not his calls, no matter how much you loved them, you needed him physically there with you. Hinata protested and said that he wold move back to Japan for you but you couldn’t let him do that, you knew how important it was for him to be in Brazil to better his volleyball skills, so he finally gave in and you broke up after a year of long distance. Another year later, Hinata moved back to Japan after two years of being in Brazil, meaning he could see you again, he hoped so at least. Hinata didn’t know what you’ve been up to as you broke off communication with each other after the break up to avoid the pain of being in eachother’s lives. Hinata had his hopes up and was telling Yachi and Yamaguchi his plan to win you back but quickly had them crushed when they told him you had moved to Europe to finish university so you could start a new life. You didn’t want to be in Japan anymore, stuck with all the memories the both of you had made. It was too painful. Now it was Hinata’s turn. He was surrounded by the memories, everything reminded him of you, every now and then he’d see someone from across the street and see your face only for it to not be you, just some stranger. Hinata was never the same, even if he seemed happy and well, he was breaking inside constantly like he would never be truly happy again.

⟡ eita semi: worst - waterparks

You and Semi have been dating since middle school, practically inseparable. you and Semi were both in your 20s now and life has not stopped a single bit. The both of you were currently in the music industry, with Semi and his band being one of the biggest groups rising to stardom in the world and with you being a songwriter. You’ve always been a behind-the-scenes type person so you never really went out to parties or to big events. Semi, however, was a social person…at least on the party scene. It was a chance for him to let loose and not let worries get in his way, and who are you to take that away from him? The trust you and Semi had for eachother was strong, after all, you guys have been dating for years so why wouldn’t you? With this being the case, you never had any doubt about him going on tour without you. You still had other clients to write for so you couldn’t go with him but you never once worried about what he would do. That was until you were hanging out with your friends, Tendou and Ushijima, and they mentioned how Semi seemed different, that he seemed more careless and emotionless. You assured them that there was nothing different about him but when you went home that night you kept thinking about everything and looked back at how life has been since Semi has gained fame…he hadn’t changed. No. He was still the same Semi you fell in love with all those years ago. Sure he had questionable friends that made you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t like them, he always had girls lining up for a chance with him but he never gave them a chance…at least you think so. Regardless, you’re sure everything was fine and plus you were going to surprise him at his show in Tokyo! Any worry that you have will be wiped away when you see him all you had to do was wait. So you did. The day of the Tokyo show finally came up and you were standing at his dressing room doorway with tears in your eyes as you look at the sight in front of you- Semi and some random girl all over each other. Semi knew you were there, but he didn’t even care, all he did was give you a side glance before going back to the other girl. After that, you went home and changed all of the locks, removed all the pictures of him, blocked him on everything, and wrote a song that was sure to ruin his reputation out of anger, but even after all of that, you were still stuck with a giant hole in your heart and you don’t think it could ever be filled.

⟡ iwaizumi hajime: i felt younger when we met - waterparks

It all started four years ago when Iwaizumi moved to California for college. You both had known each other for 2 years prior to graduating and it was pretty obvious to other people that you two had a thing for each other but it wasn’t until after he had moved that either of you said something. Iwaizumi was the first to say he liked you, infact he said he loved you. It didn’t take long for your young and dumb self to transfer to where he was studying. You were both in love and naive so neither of you really thought about this big change in depth. The first two years of your relationship were perfect, you both got good grades, you had moved into a small apartment together, and you were both happy, you really couldn’t ask for more. Even though you and Iwaizumi were living the ideal love life, everyone else in your lives thought you guys rushed into things. The two of you weren’t even that close to begin with, you were just classmates in high school who had kiddie crushes on each other. It really all came down to the honeymoon phase, nothing was ever wrong and you never argued. It wasn’t until your third year of dating that you both realized that your life goals were very different from each other and this of course caused a ripple in your relationship. Wanting to be supportive of each other and your dreams, you set your goals aside for now and planned to come up with a compromise when the time called for it. Things were kind of back to normal until you both started learning more about one another. Bad habits you each had, sense of humor you didn’t share, different views, really whatever you could think of you both would disagree with one another and you were starting to get on eachother’s nerves. Iwaizumi reached the end of his rope quicker than you did. He ended things in the middle of a heated argument of something you can’t even remember because the only thing you were worried about at that moment was him packing up all of his things and walking out that apartment door but at the same time, you didn’t care. You had officially fallen out of love with him even though you never thought you could. Now whenever you think of him, all you could think about was how you uprooted your life for him. You moved across the world and for what? Nothing but anger and disgust filled you whenever you thought of all the moments you shared with him. To think of how different everything could have been if you two had just taken your time and not rushed into the relationship.

⟡ kozume kenma: easy to hate you - waterparks

Honestly, Kenma got on your nerves quite often. It was nothing you weren’t used to though because it was always simple things like him not doing the dishes whenever he was done eating or him spending too much time playing video games. Your annoyance never came from anything serious, just simple relationship stuff. When his streaming career started taking off, you never really bothered him to do anything around your shared house. It was only fair since it generated enough income for you to quit your part time job as a waitress and focus on school more. This doesn’t mean that it still didn’t annoy you that Kenma would seemingly spend more time playing video games than spending time with you whenever you had free time. Sometimes he would invite you onto stream so you two could ‘bond’ but it never felt right, to you it felt like you were more of a prop for his audience, like he would spend time with you only because his fansloved watching the two of you interact. Still, you brushed it off because it was still nice to be able to make him laugh whenever you did something silly in a game or said something funny. It also didn’t hurt that sometimes he would get all lovey dovey on camera making you swoon, even if it did feel fake at times. In the end, you thought it was the best you and Kenma could do considering the circumstances, you being in college and streaming being Kenma’s full time job. Kenma had promised you that once you winter break started, that he would put a hold on streaming so the both of you could spend time together and it excited you so it was only natural that you were pissed off when winter break finally came and Kenma said that he had sponsorships to deal with on stream. He said it isn’t something that could be helped but you snapped back saying that he could have scheduled these sponsored streams during any other time. Kenma didn’t care about what you said and just stayed in his streaming room for most of the two weeks. You started to ease a bit though once he started streaming for shorter amounts of times and spent more time with you during the day. You were finally happy with your relationship after who knows how long but then he decided that you being on a break from school would be the perfect time to do a 48 hour subathon. All you wanted was to spend time with your boyfriend but instead he just used you to gain more viewers. Again. Still, you agreed to do it agreeing that it would be fun but really yo had a plan. Three hours into the stream you said you have an announcement and everyone, including Kenma thought it would be something happy and big, but really, you were about to publicly dump him. After your little speech on how selfish Kenma actually was, you called one of your best friends to come pick you up and told Kenma that you would be back for your stuff the next day. You were finally free from the one-sided relationship you should have left sooner but now Kenma was rethinking all his choices as he scrolls through tweets talking about the breakup stream. At least it made him go viral.

[redbleedingrose]

that baby girl Lucy thing could be a drabble or headcanon or whatever ur comfortable with btw 😁 or you don’t have to do anything at all with it if u don’t want! just wanted to mention it bc GIRL DAD ERIS

GIRL DAD!ERIS AND LUCIEN RECONCILLING PART 2

A/N: OKAY YES I AM SO SORRY I GOT BUSY WITH MED SCHOOL, HAD A SHELF EXAM TO TAKE AND THEN I GOT LAZY BUT IT IS HERE!

Edit: So I started writing and realized this is getting a bit long, like I am not done with this part and I am already 2.2k word in, so this will likely be a 3 or 4 part mini-series giving y'all girl dad!Eris lore! I hope you enjoy and I am sorry I had to split it up, but it seems like I had more to this story I wanted to share!

part 1

Your first letter remains unopened, buried beneath legal documents and trade deals in a locked drawer of Lucien's desk. Each week, another one of your letters is added to the ever growing pile that Lucien can't bring himself to open.

Part of him wants to rip all your attempts of communication to shreds, throw it into the fire place and forget that you and Eris exist.

The other part of him, the one that he tries to bury deep within himself, is curious, anxious really, to know what it is you have to say to him. What is it that you continue to reach out to him?

Is it a part your duty as high lady of autumn? Are you looking to start relations between Autumn and Day? Are you trying to keep your relationship to your brother in law as professional as possible? What if you are trying to get to know him? Would that be the worst thing in the world, to get to know his sister in law? He has always wanted a sister.

What if you are writing out of need? For help? What if you need asylum from his brother? Gods, he hopes not. What if Eris turned out to be the exactly like his father, cruel and abusive in his marriage to you? What if he, like Beron, was ruining Autumn court with outrageous regulations and taxes too high that  most of the autumn population were left in poverty?

What if you were writing to him to brag about how well Eris has done without him, that this is the only way he will receive any updates on Eris, and to not expect anything more?

What if you are lovely and kind? What are you like? Are you good to Eris? Is he good to you? Do you make his oldest brother happy? Does he make you happy? What is Eris like now? Has he changed or is he the same paranoid male who plots conspiracies?

The lack of response from your brother in law does little to defer your efforts. You continue to write to Lucien, without skipping a beat, sending a letter to him every week, giving him updates on his brother, updates on your pregnancy, even updates on the pups Eris is raising to protect your babes in the coming months. You share with him your feelings about Eris, the story of how you met, how your mating bond had snapped abruptly and without notice, how he fought against your relationship for years until he couldn't hold back anymore, how when he finally gave in, he had made you the promise of a safer home, a safer land, a place in which his father could never lay a hand on you.

You confide in him your concerns over his brother, your fears that his duties as high lord will consume him, that Eris has anxieties about being a good father, and you are scared it will paralyze him. You tell him about the things you notice about Eris, things you think Eris doesn't know about himself. That, sometimes, Er will get a distant look in his eyes when he sees young children playing together, especially when one looks older than the other. That, sometimes, Er mumbles in his sleep, how often his name comes up while he is asleep, how Er wakes up from those same dreams gasping and clutching at his chest, how it takes hours for you to calm him after. How when Eris struggles to sleep, he stares at the family portrait, with his eyes fixated on Lucien before he comes back to bed with you at your urging.

You write to him as if he is your best friend, as if he is sitting across from you and you are just talking to him. You write to him as if you have known him for centuries.

With all of Eris' stories about his beloved brother, you feel as though you have known him for centuries. 

