#keep calling him lanky please it gives me life

[ratatatastic]

"Okay! Niko Mikkola! He came in his first year for the Florida Panthers, last year. We didn't know too much about him—hadn't played too much in the National Hockey League. The Panthers were really high on his size and his strength, and he really brought it throughout the season—he played all 82 games. And how about what he did in the playoffs as well?" "Unbelievable! You can't teach size, right, Randy? I mean for him—so big, lanky, good skater. Sometimes you see him leading the rush as we've seen tonight in this preseason game. But excellent playoff depth guy that's really comin' to take this role for him. Great on the penalty kill, covers a lot of ice, lanky and not afraid to jump up in the play."

carolina hurricanes @ florida panthers | 9.28.24

[soapyblubbles]

⋆｡˙ runaway pets ˙｡⋆

pairings: dark regulus + dark poly marauders

warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, implied kidnapping, threesome, implied fivesome, voyeurism, overstimulation, (light) slapping, choking, stockholm syndrome, smoking, shotgunning, pet names, etc.

a/n: please enjoy the much more comprehensive version of one of my very first works. there were a lot of inconsistencies and issues with the first version. I added a lot more detail to this and it honestly feels more like a one-shot than a drabble now. i'll add the unedited version at the bottom just incase anyone wants to take a peak. anyways, happy reading <3

“I told you it’d be worse if you went to get help.” Regulus sits on one end of the bed, a small indulgent smile flitting across his lips. As if nothing was wrong. 

As if you weren’t being fucked within an inch of your life.

You turn your head to him, breathless pants leaving your mouth as Remus continues to rock into you. His hips slap into your own at a steady pace. How long had he been sitting there?

The air is stifling, sweat beading along your forehead and the small of your back. The arm around your waist only adds to the oppressive feeling, Remus’ strong grip keeping you upright and in place.

Your arms shake from exertion, and you have to force your hands to unclench from where they’re fisting the damp sheets.

With a whimper, you reach for Regulus, trying to find the comfort you once found in him before it all. Before he had selfishly stole you away. Before you knew of the darkness lingering just beneath the surface.

You weakly try to pry off the arm wrapped around you, but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens, pulling you up until your back hits Remus’ firm chest.

“Want sir now. Please- Remmy-” The lanky brunette ignores you, muttering something unintelligible into your neck as his thrusts speed up. Your attention was stolen from him. He doesn’t like that- not one bit.

Your face crumples at the silent dismissal, the tears you’d been holding in falling just as you reach another trembling high.

“Please, m’sorry sir- c-can we please go home now?” You gasp out. Your limbs burn, they have been for a while you suppose, but still you try to ignore it, concentrating on just Regulus for now.

But he only hums noncommittally, standing as he makes his way to the makeshift bar in the corner of the room. Regulus rubs his jaw in mock thought, scrutinizing the scene before him while he pours himself a glass of firewhiskey. The smell of cinnamon saturates the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere.

“Thought you wanted to come here-“ He gestures around the room, lazily draping himself on the nearby armchair. “For help.” The last word is said with a sneer and laced with so much venom that you balk.

Even though you can tell he’s done arguing about it, you still sob out: “I’ll be good- promise.”

You hear Sirius let out a scoff. He’s leaning against the headboard, his shirt unbuttoned and a lit cigarette in hand, doing nothing but watching as his friends ruin you.

He’d been the one to call Regulus when you came running to their house, barefoot and in nothing but a frail, white nightgown. “You’re already being good here, pup- s’no use in leaving.” He makes his way towards you, squishing your cheeks together, your lips forming an o-shape.

He blows smoke into your mouth, smirking when you cough at the burn. “Y’already gonna be punished anyway, might as well do that here- ain’t that right Reggie?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, breaking his normally composed demeanor. “Don’t call me-”

“Hush, I can’t focus when you lot keep talkin.” James' speech is slurred as he speaks up, moving his head slightly from between your legs. He pays no mind to the way Remus pumps in and out of you. His mouth is so close to where the two of you meet that you can feel his cool breath against your clit as he talks.

“S’annoying.”  

You clench around Remus at the feeling, and the man in question groans, giving you a particularly rough thrust.

James goes back to work at that, humming softly as he drinks in yours and Remus’ juices. You let out a another strangled moan, instinctively trying to tilt your hips away.

Instantly Sirius’ face darkens with anger, “Uh-uh, I don’t think so puppy.” A hand shoots out to grab the base of your neck as James’ hands grip the front of your thighs tightly.

“Don’t fuckin’ run away from him- you understand?” 

You nod shakily, chest rising and falling quickly as you watch him with unseeing eyes.

“Just take it like a good girl, princess.” James cooes, lightly nibbling on the inside of your thigh. You let out a startled yelp.

“What d’you say bunny?” Remus asks from behind you, hips slowing as he tries to find that spot. Trying to coax the words out of you. You whine, unable to answer until Sirius gingerly slaps your cheek, raising a sharp brow at you.

“M’sorry- m’so sorry Jamie.” Your head is spinning, an ache growing until it becomes practically mind numbing.

At this point it’s all you can focus on.

“Thought I taught you better than that pet.” Regulus chides, clicking his tongue in disappointment. He looks only slightly more disheveled than before. His hair is not neatly combed back like it was earlier, and his tie considerably loosened. His fingers dig into the cushioned arms of the chair, the veins in his forearms flexing in a way that makes your mouth water.

You lick your lips. “Sir-”

Remus shushes you. “S’ okay bunny- y’just have to make it up to him.” You cry out as he brushes against your g-spot, finally finding what he’s been looking for this whole time.

Each hit of his hips is aimed perfectly, giving you no room to breathe until you’re a gasping mess.

James’ mouth certainly doesn’t help. His warm tongue suckles at your clit, unrelenting as he brings you to that exhilarating peak over and over again.

Eventually he breaks away, wiping the wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand. A feral grin forms as he pushes the hair away from your face, cupping your teary cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad now was it? You can take a little more, right?”

Sirius answers before you can even think to open your mouth, a mocking frown on his face. “I don’t know about that Prongs- she seems a right mess already, huh? Don’t think she can go on.” He slaps between your legs, and a panicked moan startles its way out of you. 

You quickly come undone, so worked up from before, but the torment doesn’t end there.

“I think you're right, Pads.” James murmurs, as he slips his fingers through the mess of your cunt, the tips of his fingers grazing the base of Remus’ cock.

It’s enough to startle a groan out of him.

Sirius grabs onto your hips, reaching around James to take control of the even pace Remus set. “C’mon pup, make a mess on Moony’s cock- be a good little cockslut for us.”

He bounces you viscously atop Remus, everyone watching intently as you become a drooling mess.

Your set your lidded gaze on Regulus, whose self-control looks like it’s seconds away from snapping. 

Yet he makes no move to stop the situation.

“Come on princess- fuckin’ come for us. Make a fucking mess.” James growls into your ear, pinching your clit roughly. Tears well in your eyes, body tensing as you are, yet again, pushed off the edge.

“Fuck- such a good bunny.” Remus curses. 

Sirius and James mock your high pitched cries, taking a sadistic pleasure in watching you sob at the overstimulation.

Your limbs go slack, Remus panting heavily as he fucks you through it all, his breath fanning against your neck. He kisses your temple softly and you whine, barely able to move, even as the aftershocks flow through you. 

The three continue to overstimulate you, and Remus lets out a breathy chuckle when Sirius lets go of your hips, letting you fall face first into James’ chest.

“S’your turn princess. We’re not doing all the work for you- besides you still have three more cocks to go.”

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

UNEDITED VERSION

[steviewashere]

Late night fic idea that I'm definitely going to try and write at some point!!

Definitely very angsty. Steve's got bad parents. A few arguments. And Steve basically restarting his adult life. But it would definitely have a happy ending! Walk with me here.

In early 1987, Steve gets into a nasty argument with his parents. About how much of a disappointment he is, how he can't hold a good enough job, that he's just not who they wanted him to be. They tell him, pretty loudly, that if he can't grow up, then he needs to get out.

He, of course, is very upset by the result of this argument. Because he's trying his damn hardest at this whole adult thing. He's trying his damn hardest to be the person everybody wants him to be; the older brother, the best friend, the boyfriend—the good guy. Yet, even though he's completely emotionally devastated, he still goes to Eddie's because they have a date.

He's not very attentive during the date. Ignoring Eddie's comments sometimes. Giving half answers. And Eddie takes it the opposite of something wrong with Steve—no, he thinks there's something wrong with him. They end up having their own nasty, explosive argument. One that ends with Eddie muttering something along the lines of, "God, I hate you so much right now." He doesn't mean it, knows he doesn't mean it because it's too easy to just say a bullshit claim than talk it all out, hash it out as it is, figure out the root of the problem. However, Steve doesn't know this. Steve thinks Eddie means it.

Thinks that Eddie's just been putting on this interested facade to save Steve's lonely, battered heart. That maybe the novelty of their relationship ran out a long time ago. Eddie's just now telling it as it is; the same way Nancy had. A bullshit relationship, one that never meant anything. (And similar to Nancy, they don't really mean it. It's all just moment of passion stuff).

Steve leaves Eddie's. Leaves with his heart dropped out of him, wet and dead on Eddie's carpet. He leaves with bile in the back of his throat, eyes that ache, a head that's too messy to sort through. And then, the only idea that becomes clear to him: he has to get out.

Get out of Hawkins.

Because if Eddie was thinking something like that all along, who else has been thinking the same thing? Dustin? Max? Robin?

He goes to work. Submits a letter of resignation. Gives the courtesy of two more weeks. And then...

He packs all that he thinks he needs in a couple bags: a backpack and a duffel bag. He sells his car, the only money he now has to his name, plus whatever his last Family Video paycheck is. Steve gets on the closest bus, one that'll take him to a shuttle, and he takes a train out of Indiana.

Goes west. Goes to a shitty neighborhood in Sacramento, as far as he can get. He got the transfer request sent over to a Family Video here, he'll start there soon. He stays in a hotel for a couple nights, a couple nights before he finds a last minute lease for a shitty apartment.

And he just stays there. Stays in Sacramento.

He calls Robin's house once on a payphone, that way he can't be tracked. Robin's not home when he calls. He gives a message to her mom: "Tell Robin that I'm sorry. And...and that I love"—he'd sigh—"Yeah. Yeah, just tell her that I'm sorry, please. I did what I had to." He hangs up, doesn't give another way for him to be contacted and he moves on.

Some years pass. He hasn't been taking care of himself all that well, it's noticeable in how he looks. Scraggly facial hair, heavy eyes, lanky and skinny body, he's mowed down most of his hair. Just looks like an imposter in his own skin. He's working a different dead-end retail job—some supermarket, one that's owned by a corporation, he's one in thousands; somebody not cared for. His social life is nothing. He's weird around other people, weird in general; trauma that's been left unsolved, nightmares that keep him awake (so his neighbors now have a vendetta against him), stares too hard, doesn't like to talk anymore. He's hollow. A man who nobody knows, no connotations, no stupid hierarchies or nicknames attached to him. He's just Steve Harrington, some guy.

Yet, in the time he's been there, he takes up a few hobbies. Ones that work well with his secluded lifestyle. He picks up painting and photography. Things he never thought he'd be interested in. But...but he gets too bored, so he tries.

Finds out that he's good. Finds out that he's good enough for his own small studio space. For a small exhibit in the local art museum. And there, on the floor of his exhibit, idling between people who want to know more about the guy that keeps showing up in his paintings: brown eyes and pink mouth and smiles that are too big for his face; and the woman: a bob with bangs, crystal blue eyes, and a kindness that shows in her soft smiles; it's there that he sees an all too familiar face.

Eddie meets his eyes. Older, grown into his body, same brown eyes, same long curly hair. And there's a sheen of tears in his stare. A recognition he never thought he'd receive.

And there's silence. People passing them by.

Until, when the exhibit is empty except for them, Steve can only muster a simple, "Hey." And a smile, something thin that doesn't feel very real. Didn't want to be found, not yet. But in the paintings, he's been dreaming; he's been searching.

From the entryway of another exhibit, one that connects to Steve's, Robin appears. She's got that '90s pixie. And cherry stained lips. Grunge eyeshadow and an ill fitting, hole-riddled t-shirt that Steve slowly realizes is one he wore; those red Converse from Scoops, faded black Sharpie, but the only text that's still dark (as if it's been written over and over) is one he put there: "Dingus was here". She doesn't even speak. Only knows. Tripping over her own feet, dashing across the waxed floor, sliding across it with clumsy limbs. Crashing straight into Steve, hefting him up in her arms, squeezing him so tight he can't breathe.

When she places him back down on the ground, standing side by side with Eddie, the two of them simply staring at him in awe and relief, Eddie finally speaks for the two of them.

He fucking speaks. His voice is dripping with relief, yearning rich and honey-sweet in the vowels. Words full of love that's been stirring slow like a stew in his heart, thick and clogging.

"There you are, sweetheart. There you are."

[emjayewrites]

puppy love • aurelien tchouameni (2/8)

SYNOPSIS: Ocho has a dog crush...too bad the owner hates both Aurelien and Ocho.

WARNINGS: mentions of dogs humping each other/in love, football b.s., eventual smut, eventual boyfriend!aurelien, cursing, light enemies-to-lovers, usage of the 'n' word. [if not comfortable, then don't read].