It takes a long time for Lucien to muster the courage to open your letters. After weeks of receiving letters and storing them away without a second glance, after weeks of forcing any thoughts of the letters away, after weeks of catching himself thinking about Eris, thinking about you and Autumn court, does he finally force himself sit down to read the letters. To be done and over with it. To read the letters, and never think of you or his brother again. To give closure to that horrific chapter of his life. To have this as his final goodbye.

It takes him several minutes to unlock the drawer after he slumps into his chair by the desk. It takes him a couple of minutes to open the drawer before staring at all the papers on top of the letters. It takes him 20 minutes to pluck the letters out from beneath and toss them onto his desk. Another 30 minutes is spent of him grabbing the letters and setting it onto the side table near his hearth, pacing around his office, biting at his nails, wringing his hands, running his fingers through his long auburn hair to sit in his cozy leather chair with the letters at an arms-length. An hour is spent staring blankly into the near extinguished fire, the pops and crackles from the desperate surviving flames being the only times he blinks. Another 10 minutes of delay, spent with breathing exercises while pouring himself a two, maybe three, fingers of night court imported whiskey and taking several bated sips of the hard liquor.

After almost two hours of delay, does Lucien use the letter opener the night court general gifted him during a visiting trip, to slowly and carefully, with shaking hands, tear the seal open. Deep breathing does little to stop his pittering heart as he opens the first letter, glazed eyes racing over each sentence, each word multiple times, nearly seizing as you break the news of your pregnancy. Tears he didn’t even know were leaking down his cheeks, meeting at his chin to drip down his neck began to stream. Choked sobs with a hand clutched at his chest, your letter delicately being placed to the side as his emotions crash into him.

Weeks of pent up feelings become unrelenting waves that makes it near impossible for him to catch his breath. All of grief for the time he has missed with you and his brother, all of happiness at your pride and clear love and devotion for your mate, his brother, all of sorrow and concern for what Eris turned out to be after years of torment and unrelenting abuse, all of quiet hope for the future relationship he may have with you, with his future nieces or nephews, with his older brother, all of that is almost unbearably overwhelming. The only source of respite, coming from your gentle handwriting.

“Lucien, I implore you to take all the time you need. I will patiently be waiting for a response, whether it takes weeks or months, years or even centuries. I want a relationship with you. As does your brother. And I want our children to have a relationship with their uncle. So I will wait. And if you decide that having a relationship with us is just too impossibly painful for you, then with the deepest regret and with the most profound love, will we accept that fate as well.” 

It is your own hope that pushes Lucien to read all of your other letters, whiskey set aside and forgotten. Letters that have his bereaved sobs turning into silent tears of joy. Letters that have him bubbling with laughter as you express your loving annoyance at Eris’ puttering about the nursery and his great insistence that your future babes will need 15 chicks, and at least 6 baby cows to grow up with.

Letters that have him smiling softly, reminiscing in the good memories of his childhood Eris whispered to you in the dark recesses of night. Letters that have him pondering if what you say is really the truth, because you give a convincing argument that his older brother may actually miss him, may have actually loved him… still loves him. Letters that give him insight into all the years he missed, that he now almost feels a part of, like he was actually there to witness all of the events surrounding your relationship and Eris’ ascension to the autumn throne. Lucien spends hours, even as the fire in the office gives way to death and the only remaining source of light becomes Lucien’s own magic pulsating through the room, reading your letters. Over and over, in the order it was sent in and in backwards order. And by the end of it, he is speechless. 

No words come to mind that can describe how he feels. He cannot come up with what to say. The only thing he knows is that he is appreciative for the time and patience that you have given him, the grace that you have shown, the honesty of the hardships that you and Eris went through, of the relationship you have formed with his brother, and of all the changes Er has gone through and has brought to Autumn Court since his escape. So, Lucien folds your letters following the exact lines you used, making sure not even a slight crease is created, before carefully placing back into the envelopes you sent them in, holding them to his chest as he walks to his room and retires for the night. Sleep, however, the trickster it is, plays the most exhausting game and evades him most of the night. His usual tossing and turning is replaced with his ember eyes focused on the letters, hands clasped tightly together resting on his chest because his fingers kept twitching with want to reach back for your messages to reread them. Lucien’s thoughts are wildly free of the endless possibilities of what might come in the future… a happy future. 

Days were spent rereading your letters. Days were spent stressing out over what to do, he never had a choice when it came to his family. All things were inevitably decided for him. He was brought up to be competitive with his brothers, it was decided that he would have to fight his brothers for the autumn throne, a throne he had no desire of having. It was decided what kind of training he got, despite his lack of interest in violence. He didn’t choose to leave Autumn, he barely escaped with his life. He didn’t choose this. Having a choice… it was a delicacy he hadn’t been offered before.

Lucien knew though. Deep down inside, he knew what he wanted to choose. Going back and forth with his options inevitably landed on one outcome. He wants to try. He wants to get to know you, a sister he always wanted and now, finally has. He wants to get to know his future nieces or nephews. He wants to be a part of their lives; he wants to be the best uncle he can be. And he so achingly wants to know his older brother, wants to know his side of the story, wants to know if he was wrong to blame him for everything. It is alarming. The prospect of it all. It’s… fully… wholly… thoroughly and completely terrifying. 

What if he was wrong about it all? What if he spent decades… centuries hating his own brother… someone who should’ve been blameless? Would Eris forgive him for it? What if he comes to the conclusion Eris didn’t try hard enough? Could he forgive Eris, a crimeless, unwilling accomplice in the murder of Jes? What if Eris is uninterested after a near lifetime of rejection? How will they build their relationship, beyond what it ever was? What if, even after all of that, he ends up alone? Was it worth it?

Was the hurt, the fear, the hope… was it worth it?

It took another month of Lucien’s contemplation to come up with a response, not for lack of trying. He had so many thoughts, so many feelings and emotions regarding his brother, his past, his future, you as his new sister in law, the fact that he is going to be an uncle, to work through, that he is still working through. He is afraid, afraid of what he has missed with Eris, afraid of what or who Eris has become. But one thing about the Vanserra brothers is that they have a burning courage within them. So despite the fear, he wants more. He wants to try. Every time he sits down to muster an acknowledgement to your letters, though, he chokes up. 

A ball of anxiety runs rampant through his stomach, a knot in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow, that he can't seem to clear even with a rough rub at his neck. His hands quake as he readjusts the pen in his hands, over and over, feeling pins and needles at the tips of his fingers as he tries to figure out the words to respond with. Your letters had so much thought, so much effort and sentiment and zest poured into them. And all of the thoughts and feelings he had during the time he took, it seemed… inadequate. A simple letter… it wouldn’t be enough. Not with all the things Lucien wants to say to you and eventually… to Eris as well. Finally, after staring at the blank sheet placed in front of him, sweaty hands rubbing furiously up and down his thighs, does he figure it out. 

So… with a shaky inhale, he brings his pen to the page. 

Hello dear sister,

I apologize for my delay in responding. If I am being honest, I spent a lot of time, quite a lot indeed, thinking of your letters. Thinking of you. Thinking of my brother Eris the Autumn High Lord. Thinking of the past. Thinking of the future. One letter to tell you all of my thoughts in response to your attempts of communication feel woefully insufficient. 

If you are ever so inclined, would you be open to meeting with me? I understand that your pregnancy condition may make it difficult upon you to travel to Day. I’m happy to I am set to be in Spring Court for two weeks from now for a week. Would you be willing able to meet at the border in three weeks time? 

with warm wishes,

regards, 

Lucien Vanserra

[filtharchives]

omg my first fanfic since middle school but rambling with @sugar-omi sm inspired me to try again

i’m literally gonna throw up !!!!!! also this is my first time writing smut so it's bad sorry if it feels super rushed–it’s because it is! I wrote it before my next lecture 🙈

oh! and happy birthday cove! ♡

edit: took down the first time i posted this bc i rlly did not like it but ended up not editing

summary: cove x reader - cove doesn’t like losing but you drive a hard bargain

tags: NSFW, fem/afab reader, high libido!reader, sub cove, prolly ooc, use of aphrodisiacs, handcuffs, p in v, dick riding in cowgirl position, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill i swear but always wrap it up!) idk what else i’ve only ever posted on wattpad i never used tags like this lol

it had been a few months since you and cove moved into your new apartment together and needless to say, you had gained a lot of sexual experience since then.

though you weren’t at the point of fucking like animals, ever since the two of you first went “all the way”, it had opened a new door in your relationship, and without the fear of getting caught by your families, he’d become much more clingier and practically always had a hand somewhere on your body, which sometimes led to a little more than just heavy petting.

in an effort to be a little more adventurous, you had proposed a fun challenge to cove: you would both take an aphrodisiac chocolate you found at a local sex boutique, and whoever could go the longest without touching themselves or the other would win and, naturally, the winner gets to choose the loser’s punishment.

cove nearly burst into flames at the idea of taking a drug that would make him horny–it was embarrassing enough getting turned on naturally–but it also excited him and his competitive streak, so he agreed, which led you to now.

cove squirmed uncomfortably on one corner of the couch, trying to focus on the nature documentary on the tv while you leaned back against the other corner, watching him with a smug smirk on your lips. you may have felt a little guilty setting up your boyfriend like this–your high libido gave you the heavy advantage of being very horny throughout the day even when you couldn’t act on it, whereas your poor boyfriend had less moments of neediness and was therefore not used to feeling so desperate–but it was too fun watching him sit so uncomfortably, and you knew the pay off would be worth it.

“you having fun there, cove?” you ask teasingly, languidly running a hand through your hair. cove offers a small grumble while shifting his jeans to try and make his hard on more comfortable, before deciding that wasn’t enough and adds,

“n-no…” his response makes your smirk widen.

“you know, there’s no shame in surrender~”

cove pouts at you, torn between his determination to win, and his desire to finally be able to blow a load. his stubbornness is amusing, but you want to get to the good part, so you lean forward on the couch until you have to support yourself on your arms, ensuring cove has a good view of your chest from your low-cut shirt.

“if you give up now, i promise to be nice with your punishment,” you purr, slowly crawling closer to him. even without the drug, cove was obsessed with your chest, but the aphrodisiac running through him made his eyes zero in on it. he gulps loudly and you stop in front of him.

“y-you promise…?” he asks shakily, tearing his eyes away from the tantalizing sight to meet yours. you grin in victory, sitting on your knees and slipping off your top to push him over the edge.

“i promise~”

at your words, cove concedes and practically launches himself forward, his hands landing roughly on your hips and his mouth finds your lips before trailing kisses down your neck. before he can reach your tits, however, you gently push him back by his shoulders, getting wetter at the sight of his disappointed, puppy-like gaze.

“you lose,” you say with a mocking smile. “now you have to be punished.”

cove’s eyes are already watering by the time he’s handcuffed to the bed by cheap plastic from your old halloween costumes, laying naked and flat against the mattress helplessly as you stand in front of him, removing your shorts and underwear at a painfully slow pace. his dick is so hard it hurts, twitching uselessly against his stomach as his gaze never leaves your body.

“please…” he whimpers, his hips rolling once into nothing. “please touch me already…”

“you don’t get to make demands when you lost the game,” you taunt with a smile, but you crawl on top of him anyways, straddling his hips with your hot sex so close to his, he could feel it. he whines your name.

“you promised to be nice…” he says pitifully.

“i did, didn’t i?” you pretend to ponder before lowering your hips and grinding your wet cunt against the underside of his dick, drawing out a long, relieved moan from him. the thick vein on the underside feels so delicious against you, you let out a shaky sigh. your hands rest on the sides of his chest as you roll your hips against him, your forefingers rubbing his perky nipples making him pant.

“stop teasing,” cove begs. “more… i…”

“what? what do you want from me, cove?” you ask coyly, grinding particularly hard and biting back a soft moan as his tip catches your clit.

“i-i… please just- just fuck me already!” he cries.

“y’ lucky i already prepped,” you mutter, lifting yourself off him and reaching one hand down to line him up. cove nearly sobs in relief as you slowly lower yourself down on his length, both your hands on his chest again as you reach the hilt.

“f-fuck…” he gasps softly, feeling your warmth encase him entirely. he nearly sobs again when you lift up your hips until he’s almost entirely out, just for you to slam down on him again, marking the start of a brutal pace he was not prepared for at all.

“w-wait! you- that-” he starts, only to be cut off again and again by his own moans and disoriented thoughts, before he can finally string together a thought and a cry of your name. “too much!”

still, you don’t slow down, bouncing on his dick easily with the help of the springy mattress below you. your hands move to his legs as you lean back, giving cove a clear sight of where your bodies meet and how your combined arousal has left a milky ring on the base of his dick with a few stray drops sitting on his seafoam bush. he doesn’t even have the ability to thrust back up into you, letting you use him like a glorified dildo as tosses his head back on the pillow behind him, only to lean forward again to watch you. his moans match yours and the pace you’ve set, the sound of your ass slapping against his hips echoing in the bedroom and his eyes drifting all over your body, lingering on your face, tits, and cunt.

“o-oh, fuck…!” cove hisses loudly. “h-honey… please, let me touch you…!”

“n… nuh uh,” you grin down at him. “y-you lost, so… you gotta put up with this- oh, fuck-!” the coil in your belly is close to snapping, and you can tell from how he twitches inside you that cove is close as well. you pick up the pace, crying out when his tip hits your cervix. cove calls out your name like a mantra.

“i- ‘m gonna…” cove chokes out through his moans.

“do it,” you pant. “cum in- oh!” your cunt squeezes him in surprise as his wrists break free from the cheap plastic handcuffs and his hands tightly grasp your hips and he plants his feet on the bed to thrust up into you just as he wanted while you lose control.

“f-fuck!” you cry out as you do your best to support yourself on cove’s chest, eyes rolling back from his breakneck pace and his balls slapping your ass. it only takes a few seconds for you both to reach your climaxes and you loudly moan cove’s name as he shakily groans, his cum painting your insides white. you don’t even have a moment to collect yourself before cove rolls the two of you over, still sheathed inside you and not any less hard. he hovers over you with a wolfish grin, some of his sweat dripping onto you.

“your game and punishment weren’t fair, so it’s my turn to pay you back, okay?” he says darkly. “and i like doing it without the condom. we should do it more often.”

oh, you would definitely do this more often

this was not up to my standards but that's okay! warm up round 💪💪💪 we only get better from here baby let’s go

[idyllic-affections]

a winter night's lazzo.

summary. the loss of a mother creates a pain comparable to no other. trigger & content warnings. major character death (la signora), loss of a parental figure, chronic illness flare-up, mc is HOMICIDAL towards both the traveler (implied to be aether bc abyss!lumine supremacy <3) and scaramouche, violent thoughts, all five stages of grief, scara slander 💕, [name] is stated to have longer hair but it is only mentioned once. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/slight comfort. dad!pantalone & reader. 2k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next author's thoughts. i wasn't going to post this. why? no clue tbh, i'm actually quite happy with the dialogue and dynamics i created in this fic, but i nonetheless had little to no intention of actually posting it. then someone showed interest in how [name] would respond to signora's death, and i RAN to revise, edit, & post this old draft HEKSJSKSGHF

       Snezhnaya had never felt colder.

       Even though the power of Pyro could dance on their fingertips at their command, staving off the cold whenever they desired, it was too cold; whatever small attempts they made at warming their body were quickly snuffed out by the frost. Even though they knew lives would be lost in pursuit of the Cryo Archon's honorable goal...

       It was a little too much. It was too cold.

       'Lohefalter... will not be coming back.'

       They said nothing, gave no indication of having heard him at all. Then, they met his gaze with a chillingly distant expression unbefitting of someone their age. No child should have been capable of looking so... unreadable. Briefly, Pierro mused to himself that they truly resembled the way their father looked when something troubled him extremely deeply. 'She's dead, then? Don't treat me like a fucking child, Lord Pierro.'

       The man's brows seemed to furrow slightly, surprised at how dangerously sharp their tongue was, but he obliged them nonetheless and nodded. For a noble who was taught specifically not to lose their composure...

       They were very close to losing it entirely. Before him stood but another child who had been eternally changed by the Motherland's cruelty. It was... something worth mourning, really. Any innocence they should have had was long since burned away. Someone so young should not have been capable of making the expression that they wore so effortlessly, but perhaps that is what being raised by the Fatui does to a person. Someone so young should not have been capable of making the expression they wore, but they simply were able to do so. Perhaps that is just a testament to the absence of innocence, innocence that they never really got to experience.

       'Yes. Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter is dead.'

       A strong chill climbed the length of their spine, making them shiver slightly. They could taste blood at the back of their dry, raw throat, wincing as they rubbed the side of their neck in an attempt to ease the pain. Normally, they handled the cold very well. The extreme temperatures of the Motherland typically didn't hinder them so terribly; it was, ironically, the heat that made it difficult for them to function. The very power that coursed through their veins after years and years of studying to master it without a blessing from the gods was indeed destructive in more ways than one. Even so, no matter how resilient they were normally, it was just far too cold for them to handle. They trembled beneath their thick coat like a leaf in the wind, thumb rubbing over the Pyro delusion tucked in their coat in an attempt to absorb the warmth it radiated.

       ...Then again, normally there was Mother Rosalyne to help them regulate their body temperature. She was not there. She would never be there again.

       In their weak, emotional state, they dared not try their hand at true pyromancy, lest another Harbinger lose their coat to the flames like the Balladeer did all those years ago. Heating their body was one thing, but generating flames? It was simply too risky. Disrupting the funerary atmosphere by setting someone aflame wasn't something they were all that keen on doing. Under different circumstances, they wouldd be glad to set someone alight the same way they did to the Sixth.

       (They absently noted that the aforementioned Harbinger was missing from the memorial service.

       If they weren't as well-informed as they were, they'd assume it was just because he was an asshole. As much as they would like to blame it on his shitty personality... they knew better.)

       Whatever was left of the Fair Lady's body was sealed inside the beautifully intricate casket that they were especially particular about being involved in selecting; they knew her far better on an intimate level than even the other immortal Harbingers did. No-one could deny them their right to be involved. La Signora had it stated in her will, regardless, that she wanted them involved in her commemoration.

       Even if the others dared deny them their right, would they dare deny La Signora's final wish?

       Columbina's voice, beautiful and alluring like the call of a siren, did naught to soothe them. Some part of their brain still refused to acknowledge the fact that, indeed, in that intricately beautiful casket (which they couldn't even confidently say was adequately befitting of such a stunning woman like Rosalyne; nothing was good enough for her, nothing would ever be good enough for her) was the one who filled the role of the absent parent in their life. Even as they gingerly traced some of the details with their gloved fingers...

       It was as if their head was stuffed full of cotton.

       "We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade. In honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."

       'There's no way this is real,' they mused absently to themselves. 'She said she'd be back in a month. She said she'd take me to Fontaine when she got back.'

       If they were more coherent, they'd object simply because half a day was hardly long enough.

       "Merely half a day?" Pantalone chuckled. He seemed to share their sentiment, albeit for separate reasons. It was only when his hands tenderly brushed their hair back over their shoulders that they seemed to become tethered to reality. With Rosalyne being gone, the attachment they already held to their father increased tenfold. Archons forbid something ever happened to him, too; the things they were thinking of doing to the traveller were already horrendously criminal, but if something were to happen to their father? The things they'd do would make even the bravest man cower. "People say the Northland Bank's true currencies are blood and tears, but Mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable."

       "Rosalyne died in a foreign land, but you heartless buisnessmen and dignitaries always with a covenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland. You couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouth shut? We don't want to make the children cry." She scoffed, gaze briefly flicking in their direction; her eyes softened slightly upon landing on them, "...To this day, I am still shocked to see that someone as courageous as your child came from you."

       "My willingness to leave Snezhnaya doesn't have anything to do with courage, Aunt Arlecchino," they murmured, shifting their weight from one leg to the other. "I'm a debt collector. It's in my job description. I leave for either work or recreation. I'd stay here otherwise, so please... don't create such a distance between my father and I. I'm no different."

       Neither she nor their father had an opportunity to add on any further—not that Arlecchino would have been able to find the words to reply, anyway. What could she possibly say to them? The child she partially raised was claiming to be no less cowardly than their father, but they were. She knew they were.

       Even so, she also did not want to drive distance between them and someone they loved.

       Not now. Not when they were grieving.

       "Hey, c'mon now," Childe intervened, "even I don't think this is the right time or place for a fight."

       Perhaps he was sensitive to their discomfort. He did have siblings, after all. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that he'd be especially perceptive to their emotional needs, even in spite of all that he'd been through. One would think the Abyss would stamp out any empathy, but Childe time and time again proved to have certain redeeming qualities that even the Abyss failed to rid him of.