PAIRINGS: aurelien tchouameni x black!femreader (Y/N)

TAGLIST: @sucredreamer, @trenterprise, @tchouathon, @trentswrld, @f1-football-fiend, @certainsaturn, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @foreverisntenough, @essaysbyciara, @elyseesarchive @deonn-jaelle @alika-4466 @greyishbach, @irishmanwhore, @judesbabymamas, @whoevenisthiz @kj77 @shelovesfootie @mineymak

A/N: Another Aurelien series???? Anyways, please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Also, as always, please like, comment, and send asks! Dividers by @inklore.

P.S.: Should I create Y/N's playlists on Spotify?

Chapter 2: Haterade

The next morning, Y/N hit the pavement for her usual jog around the neighborhood. The air was crisp, the perfect antidote to her simmering frustration. She still hadn’t gotten over that guy—Aurélien—from the park. The way he’d rolled his eyes at her and had the nerve to call her dramatic. She wasn’t dramatic. If anything, Y/N considered herself the quiet type, keeping her head down and minding her own business.

Still, his dismissive attitude pissed her off.

Pausing at a street corner, Y/N stretched her legs, glancing at her reflection in a nearby window. Her expression was still tight with irritation.

Dramatic, my ass.

She shook her head, bouncing lightly in place to keep her heart rate up. The light still hadn’t changed, so she pulled out her phone, and pressed play on her Running playlist. Victoria Monét’s smooth voice flooded her headphones, the beat instantly getting her pumped. Y/N smiled to herself, her body moving to the rhythm as she danced a little in place, forgetting the tension for a moment.

But as she waited for the light to turn green, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to Aurélien. He was attractive, she had to admit. Tall, dark-skinned, with a lanky build that still somehow looked athletic. His hair was shaped in a high taper fade, and his angular facial features made him look like he belonged in a magazine. And those full, kissable lips with that sexy accent to match? Yeah, she’d definitely noticed that, even if he was a dickhead.

He’s just another pretty boy who thinks the world revolves around him, she reminded herself. Y/N didn’t mess with dickheads. Hell, she didn’t mess with anybody lately. She wasn’t about that life, no matter how attractive the guy might be.

Maybe you should, an intrusive thought slipped into her mind. Might help ease the tension.

Y/N shook her head, squashing the thought as she jogged across the street, the light finally in her favor. Nah, I didn’t come to Madrid to mess with boys. I came here to finish my degree and make sure my family stays good. That’s all that mattered.

She kept running, the familiar rhythm of her feet hitting the pavement grounding her. By the time she circled back to her house, her mood had leveled out.

Home. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy, a small rented townhouse on the outskirts of the city, close enough to campus but far enough to give her some peace.

Stepping inside, she was immediately greeted by the familiar scent of breakfast from earlier and the faint hum of the TV in the living room. Y/N closed the door behind her, peeling off her running shoes as she climbed the stairs, only to be met by her little brother, Sutton, standing at the top, already grinning.

Sutton wrapped his arms around her waist in a hug. Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing that look. He wanted something.

Sutton pulled back slightly, the grin on his face widening.

"What do you want, brat?" she signed to him with a shake of her head.

"Can you buy me more Roblox money?" he signed back, his face lighting up like Christmas.

Y/N groaned. Of course. "Is that all I’m good for? Roblox or Fortnite re-ups?" she signed, playfully exasperated.

Sutton giggled, the sound making her heart soften a little. "No," he signed, then added with a mischievous smirk, "And making good sandwiches."

Y/N nudged him gently out of her way, walking toward her room. "Please," Sutton begged, this time using his actual speaking voice. There was barely any strain to it. He had been practicing more lately, and it was paying off.

She turned back, signing, "Fine, but this one time, okay? Also, take a shower—you stink."

Sutton’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "I can say the same about you," he signed back, ducking his head before Y/N could swat at him. She playfully mushed his head before stepping into his room, a complete disaster zone.

Clothes were thrown haphazardly across the floor, old snack bags lay on the dresser, and his bed wasn’t even made. "Clean this up first," she signed, raising an eyebrow at him. Sutton immediately gave her a mock salute before getting to work, knowing better than to argue.

Y/N quickly grabbed the PS5 controller and bought him the Roblox bucks he wanted, deleting her card information right after—he wasn’t slick. With that task done, she made her way to her own room, feeling the sweat clinging to her skin from the run.

She tossed her headphones onto her bed, grabbed a towel, and headed to the bathroom.

Shower time.

The day wasn’t over yet, and she still had things to take care of—just like always. Since their mom passed, Y/N had slipped into the caretaker role for Sutton, SJ, and their dad. She wasn’t just their sister anymore; she was like a second mom, making sure the house was clean, cooking dinner, ensuring the boys stayed alive and somewhat functional.

But for now, she let herself enjoy the simple comfort of a hot shower, washing away the morning’s frustration.

Y/N turned on her Shower Vibes playlist, immediately engulfed by the pounding intro of Meek Mill's "Dreams & Nightmares." The energy hit her right in the chest as she grabbed her loofah and began lathering herself up, rapping along with the track. “When I bought the Rolls Royce, they thought it was leased…” she spit the lyrics with the same intensity as if she was the one who’d just made it out of Philly’s toughest streets.

She felt every word. Meek’s voice fueled her, the bass reverberating through the bathroom as the hot water hit her skin. The frustration she had been carrying since that run started melting away with each bar. This was her therapy.

“I don't say a word, I don't say a word…”

Suddenly, a sharp knock broke through her focus, followed by more insistent banging on the door.

"Siri, pause the music," Y/N called out, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she wrapped a towel around herself and cracked the bathroom door open.

Standing there, her twin brother, SJ, was tapping his foot impatiently, his face already showing that signature pout he had whenever he wanted something.

"Nigga, what the heck are you doing banging on the door?" she asked, irritation heavy in her voice.

"I gotta pee, and you're taking forever," SJ complained, his tone whiny as he looked past her into the steamy bathroom.

Y/N was about to clap back with some snarky remark about his lack of bladder control, but the words died in her throat when she noticed the slight redness around his eyes. She leaned forward a bit, sniffing the air, and caught that familiar scent.

"The fuck? Are you high, SJ?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Yo, you're too loud!" he hissed, quickly covering her mouth and glancing nervously down the hall to make sure their dad wasn’t around. His whole body tensed, clearly panicking. Y/N bit his hand, making him yelp and pull back. "Ouch!"

"That’s what you get for putting your nasty hands on my face," she scowled at him. "What the hell are you doing getting high, SJ? If Dad finds out—"

"Dad ain't even around to notice, Y/N. Quit bitchin', man."

Y/N blinked, stunned. Did he just call me a bitch? Her brows shot up in disbelief. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

SJ sighed, shaking his head. "No, I said you're bitchin'—as in complainin', naggin' on a nigga," he clarified, trying to sound casual about it. "Like I said, Dad's too busy to worry 'bout us, 'specially with this new job of his."

Y/N crossed her arms, her anger brewing again. Oh, so this was what it was about. The new job had him working nonstop. Their father wasn’t just any physio; he was the head physio for one of the biggest football clubs in Madrid, constantly traveling, managing high-pressure situations with elite athletes. It wasn’t like SJ fully grasped the impact their father was making in sports. To SJ, Dad’s absence was just an opportunity to slack off.

"So you thought getting high was the move?" Y/N asked, not even giving him time to answer before continuing. "This isn’t Philly, SJ. You could get in trouble here."

"Nah, 'cause weed's basically legal here—I looked it up," he said with a dopey grin, proud of himself for the bare minimum of research.

Y/N wasn’t surprised. Sure, her brother was a lazy fuck, but he wasn’t a stupid lazy fuck. There was always some girl—or a quick Google search—keeping him from totally failing at life. Still, she wasn’t impressed.

"So that gives you a pass?" she shot back, rolling her eyes. "Y'know how Dad feels about drugs in the house."

"Nah, nah, it wasn’t even like that, lil' sis. I went to one of those weed lounges, so we straight," he said, trying to smooth it over like it wasn’t a big deal. "Anyways, can I take a leak or not?"

Y/N gave him a baffled expression. "No. I'm using this bathroom. Go use the downstairs one."

SJ sucked his teeth, wiping his face with his hand in exaggerated annoyance. "Dad’ll be home any minute, man. You know how he freaks out."

"Of course I do, dickhead. I literally just warned—" Y/N took a deep breath, trying to rein in her vexation. "Y’know what? I’m done. Use the bathroom and wash up too."

SJ grinned, clearly having gotten what he wanted. “Good lookin' out, lil' sis,” he said, shoving past her and into the bathroom. Y/N quickly grabbed her portable speaker and phone from the counter.

"Suck my dick," Y/N shot back with a smirk as she left, enjoying the shocked laugh that burst from her brother.

"You wildin', man," SJ laughed as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N shook her head, heading back to her room. She still had to finish her morning routine—skincare, brushing her teeth, and maybe waxing later. Typical SJ, always barging into her peace with his nonsense. But she loved him. Still, she wasn’t about to let him skate by that easily. He owed her one, whether SJ liked it or not.

Aurélien gripped the pull-up bar tightly, feeling the familiar burn in his biceps and shoulders as he hoisted himself up, his chin clearing the bar in smooth, controlled movements. His home gym was bathed in the morning light streaming through the windows, but his mind was everywhere but on the reps. He exhaled sharply, thinking about the upcoming match against Real Sociedad. It was going to be a tough one, and he needed to be on top of his game.

His foot still ached sometimes from that old sprain. Just a subtle reminder of how quickly things could go sideways in football. One wrong step and everything could change. He’d been cautious, easing back into training, but the worry never fully left his mind. He had to be sharp, fast, and at his best—no room for doubt. There was too much riding on his performance, especially with Shawn on the team. Having him at Real Madrid was invaluable, and Aurélien knew how much he appreciated Shawn’s insight and leadership. The guy had been a game-changer, both on and off the pitch. Football came first; nothing else could get in the way.

Nothing, especially not Y/N.

Aurélien's jaw tightened as he dropped down from the bar, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. He’d been thinking about her way too much lately, and it wasn’t helping his focus. She was off-limits, plain and simple. He didn't have time to get wrapped up in whatever tension had been brewing between them. He wasn’t even sure what the hell her problem was. Sure, he had called her dramatic, but she was acting like he’d committed some major offense.

Dramatic, he thought again, shaking his head.

As he walked toward the treadmill, Ocho sat by the window with his chin resting on the sill, looking out like a heartbroken lover. The dog’s usual playful demeanor had been replaced with this almost zombie-like state. He wasn’t running around the house or following Aurélien with that happy tail wag. Instead, he just sat there, his eyes droopy and sad.

Aurélien sighed, pausing for a moment to glance over at Ocho. He had read something online about dogs getting depressed when they missed someone. But who the hell could Ocho be missing this much? It wasn’t until it hit him that the last time Ocho had seen Lady, Y/N’s dog, was that day at the park. Since then, Ocho had been in this weird funk. Could a dog have a girlfriend?

Aurélien let out a short, disbelieving laugh. It didn’t seem possible, but Ocho had been acting like Lady was the love of his life. He’d been whining constantly, glancing toward the door like he expected her to just walk in at any moment. It was ridiculous, but at the same time, he couldn’t ignore how miserable his dog had been. Ocho must really like Lady—a lot.

"Well, guess I have to deal with it," Aurélien muttered under his breath. He wasn’t about to let his dog suffer over some puppy love, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. Which meant… he was going to have to deal with Y/N, too.

Great.

He hopped on the treadmill and pressed a few buttons, trying to keep his focus on his pace and not on the growing headache that came with the thought of having to talk to her. He didn’t have to like her, but for Ocho’s sake, they’d have to work something out. Maybe they could set up some kind of playdate for the dogs—at least let them run around together for a bit. Aurélien had had it up to here with Ocho’s constant whining and those sad puppy eyes.

The last thing he wanted to do was get closer to Y/N, but if it meant Ocho stopped acting like he’d been dumped, then maybe a truce was in order. They didn’t have to be friends, but at least they could find some middle ground where their dogs could hang out. And after that? Back to business. He didn’t have time for distractions.

He increased the treadmill speed, pushing himself harder as the rhythm of his footsteps echoed in the room. Football first. Always. But even as he tried to center his thoughts back on the upcoming match, Y/N’s face flashed in his mind—annoyed, stubborn, beautiful in a way that he couldn’t quite shake.

He growled under his breath and focused on the sprint. Get it together, Aurélien. Focus.

Aurélien finished his set on the treadmill, his muscles burning with exertion, sweat dripping down his face. The workout had done little to clear his mind, though. Y/N still lingered at the edges of his thoughts, no matter how much he tried to push them aside. He sighed heavily, grabbing his towel and draping it over his shoulder.

"Allez, Ocho," he called, glancing toward his dog who was still sitting by the window, looking utterly heartbroken.

Ocho slowly lifted his head, his tail wagging just a bit at the sound of Aurélien’s voice, but the excitement was short-lived. His tail dropped, and he let out another sad whine before following Aurélien out of the gym and up the stairs.

Aurélien stopped in the kitchen, opening a box of Ocho's favorite treats. He grabbed one, turning to his dog and waving it in front of him. "Qui est un bon garçon, hein?" (Who's a good, handsome boy?) Aurélien said, his voice light, trying to coax a bit of energy back into his dog.