       He was arguably the most sane person at the funeral, really.

       "...Utterly risible."

       "Though her methods tarnished her honor—"

       A dart of fire missed Capitano's face by perhaps an inch, dissipating with a faint hiss when it came into contact with the frigid wall. "My hand slipped," was all they said with a flat, blatantly sarcastic tone when accusatory glances were shot their way. "My bad."

       Columbina giggled into her palm.

       Unbothered, Il Capitano went on, "—Lohefalter's sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress, but Dottore... what of Scaramouche and the Gnosis from Inazuma?"

       Right.

       Now that their head was slightly clearer, they recalled the details they had managed to gather from Pierro regarding the Inazuma mission, sifting through them mentally once again like they'd done so many times before. Right; it was Scaramouche who did not tell Rosalyne that he already had the Gnosis. If he had, she would still be standing. Alive.

       A deep sense of hatred boiled in their chest, spreading and consuming everything in its wake until all that was left was ash.

       Perhaps they weren't so different from their late mother figure.

       'Fucking bastard.'

       Their gaze snapped to the Doctor—he was not the Doctor in his prime, they halfheartedly noted—limbs trembling with the utter strength of their rage.

       'I hope you lose all that you have ever loved in Dottore's experiment, and if somehow, by the grace of the Gods, you don't... I'll take it from you myself.'

       A squeeze to their shoulder brought them back to reality once again. Their eyes flickered to the Regrator, breath shallow and quick. It was hard to differentiate their emotions from their illness, and by the time they were grounded enough to do so, their chest was already tight with the lack of adequate oxygen. A soft whimper was involuntarily choked from their throat when a sharp ache struck their diaphragm. Again, their shoulder was squeezed. The simple gesture carried a clear enough message:

       Calm down.

       For their health, both physical and mental, they needed to calm down. It was then that they noted the rising temperature around their body—fuck, was that heat emanating from them? Rosalyne didn't warn them about this. She did once offhandedly mention that emotions may affect their art, but they never thought that'd apply to them and clearly she had shared that sentiment; they were so skilled at masking their feelings behind an elegantly deceptive mask. Despite that, if they weren't careful, they'd end up burning their own coat off.

       "Conventional wisdom holds that divine knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the divine gaze, he will make his next move."

       "It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics," Pierro began, finally approaching the casket as all of the other Harbingers had already done. "Right now, you have no captive audience. Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation endure for all time."

       With Pantalone on their left and Arlecchino on their right, they sent Rosalyne off.

       "In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, we will seize authority from the gods."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Would you like to meet Dottore in Sumeru?"

       They sat comfortably in a little space by the window, still bundled up in their coat, absentmindedly picking at the threads of their outfit. Their gaze briefly flickered to their father stood at their side before shifting back to the raging blizzard outside.

       "I'd rather not," they murmured. "I would faint not even five minutes into a nation that humid. There's no guaruntee I won't slaughter the traveller on sight, either. Also... genuinely, Scaramouche is my least favorite of you all. I don't care what happens to him. His mommy issues got the best of him," they scoffed, to which their father's lips twitched vaguely upwards. "It would be no more entertaining than it would be boring."

       "You never did get along with the Balladeer. Shall I take you to Liyue for the time being, then? You may benefit from... detachment from the Fatui's affairs for a while."

       "...I'd like that. Maybe I'll find out where all of Childe's mora is going while I'm there."

       The Regrator chuckled at that, squeezing their shoulder once more and leaning down to kiss the top of their head. "Do see to it that I'm the first you tell when you inevitably find out, hm?"

       "I will."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[ssruis]

Lethal tenmas induced mental illness attack. At some point I need to write up a long post on their relationship but for now take these lines with minimal commentary. attempt to figure out the points and connections I’m making in my head if you’d like.

(Doll Festival at the Tenmas)

> Difference in how they describe Tsukasa bringing saki the dolls (saki focusing on him bringing them to her even though he got hurt, tsukasa focusing on how he failed and got the dolls dirty)

(Saki’s Live with Memories card story)

> “w/out you I wouldn’t have been able to deal w all the treatment” what if I died

> tsukasa trying to see from the brother’s side, saki does the opposite. I don’t think Tsukasa would do what the brother did in LwM but I think he can see where he’s coming from.

> there’s a point I could make about the brother pulling back to encourage the sister to bond w her dad’s new family (wrt saki & L/N and tsukasa) but it’s more of a “it could be looked at an extreme version of what could happen/could have happened” situation & I don’t trust tsukasa fans not to misread it and villainize saki. Bc the brother was in the wrong here but we all know how tsukasa fans treat the main story. Anyways.

(Toya’s Doll Festival card story)

> most evil moment in the entire game I hate the writers.

> Sense of responsibility for her wellbeing happiness vs saki seeing that and trying to hide any sadness to prevent him (& her parents) from worrying.

(Tsukasa’s Doll Festival card story)

> saki guilt complex

> “then it’ll be dark and I’ll be alone” said by tsukasa as a kid in a flashback (saki is well aware that he is also struggling) (hence the guilt complex) (evil!)

(Tsukasa’s Dazzling Lights card story)

> autotuned baby crying.

(Tsukasa’s Twilight Musical Parade card story)

> no one wants to talk about saki & the guilt she feels about people doing things for her esp wrt tsukasa like. Look. Tsukasa does it happily. He would saw off his arm if she asked.

> But saki doesn’t ask for that and that level of dedication to her happiness is something she feels she needs to repay (on some level). But he won’t let her because he doesn’t think it needs to be repayed. Stalemate.

> all that to say I think “was it all for me” is such an insane line that goes so under recognized because nobody wants to analyze saki. Can you imagine how scary it would be to worry that the path a loved one is taking is entirely for you. You can’t repay that. It’s too much. I’m tired but the point I’m making is I think Saki wanted to know that he wasn’t doing it all for her.

> Cut out tsukasa’s answer but I think “I was but that was only the beginning & now I am an insane freak about theatre it’s my life” was a perfect answer. Turns it from a weight saki would feel into a gift saki gave him. You know.

Saki: I always kept how I really felt a secret to make sure you wouldn’t worry about me.

Saki: I couldn’t say what I really meant. I just smiled and nodded. It’s no wonder that you didn’t understand how I really felt, Tsukasa.

(Doll Festival at the Tenmas)

> as I said.

Tsukasa: However, Saki doesn’t want anyone to worry about her. Not even her own family.

Tsukasa: So she tries to keep quiet about feeling unwell from anyone else…

(Rui’s Twlight Musical Parade card story) (**EDIT I’m a fraud it’s tsukasa’s not Rui’s)

> as I said (p2)

Saki: Tsukasa…

Saki: (He took a day off from his part time job to stay home with me.)

Saki: (That’s one more person I’ve inconvenienced.)

(First Star After the Rain)

> saki guilt complex again. Foundational quote wrt her relationship w tsukasa.

> “the complications of my illness are a burden on my loved ones that I can never pay back” would love for colopale to challenge this (grabbing the writers by the neck and shaking them like a dog with a chew toy)

(Valentine’s Day Alliance)

She’s talking abt not relying on her friends here but this is p clearly a mindset that carries over to her relationship with her family.

Toya: Also, you’d never turn away a sick animal. There’s no way you could ever do anything cruel to someone with an illness.

(On the Stage of Dazzling Lights)

> said while saki is like 2 ft away. What this was my final straw colopale.

(On the Stage of Dazzling Lights)

> haha he’s like a dog (mocking so I don’t feel sad)

> as I’ve talked abt before on other posts: her happiness is his happiness. His middle school sad era is because saki was suffering. People who make content abt this and make the angst way higher than it canonically is while literally ignoring saki is so insane to me. I feel like the joker.

Tsukasa: … You did well, Hiro. You’re officially the coolest big bro in the world right now.

Tsukasa: That’s why, even for just a little while, you should keep those tears on hold.

Tsukasa: Your friend and sister are watching.

Hiro: ….sniff…. Okay!

Tsukasa: Alright! Now go out there with your head held high!

Tsukasa: (“Weird face”, huh?)

Tsukasa: (Maybe Meg has never seen that kind of face before since she’s his little sister.)

(Tsukasa’s fragment sekai card story - TL Tsukasa’s #3 Fan)

> they could never make me hate this card peak tsukasa peak tsukasa peak tsukasa. It’s peak.

> “maybe she’s never seen it before because she’s his little sister” I’m going to kill him with my own two hands.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

This is What Makes Us Girls

Pairing- Tsireya x reader

Pov- When courting season begins and suitors come around every corner, you realize your in love with your best friend.

A/N- also I restarted skins bc I saw an edit so I am gonna use a line from skins in this one cause 🤭 this is not prof read. I am also high right now as I was half way thru it so I'm am sorry if it is horrible

Warnings- underage drinking, kissing, drunk Neteyam and Y/N has to be a warning in itself

It was courting season the most dreadful time of the year. All the unmated men try to swoon the unmated women, if anyone asked you it was just an excuse for men to entrap women into marriage. But that just your opinion.

So you watched as young men brought flowers, asked father's permission, take strolls. All fake. And you thought you were safe from this hazardous part of the year. You weren't. Three guys surrounded you one holding a bouquet of flowers, one with a necklace his mother or sister made, and one holding a pile of fish, charming. "Hello Y/N." One of them said. "Hello Tu'val." You say stepping into a path that led to the ocean. "Here I made you a necklace." He said before another one I think his name was Rovn. "A necklace like she would want that here like a real man I caught you fish." He said obviously throwing shade at the other one. "Oh fish so special, a necklace, I picked these flowers just this morning for you." The last one said you didn't even know him.

You stop tired of their bickering. "Hello I appreciate all of these gifts but you may go give them to any other girl that is waiting to be captured into a unfulfilling marriage." You say before walking off from the three men.

And that's how it went, anytime a suitor stepped up you shot him down. It not like it's your fault that you weren't brainwashed by your mother to think the only thing that will make you happy is mating with a man. You stepped into the beach and your heart stopped for a second, that Lo'ak kid from the forest was giving Tsireya a shell, was he courting her? You couldn't help but feel this sickening feeling in your lower body, it made you want to kick, scream, and cry.

Tsireya had been your best friend ever since you learned to walk, you did everything together, from swimming, to hunting, fruit harvesting, you even had your first kiss together for experimenting purposes you told each other. So why, why did you get this feeling as if he was stilling something that was yours.

So the next few days you avoided everyone, stayed in your mauri. You were going crazy, Tsireya never told you anything about being courted this season, was she going to leave you. Leave, she wasn't even with you. You held the necklace she gave you the day you kissed each other. Though it was your first and only kiss it light a fire in you, she light a fire in you. And then all the pieces of the puzzle started to fit, you loved your best friend. You loved Tsireya.

The next day you walked out of your mauri and some people were shocked to see you, especially Tsireya. She walked up to you and gave you a big hug and your face flushed instantaneously. "Where have you been." She asked concerned. "Oh I wasn't feeling the best and did not want to get anyone sick." You lie. "Oh." She says eyes going to the ground. "Yeah." You whisper you felt bad for lying but you couldn't say that you were avoiding everyone cause you found out you loved her. "Well it is good you are okay, also a few of us are going into the first around us tonight and I was wondering if you would like to come." She asked. "Yeah sure." You replied without even thinking. She squealed.

"That is good, I wish we could spend the day together but mother wants to train me more so see you later." She says. "See you later." You say before she walks off.

You were freaking the entire day, you found out you loved your best friend and now your going to go to a party with her.

It was an hour past eclipse and you snuck out of your mauri and saw Tsireya she looked amazing. You walked next to her as she interlocked her arm into yours she smiled before walking into the forest. It wasn't long until you guys made it, it was deep enough to not be heard by the adults but not to far. "Oh there's Kiri I gotta ask her something." Tsireya says you only reply with a nod before you go get a drink wine it looked like, you take a sip and internally cringe at the taste before chugging it and getting two more cups.

You sit down on a stool someone left unaccompanied and it wasn't long until Neteyam sat next to you. "Hey Y/N." He said, "Looks like your having fun." He joked looking at the two drinks in your hand. You take a swing of one of them. "Yup," you say giving the cups a little jiggle. "So, you know my friend Tu'val," as soon as the words left his mouth you felt dread fill you, not this again. "He told me that you didn't want to be trapped in a unfulfilling marriage bruised his ego a bit." He laughed before taking a drink from the cup in his hand. "It is true I do not." You reply finishing up one of the drink already feeling fuzziness take your body, Eywa these drinks were strong.

"I get it, but you always deny any suitor that asks to court you, why?" He asked. You took a deep breath another drink, and then another should you tell him the reason why? That the reason is because you have fallen in love with your best friend and can't tell her. "Y/N." Neteyam's words pulled you out of your trace. You take one last drink you were to drunk to care what his reaction was to what you were about to confess.

"I like girl." You say his eyes widen, "No." You say again smiling eyes traveling to Tsireya. "I like a girl, no." You laugh bitterly. "I love her." You say eyes traveling to the sand, ashamed you look down. "So, who is it." He asks taking another drink looking at you. You pick your head up as fast as you can, he didn't care. "Tsireya." You whisper to him and he gasp before laughing. "Oh my fucking Eywa." He was drunk off his ass as were you. "Sh sh sh." You shush him before taking the last bit of drink from you cup and discarding it. "Go tell her." He blurts out making your eyes go wide as he finishes up his drink. "You are insane." You laugh at him.

"I am being serious." He says to you again. "Neteyam I can't what if she says no huh what am I to do then I'll be out of a best friend and have a heavily bruised ego." You say to him laying you head on his shoulder he lies his head on your head. "Y/N I know you are usually the one rejecting people and you probably have a deep fear of rejection but-" "hey-" you interrupt him. ''But,'' he continued. ''you should see how the girl looks at you as if your the most precious thing the great mother has and will make.'' Your ears perk at the words left the omaticaya boys mouth and it lessened your worries. ''No, no you are just saying that.'' You say as the fear of rejection he was talking of earlier sunk into me. ''I am too drunk to lie to you.'' He says draws his hand up in the air. you think, really really hard and then you begin to shake your head.

''Yeah cool cool I'm gonna confess.'' You hype yourself up as you pick your head up from his shoulder. "Hell yeah you are." He said hiccuping afterwards. "Who wants another drank?" Someone yelled, you stood up and started to walk to Tsireya. "Me!" You heard Neteyam yell back at the guy making you shake your head. And before you knew it Tsireya was in front of you smiling and you heart dropped to your ass. "Hi! Y/N can I take you somewhere private to talk." She said and to drunk to realize what you got yourself into you shook you head up and yes.

She guided your unwarranted movements feet dragging everywhere. Until you reached a secluded part of the forest just north of the party. "Y/N." She said pulling your eyes and focus to you. "I've know you for a really long time and you've been there for almost everything, first song cord, even first kiss," she said bashfully making your already flushed paint a deeper shade of indigo and she grabs your hands into her own. "And I wanted to tell you I love you, Kiri helped me get the courage to ask you to be mine." She says eyes averting to the ground next to you. It was silent for a moment as her words actually registered and a huge smile plastered your face. She looked at you confused as you wiped your face with your palm. "Oh Eywa yes, yes yes." You say laughing a little afterwards. She giggled at your drunken state. "Oh great mother thank you, oh Tsireya I've loved you for years." You say stumbling forward catching her lips into a kiss. Passion was in it, everything loved standed for was in the kiss.

She pulled away smiling, she looked into your low-lidded love blown eyes, and drunken smile. You hiccuped as you cupped her face. "Oh wow didn't know you had it in you Y/N." A familiar voice said in the distance. "Came out here to pee and I find you kissing good job." He smiled giving you a thumbs up. "Come on let's get the both of you home." Tsireya says guiding both of them back to the village. "But pee-" Neteyam true to go back to pee. "Nope." Tsireya pulled him back. At least she was yours now even though you would regret how you accepted her confession.

[moronic-validity]

The Suitor

And, as promised, the last fic posted out of order!

As always, big shout out to @stickyarbiterwombat and @yaoibrainworms for proof reading and editing the fic with me last night, ilysm

18+ bc the rest of the series is!

The day started off normal enough.

Winter woke up first and made his way to the throne room to find Simon asleep on the table they usually worked at. He was bundled in the two blankets Winter had offered him the night prior when he refused a space in his bed. 

In fact, he had denied even a guest bedroom, apparently preferring to sleep at, or rather, on the table they spent most of their days at. 

Winter walked past him, to the hot chocolate bar he kept in the room for anyone who had requested his audience. There was a primitive 21st century coffee maker behind the ornate drink dispensers. 

He found himself humming as the coffee brewed. It was a boring process, but he was more than happy to have to make a full pot for once, instead of just one for himself.

Winter turned back to wake his sleeping friend, only to find him groggily rubbing his eyes, sitting on the edge of the table.

“Ah, good morning sleepy head!” Winter’s lilting voice rang through the room. 

“When’s the coffee ready?” Simon stretched, trying to get his aching back to pop.

Ah, so not a morning person. Winter made a mental note of this.

“Should only be another minute or so, what would you like for breakfast?” 

Winter’s question was met with a shrug. 

Simon wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to attempt to traverse the icy floor this early in the morning. Even with his shoes on, he knew he’d fall, and in his opinion, it was too early for that. 

He found himself kicking his legs back and forth while he waited. 

Winter brought over two mugs, both a rich blue, and shockingly not made of ice.

Simon recognized them immediately.

“The mugs Betty picked out? You still have them?” 

“Oh of course I do, they’re fantastic mugs,” Winter gave a small chuckle, “She always had good taste.” 

Winter sat on the table next to Simon, both casually drinking their hot coffee. 

“So, what’re we doing today?” 

Winter was always caught off guard by how eager Simon was to get back to work, though he shouldn’t be; he was the same way.

“Well, I believe I’m going to have you review some requests that were made by citizens of the kingdom, most are probably run of the mill things,” he attempted to not let on that he found the task incredibly boring, “and I have to review some documents that will be sent to most of Ooo. I would let you do it, but I’m afraid it has to do with kingdom security.” 

Simon nodded, accepting the answer without question. 

Winter fought to keep the smile off his face.

It had nothing to do with kingdom security and everything to do with the ball he was throwing that night. It was originally going to be a quite small affair, but then his Simon came home and it spiraled in his usual giddy opulence from there.

He was known for extravagant balls, ones where connections could be made, for business or pleasure. Before the war he was never one for parties, but now it was an excuse to dress to the nines, drink, and dance with friends he had made through his years as ruler. 

“What are you smiling about now?” Simon studied his other’s face and the dopey smile that had formed. 

Winter’s brain went blank.

He thought he’d maintained his cool exterior so well.. 

“I find it hard to not smile when I’m around you my dear Simon,” Winter internally breathed a sigh of relief. It was a good save, but it was also true. 

Simon let out a single, exaggerated “ha” as a response. 

Once they were done with their coffee, they cleared off the table and got to work on their respective tasks, neither in the mood for breakfast yet. 

They worked in silence for several hours, but then a thought occurred to Winter. 

“Simon?” his voice broke through the other’s focus.

“Yes Winter?” 

“I would like for you to be my consort.” 

The words hung in the air as Simon worked through exactly what Winter was asking of him.

“You want me to marry you?” 

“Exactly, you’d be ruling by my side, and who better to be my other half, than another me!” Winter’s excitement around the idea was evident. 

“Winter, I can’t marry you.” 

The bubble popped.

“What do you mean you can’t marry me?” 

“Well,” Simon set his papers down and looked at the man sitting in front of him, “I haven’t known you very long and besides, there are so many Simons across the multiverse," he mused, "really you'd just be my... other, I guess. Not that it matters." 

Winter's brilliant smile contorted into a pained expression. He struggled to maintain his composure as his heart wrenched.

“You’ve known me your entire life!” Winter interjected, pointing out a seemingly obvious fact, trying to ignore the jab.

“Winter, you and I know very well that we’re not exactly the same,” Simon sighed, “I don’t know if I’m even ready to look at getting engaged again.” 

“Then we’ll skip the engagement! We can get married right now! I do have that authority, all I have to do is say we’re married and then draw up the paperwork.” Winter was beaming, feeling as though he solved every issue with the arrangement in a matter of seconds. 

Simon reached out and took Winter’s hand. 

“I care about you Winter, enough to travel across reality to get back here, but I’m not ready for that. I know you remember Betty and even holding the mugs she gave you, I felt like I had a ton of bricks on my chest,” Simon squeezed his king’s hands, “I’m not ready to move on like that. Not right now.” 

Winter didn’t have an answer for that.  