Ocho sniffed the treat but didn’t even lift his head. Instead, he let out a long, mournful whine, his big brown eyes filled with sadness as he rested his head on the floor.

Aurélien blinked, baffled. "Oh non, Ocho… tu ne veux pas une friandise?" (Oh no, Ocho… you don't want a treat?) he asked, shaking the treat in front of him again.

Ocho let out another pitiful whine, followed by a soft, drawn-out howl that almost sounded like a plea. Aurélien could only shake his head.

"Tu manques ta copine?" (You miss your girl?) he asked with a hint of disbelief. Ocho responded with a louder whine, his body sinking further into the floor like his very soul was hurting.

Aurélien scoffed, tossing the treat back into the box. "Sérieusement? Qu'est-ce que vous faites dans ces buissons?" (Seriously? What have you two been doing in those bushes?) he muttered, an amused grin tugging at his lips despite the ridiculousness of the situation.

His mind wandered back to the park. Ocho and Lady always ran off together, disappearing into the bushes while Aurélien watched from afar. What the hell were they even doing back there? Chasing squirrels? Or were they really looking for a more quiet spot to… Aurélien frowned, shaking his head as he realized what his brain was suggesting. Were they hooking up?

"Non, impossible." (No, impossible.) He chuckled to himself, but the thought stayed. Could dogs really fall in love like this? Ocho had never acted like this over anyone before. Then again, Aurélien had never seen Lady with any other dog, either. Maybe Ocho was just that smitten with her.

Either way, Ocho was in pain, and Aurélien couldn’t stand seeing his dog like this. Whatever Ocho and Lady had going on, they were going to need some serious help. A truce between him and Y/N was now non-negotiable.

"Mon pauvre garçon…" (My poor boy…) Aurélien murmured, crouching down to scratch behind Ocho’s ears. Ocho nudged into his hand, letting out a soft sigh.

"C'est bon, on va arranger ça." (It's okay, we'll fix this.) Aurélien said softly, standing up. He wasn't sure what kind of agreement he could strike with Y/N, but he was willing to try for Ocho's sake. He wasn’t about to let his dog go out like this.

_____________________________________________________

A few days after Real Madrid's solid win against Real Sociedad, Aurélien finally had a day off to catch his breath. He called Shawn yesterday, and still felt a mix of relief and unease about the conversation they’d had. Clearing the air with Y/N wasn’t something he had ever expected to do, but Shawn had been understanding when Aurélien insisted this wasn’t some ploy to run game with his daughter. Quite the opposite, actually—he just wanted Ocho and Lady to hang out again.

Shawn had revealed that Lady had been acting just as sad as Ocho. He’d even chuckled and mentioned how Lady had been sitting by the window every day, whining and glancing outside as if waiting for Ocho to show up. "I’ll talk to Y/N," Shawn had said, "and give her your number. You two can sort it out."

And that’s how Aurélien found himself sitting next to Ocho now, who looked just as miserable as before.

"J'ai une surprise pour toi," (I have a surprise for you) Aurélien said softly, reaching down and rubbing Ocho’s head. His dog barely moved, just letting out a soft, sad huff in response.

Aurélien gave him a look, knowing that the poor guy had been in this slump for days. But things were about to change. He glanced over at the park entrance just as Y/N walked in with Lady, the dog prancing beside her, proudly sporting a new pink collar and matching lead. Ocho’s ears perked up the moment he saw her, and for the first time in days, he barked excitedly.

Lady let out an equally excited yip, tugging at her lead as Y/N tried to keep control. "Lady, now you know—" Y/N began to scold her dog, but her words trailed off as she watched Ocho and Lady eagerly sniff each other before Ocho gave her a gentle lick on the nose.

Y/N sighed, clearly giving up on trying to control Lady’s enthusiasm as she unhooked the lead. The moment she did, the two dogs bolted off, playing and chasing each other as if they hadn’t spent the last week pining for one another.

Aurélien couldn’t help but laugh softly, watching the dogs with a mix of relief and amusement. He gestured to the bench, and Y/N reluctantly sat down, keeping a decent distance from him.

He stole a sidelong glance at her, noticing how her athletic shorts and cropped top hugged her curves in all the right places. She wore a zip-up jacket over her top, and her braids were piled high on her head in their usual fashion. This time, though, she wore glasses. He hadn't seen that before.

"I didn’t know you wore glasses," he said, trying to make some light conversation.

"Yeah, I do," Y/N replied flatly, barely turning to look at him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching their dogs romp around the park, but the tension between them was palpable. Aurélien tried again to break the ice, throwing out a few comments about the weather and their dogs, but Y/N barely acknowledged him. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What’s your problem?" he asked bluntly, unable to stand the cold shoulder any longer.

Y/N turned to him with a sharp look. "My problem? First of all, your dog humped my dog, and then you had the nerve to call me dramatic for being upset about it."

Aurélien blinked, realizing what she was referring to. "Look, I’m sorry about that," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "I didn’t mean any ill intent. But come on, you were doing the most for something both of them were into. It’s not like Lady was just sitting there.” He pointed toward the two dogs, who were now happily sniffing each other’s butts without a care in the world.

Y/N let out a huff but softened just a little. "I guess I shouldn’t have gotten that worked up…" she admitted, her tone quieter. She glanced over at Lady, her face shifting into something more vulnerable. "Lady’s my baby. She’s… she’s one of the last gifts my mom gave me before she passed away."

Aurélien’s chest tightened at that, feeling an unexpected wave of sympathy. "I’m really sorry," he said gently. "I get it. I know how it feels to be a dog parent. They grow up so fast… but seeing them happy like this is what matters."

Y/N nodded, her expression softening even more. Aurélien grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "And I promise, Ocho’s a good boy. I raised him right. He’ll treat Lady like the queen she is."

That earned him a small laugh from Y/N, and he felt a flicker of pride at being able to crack her tough exterior. Her smile lit up her whole face, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "You’re prettier when you smile."

Y/N’s smile faded, and she turned to him with an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

Aurélien mentally cursed himself. The last thing he wanted was to spark another argument. "Don’t tell me you’re getting mad about me calling you pretty?" he said, exasperated.

"It’s not that," Y/N said, her voice firm. "It’s the implication that I’m only pretty when I smile, like I have to perform happiness for you."

Aurélien let out a frustrated groan, kissing his teeth. "Oh my God, can we not do this? Our dogs are happy, and you’re getting too worked up over a harmless compliment."

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. "I’m not getting worked up. Do you know how many times I’ve heard stuff like that? ‘Oh, smile girl, you look grumpy,’ or ‘You’re too pretty to be mad.’" She deepened her voice, mimicking the way men usually spoke to her. "It’s demeaning."

Aurélien had to bite back a laugh at her impression, though he understood where she was coming from. Still, this woman was driving him up a wall. "Okay, but I didn’t mean it like that," he said, trying to be reasonable. "You didn’t have to go off in an unnecessary rant about being catcalled—"

"Unnecessary? Are you—" Y/N stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "Lady, sweetie, it’s time to go home!" she called out, standing up abruptly.

"Merde," Aurélien muttered under his breath, frustrated with himself. He reached out and gently touched her arm. "Y/N, come on," he said softly. "Please. Just sit down. Let’s talk about our dogs, okay? We came here for them."

Y/N shot him a sharp look but sighed and sat back down. Aurélien could feel the tension in her shoulders and saw the exhaustion in her eyes. She’d been through a lot, that much was obvious. Losing her mother, moving across the world, juggling school—he couldn’t imagine how much she had on her plate. But right now, their main priority was keeping the dogs happy.

"Let’s just keep things cool for them, alright?" Aurélien said, glancing over at Ocho and Lady, who were now rolling in the grass, blissfully unaware of the human drama playing out around them. "That's all that matters." He couldn't help but smile at how peaceful they looked, the tension between him and Y/N forgotten for just a moment. Then, an idea hit him. "You know," he began, his voice casual, "I think Ocho and Lady should hang out more often."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Oh? And how exactly do you see that happening?"

"We could set up playdates," Aurélien suggested, leaning back a little, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Or even better… sleepovers."

Y/N let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Sleepovers? You’re kidding, right?"

Aurélien shook his head, completely serious. "Not at all. Think about it—they’re basically together at this point. Why not let them have some extra time to bond? It’s only fair, considering how much they miss each other when they’re apart."

Y/N stared at him in disbelief. "You're suggesting that our dogs… have sleepovers?"

He nodded, looking entirely unbothered. "Yeah, why not? They’ve already been acting like a couple. It’s only logical."

Y/N let out another chortle, shaking her head. "That sounds insane. They're dogs, not kids planning a slumber party."

But Aurélien doubled down, leaning forward with a playful grin. "I’ve given it a lot of thought, actually. Ocho clearly adores Lady, and she seems pretty attached to him too. It’s not as crazy as it sounds." He paused for effect before adding, "Even your dad agreed with me."

Y/N blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. "My father agreed to this?"

Aurélien nodded, looking pleased with himself. "Yep. Shawn said he thought it was a good idea. Said it might help with Lady’s loneliness."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Still not happening, Aurélien."

He laughed softly, leaning back with a casual shrug. "You’ll come around. Just wait until you see how much happier Lady is after a few hangouts."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but despite herself, she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," Aurélien said with a smug grin. "But I’m right about this. Just wait."

Y/N gave him a side-eye but didn’t bother arguing any further. Maybe the idea of doggie sleepovers was ridiculous—but there was no denying how happy Lady seemed to be with Ocho around. Even if she wouldn’t admit it, part of her liked the idea of them hanging out more. Just not too much more.

"And if our dogs are going to be hanging out together, you should at least know how to say my name correctly,” Aurélien said, fixing Y/N with a playful but pointed look. "It’s Aw-ree-le-an, not Ah-reel-lian. You’re butchering the shit out of it."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed as she shot back with a smirk. "Same goes for you too. But don’t get mad at me just because your name’s hard to pronounce. Who even says it like that anyway?"

"French people do," he replied with a cocky grin, crossing his arms as if he’d won the argument already. "And you wish your name was as cool as mine."

"Bullshit," Y/N said, shaking her head.

Aurélien leaned in slightly, and kissed his teeth in annoyance. "You know it’s true. Just admit it. My name sounds like royalty—yours is just… basic."

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. "Please. Your name is a mouthful, and no one outside of France is saying it right. I bet even your teammates struggle."

Aurélien let out a chuckle. "They do, but that’s their problem. You? You should be better than that, especially if we’re going to be around each other more often."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, Aw-ree-le-an, I’ll try my best. But I make no promises."

Aurélien gave her a playful wink. "You better. I won’t let you keep messing it up."

Y/N scoffed at the title he gave her. "Don’t push it."

"Hey, if our dogs are basically dating, that makes us dog parents-in-law. You better get used to it,” Aurélien teased, enjoying the banter between them.

Y/N shook her head, laughing softly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Aw-ree-le-an." Y/N stood up, brushing the dirt off her shorts as she glanced at Aurélien one last time. "Alright, I’ve gotta head out. But I’ll let you know when Lady can hang out with Ocho again," she said, her voice neutral but her gaze sharp.

"Bye, hater…" Aurélien called after her, settling back into his seat on the bench, legs stretched out wide in an exaggerated manspread, arms draped casually across the back. His smirk was infuriatingly confident.

Y/N froze for a second, narrowing her eyes. "You must really want your ass beat, huh?" she shot back.

He shrugged, his smirk deepening. "Name the time and place."

What a fucking asshole, Y/N thought, clenching her jaw as she walked over to Lady. She clipped the leash onto her collar, and of course, Lady put up a small protest, whining and glancing back at Ocho as if they were tearing her away from her soulmate.

"We’ll see him and his annoying-ass owner soon, baby. Let’s get a treat," Y/N muttered under her breath. The word 'treat' instantly snapped Lady’s attention back. She let out a happy yip and gave Ocho a parting lick on the face before trotting obediently next to Y/N.

"Don’t forget to text me about the doggie sleepover, Y/N!" Aurélien called out as she walked away. Y/N didn’t even bother to look back; instead, she lifted her hand and flipped him the bird, her middle finger a clear response. His deep chuckle followed her, adding to her irritation.

Y/N inhaled deeply, forcing herself to exhale slowly as they exited the park. Aurélien was so damn cocky, so insufferably full of himself. His arrogance, that smug grin, the way he acted like everything he said was charming—it got under her skin in a way she hated to admit.

But she was doing this for Lady, not herself. Lady deserved to be happy, and if that meant dealing with Aurélien and his ridiculous dog-parenting antics, so be it.

Still, the thought lingered as she adjusted her grip on Lady’s leash, her fingers flexing a little. Wouldn’t it be great to just rock him right in his big-ass mouth? Just once?

Y/N sat at her desk, laptop open, camera on, though her gaze wandered. She wasn’t sure if therapy was supposed to make her feel better, but lately, it hadn’t. The video feed of her psychiatrist, Dr. Morgan, looked back at her, full of concerned patience.

"You’re clearly stressed, Y/N. Your anxiety’s been through the roof. This isn’t healthy for a 22-year-old. Have you thought about trying meditation? Yoga? Anything to relax?"

Y/N crossed her arms and scoffed. "I’m not stressed, Dr. Morgan, I’m pissed."

Dr. Morgan paused and tilted her head. "Why are you pissed?"

Y/N stared at the screen, her lips pressing into a thin line. The reasons whirled around in her mind, but none of them made it out of her mouth. Because mom died too soon. Because since then, I had to carry everyone else’s burdens— dad’s grief, Sutton’s needs. And moving to Madrid? Who would’ve taken care of them if I’d stayed in Philly?

There was no room for her own needs, no space to breathe, to just be a 22-year-old college senior.

"I don’t know," she muttered, unwilling to voice the chaotic swirl in her head.

Dr. Morgan’s voice softened. "Y/N, you need to step back. You’re acting like a surrogate mother to your family. You have to let yourself be a young adult, to be a student. Consider hiring help, a maid or a nanny, just to take off some of the load."

Y/N sighed but said nothing. She had been slacking on making friends since her mother passed, but who had time for that now?

"Grief affects everyone differently," Dr. Morgan continued. "But what you’re doing isn’t sustainable or healthy."

Y/N offered a curt nod, and with that, they hung up. She slammed her laptop shut, the sound echoing through her room, her frustration simmering. Just as she was about to throw herself onto her bed, there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called, pressing the small button on her bedside table that indicated it was safe to enter. She expected Sutton, but it was her dad who poked his head in.

"Hey, just checking on you," he said, stepping inside.

"I’m fine, Daddy," Y/N replied, her voice tight, though she was trying to sound reassuring.

Her dad frowned. "You always say that, Y/N. Listen, I appreciate everything you’ve done around here, but why don’t you go hang out with your friends or something?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, Dad, not right now."

"My bad," he said, putting his hands up in surrender. "But for real, Y/N. Go out, do something for you. Go shopping or something."

She raised a brow. "Are you going to give me your AmEx, then?" She was half-joking, but what came next shocked her.

"If that gets you out of the house, then sure." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Y/N’s mouth dropped open as he handed her the card. "You’re basically an accountant, and you’ve always been good with money," he said with a shrug. "If there’s anyone I trust with my credit card, it’s you."

"Really?" Y/N asked, taking the card, unsure whether to laugh or protest.

Her dad nodded. "Go out, spoil yourself a bit. SJ can watch Sutton, or we can get that part-time nanny I’ve been talking about."

"I don’t know about a nanny…"

"He’s eleven, Y/N, not a baby. He’s smart. We can get someone to help out, offset some of the responsibility."

"We’ll see," she said, tucking the card into her jacket pocket.

Her dad lingered for a moment longer. "Anyway, how did things go with Aurélien and Ocho?"

Y/N groaned. "He wants the dogs to have sleepovers."

Her dad grinned. "That’s a good idea."

"He told me you liked the idea, too."

"Of course I do. Gives Lady more socializing skills."

"Or lets her get humped by that damn dog of his," Y/N muttered.

Her dad just shrugged. "Dogs are dogs. Maybe you should go with her."

"Excuse me?"

“I meant hang out with Aurélien. Him, Cama, and Jude are good guys. You need friends, Y/N."

"Guy friends though? Aren’t you worried about that?"

"Nah. I already gave them a warning. Told them you’re off-limits."

"Daddy!" Y/N exclaimed, horrified. "What the hell?"

"What? They know what’s up. But if you ever wanted to go down that route, you’re grown."

Y/N stared at him in disbelief. "Wait… so I can make a move, but they can’t? Isn’t that messed up?"

Her dad just shrugged again. "It is what it is. But seriously, Aurélien’s dope. You two are more similar than you think."

He left the room with that parting comment, leaving Y/N to groan in frustration. Of course her dad liked Aurélien, while all she saw was an arrogant nuisance. Still, she reached into her pocket and felt the cool plastic of the AmEx.

"Well, screw it," she muttered. "At least I can buy some new shoes."

Grabbing her sneakers and car keys, Y/N headed downstairs, ready to burn a hole in her dad’s pockets at the shops. A little retail therapy couldn’t hurt, right?

TO BE CONTINUED....

[arachnoia]

Hobie with a tall thick reader like Megan Pete :P

Lanky skinny guy x Tall big booty country girl troupe >>>

Nsfw/Sfw Who knows

megan is literally mother pls. that trope is so fucking cute i’m in love. anon you’re so smart 🤭

tags- nsfw/sfw headcanons, afab! reader, unprotected sex, head-giving, p in v, i don’t know if this is good but requests are opennn (lowk wanna do a miguel one with a trope and nsfw/sfw but idk 🥲)

- im absolutely fucking certain he would call you a stallion. you told him once that people in high school called you a stallion and thought they were being rude for calling you a horse.

- once he found out what “stallion” meant, he started bragging to everyone he knew that his gf was a “stallion” which also confused some who didn’t know what it means.

- he would def be all over you when it comes to praising curves and and would be the type to try to match energy when it comes to confidence.

- as I said, he would def be all over you with praises, especially in your sex life and would have you as a top (with him being the occasional switch) but loves how sexy you look being in charge while riding him. (bondage is something he is into with you and enjoys it along with you straddling him…)

“you’re such a good boy for me, baby,” you cooed, caressing his face. he let out a breathless moan as you moved your hips on top of his thighs, him being buried deep inside you as you kept riding him slowly. “please, my love. you’re so beautiful…so fucking beautiful” he whispered shakily, eyes shut. he felt pain from not being able to touch and caress you due to his hands being tied on the bed frame. you started to move your hips even faster, stifling a moan from how he felt in you. “you’re so good, babe. so good for me…”

- the vibe from you two would be like that one justin bieber vid where he’s with nicki and in one part of the vid he’s like “I got my drivers license” trying to hit her up and she’s like “can you handle curves?” that would essentially be you two in a nutshell except hobie would be more of a tease to you and say something like “idk can I?” — but he loves your curves.

- there’s something about you that he loves but he can’t put his finger on it. other than your curves, he just loves your confidence and personality. opposites attract and that’s what you two are. the sun to his moon, the hot to his cold. him being from a metropolitan city and you being from the country. you’re exactly what he needs for him to stay balanced.

- as you know how to handle him and keep him balanced, he can handle you pretty good as well. even though he loves having you in charge, there are moments where he can’t help but fuck your brains out.

“oh my fucking god-“ you cried, gripping the kitchen counter as you felt your boyfriend fuck you from behind, immense euphoria hitting you like a goddamn train. you felt like a mess under him when he was finally in control. it was your 3rd round and you felt tired as fuck, cum already spilling from your pussy and onto your thighs from the two previous rounds. “fuck…” he whispered, loving the way you clench around him and having you in almost tears. he started caressing your ass before spanking it hard. he loved fucking you from the back just to feel on your ass in front of him. his thrusts started turning sloppy and inconsistent, finally finishing inside you and leaning forward to whisper to you, mumbling incoherently, “you did so good, love.”

- you’re his bright sun. the person who can put up with his compulsivity and inconsistencies. amongst all the inconsistency, the only thing he’s consistent of is how he cares for you. always looks out for you even during his missions as spider-punk.

- that being said, aftercare is great. although he might be a bit overreacting and reaching at times, he still tries to make sure you feel good after sex.

“hobie baby, I said I’m fine,” you smiled. he had given you a few seconds to compose yourself, going to the bathroom. once you raised yourself a bit from the counter and could form a sentence, he tried to carry you. “but i don’t want you to hurt yourself if you’re sore,” you rolled your eyes as he ended that with a “mhmmm” to stroke his ego. “I can walk just fine.” he gave you a look before placing you gently on your shared bed to clean you up.

.

.

masterlist

[nonotnolan]

The Great Gym Shift

Day 15 of life after the body swapping incident that affected downtown Washington DC, and life was still weird as shit.  Some people were calling it the Great Shift-- a government cover-up for a science experiment gone wrong.  I don’t think a two mile radius really deserves a “Great” moniker but I had to admit it was catchy.  Others were calling it a terrorist bioweapon meant to cause havoc across the nation’s government.  That did seem possible, but the terrorists had terrible aim if that was the case.

A few people even said it was a plan to put key politicians into younger, healthier bodies, but... I know for a fact that one isn’t true.  I was there at ground zero when the swap occurred, working as a personal trainer at the gym.  All those desirable bodies, mine included, went to some of the most pathetic white collar workers you could imagine.  Whatever happened, it was definitely an accident.

It’s been a month, and I still haven’t gotten used to my reflection.  I hope I never do, to be honest.  The government is working on getting this whole mess resolved, and I can only hope it will be sooner rather than later.  I’ve never had hair this long, and I am in desperate need a of a haircut.  Since it’s not my body, I’d have to fill out a requisition form, and I keep hoping it won’t come to that.  

One of the first things the Government did was send in the National Guard to put everyone affected into a quarantined hotel area, and then they started drowning us in regulations and paperwork.  I’m still working as a personal trainer... only now most of my clients are lazy office drones.  Those desirable bodies I mentioned?  I’m in charge of making sure their new owners keep them in shape.  I’m slowly losing my sanity.

“Mitch!  What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said, walking out into our shared kitchen.  Uncle Sam was putting us up in some very nice accommodations, I had to admit, but my clients-turned-roommates left a lot to be desired.

“C’mon Grady, it’s Saturday,” he said, as if that was supposed to be an answer.  I kept starting at him until he continued.  “Saturday is my self-care day, and today that means Netflix and cookies.  I don’t see what the big deal is...”

“Absolutely not,” I said, holding out my hand.  “Give me those, that is way too many calories for one serving.  We’re sharing those with the whole floor.”  He rolled his eyes and sighed at me, but at least he obeyed me.  I can’t help but feel self-conscious bossing all of these men around, especially when they’re large enough to beat me to a pulp if they knew how to leverage their strength.  The real Mitch was a lanky college intern who had no idea how to build or maintain muscle mass.  Russ would’ve had a heart attack if he was here to see even half the things Mitch wanted to do in that body.

As I walked the plate of cookies out to the common area, I couldn’t help but notice that Larry was still sitting at his room’s computer desk, shirtless and surrounded by a few wadded tissues.  Gross, but... I’ve seen Larry’s old body.  I can’t entirely blame the old pervert.  “Please tell me you didn’t stay up all night watching porn again.”

He just smiled at me, his bloodshot eyes telling me everything that I needed to know.  “So what if I did, Grady, it’s Saturday.  The fitness schedule you made for me says I don’t have to work out today, and a sleep schedule isn’t a part of the body cohabitation contract we all signed.  As long as I still eat three healthy meals today, you can’t make me do anything.  So how about giving me some privacy?”  He was right, of course.  Larry was one of my most frustrating clients, because he knew exactly how to do the bare minimum and nothing more.  Tana was one of the gym’s biggest over-achievers, so seeing his body do a complete 180 had been quite the adjustment.

I knew better than to engage with him right now-- better to save my strength for fights that I would be able to win.  I set the cookies down in our shared kitchen, waved at a few of the other guys, and retreated back to the bedroom I shared with one other man.

Simon smiled at me, and I could feel my frustrations starting to lift away.  “Good morning, Grady.  Rough start?” he asked, looking up from his book.  Simon was a licensed psychologist who happened to be at a nearby Industry Convention when the Great Shift happened, and I was so glad to have his assistance dealing with all of the heated emotions that boiled over during the aftermath.  Furthermore, Simon had ended up in my body.  It was a relief to know that my body was being controlled by someone responsible, even if seeing myself each day came with its own set of weird situations.

"You have no idea,” I said, shaking my head.  “Or rather, you have an exact idea, because you’ve also had to deal with those guys.  I don’t suppose you would be up for some... stress release?” I asked, peeling off my tank top and tossing it onto the floor.

He laughed, quickly setting aside his book and his glasses.  “In this body?  Always!”  Was it weird that I was having sex with my own body?  Maybe, but honestly, our daily hookups felt like one of the least weird things about this whole mess.  I always knew I was an attractive man, and I’ve always been attracted to anyone who keeps themselves healthy, regardless of gender.  Presumably that’s how Simon now felt-- I know that ever since I’ve been in this new Twink body, I have only felt attraction for hairy men.  Sexual attraction seemed to follow the body, not the inhabitant.

“Do you ever worry that we’re complicating things?” Simon asked.  “For whenever the government is able to switch everyone back into the right bodies, I mean.  They’ve told our loved ones that we’re in quarantine, but... how can we go back to normal life when this is all over?”  I understood where he was coming from-- his real body was at least twenty years older, and while he didn’t like sharing too much about his life, I’d gotten the impression he had a wife and maybe a few grandkids waiting for him back home.

Simon clearly had a tendency to overthink everything, and I was now used to offering friendly advice while his warm load was still inside of me.  “Honestly, I think we’re dealing with a stressful situation, and we’re all just coping however we can.  There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults having sex.  And I don’t know about you, but... if I didn’t try to get a wide range of experiences inside of this temporary body, I think I’d regret the missed opportunity forever.”