He was glad that the invitations he had penned had called the ball a homecoming rather than a wedding. 

“I fully understand Simon, I am sorry I sprung that on you.” He pulled his hand away slowly and got back to work on the invitations. 

Once every envelope had been filled and sent off with an ice dove, Winter stood from the table and clapped his hands. 

“Alright Simon, I’m going to leave you to finish this, while I attend to some other important matters!” Winter walked around the table and kissed the top of Simon’s head before skating smoothly out of the room. 

Simon rolled his eyes and went back to his papers.

Most of the requests were simple enough, more benches, re-icing the road to the school, small household repairs that should’ve really been handled by different authorities. Others were a bit more complicated, like a pair of neighbors fighting over a tree, each one wanting royal approval of ownership. Those were the ones he set aside for Winter to handle. 

It took him another two hours to work through the full stack, only taking a brief break to refill his coffee. 

Once finished, he stretched before making his way out of the throne room. 

At the door, he found a note in Winter’s scrawling handwriting. 

Dearest Simon,

Once you are finished for the day, please go to my chambers immediately and change, then come to the ballroom.

Yours, Winter

Simon shook his head, but headed to Winter’s bedroom nonetheless.

He knocked once before entering.

It never failed to impress Simon, how warm Winter managed to make a room made almost entirely of ice. There were blankets and pillows covering the bed, more than anyone could possibly use, a rug so plush you could feel the stress melt away when you touched it, and an incredible number of candles for someone who lives in a castle of ice. 

What drew Simon’s attention the most was the black suit bag hanging from a door connected to the bedroom. 

He figured it was for him, so he pulled it down and carefully laid it on the bed before opening it. 

“You have got to be kidding me…” Simon muttered to himself as he stared at the suit. 

It was royal blue with crystalline snowflakes detailing the jacket and pants, the shirt white with ruffles around the neck and breast. 

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, debating showing up to the ballroom in his usual tweed, before changing clothes.

At the bottom of the bag sat a shimmering addition to the outfit, a snowflake brooch. 

He smiled to himself and clipped the final piece of his outfit to his lapel. 

He didn’t have a mirror to check his reflection, so he had to assume he looked put together enough. 

Simon could hear the music before he entered the ballroom; in fact, by the time he entered the hallway he could feel the bass of whatever was playing deep in his bones. 

He didn’t want to go in. 

Simon hated parties. 

More specifically, he hated the overwhelming noise that made it impossible to hear anyone below a scream. He hated how they always devolved into a drunken disarray, or worse, awkward silences. In the past his only respite was a quiet corner and the company of the host's dog or cat.

There were no dogs or cats in there. 

Simon braced himself before opening the doors. 

It was nothing like what he expected.

The music wasn’t actually loud, nor was it thumping. It was orchestral. 

There were plenty of people he did recognize in attendance, Wild Berry Princess, Muscle Princess, Slime and Hotdog Princess, they were all in the crowd formed around Winter, who was twirling a princess who seemed to be made of ice cream. 

There were even more people he didn’t recognize, it seemed as if the room was packed, but far from claustrophobic.

He took one step into the room and the music stopped. 

Winter looked up and caught Simon’s eye before breaking into a huge grin. 

He swept his hands through the air and a large ice glass and spoon formed in the air, connected with a resonating ting, then exploded into a sprinkling of snow. 

Everyone gasped with delight at the display, before quieting down and looking towards the king. 

“I want to thank everyone for attending,” his voice carried clearly through the large room, without the assistance of a microphone, “Tonight is a celebration of the highest order!”

He motioned for Simon to come forward.

Simon simply wished he could melt into the floor. 

Nevertheless, he sheepishly walked forward, doing his best not to slide on the ever slick floor, until he was standing at Winter’s side. 

“Tonight, we welcome home Dr. Simon Petrikov, the best advisor the Winter kingdom will ever know!”

Everyone clapped and cheered. 

It felt like something out of a dream, or in his case, a nightmare. 

Winter put an arm around Simon and pulled him into a tight side hug. 

“Enjoy yourself Simon, get to know everyone,” he spoke softly, before speaking to the crowd again, “Now, eat, drink, and dance to your heart’s content!” 

Winter let go of Simon as the music started again. 

Simon made a beeline to the punch bowl before he could get sucked into the madness that surrounded Winter. 

He seemed to relax when he was further from the crowd, milling about the drinks with the other guests, but didn’t necessarily enjoy the scene. 

He found himself zoning out, watching Winter begin to dance with Muscle Princess.

Simon was snapped out of his thoughts when his back hit another person, he didn’t even realize he was backing up. 

“Princess, I am so sorry,” Simon began before turning to face whoever he had bumped into.

She laughed.

“It’s alright, accidents happen,” she dabbed at the small wet stain on her white jacket, “Not a princess though.”

“Doctor Princess?” Simon couldn’t believe his luck, running into someone he actually knew; well, knew back in his world.

“Have we met?” She tilted her head to the side to accent her confusion.

“Uh…no, I don’t believe we have…I’m Dr. Petrikov, but you can always call me Simon.” 

The doctor laughed at his bashfulness. 

“Alright, Simon, how’re you enjoying your party?”

He rolled his eyes, briefly turning his attention back to Winter,  now dancing with Hotdog princess, who was laughing gleefully.

“I’m not really one for parties, but Winter seems to be having the time of his life,” Simon sighed before pouring himself some of the punch.

“Winter…oh, the king! Yeah, he throws these at least once a month,” She handed her cup to Simon, who dutifully refilled it, “At least this time there’s a reason to celebrate.” She took her cup from him and took a long sip. 

“A reason to celebrate?” He laughed and shook his head, “I’m sure he wouldn’t do this if it had been anyone else.

“He threw a three day gala when he created the ice scouts.” 

“You’re kidding?” Simon laughed again. He knew Winter had a propensity for dramatics, but that was a lot for even him. 

They stood like that, laughing for a few minutes.

“You know, I’m not even a princess,” Doctor Princess wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing, “It’s just my name, but he always invites me to these. I keep coming because I don’t want to be rude.” 

Simon snorted and punch shot out his nose. 

They were silent, both frozen in shock. 

Then they started laughing even harder than before, gasping for air as they cackled at the absurdity of the whole situation. 

A not princess and a not party-person, standing in a party full of royalty, now both covered in punch. 

Simon turned back to the table to grab them napkins when he saw it. 

Winter was slow dancing with a tall man, letting him lead them across the floor. 

Simon’s heart dropped as the man dipped Winter, his white hair brushing the ground. 

If he had his eyes open, he would’ve seen the devastation on Simon’s face.

He turned away from the dance floor and handed Doctor Princess the napkins before exiting the ballroom. 

He didn’t walk far, he just needed out of the room. 

How could he, no, how dare he? Simon’s thoughts were racing, He asks you to marry him this morning, and now he’s whoring himself out to half of Ooo. Maybe it was a good thing to say no, because if this is what Winter thinks loyalty is, he’s fucking insane.

Winter finished dancing with the man, still unsure who he was. 

He scanned the room and found Simon’s place by the punch bowl empty. 

Fearing the worst, he excused himself and made his way to the drinks and found Doctor Princess still dabbing punch off her jacket. 

“Princess, would you happen to know where my advisor went?” He kept his voice calm, but he was seconds away from making a scene.

“Oh, Simon? I think he stepped into the hallway to get some air. He seemed pretty upset when he left,” She didn’t look up from her jacket.

“Thank you for your help Princess,” He was already walking away, calling over his shoulder to her, “I’ll be back to the party shortly, please enjoy yourself!” 

“I’m still not a princess, but thanks.” She shook her head. 

He opened the doors and missed hitting Simon by inches.

“Simon, what on earth are you doing out here sulking, this whole party is for you,” Winter put a hand on his hip, studying the scene before him.

Simon was staring him down, fruit punch staining the ruffles of his shirt. 

“Are you serious Winter?” Simon huffed, venom dripping from his words, “You’re going to question me about sulking when you’re off gallivanting with half the royals in Ooo?”

Winter held up his hands defensively. 

“First of all, I don’t understand what you think I was doing, I was just dancing with my friends,” He took a breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “Second of all, why are you so worried about me dancing with others?”

Simon felt all the blood rush to his face.

“Oh you know damn well why I’m upset,” he all but hissed.

Winter had to stifle a smile, enjoying seeing Simon this riled up.

“Do I?”

“Oh, I think you do,” Simon backed Winter against the wall nearest him, “I think you know exactly why I’m upset.” His voice had gone cold.

“You’re not allowed to be jealous Simon,” Winter said dismissively, ignoring the cold on his back, “You’re the one who rejected my proposal.”

Simon thought he was going to pop a blood vessel.

“Winter, of course I said no, I’ve been here for what, a month?”

“Three and a half weeks, but who’s counting.”

“It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been here, or what we are,” Simon’s voice had dropped and was suddenly softer, “I thought we were still…”

Winter frowned.

“Simon, we are. No matter what we call each other.” Winter’s smirk fell, the snide tone gone. 

Both men took a breath and Simon looked across Winter’s face.

“That means you belong to me, and you’ve still been out there dancing with every person who tickles your fancy?” His voice held a different quality. Still low and threatening, but without the anger. 

“I can’t leave my guests unentertained.” Winter mused.

Simon smiled.

“Then let’s entertain them, shall we?” Simon took Winter’s hand and pulled him back into the ballroom.

The music picked up in tempo, adjusting from a waltz to a tango, Winter’s personal favorite. 

Simon let the king lead as they pulled the attention of the crowd, but the ballroom could have been empty and neither would have been the wiser.

“Is this entertaining enough your majesty?” Simon whispered as Winter pulled him close.

“No, but this will be,” Winter laughed as he turned his face, kissing Simon hard. 

[amethystina]

Oh man!! The latest chapter!!! The angst was angsting, pain was paining, heart is wrenching, tear is falling, it was soooo mean, but do it again!!!

It was the longest chapter and ironically the most painful chapter as well. Have I said how much I love slow burn and angst and this fic hits home everytime?? Likeee woah I just LOVE how this fic is LOOONG , nowhere near close bc that means I get me read it longer lol.

And I feel like I would never be able to appreciate how much hard work you put in Who Holds the Devil.

I am guessing it is now Ga On's turn to pursue Yohan and Oh man I can already imagine how much he is gonna suffer while doing it 😭 or maybe not (bc he tends to be pretty straightforward at times and impulsive as well) but I believe it's gonna be pretty hard bc Gaon has so much shit to get together and Yohan, my man, already gave up (poor him) so gaon trying to persue him or rather seduce his sugar daddy would look very suspicious to him. Nevertheless I am exited to see Gaon try and miserably, comically and hilariously half fail bc he will succeed eventually as Yohan is too much of a loser for Gaon lol. I am excited for future chapters and definitely wouldn't complain about more angst lol.

It was necessary for this to happen, otherwise the story would go nowhere and most importantly Gaon and Yohan would go nowhere, their problems will never be solved. Sometimes hitting rock bottom is crucial to develop in life BUT I would hate it if it happens to me, hope I will be able to get my shits together before that happens ( or maybe it already happened but I am not relizing it or not acknowledging it much like gaon but he is better than me ngl at least he has the courage)

This became a rant about me naur 😭

Lastly I hope you have a great day and things work out for you 💕

Also idk if it's your cup of tea but My Happy Ending kdrama is sooo good and worth giving it a try. It's a psychological suspense drama hehe. I am soo invested in it nowadays so couldn't help recommending you as well 💫

It was a painful chapter, yeah. And I'm both relieved and heartbroken to finally have it out there. As someone who doesn't actually like angst, this chapter was a struggle in more than one way. But it's necessary if I want their relationship to move forward, so here we are.

At this point, writing Who Holds the Devil has sort of turned into a second job, not going to lie. I still enjoy it, make no mistake, but I have to plan all of my other hobbies around it since I feel an obligation to post somewhat regularly. Like, I've been postponing drawing for the past two weeks because I wanted to get this chapter out (that's how long it took to edit, yes) but drawing is the thing that helps the most with my depression symptoms (that have made an unwanted reappearance due to my burnout), so I've been struggling quite a bit. And now all I want to do is draw for a couple of days.

So yeah. I can't lie and say it's not a lot of work, both in terms of planning, writing, editing, etc., but also how it affects the rest of my life. BUT I just love it too much to give up on it ;)

And yes, Ga On will have to be the one to pursue Yo Han now ;) Or, well, eventually. He has to wallow and overthink things a bit first because, well, Ga On. If overthinking things was an Olympic sport, he'd win the gold for sure. But he WILL give Yo Han what he wants in the end, I promise.

In short, the "the only way after hitting rock bottom is up" saying is pretty apt in this case.

There's still hope, so just hang in there :)

I looked at the plot for My Happy Ending but I admit it didn't really catch my attention. But that could be because I don't really watch much right now? I'm too busy writing and drawing. I'm also trying to finish a drama I started ages ago called Mad Dog. Which, let me tell you, it's disorientingly gay for a drama about insurance fraud. But unlike The Devil Judge I'm not sure if they're actually AWARE of how gay it is? (especially since it's from 2017)

But, like, if I had a penny for every time I've watched a drama in which a traumatised, older man brings home a reckless, bratty twink after said twink got injured — under the pretence of protecting him from more harm — only for the twink to start snooping around his house before deciding to charm the dude with home-cooked food and then just doesn't leave I would have two pennies. Which isn't a lot, but it's still weird that it's happened twice.

Also, what the heck do they want me to think when they have these kinds of angles when the two dudes are arguing?

That looks questionable both in and out of context. BUT that could also be because Woo Do Hwan could have sexual tension with a goddamn rock. Rarely have I seen a man with so much "fuck me and find out" energy as his character in this drama.

But the twink also has a romantic plotline with the woman on the team, at the same time as he's living in the older dude's apartment and giving this poor dude all kinds of conflicted feelings because he's a widower who's lived alone since his wife and kid died and suddenly there's someone in his apartment cooking him food, nagging at him when he comes late and drunk etc. etc. Like, bruh. It really sounds like the twink is his new wife? And I am SO CONFUSED because the drama plays it so straight (without the "hint, hint, nudge, nudge" winks that The Devil Judge had) that I'm about to have an existential crisis.

Fellas, is it gay if this is the face you make when you're told you're not actually living with the man who took you home to keep you safe after you almost got murdered but then you accidentally behaved like his concerned and doting wife?

Asking for a friend.

(and don't even get me started on the whole "Bring Your Twink to Work Day" scene)

At this point, I'm half convinced I'm gaslighting myself into thinking this is gay when it's actually just a really heartwarming story about a really deep bromance that I'm too queer to understand.

ANYWAY. Thanks for the rec! But I'm not sure if it's my thing and I'm really bad at watching things right now. But I'm thrilled to hear that you're having so much fun with it! I'm happy for you! :D

And thank you so much for the lovely message 💜

[apprenticestanheight]

pls a Mark hoffman x male reader where him and the reader get cozy in a bookstore while it's snowing

Snow- Mark Hoffman x male! reader

ALLL right!! In the spirit of the fact that I am determined to get my requests under control coupled with the fact that a snowstorm blew through my province sunday night through midday yesterday, this request is a little holiday-happy-feely. It's also what I hope to be the beginning of a prosperous week--I have energy drinks, coffee and finally finished editing something I actually finished working on last week, so the goal is that I can focus on other things now and get stuff done lol.

Thank you for sending this in--I truly don't write for hoffman enough and I just knew, from the minute I read the request, that it was gonna come out really sweet. I love me some tooth rotting fluff and writing this was an absolute joy!

Fic type- fluff!!

Warnings- this is unedited (I was trying to finish it before the motivation went away and editing it hardly occurred to me bc editing is never motivating ever--but I did read through as I went to make sure the grammar and stuff wasn't TOO funky. Apologies if it still is tho)

You were standing in the bookstore a close friend owned, watching the weather forecast from a TV in their backroom while they finished up with customers when you first got the news of a very intense oncoming storm.

Jersey, as a whole, was looking at a median half a foot of snow over the weekend. Locally, though, two feet were the expectation. You had the thought to get home and make sure to turn the heat on so the pipes didn't freeze, but your phone was dead and you'd agreed to meet Mark at the bookstore and then grab a cab home together, so it wasn't really worth it. Plus--the snowfall in the first four hours wasn't expected to be too terrible. Driving conditions would be fine until midnight, at the very latest, which gave you plenty of time.

Your friend decides to close the bookstore early, and when Mark comes in fifteen minutes after they've decided to close, he's a sight for sorer eyes.

Your friend, having watched the snowfall to see just how inaccurate the newscaster had been, was setting up their backroom in case you all needed to spend the night there while you brewed up some coffee from the machine left somewhere to the right of the counter, right next to an advertisement stating that coffee, hot chocolate and tea all costed the hefty price of two quarters.

Mark is somewhat covered in snow--he shakes it from his hair and shoots you a happy, loving smile as he idly dusts it off his coat. Your friend greets him and Mark says his hello, running a hand through his hair as Quin--your friend--goes back to the backroom to finish setting it up.

"They said it wasn't supposed to be that bad," Mark notes as he approaches you in the dimly lit bookstore. "Strahm was a dick about it, though--sounded like he was sixty, complainin' about how storms in Jersey always seem a bit random. Perez had the graces to wish me luck, where Strahm just said to enjoy my walk. Don't think he likes me all that much, if I'm honest."

You shrug, passing him the mug of coffee you'd just made. "He's the new guy, Mark. Take it a little easy--not everyone sees the charm in Jersey, babe. Especially not with some serial killer on the loose. Maybe he's worried he's next for smoking cigarettes or something."

Mark laughs. Your heart swells.

"Think we'll get snowed in here?"

You laugh, starting another cup of coffee by placing a new K-pod into the Keurig. "I love Quin, but I really do hope not. As someone who studied for their college degree in that staff room, sleeping on that couch is not for the weak. I'm pretty sure it's old enough to drink, actually. I helped him move it in when he bought the place."

"Well, we'll figure something out."

You nod, grinning as Marks lips press a kiss against your cheek. "We always do, Mark. How was work?"

"It was work," Mark shrugs. "Shitty roads, more investigating, all of the fun stuff that comes with workin' at the precinct. How was work for you?"

"It was a day in the life of marketing," you shrug, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Numbers, people, crappy coworkers and slow computers. I can't wait for my week off on Monday--I will sleep in and for an entire seven days, I won't have to hear about Carol and her bunions or David and his grandmother. I hate the office I work in but the coworkers make it so much worse. Their incessant gossiping makes it hard to focus."

Mark laughs, and you laugh a little too while the coffee finishes pouring. You make it to your specifications and burn the roof of your mouth drinking it, but it's worth it because it tastes damn good.

Quin shows up with a defeated smile from the back room. "Hey, lovebirds," he greets. "You've got four hours before the roads start sucking ass to drive on, but from what it looks like, cab companies aren't going to let their drivers drive anyone home after ten. You're welcome to stay here and browse for a bit, drink coffee and Mark, I'm sure you'll have an excellent time while Y/N looks at the classics section that he loves so dearly, but I'll be leaving round ten thirty so I'd say it's best to be leavin' at nine thirty. That is, of course, if you have any hopes of getting a cab before companies start threatening to cut the wages of anyone still out and driving after the cut off."

You nod at Quin. "Thanks for the tip, Quinnie," you say. "We'll be out of your hair by nine thirty, we promise."

Quin shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. "No worries, Y/N. Have fun with Detective Lip Filler."

Mark quirks an eyebrow while you laugh, shaking your head as if to say "don't ask, mark," and interlacing your fingers with his own.

Mark lets you lead him off, down one of many winding corridors in the bookstore. While you browse the shelves you and Mark talk--Christmas plans very quickly become a point of discussion, seeing that it's two weeks away and neither of you really know what the plan is just yet.

You know that Mark doesn't much talk to his parents--they're in their seventies as it were and subscribe to more...conservative points of politics and worldviews. Aside from them, he's not really got anybody and hasn't since his sisters death.

You figured he'd spend it with you, unless work got in the way as it had last year. Your tradition was simple--spend Christmas Eve at home, order Chinese takeaway, watch whatever crappy Christmas movies happened to be playing on the channel that was devoted to them during December and laugh at the bad acting.

Wake up Christmas morning, make cinnamon buns and bake a tray of brownies to take to your parents as you were always in charge of dessert. Make sure the gifts you'd bought for relatives were in your car and then drive the half an hour to your parents place. Spend the day there, leave with a quick hug to your parents and a promise to come around again around the new year, and then go home and smoke a bit of weed to relax and hit the hay early.