He smiled at me.  “I suppose you’re right,” he said, as he sipped on cheap hotel coffee.  “’In sickness or in health’ wasn’t really meant to cover something so impossible.  And I’d rather seek forgiveness than forever ponder what might have been.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, smiling back at him.  I think we both knew it was a bit selfish, but how else could we be expected to process these strange new desires?  Yeah, I guess I felt a bit guilty having sex with someone other than my girlfriend back home, but... when else would I ever get an opportunity to have sex with myself?  I don’t think there is a person alive who could blame me.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 5

Masterpost

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: We interrupt your regularly scheduled mission programming to bring you... a gay astronaut wedding? Please enjoy this wedding sequence that got away from me a little bit. Because they deserve all the happiness before Bucky flings himself off the planet.

--

October 11, 2025 Houston, TX

Gale has known that he would marry John Egan for years. He won’t be dramatic and say he knew it from the first day that that lanky, brown-haired boy came tumbling into their assigned college dorm freshman year, but… it was close. It was a sure thing well before their engagement, and not a day has gone by since then without one of them calling each other “fiancé” or “groom” or “bride” (Gale had eventually accepted that Bucky would never stop calling him that). Meeting John was a one-way ticket to the rest of their life. But Gale wasn’t prepared for how real it would feel today.

The venue they chose is perfect for something extravagant. Something worthy of hosting NASA’s best and the many other friends and families on the guest list, nearing 300 people total. Thousands and thousands of dollars went into this whole crazy day– one of Houston’s finest wedding locations decorated to the nines, enough food to feed hundreds of people, not to mention a huge wedding cake, a wedding planner and photographers and DJs and musicians, flowers and wedding favors and tuxedos that cost a fortune. 

But somehow, sitting in the venue’s designated bridal suite, it doesn’t feel extravagant at all. Warm, gentle light passes through the windows, illuminating the quaint little room and splashing off Gale’s face and perfectly coiffed blonde hair as he looks at himself in the mirror. Other than the photographer taking photos as he gets ready, it’s just him and his attendants: Marge as his maid of honor; Benny; Helen; Croz; and Crank, an old Air Force buddy. And, of course, Meatball. They’ve been hanging out in here ahead of the ceremony, drinking wine (white to ensure nothing stains Gale’s white tux), listening to good music, telling stories, and having a good time. 

Gale smiles at himself in the mirror and runs a hand anxiously through his hair. Marge, standing beside him, smacks it away. “Stop that!” she scolds. “You’ll ruin it.” His hand falls back to his side, his fingers twitching almost imperceptibly, just itching to do something with all of the nervous energy building up in his body. Marge grabs his hand to still it as she makes eye contact with him in the mirror and grins. “You’re getting married today, babe.”

“You know, there was a time everyone thought it would be us,” Gale chuckles as she moves in front of him to straighten his tie. 

She glances up at him, huffing in amusement. “Yeah, that was before everyone knew you’re gay as fuck for John Egan.” They both burst out laughing and she gives him a tight one-armed hug. The photographer takes a picture.

–

John can no longer really remember not wanting to marry Gale Cleven. He’s fantasized about those pretty blue eyes since the very first time he saw him smile, and he’s made it his mission to make Gale smile every day since.

That doesn’t mean he’s not freaking the fuck out, though.

In a suite on the other side of the building from Gale’s, Bucky’s groomsmen are living it up to try to keep his nerves down. Curt, as best man, has taken it upon himself to keep the mood light, the music going, and allow all the other men just enough beer to liven the room but stay appropriately functional for the rest of the day. Brady and Murph – two of Gale and Bucky’s friends from AFROTC – laugh loudly at some joke Alex told while Rosie scratches Pepper behind the ears. He sets down his drink and steps over to Bucky, who is staring at himself in the mirror.

Rosie gently pushes Bucky’s shaking hands away from his tie and helps him tie it properly. He offers a comforting smile. “Can’t have you looking sloppy on your big day.”

Bucky laughs warily. “Shoulda made you my best man.”

Rosie looks over at Curt who, in his defense, is looking diligently through the “Best Man Duties” checklist Marge had made for him, but, not in his defense, is doing it while dancing on a table. “Nah,” Rosie says. “He gets shit done in his own way, and I know you’d trust him with your life.”

“With my life, but maybe not my marriage.” 

–

Gale shrugs his shoulders and shakes out his wrists, taking a deep breath. Benny hands him a small black gift box, and Gale opens it, already knowing what’s inside. Delicately, he pulls out one of the cufflinks. Custom-made in silver, a beautiful likeness of the moon with a space capsule crossing in front of it. Today’s date is engraved in small lettering across the top. They were a gift from Harding, and he knows Bucky is pulling out matching ones right about now. He thanks Benny and puts them on.

“What’s better?” Crank asks as he watches from the ornate couch in the middle of the room. “Goin’ to the moon or marryin’ Bucky?”

Gale grins. He doesn’t say a word.

–

Bucky drops one of the cufflinks as he tries to get it on, and Brady snatches it before it tumbles under the couch. He hands it to Rosie, who takes it upon himself to put those on for Bucky, too.

“Are there gonna be reporters?” Bucky asks.

Rosie glances up at him as he secures the second cufflink. “Is that what’s got you so shaky?”

If we’re lucky-

No. Not today.

Bucky just blinks, clenches and unclenches his jaw. “No, but it doesn’t help.”

Curt hops off the table and shoves his crumpled checklist into his pocket. “There will be,” he says carefully, then rushes to continue, putting his hands up to placate the groom. “But just a couple, hand-selected by Marge.” Bucky takes a deep breath and tries not to let his nerves show. He fails. He’s been failing at that all day. Curt places one hand on each of Bucky’s shoulders. “They’re under strict instructions not to talk to you or Gale uninvited ‘cept when they get some pictures. And they ain’t allowed to talk to any of the guests on the record. Marge had ‘em sign a bunch of shit.”

Bucky nods and looks Curt in the eye. “Thanks.”

Curt shakes him gently. “Any problems an’ I’ll take care of it. You don’t worry ‘bout a thing.”

–

In Gale’s suite, Croz and Helen raise a toast to the groom – or, bride, if Bucky has his way – the best spaceflight partner, CAPCOM, coworker, and friend they could ask for. Everyone, even Gale, clinks their wine glasses together before taking one final sip.

Gale kneels down to press his face against the top of Meatball’s soft head. Meatball licks him on the lips, making him laugh. “Great, now I’ll have dog breath for my wedding.” Croz tosses him a mint.

–

As Bucky tries to tame an errant curl insistently falling over his forehead, he hears a shout behind him and spins around in alarm. Alex is lunging after Pepper as she hops clear over the couch, a small black box in her mouth, and runs to the other side of the room just as a photographer walks through the door. She slips right past his legs and out into the hallway beyond, Alex in hot pursuit.

“What the fuck?” Bucky exclaims.

Curt is standing stock still in the middle of the room. “She has the rings,” he says.

“What the fuck!”

–

When he hears shouting and what sounds like a stampede in the hallway, Gale looks up from the surprisingly sweet little note that Bucky had written for him to read while they get ready. “What the fuck?”

“Wait here.” Marge puts a finger up and slips out the door, opening it as little as possible in an attempt to keep Gale’s sanity intact. She’s glad she did. The entire groom’s party is wildly chasing Pepper down the hall. She reaches out and snatches Curt roughly by the arm. “Talk,” she demands.

He pants as he leans over to catch his breath, pointing after the fiasco ahead of them. “Pepper has the rings.”

Marge nearly slaps him.

–

The photographer gets an action shot of Brady tackling Pepper, with Bucky’s other 3 groomsmen and best man running up behind in a panic. It’ll end up being one of their favorite pictures from today… after Marge finishes being royally pissed off.

–

Back in the groom’s suite, the four groomsmen stand in a line in parade rest, chins held high. Pepper sits obediently at the end of the line, wearing a navy blue bowtie to match the others, and Bucky swears she looks like she knows exactly what she did, and she’s proud of it. The ring box is now securely in Curt’s pocket.

Curt walks down the line, carefully inspecting each of the men to ensure not even a hair is out of place and demanding they correct any imperfections. Four perfectly pressed and donned gray suits with navy blue bow ties and boutonnieres to offset Bucky’s deep navy tux. Curt nods in satisfaction and turns to look at Bucky, gives him a once-over as well. “Ready?”

–

Gale’s attendants stand in a loose circle as Marge checks each of the men’s suits – which match Bucky’s groomsmen – and Helen’s navy blue dress, which matches her own. She adjusts Meatball’s matching bowtie and turns to Gale, who is fussing with the boutonniere on his lapel. His fingers are twitching again, the only sign that he’s nervous, even though she knows he’s just not showing the full extent of it. She pushes his hand away and fixes the boutonniere for him. Then she looks him in the eye and smiles as she squeezes his shoulder. “Ready?”

–

Gale and John want to remember every single second of this day, but they won’t. It’ll go by in a love-hazed, celebration-filled blur with only snapshots and key moments to fill in the gaps. That’s okay, though. Maybe even a good thing. Perfect days aren’t meant to be wholly remembered. They’re meant to be felt. They’re meant to be looked back on with a dazed sense of sentimentality, of love, of I don’t remember all of it, but I remember it was the best day of my life. That feeling is what will get Gale Cleven and John Egan through the next couple of months. 

Here’s what they will recall:

The grand hall is even more massive than they remember, with vast marble floors filled with nearly three hundred seats and towering columns that stretch up past the mezzanine to possibly the highest ceiling they’ve ever seen. It’s elaborately decorated from top to bottom and end to end with navy, silver, and white decor including elegant and elaborate flower arrangements. Twinkling lights are strung from one side of the mezzanine to the other, crossing back and forth across the entire grand hall, and shimmering star-like decorations hang down from the mezzanine and upper ceiling. It’s a classy but subtly space-themed wonderland. 

Before walking down the aisle, they meet each other outside the entrance to the grand hall. Bucky can do absolutely nothing but stare in wide-eyed wonder with his mouth hanging open the first time he sees Gale. The photographer snaps a picture. 

Gale is in a perfectly tailored, bright white three piece suit with silver buttons, a navy tie, and a navy and white boutonniere. With the way the light streams in from the huge windows above, illuminating him from all directions, he looks like an angel. Bucky’s perfect, beautiful angel. 

Gale grins at him, already fighting to keep his eyes dry. “What? Something in my teeth?”

“You-“ Bucky stammers. “You. You’re… oh my god.” That’s it. That’s all he can manage. 

Gale steps forward and kisses him on the cheek before really taking in the sight of his groom. Bucky contrasts him beautifully in a deep navy blue suit, so dark it’s almost black, a gray waistcoat, light blue tie, and a white boutonniere. Their cufflinks, as expected, are exact matches, signifying not only their marriage but their legacy to this world. Everything that makes them whole in one little piece of metal. 

Gale reaches out and brushes his hand over the curl Bucky had spent so long trying to tame, making it fall over his forehead again. 

“Hey!” Bucky cries.

Gale just smiles. “You look more you this way.” 

They’ll remember Marge walking them down the aisle together. She’s in between the two, wearing a lovely navy blue bridesmaid dress and carrying a small baby-blue and white bouquet that matches the one Helen will be holding. Gale didn’t want to carry one – that was the line he drew – but they wanted the girls to have something to hold. 

A string quartet plays What A Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong, and Bucky walks on Marge’s right, Gale on her left, each holding tight to one arm as hundreds of people stand and watch them approach the altar. While planning the wedding, Gale had felt a bit nervous about who would walk them down the aisle; neither of them had doting parents left to do it. But this, he thinks, was the right choice. One of the most important people in both of their lives, the person who binds them together and keeps them sane. 

This, Marge thinks, is one of her proudest moments as a friend. The photographer snaps a picture. 

During the ceremony, Bucky is so besotted with Gale that, when it comes time for him to say his vows, Curt has to shove him gently to get his attention. Bucky can’t help but laugh, and everyone laughs with him. He shakes his head, bites his lip, holds tight to Gale’s perfect hands. He’s never been the best with words and he just so badly wants to get this right. “Gale,” he says. And he has to pause, because he’s worried for a second that his voice won’t let him do it. 

“Gale, I knew you were someone special from the first time I ever saw you smile. I knew that I had to hold onto you, and God knows I held on with everything I had. You know, teenagers always think they know what love is but, uh, wow, I was not prepared for you.” He releases one of Gale’s hands to wipe at his face with a shaky laugh before entwining their fingers once again.

“We’ve been through so much together. And I don’t know where I’d be, who I’d be, without you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that will ever happen to me, and I’m going to the goddamn moon next month so that’s saying a lot, because that doesn’t even come close to how in awe I am of getting to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the most amazing human being I’ve ever known, and sometimes I still can’t believe how lucky I am. How lucky I am to be standing here, looking at you, with you looking at me like that.” 

Bucky shakes his head like he can’t even fathom what he did to deserve someone so perfect. Gale squeezes his hands tight, and Bucky tries to finish before he can't get the words out anymore. He wasn’t at all prepared for how emotional he’d feel today. “I am so proud of you and of us and of everything we’ve ever done and will do. I love you more than anything in this entire wild universe. I love you to the moon, to the stars… Gale, I love you more than any words could ever say, and I promise I will keep loving you, keep doing my best by you, for the rest of our lives.”

When Gale starts reciting his vows – “John Egan, I loved you the moment you barreled into my life, and I have loved you every moment since” – Bucky is suddenly glad he heard them last night, because his heart is pounding so loud and all he can do is think I love you I love you I love you.

He blinks away the tears that are threatening to spill and tunes back in as Gale comes to the part he didn’t hear before. “I love this life with you, John. Nothing makes me happier than waking up every day to you, going to sleep every night at your side. Nothing makes me prouder than watching you chase your dreams. And not a day goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am. Because of all the possible places, all the possible times we each could have existed, the universe allowed us to walk this Earth together. Words can’t describe how thankful I am that you’re in my life. And I promise I will hold onto you with all I’ve got, I will love you with my entire being, until the end of time.”

When Curt gives them the rings, Bucky’s hand is shaking so bad he’s worried he’ll fuck it up. But Gale is there, steady despite the fact that his heart is racing and Bucky can feel it in the pulse in his wrist. And when they both say “I do,” they mean it more than anything they’ve ever said in their entire lives. 

When they kiss, it’s sweet and it’s passionate and they hold each other like the rest of the world has fallen away. The photographer snaps a picture. 

A room full of people is clapping and cheering. Benny and Brady whoop and holler and the dogs start barking in excitement. Then Pepper breaks free of Alex’s hold and nearly knocks down the happy couple. Meatball quickly joins her, celebrating right along with Buck and Bucky at the altar as they laugh and try to stay upright, try to keep two massive huskies from ruining their suits. The photographer snaps a picture.  

During the cocktail hour, the newlyweds and the wedding party run through staged photo after staged photo with every possible combination of wedding attendants and every possible picturesque background and positioning for John and Gale. Later they’ll think that no matter how much they paid their wedding photographer, it won’t have been enough to compensate for how elegantly he captured every possible moment. 

True to Curt’s word, there are two reporters with two different news outlets. At Marge’s direction, they were barred from photographing the ceremony, but have been granted the opportunity to take a few photos of their own during this time as well as throughout the reception. Bucky’s heart is beating too fast, trying to outrun the negative thoughts beginning to swirl around his brain. But the reporters smile kindly, congratulate them, and ask what type of photos they would be comfortable with them taking. 

They don’t say another word, other than offering some posing directions, until Gale says “do you need anything else from us?”

One of them, a lovely young woman, replies “only if you’re comfortable sharing a few words or answering some questions. I’m sure people would love to hear what you both are thinking on your big day!” Bucky wonders what lengths Marge had to go to to keep them so courteous. Curt is standing by, more like a bodyguard than a best man, ready to intervene. 

But Gale nods and strikes up a conversation with both reporters. Bucky’s ears are ringing, his hand holding too tightly to Gale’s. When Gale glances at him, a silent question – is this okay? – Bucky just gives a slight nod. It has to be. But he’ll never remember a word of what was said. 

He lets Gale do all the talking except for when the other reporter, an older man, asks Bucky what he loves the most about Gale. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat as he looks right at the guy like the answer is obvious. “Everything.”

The magazine and news articles that are printed about their wedding will be kind, written with cognizance, grace, and an appreciation for everything it stood for. The photographs will be flattering and genuine. They won’t mention that Bucky so clearly did not want to talk to them. All they’ll say is that John Egan was so mesmerized by his husband that everything else was secondary. They won’t be wrong. 

Bucky knows he owes Marge his fucking life at this point. 

When he starts to get fidgety, fiddling nervously with Gale’s fingers in his own, Gale looks over at him, kisses his cheek, thanks the reporters, and tells them to enjoy the reception. 

Then he takes Bucky by the hand and they slip away to a quiet corner before they have to go back into the grand hall. Gale holds him tight until his heartbeat starts to slow again. 

By the time the cocktail hour comes to an end, the amazing staff have transformed the grand hall into something somehow even more impressive, with neatly arranged tables and flowers and balloons and lighting in soft white and blue hues. The wedding cake, four tiers of navy blue with silver dusting and white flowers cascading down one side, sits on display at one end of the room, opposite the dance floor. The topper is a black silhouette of two men standing on a crescent moon. 

Gale and John re-enter, hand in hand, as the DJ announces their first appearance as newlyweds. When they take their place on the dance floor, all eyes are on them as Can’t Help Falling in Love plays over the speakers. 

Even with some spins thrown in, they manage not to trip. But for the most part they just hold each other, breathe each other in, know that they never have to let go. Gale thinks that he has never been more in love. Bucky thinks that this couldn’t be more perfect. They don’t even notice when the photographer snaps a picture. 

By the time toasts come around, Gale and Bucky haven’t stopped laughing and smiling since the reception began. There’s hardly been a moment where they aren’t touching, whether it’s a knee or a hand or an arm or a kiss. They sit together at the table of honor as Curt, in Curt fashion, climbs up onto his chair and taps his wine glass with a fork. “The maid of honor would like to say a few words,” he declares, before stepping down and helping Marge up. Gale worries about her up there in her heels, but then he realizes, it’s Marge. She’s fine. 

“I can clearly remember the night Gale first met John,” she begins, as she turns to look at them warmly. “It was when they first moved into their college dorm freshman year. Yes, everyone, that’s how long these two idiots have been in love. Because that night, Gale snuck into the stairwell and called me. The first thing he says is, ‘Marge, I don’t know if I can do it. This kid is the most chaotic, most talkative, most energetic guy I’ve ever met.’ So I tell him he just met the guy, give him a chance, and he goes on to list every single thing that’s wrong with John Egan.” The crowd laughs, and Gale blushes as he sips his drink, Bucky acting hurt even though he knows this story. 

They go quiet at Marge’s next words, though, laughter turning to awe. She smiles at the two of them. “And then he says ‘and my god, Marge, he’s beautiful.’” 

Gale just about turns bright red. Bucky kisses him lovingly on the temple as Marge goes on. “And, well, that was that. Neither one of them ever looked back. I have had the privilege of watching these two grow up together in the many years since. From the first time I saw them together, there was no question they were in love. I think I knew it before they did, but today was always where they were heading. No matter what the world threw at them, there was never anything that could keep them apart for long. There was never anything one could do that the other wouldn’t eventually forgive. There was never anything that could break them. ‘Buck and Bucky,’ we all say. ‘It’s just how the world is meant to be.’ We can’t imagine a life where these two aren’t attached at the hip, and I’ve known this to be true since they were just boys. So, to my boys.” She raises her glass in toast. “You‘ve built something incredible between you. The rest of us could only hope to be so lucky. I love you both, and I know you’ll have a beautiful life together.”

Curt helps Marge down and climbs back on the chair himself as everyone claps and takes a drink. “Man, I just spoke at this man’s birthday and now I gotta do it here, too.” Everyone laughs. “Alright Bucky, I’m gonna call ya John cause this feels like a sentimental sorta moment. So, I first met John – fuck, no, never mind. Can’t do that. Ain’t right… I first met Bucky when we both went into the service after finishing AFROTC at our respective schools. From day one, he wouldn’t shut up about this guy, Buck, from college. I thought he was crazy. Didn’t learn for weeks that Buck was actually Gale Cleven and was, in fact, not Bucky just talkin’ ‘bout himself in some weird third person. But he’d talk your ear off about Buck Cleven any chance he got. Buck this, Buck that, Buck’s at another base, can’t wait for you to meet Buck, you’re gonna love Buck, I miss Buck.” It’s John’s turn to blush. 

“And then it was even longer before I learned that Buck wasn’t just some guy he knew, some best friend he admired. No, Gale was basically Bucky’s reason for stayin’ alive, keepin’ some sense of self-preservation through all the crazy shit we did in the Air Force. He was the love of his life, the person he had to get home to. Two airmen, sometimes together and sometimes apart, but always holdin’ each other up somehow. It would’ve been sweet except for Bucky never shuttin’ up about it. It was insufferable, and I’ve been dealin’ with it for ten fuckin’ years.” He glances at Gale. “Gale, honestly man, you could do better.” Gale grins and rolls his eyes.

“Nah, but really,” Curt continues. “I didn’t know it back then, but these two would become my best friends, and they amaze me all the time, as individuals and as a couple. I only had to meet Gale once. See them together once. And I understood.” He smiles fondly at his friends, and it may be the most genuine Curt’s ever been in public his entire life. “All you gotta do is watch these two for a moment, and anyone can tell that the way they look at each other is somethin’ beautiful.” He raises his glass. “Here’s to you two fuckin’ love struck dorks.”

The rest of the night flies by in a blur. Music and dancing and singing and talking with friends and thanking people for coming. Bucky sings along obnoxiously to Blue Skies and Gale can’t hide his embarrassment. Someone jokingly asks if he already regrets his choices but he just laughs and shakes his head, says “not even for a second.”

Gale slow dances with Meatball. Then with Pepper, too "so she doesn't feel left out." Then, for the hundredth time, with Bucky, cause he literally cannot stand Gale being apart from him for that long.

When they cut the cake, Bucky’s hand just about engulfing Gale’s around the handle of the knife, it’s messy and imperfect and they can’t stop giggling like little kids. Bucky takes a handful of cake and smashes it into Gale’s mouth, smearing blue icing all over his lips and nose. Gale kisses Bucky through it and it’s sticky and sweet and the best cake they’ve ever tasted. 

At some point, Bucky locates and steals the bouquet that Marge walked them down the aisle with. He grabs Gale’s hand, pulling him away from a group of friends to drag him up the stairs to the mezzanine. He shoves the flowers against Gale’s chest. “Gotta toss the bouquet!” He insists. 

Gale rolls his eyes. “Bucky…”

“No excuses! It’s tradition.”

Gale motions between the two of them. “This isn’t exactly traditional.”

But then someone is announcing to the whole room that the wedding toss is happening and Bucky spins Gale right around so his back is to the rail. He kisses him gently behind his ear and says “you’re the most beautiful bride in the whole world.” 

Gale groans in exasperation, but he’s smiling anyways. “You better believe it,” he mutters. Then he covers his eyes with his free hand as people gather below, and he tosses the flowers over his shoulder.  

–

It’ll go down as possibly the best party in NASA Houston history. But what the couple will remember most clearly, most fondly, is what happens after, when it’s just the two of them alone in the quiet night. They’ll remember these simple moments, woven together with love and desire and care. Body and breath and soul. The way it all feels so different from just days before and yet not different at all. 

The ineffable connection between them. That’s what Gale will cling onto, dream about no matter how much it might hurt, on those days when he’s alone on this planet just hoping against hope for his husband to come home. 

They stumble up their front walk, not because they’re drunk but because they’re delirious, exhausted and giddy and in love to the point that they’re out of breath and out of words and nothing else matters other than being in each other’s arms. Gale opens the door, but Bucky grabs him by the hand. “Aren’t I supposed to carry you through or somethin’?”

Gale tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “You realize you did actually marry a man, right?”

“Course I do.” Bucky smirks and puts his hands on Gale’s narrow hips. Everyone always thinks Gale is tall, built, broad. Until Bucky comes, slips an arm around his slim waist or grabs him by the shoulders or just generally exists beside him. Then all of a sudden, Gale looks small. The way Bucky towers over him makes his heart go wild. His eyes flutter closed as Bucky presses him against the door frame and puts his mouth next to his ear, nips at it gently. He whispers, “But you’re still my bride.”

Before Bucky can do whatever he’s about to do, Gale grabs his hand and tugs him roughly through the door and Bucky is not complaining. 

Somehow, they end up in the kitchen. Bucky opens the fridge and grabs the bottle of champagne they bought for tonight, expertly pops the cork with a delighted grin. They both take a sip. Then, bottle in his left hand, Bucky presses his right hand to Gale’s chest and pushes him back against the kitchen counter. Gale lifts himself up so he’s sitting on the granite countertop. They haven’t done a thing and his hair is already a mess, and he’s looking at Bucky like that with his lips parted and his eyes bright and the corner of his mouth ticking up in just the hint of a smile that says, like a challenge, now what?

Bucky steps between his legs, rests a hand on Gale’s hip, and looks him up and down, at that lovely white suit and the way it snatches his waist and accentuates his shoulders. “You look fucking amazing in this. But I need it off of you asap.” He starts working at Gale’s tie until it’s completely undone, hanging limply around his neck. 

Gale grabs the bottle of champagne and presses it to his lips, takes another sip, then cups Bucky’s cheek and kisses him softly. Bucky bites at Gale’s lower lip and, without looking, carefully guides his hand to set the bottle on the counter. When he pulls away, with hands far steadier than when he slid the wedding ring over Gale’s finger, he makes quick work of undoing the top few buttons of Gale’s shirt, lets the tie drop to the floor. Gale groans quietly at the gentle kisses on his collarbone, the teasing teeth at his neck, as Bucky strips him of his suit jacket, then his waistcoat. 

Not fair, he thinks, and with urgent fingers grabs at Bucky’s tie, his jacket, his shirt buttons. Equally urgent fingers twist into Gale’s soft hair. 

Gale pushes Bucky away, hops off the counter, presses him to the kitchen wall. Between kisses, Bucky undoes the rest of the buttons on Gale’s shirt. It falls to the tile below, exposing a muscular chest and torso, and Bucky rubs his hands up and down Gale’s sides. Then he takes his hand and leads him down the hall to the bedroom, gently pushes him to sit on the edge of the bed. He wants to fucking worship this man. 

They both kick off their shoes and Gale leans back on his elbows, cheeks flushed as he stares at Bucky in awe, watching him strip off his waistcoat and dress shirt. When they make eye contact, the same desperate and eternal thought engulfs both of their entire beings: beautiful. 