"You don't have to," you murmur, grabbing the penguin edition of Shakespeares 'Hamlet' and glancing the cover over. "It's just a suggestion--it's Christmas, Mark. Might be because I was raised with neighbors popping by for Christmas dinner, but Christmas is a shitty holiday to spend alone."

Mark nods. "I was hoping I'd get to spend Christmas with you anyway," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "Will we have to act like we're just best friends, though? Or are your parents unopposed?"

"They know I have a boyfriend at present," you answer. Your relationship isn't new--it's been three years with him, but Mark has been busy with work and trying to keep a level head as things with Jigsaw have continued, so you've never really had the chance to introduce him to anyone in your family. "They also know what your name is--first, not last. And that you're a detective, and that you're really handsome. I promise, I haven't told them anything that would make them hate you. My mothers been eager to meet you since I brought you up, though. My exes were horrendous, according to her."

Mark laughs, and you let yourself grin. "I'll do my best to impress, then," he says. "We'll have to get them gifts, though."

"I've been meaning to do some Christmas shopping anyway--we'll go once the storm has cleared," you say. "And at this point, I think my parent's won't care about gifts, really. They just really wanna meet you."

You put Hamlet back onto the shelf and grin as Marks arms wrap around your waist after he's set the coffee mug on an empty shelf. You do the same and let your arms wrap around his shoulders, and silence settles.

You close your eyes for a second, listening.

"Can you hear it?" You ask after a minute, maybe two.

"Hear what?" Mark asks. "It's completely silent in here, Y/N--there's nothing to hear."

"The snow, Mark," you answer. "It might just be because my ears are good, but I can hear it hitting the windowsills."

"How?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Just been able to since I was a kid. I knew it was snowing right when I woke up some days."

"I will add that to the catalogue of random things that've come to light at random times," Mark grins as your eyes open again. "Among the fact that your favorite color was green until you were twenty four, and the fact that you once got bitten by a stray cat so bad that you had to be put on antibiotics during your college days, and the fact that you've never liked daisies."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You love me and my randomness, Hoffman."

Mark nods. "That I do," he says.

The two of you end up sitting at one of the desks by the windows, drinking coffee and chatting until nine, when you leave to grab a cab home just to sit by your windowsill and watch the snow until you grow bored of it.

All in all, for a night in the middle of December, while the beginnings of a snowstorm rages on outside, it's a pretty good night.

[clonerightsagenda]

i would love to hear anything more about communications director minkowski that you would care to share, it sounds like a very fun route for postcanon! 👀

It IS very fun. In lieu of writing a coherent post I just spent quite a bit of time scrolling through 3 years of discord messages for good tidbits:

Gill spent part of my day wondering “you know you’d expect Lovelace to have some Loud And Pointed Opinions about Minkowski being offered the post of Communications Director but maybe instead she’d be the first to figure out there’s no better way to dismantle the company than from the inside out” Kat If you want a job done wrong you gotta do it yourself Gill Minkowski: They… want me to be the next director… and I think I’m going to take the job. Lovelace: …actually. That sounds like an amazing idea. Minkowski: Minkowski: who are you and what have you done with Captain Lovelace Kat Careful Renee. That joke has a bit of an edge to it Gill Nobody’s getting out of post-flight quarantine without an identity crisis of some kind it seems Kate I bet Lovelace would jump at the chance to have a woman on the inside… who has a lot of practice ruining Goddard's plans. Gill Lovelace, probably: You’re gonna need your own version of Cutter’s hypercompetent Right Hand Minion, and it seems to me that the person who kept him distracted while you put a harpoon through his torso would be the ideal candidate. Lovelace: Also, it’d be fun to deface Kepler’s old office.

*

Kat was thinking about Minkowski marriage drama in the context of her voluntarily signing on to be comms director under the same contract as the last one fully aware this means everyone will try to kill her just in case she can keep everyone else safe and then having to explain that to her husband tfw your wife never prioritizes you bc she's too busy prioritizing a) dying in space b) dying on land now Gill Dominik Koudelka, maybe: it just feels like I have to get myself kidnapped by shadowy corporate goons if I want to spend time with you!

*

Kate Communications Director Minkowski 1) definitely publishes her own adapted fifth edition of the Survival Manual that’s not a joke and full of useful things and 2) mostly inspired by things Eiffel did that his justification was “well no one ever TOLD me this would happen in space!” Gill “Leprechauns are not real. Ghosts, however, are.” “In the unlikely but theoretically possible event that leprechauns are discovered at some point in the near future, disregard previous. It’s important to keep an open mind.” Kate Adaptability! Flexibility! Priorities! Acknowledgement that space is full of unpredictable and incomprehensible bullshit! The spirit of the new space age Gill Tip #1002: You may say “fuck”. Once.

*

Kat thought: re Goddard possibly having prison labor going on, maybe when they got Eiffel out of jail they just transferred his sentence to them, and Comms Director Minkowski finds out she technically owns two of her crewmates now and isn't super happy about it Eiffel: so for the next 23 years my ass is yours I guess Minkowski: I don't want it Minkowski, sifting through paperwork: why… why do I own prison laborers now? Can I pardon them? What is this news anchor voice: Goddard Futuristics stocks dipped today as new director Renee Minkowski gave the entirety of their asteroid mining staff early release, quoted as saying "Go home. The fuck." Gill Comms Director Minkowski like ok first off we’re actually giving our workers benefits Kat we'll reroute some of the money headed toward all the R&D for evil shit Gill we’re also defunding our paramilitary branches. Why do we even have those?? Kat Jacobi, raising hand: To do stuff like break into Elon Musk's Mars colony and take him out with extreme prejudice Lovelace: ok that one sounds justified actually Gill Lovelace: Can I go fuck up Elon Musk’s stupid libertarian summer camp? Minkowski: Later, I need you here right now. Lovelace: Aw, ok. ): Kate Okay project Fuck Up Elon Musk can stay

*

Kat underappreciated aspect of the comms director Minkowski concept: DC girl Minkowski finds out she now owns like 75% of the politicians on Capitol Hill. Is not sure how to stop owning them It's like feeding wild animals, they keep coming back for your money even when you try to cut off the lobbying Gill Minkowski: next time a senator shows up at my house I’m siccing Lovelace on them Kat Minkowski: Cutter had an entire budget line for funding ballot initiatives and…. wow, that's a lot. Hey Doug, what are your thoughts on felons being able to vote? Eiffel: Felons can't vote? Minkowski: …. yes?? Eiffel: Oh. Huh. I don't ever vote so I didn't notice. And I see from your expression that you don't approve of this.

*

Gill Comms Director!Minkowski: If you need me, I’ll be in a meeting. /crawls into the vents Kat Local unions still talk about the super weird HVAC remodeling the new director insisted on

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Gill You are an astronautical engineer at Goddard Futuristics’ special projects division. You were handpicked by the special projects manager herself to work on this new prototype. The craft you and your colleagues poured untold hours of work into is commandeered by Warren Kepler, Legendary Local Douchebag, and two of his minions (an entire ship! For three people!!) to go off and babysit one of your boss’s boss’s ultra-secret pet projects, which you quietly believe is actually an elaborate fraud scheme of some kind. You rage at this. Then, you mourn. Perhaps you drink heavily. Either way, you move on, setting aside your quiet hope that the Urania one day re-enters terrestrial skies, but gradually making peace with the idea you may never see this particular fruit of your labor again. And then a year and a half later you get it back and the interior is just plastered in printer paper that looks like a brigade of toddlers just went nuts on it with their crayons. And also your boss is dead and the apparent leader of said toddlers is the new communications director. Kat Hey at least the astronautical engineering division can feel vindicated that that shuttle a few years back didn't malfunction Gill Engineer: So that shuttle didn’t malfunction and Cutter was actively orchestrating a fake explosion and cover-up. Then he sent Warren “Oh just let me fire off this prototype in a civilian area” Kepler and his goon squad up in our prototype to go fuck around with you guys some more. Minkowski: Yup. Engineer: And you killed him. Minkowski: …yes. Engineer: …did you kill him painfully? Tell me it was painfully. (Minkowski is mildly worried about how she acquires some of her new supporters) Kat Lots of long simmering resentment Kate I imagine she gets a lot of goodwill points for taking out Cutter and Kepler… imagine

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Kat comms director Minkowski having to do tax fraud to protect her team somehow Gill Jacobi, having just another day in the office, doing taxes: god this is so dull, I hate tax season. I wonder if Minkowski’s gone and holed up in the accounting department, she probably lives for this kind of thing. /smash cut to Minkowski threatening an IRS agent at harpoon-point Kat Minkowski making Hera her own LLC so she has rights now: This is legal according to Citizens United as long as no one looks at it too closely (my dad became an LLC today so he can contract with his work after he retires. I joked he will be the last person able to vote in the household once they take everyone else's rights away but corporations are people) Gill “Minkowski Commits Tax Fraud” would be an amazing chapter title for a fic at some point though Kat Minkowski early in the mission diligently doing her taxes in space because she's a good American citizen Minkowski like 5 years later: fuck capitalism Gill That one meme image but it’s, Minkowski: You mean the game was rigged all along? Minkowski @ herself: always has been. Kate This is my strongest Minkowski belief Gill Minkowski: wow, capitalism sucks, and growing up in a Soviet satellite state was also awful. Perhaps… the true problem… is giving people the power to wholly dictate other people’s lives…

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Kat after the story of the Hephaestus crew breaks and they're famous Eiffel gets Minkowski a funko pop of herself it has a little harpoon Kinsey i support this wholeheartedly Gill It is both unsettling and adorable. She sets it proudly on her desk at work Kat someone coming into Comms Director Minkowski's office: uhhhhh Minkowski sitting next to her funko pop: what it's got the same psychic damage potential as Cutter having a #1 dad mug on his desk and everyone's too scared to ask about it Gill Concept: Minkowski eventually being gifted the Funko Pop versions of her entire crew They’re referred to affectionately(?) as her minions Kate If you’ve been called to her office because you’ve done something Sketchy and Capitalistic, you might even prefer looking into the creepy flat soulless eyes of the funko pop rather than Minkowski’s very, very sharp and angry human ones Gill Another mental image. Lovelace, beholding her funko pop: I mean, I don’t think my eyes are that terrifying even when I’m possessed by unknown cosmic entities, but other than that, it’s a perfect likeness. Lovelace: Look, she even has her arms folded because she’s mad at the other little plastic crewmates for being idiots. I love her.