Then Bucky’s on top of Gale, pushing him back back back into the soft mattress. And when their hands come together on top of the sheets, they pause to marvel at two silver rings, glinting in the moonlight. Inextricably linking them to one another for the rest of their lives, no matter where they go or what they do. 

“I love you,” Gale whispers. 

“To the moon and back,” Bucky says breathlessly. And then he kisses him.  

--

--

Thank you to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting, etc. Hearing your thoughts fuels my inspiration and makes me day!

Part 6

[grlzluvmyswag]

"Oh, my god, come on." You stand before him in the staff lounge, gritting your teeth and making a mental note to wipe that shit-faced grin right off that pretty-boy face of his soon. You irritably grab two fistfuls of your uniform shirt, as well as the lacy bra beneath it, and yank them both upwards so that they’re bunched up above your bared tits. For him, this should be adequate. It was adequate the last time, right? Men love boobs, surely he’ll just appreciate the gesture and give you what you need…? You almost groan in exasperation at his unpredictable nature and the apprehension it brings along with it. The man slinks back into the most ridiculously expensive chair you've witnessed the like of with a lazy sigh, proactively making you wish you could dropkick his lanky frame to the cold, hard floor.

"Ehhh..." Gojo taps his chin with a slender finger, giving the impression that he is "thinking about it", albeit in the most unconvincing way possible while making a face at the sight of his student in the same scenario she was in the previous week. At once, an apparently innocent smile brightens up his face, and those keen eyes peer up into yours as though you happened to be having a normal discussion. "Yeah, no, not good enough for me."

"Huh…!?" is what you yell in reply to his selfish conclusion. Naturally, you could've called that response, but that doesn't make it piss you off any less! Please, who does this cocky bastard think he is? Given the taboo element of your budding relationship, he should consider himself so lucky to be seeing your tits for the second occasion in a row.

Gojo, who was hoping for that exact reaction, grins more enthusiastically than ever. He shifts back in his chair, sets his polished boots on the desk in front of him, and interlaces his fingers behind his head. He looks a little too proud for your liking, you think to yourself with a scowl.

"I said... not good enough." He shrugs his shoulders, making fun of his agitated student and all that she's trying to do in order to acquire additional training sessions with him. His claims are contradicted by that dumb smile of his, but he'll keep this up just a while longer for the hell of it. Maybe he can get more than he originally bargained for?

"Why." you promptly ask, planting your fists firmly on your hips as you continue the heated interaction, playing right into his game. Gojo is determined to have you as on-edge as possible, and it's evident in his sparkling blue gaze.

"Why is this not good enough?"

"Yeah, why."

"You're asking me for more one on one training. You know that's gonna eat into my personal life, right?"

You sigh frustratedly at the way he forever finds a way and a will to skirt around the answer you expect from him, palms slamming upon the polished surface of his desk in a futile attempt to intimidate the man. Your movement is carried with such ferocity, yet all it accomplishes is to lure the idiot’s interest back to those exposed tits. They sway and jiggle a small distance from Gojo's face, and he finds himself beyond turned on. Enough that even his leg is beginning to bounce as a way to cope with the overwhelming urges he's suppressing inside.

"Can you ju-" you cut yourself off suddenly, frozen as ice once you register the sensation of your tender nipple being delicately rolled between his knuckles at the same time his other big, veiny hand squeezes at your chest. You swiftly shift forth for him in search of more touch even when your body's instinctual need to jolt away from the stimulation is activated. "Huh, w-wait..." before you can stop it, a soft whimper manages to escape you, and this automatically motivates the teacher to insist on continuing with an air of smugness up until you fiercely slap his hand away.

The sorcerer chuckles breathily at your harsh behaviour while he tilts his head. And to really gain your sympathy, he shamelessly adjusts and briefly strokes the throbbing bulge in his slacks, because look at him... he's already painfully hard at the sight of your perfect tits! You just have to let him get his way after what you've done to him!

"Oh dear, just drop that god-awful attitude already, would you? What I'm sayin'... is while the sight is good, more would be good enough."

"...What are you playing at, Satoru Gojo?" Your tone is cautious, slightly breathless as you gather yourself. It's only a question of making sure. You know he loves to take every advantage he can just to get under your skin. He’s already had the pleasure of fondling you just then, so maybe it’s only acceptable for him to want more from you. That’s what he wants you to think, anyways. The man huffs impatiently, crossing those long, lean arms of his.

"Tch. Come onnnnnn. Do I seriously have to spell it out for you?" He groans like an impatient child, a slight pout contorting his lips. "I want you to let me suck on your tits. Play with 'em."

Yep, there it is. Ever so determined to cross the line, isn’t he?

"…you’re kidding." You blink at the man. Once, twice. 

Gojo is bewildered. No, he's not kidding at all! If he didn't intend to act on  it, why would he state something so obscene? You look at him as though he were known for abusing your feelings or something... it’s almost hurtful!

"No, I’m not." He expresses his annoyance with an exaggerated sigh, running his fingers through locks of snow white, pushing back the strands that messily rest over the frames of his shades.

Oh, wow. He’s truly not kidding. What is this… self-entitled, utterly infuriatingly handsome man’s issue?! He must really enjoy the thrill of greedily sinking his teeth into more than he should chew, mustn’t he? And he’s just so shamelessly rude about it! Yet somehow that’s barely enough to keep you from actually, actually, considering the price he wants you to pay. What really gets you thinking about it is a quick peer at the teacher's (effortlessly aggravating) mouth. You have to admit that with those perfectly pink lips sucking, kissing and everything in between, your view could certainly gain just that little bit more oomph. And oh, you can only imagine how absolutely delectable that silver tongue of his would feel, lapping at your hard nipples till you feel weak. On top of that, the task ought to shut him up for a moment or so! A highly appealing aspect indeed.

But damn it all! If what you were doing were to be discovered by an unsuspecting member of staff or a fellow student who hadn't left yet, what in all hell would you do? Really, what would you say? "Sorry, I was just letting Gojo-sensei here suck on my tits so he'd continue to supply me with the additional training I need"? God, no! You're practically gasping for air at the mere notion of something so probable occurring, however you're struggling to determine if this is due to that sinking sensation of dread or… arousal.

"Thirty seconds." you place a time limit in a stern tone of voice, not wanting to allow the smug bastard to think he has the upper hand in this little negotiation.

"A minute." Gojo counters almost immediately, a challenging smirk curving the edges of his mouth much to your displeasure. It’s only natural for him to push the limit, after all, so how could you snap at him over something of such common knowledge. It’s not like you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here, is what he’s thinking.

"Thirty. Seconds." Yes, that’s right. Stand your ground, you! Show him who’s boss right here and now—

"Minute and thirty seconds."

"Deal."

He could have been so considerate as to try concealing the certainly antagonising snicker behind a hand, or at least disguising it with a little cough! But not even the most meager attempt!  Without so much as a small slant of his head to keep you from catching it, it simply slips by those sparkling pearly-whites. He knew you would cave eventually, but this quickly? Brilliant, really. No, truly! Brilliant. Ugh, and if you had thought ‘that ego couldn’t possibly get any more obnoxiously huge!’, it’s very well proven by that fucking smile that yes, yes it can get any more obnoxiously huge. Of course, the man can’t help but smirk at the dirty scowl on your face as you simmer, taking off his shades to get a better look.

I am your most strongest, most incredibly attractive downfall, sweetie. Those are the words that his sultry gaze conveys as he beckons you closer, firm thighs spread out on that damned rich-prick-vibe chair to accommodate your body between them. Having forgotten that your chest was bared free, you’re abruptly reminded once his open-mouthed breaths lightly fan over the soft and sensitive skin, not failing to direct your attention to his actions. Shit, the view’s pretty. It’s all so very pretty. Bright blue eyes peering up at you, sparkling and enthralling enough to the point where you study them too intently and catch your own reflection. Rosy, full lips that fluidly mould against the shape of your breast, planting slow kisses with his cupid’s bow prominent and glistening with a thin sheen of saliva. Stray locks of pure white that fall across his forehead, the ends getting caught on the tips of his long lashes when he blinks up at you. Flawless, yet such an entitled asshole.

With minimal thought, you carefully brush the flyaways from his face, carding your fingertips through the perfect mess that is his hair. It's so soft — soft enough that it could be mistaken for the feathers of an angel's wings.

"Mmph, fffuck… again." the sorcerer groans lowly against your dampened flesh, dancing his eager tongue around your areola and barely making contact with the stiffened bud at the centre, just enough to have your breath hitching. The heaviness of his palms caressing your waist is fucking dangerous, something you feel you could get addicted to very easily. Could? Will.

"For god’s sakes…" with a deep sigh and a roll of your eyes, you let him feel your nails grazing his head once again and gently tug on a loose fistful of hair, earning a genuine moan sent straight from the back of his throat. Oh, the noises he makes are downright delicious, you could just… "Ooph-…!"

Gojo swiftly pins you between the staff room’s large desk and himself, carefully bending you backwards until your head could rest on the surface if it wanted. The teacher’s deft hands leave no distance when it comes to your bare skin, greedily rubbing up and down over your ribs and stomach like nobody’s business. He’s thriving for the overwhelmed yet delightfully pleasured expression on your sweet face, chuckling to himself before happily leaning over and wrapping his warm lips around your nipple to suck on it.

"Uh, mnn..." you moan quietly within the otherwise empty lounge, nails instinctively sinking into the nape of his neck as his tongue swirls around your sensitive bud. He’s super into it now, teeth grazing and suction differing, so many techniques directed at one area until he decides to switch to your other nipple, only to mess around with your fleeting reactions. Every nibble, every hot caress of that silver tongue has you reeling. Even your toes curl at the sensations he brings you, causing you to feel more than ashamed of yourself for genuinely enjoying Satoru fucking Gojo.

He’s hovering you above the desk, marked papers, stationery, folders and god knows what else being knocked off by the force of his passionate movements. A string of little gasps, oh’s and ah’s escape your mouth, twitching and jolting in a pair of strong arms in response to his advances. It’s so sexy, the manner in which he goes about handling your body. Rough but not too rough, quick but not too quick for you still find yourself yearning for much more of him than you would ever like to admit. Realising you’re about to start thinking of him in a different light, you forcefully lay a hand on his chest and attempt to push him off. You’re way too paranoid about being caught right now, you lie to yourself for an easier, less aggravating excuse despite having just remembered where you were only a few seconds ago. Damn it, he’s too good and it’s tempting your inhibitions to jump out the window.

"Hold on, hold on-" the man murmurs in a concentrated state as his teeth are almost taken away from your sweet flesh, chest pressing against your hand in order to get closer again since he’s clearly not done the time. Actually, Gojo’s almost a little offended that you think he’d miss the chance to get the last few seconds in on such a perfect pair of tits.

"Hey, what the hell!" a vexed whisper leaves you when he doesn’t comply, kicking your legs in the air in a half-assed attempt to strike him.

"Four… mmff, three." he counts down the remaining seconds out loud and pays no mind to your thrashing, desperate flicks of his tongue and short, gruff moans occasionally interrupting the sequence of numbers, "Fu- two… mmnnn one."

Finally, he stops sucking. However, his warm mouth trails up to your neck as you reluctantly hold your shirt and bra as high as they can go for his access, and its only after the last couple of open-mouthed kisses that he allows his slicked lips to detach from your body. Gojo can feel his pulsing cock trying its very best to escape the irritating confines of his clothes now, pushing and jumping against the fabric as he effortlessly continues to hold you, a sign that he needs to leave before he lets himself get too carried away.

"Minute and a half, bam."

"A minute and thirty-seven seconds…" is what you retort snappily in return, glaring at that dumb smile he’s sending your way.

"Training on Monday." The man purrs in your ear before carelessly dropping you against the desk, humming obnoxiously as he strides out into the hallway on those string bean legs you’d love to kick in as of right now.

"Ugh!" you grunt loudly when your head bumps upon the hard surface, immediately scrambling to sprint to the doorway with a hand rubbing the bruise that’s definitely forming as you shout, "Prick!"

"…You say somethin’?"

[laughterisorange]

Fic Length: Tangerine

Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives

Ler: Charles

Lee: Edwin

August’s Daily Tickletober Day 1 (2 days late): ANTICIPATION

~ ONE OF THESE DECADES ~

“Come on mate, you need to learn how to defend yourself.”

“Charles, give it a rest. I don’t throw punches, and you don’t know how to properly teach a man to box anyhow.”

“Ay - I’m getting better at it. I told you, one of these decades -“

“You’d get me to defend myself, yes yes, you said.”

Charles lifted his palm, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“You look stupid.”

“Says the man wearing boxing gloves from 1899.”

Edwin pouted, holding his gloved hands close to his chest. “…They’re gentlemanly. But at least you got the time period right - mostly.”

Edwin flinches as Charles goes in for a fake punch, dancing around him again.

“Would you stand still? You’re making me dizzy.”

“And you’re making me bored, so let’s up the ante, shall we?”

Charles reaches out, tazing Edwin side. The lanky boy recoils, bending at an odd angle to get away from the sensation. “Charles!”

“Ed.” Charles says cheekily, jutting his lip out teasingly.

“You’re being ridicuhuhlous.” Edwin’s statement is broken by giggles, as Charles darts in, skittering his fingers across Edwin’s stomach. “Stop.”

Charles grinned, dancing around like a goddamn twinkle toes once more. Edwin fought a smile. “Make me. Defend yourself from the tickle monster.”

“Dohoho not call yourself that.” Edwin admonished, grinning in earnest, the gloves coming up to hide it.

Charles furrowed his brows. “Tsk. So serious.” He drove a flurry of pokes into Edwins side. The gloves came back down to protect himself.

“Chahaharles!”

“Ehehed!” Charles mocks, darting around him, those devilish hands squeezing at his hips for a moment and then they were gone again.

It was driving Edwin insane. His face was hot, but his chest was light and fluttery, almost giddy.

Charles barely needed to touch him, Edwin was giggling so much on his own, and his laughter jumped as Charles made a move to attack again. He tested it a few more times - each time he would move in quickly and fake out Edwin, Edwin would twitch violently and giggle. Charles was having the time of his life!

“Ehehehnough already! If you’re going to do it, just dohohoho it!”

“Fight back!” Charles pinched at his shoulder blades, and Edwin positively squawked, whipping around red faced, and shoving Charles back a step.

“Better!” Charles laughed, keeping on his feet. “Honestly, if I had known a little tickling,” He said moving again to scratch at Charles’ stomach. “-Would get you to finally defend yourself, I would’ve started this shit earlier!”

Edwin folded, his back hitting the shelves, as he sunk to the floor. “Chahahahrles!”

Charles just grinned, attacking him in earnest now, training forgotten.

“Shihihihihit! Nohohohoh!”

“It’s refreshing to see you smile and loosen up like this you know, you’re always so tense!”

“We dohohon’t have the luxury of - gAH - of relahahahaxing! Merherherhecy! Please Charles!”

Charles slowed his hands, rubbing over Edwin’s side to chase away the last of the maddening sensations as the older caught his breath.

Edwin shook his head in mirth. “You absolute, buffoon…”

“Ah you love me, really - ” Charles said, finishing his ministrations before patting Edwin’s arm and standing.

And as Edwin took the hand that was offered and was pulled up to Charles’ shining face, adorable dimples and sparkling eyes, he found himself thinking that yeah, he really did.

FIN

[royalsunshinehotel]

The Alchemy (Neal Sampat x Work Wife! Reader)

A/N: I'm on a real fluff kick at the moment, please enjoy this little ficlet! this one's for America's #1 Neal girlie @hecuba-of-troy

From the first moment that Neal set foot in America, he was more than aware that he’ll be in too deep with the culture shock. It would be overwhelming, and he’d learn to live with that. The risk outweighed the unhappiness he would have felt had he stayed home. 

That was several years ago, and still, New York City had surprises for him, the most important one being, you. 

The self-proclaimed “work wife” that he’d befriended since your very first day. 

Neal had never been one for work-life balance, coming as the second-born heir to a restaurant chain in London, so this was alright. And it happened quickly too, you snuck right in as his desk mate, and now he’s bringing you your morning bagel the way you like, and you deliver a special creamer only sold by a man in a bodega next to your apartment, across town. 

And there were the evenings, saturated and gloomy, at Hang Chews, the standard post-shift hangout. You’re three margaritas deep, wobbling off the karaoke stage after a solo attempt at “California Dreamin’ ” It has been a long day, that’s the only song you can sing after a long day. 

Thankfully, you’re able to make your way back to your stool at the bar, most of your co-workers had gone home, and from your expression, Neal said you had an hour max before you completely faded and got ‘hangry’. He was your work husband, in the noise and the lights of the ‘greatest city’, he knew exactly what to do to care for you. 

You’re the kind of dizzy someone can only get after pushing themselves. He knows that too. You ate that damn bagel he got you, and some of the drinks at the bar. 

He gets out of his seat to ‘greet’ you. Your brows knit together and he knows your “mystery” headache has begun to work. 

"Yeah, I'll settle up, you sit here and don't move." The lanky boy reaches for his wallet to close out your shared tab for the night. Of course the two of you shared a tab, it was easier. That’s what friends do. 

"I won't move, Mealanananai ." You giggle and Neal wants to die, but in a good way somehow. Ever since Will had seen fit to spill the tea on his real name, his drunk friends had made an attempt. His mother had been right though, it was a “right musical” name. 

Neal quickly settles his and your tab, and Tamsin the bartender gives him a look that makes his heart skip. He signs his bill, trying to subtly gulp. 

"Good luck pal," she says. He nods. He needs luck to wrangle you. 

The neon from the karaoke corner burns a little too bright as Neal tucks his wallet away and offers you his arm, 

"Why thank you sir," you say a little too loud, waving goodbye to the bar, and they wave back. They tend to do, only when you do it. 

“What a day Neal!” You exclaim, as his long arm loops through yours. It’s a great gesture, and helpful at the tattered state of your ‘work’ heels. 

“Yeah, I’m going home now.” You have a blue leather couch calling your name, and he knows it. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he says, and he does. 

You shudder in the cold night air. New York was tricky with weather, especially for someone newer to the city. Neal doesn’t flinch, he’s too comfortable, with you on his arm. 

“One day you’re gonna remember a sweater.” He mocks, lightly, as you eye his comfortable Sherpa-lined jacket and thickly knit sweater, blue. Your phone buzzes, the lyft driver is on the way.

"Keep dreaming chump.!" You tease.

"You can't get in here with me." Neal opens his coat to reveal, a likely very warm torso.

"You know I'll do it." You'd jump in that sweater with him so fast! You were drunk enough and he had very weak wrists!

"I know you will, now what car are we looking for?" He questions, but you're already moving towards him.

"Let me in!" You shout, giggling as you wrap your cold arms around him, covered by the jacket. His cheek is pressed against the top of your head. A beat passes, as the two of you sway together. 

“You alright? It wasn’t a great news day today.” 

“I’m good. Well not ‘good’, but I will be when I get home.”                   

“I think I get that.” He scrunches his nose, and your drunk self feels the urge to put the bridge of his nose  in your mouth. There was no way Neal could truly be this oblivious. Neither of you move.

“I know you do.” Of course he does! You had been flirting since the day you met him, and it was ridiculous to be written off as a ‘work wife’, when you both could be so much more. 

Jesus Christ this was annoying. 

There’s a lovely moment where your desk partner pauses, your hands warm in his pockets. He’s perfectly able to lean down and kiss you in the mouth. Maybe he’d grip your chin, maybe he wouldn’t do anything but you were right there. 

You know he won’t do it, you know he’s too focused on work to take a shot at someone technically his supervisor. He’s Neal. He’s going to be kind and treat you like a full person, who’s just as complicated as he is. 

It’s Neal, he’s going to do everything for you and ask for nothing in return. What made you insane about Neal was the fact he was just so focused on doing the best work he could, but he remained kind. Any man you met in Manhattan either had one or the other, which was annoying to say the least. 

Next Friday, maybe you should drink again. You could have had another shot before you finally break whatever the two of you are into pieces. You have a chance to do so now, but you don’t take it. 

“Goodnight Neal, don’t miss me too much.” You pout,  taking a half-step away, and watching him trip over himself to get the door of the first taxi that pulled up on the somewhat abandoned street. 

“Text me when you get home.” He says, and he means something else by it. 

“Same for you.” You half-smile, your remaining comrades stumbling out of the bar, Kendra with a few days worth of Chinese Takeaway, as she usually got on Fridays, “See you Monday.” 

You slide into your seat in the taxi, letting Neal pause, before shutting your door. You take a deep breath, from the bottom of your lungs, as Neal- your Neal gets smaller in the rear view mirror.

[tillthelandslide]

Insufferable Arsehole Head canons

a/n: okay so i randomly had this idea and i'm aware most people wont be interested in the slightest but i just had to write it, for myself more than anything haha. So I was thinking about the character Lou within my Matty series "insufferable arsehole" and i was thinking about her relationship/friendships with the guys and decided to do some head canons for each of the boys... enjoy if you do read haha

Special thanks goes to @poisonmedaddy13 aka my wonderful support system on here :) thank you for helping me with this, for not shutting down my ideas and for having my back

Part 5 will be posted soon so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested :)

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE YET TO READ INSUFFERABLE ARSEHOLE BC SPOILERS!

You can read the series here

George:

George has been her best friend since diapers, they've gone through every aspect of their lives together, that fact alone means that they're bonded for life

They know every minute detail about each other

She thinks he probably knows her better than anyone

He's the one person in her life who has been a steady unwavering support

He's her rock, the person she knows she can go to for everything, for advice, for comfort for laughs, anything

they have to deal with lots of people assuming they're something more and it has got a bit tiring over the years but theyre kind of used to it by now

she knows he would jump in front of a train if it meant she lived

he would hurt anyone who hurts her and has come close to beating up ex's of hers that have been douches (and has punched a fair few of them)

she's the first he shares lyrics with or song concepts (even more matty sometimes)

they both felt that because they were so close, whatever one was feeling, the other felt too

not a day went by where they didnt talk, even when they weren't together, on opposite sides of the world, they would still talk

there was this one time: when they were around 16 maybe 17, g had organised this big surprise party for her birthday, it was absolutely amazing, he had managed to get a fuck ton of beer and weed from an older friend, his garden was full to the brim of all of their friends, some people she didnt know (not that it matter). but despite it being HER birthday party, he had invited matty who at some point in the night had said something about how the dress she was wearing would make all the guys think she was an easy fuck... she remembered how her best friend (a very drunk and high george) had laughed at mattys words... they didn't talk for weeks after that until one day her lanky friend appeared at her door, begging on his hands and knees to forgive him, saying how much of a prick he had been and how much he had missed her. somehow they grew closer after that, he would always have her back and she never questioned that.

they have their own handsake and george knows her disdain for something by one simple fact: she will crinkle her nose up at him, he'd do it back and then they'd laugh about it... it was their thing

she was practically his sister

nicknames they have for each other: G, Georgie (he doesn't like this too much), he calls her Lou ofc, also pumpkin (when she was sad or needed comfort),

Ross:

ross and lou grew close when they were kids, they were never as close as G and Lou (basically impossible to be) but there friendship was different

ross feels like the person she goes to when she doesn't even know she needs him

he's always there for her: always

he knows whats wrong before she does most of the time

they're relationship has the same vibe as ross x matty, that kind of intense platonic love

he's her cuddle bear, someone who gives amazing hugs, the kind that heal her

again she knew he'd die for her and she would for him

he was one of the best things that had ever happened to her, she know if she were to have kids he'd be the god father

she was his wingwoman most of the time, always trying to find a partner who was deserving of his love, someone who would love him the way he needed to be loved

he felt like her platonic soulmate, someone that made her soul happy

buttttt.... when they were younger they did used to flirt... like ALOT and people often thought they were together bc of this... they got drunk at a party once a shared quite a steamy kiss (they would take this to their graves btw) but over time it kind of just fizzled out and was replaced with this platonic love, he was enamored with her regardless

they were often childish with each other, he'd carry her around the empty stages on his back, so she began calling him "monkey man" not only bc he was freaking tall but because she clung to him like a monkey

nickanmes: lou would call him: monkeyman, macdonald, mr macdonald, he calls her: sweetcheeks, rockstar, cool kid, sweetheart

Adam:

now adam and lou aren't as close as lou x george and lou x ross but he's still one of her best friends

adam is the person she goes to if she needs an honest opinion, he is the The “tell it like it is” friend and she is so appreciative of that: often the other boys' opinions can be clouded by how much they love her, adam always had a fair mind about her

And tbh she was that for him too, he remembers when he confided in Lou about his worries about carly in his relationship (very early on in their relationship), he told her how he was worried carly would leave him becuase they could never have a 'normal' relationship, they'd always be on tour, swarmed with fans, fans who (despite their sweet intentions) would always want to know everything about their relationship, Lou all but smacked him round the head, telling him he was being ridiculous, that he'd never find another like carly, someone who was so loving and accepting of everyone she met, told him he might as well marry her and that his thoughts although valid, were just thoughts, and that the realistic state of things was that carly was going to love him regardless.

he is someone who watches on the sidelines, showering her with love and affection and his admiration in his own way, often by doing simple things like "i got you xyz thing because i remember you mentioned it"

he loves how she makes carly feel welcome, always the first to talk to her and ask how she is (carly and hann and agreed that they'd ask her to be godmother)

he's not often one to be cuddly with her but when he is it means so much more

they are the type of friends who dont have superficial conversations, their conversations are much more meaningful than that

he knows she'd do anything to protect him, carly and the baby that is on the way and is so thankful to her for that

she likes how in depth their conversations are, everyone knows hann as this guy that doesn't talk much but the two of them often talks for hours

he's one of those friends that tells these cracking jokes out of the blue that makes everyone die of laughter

nicknames: she ofc calls him Hann, she teasingly starts calling him daddy, he mainly calls her Lou tbh, sometimes calls her rockstar too

[avatar0ftheeye]

Tw for described violence, abuse

Wow

y’all really liked my silly little campaign

My players and I geeked out over y’all last night we were so exited that people LIKED our story!

so without further ado, here’s part 2 of Dungeons and Teenagers!

the players begin their walk toward the town of Phandalin. 4 human teenagers, a Half-goblin, and a goose. As they walk, the kids try and press Jim for questions. He is VERY secretive, only giving vague answers.

once they reach the town it isn’t as deserted as they thought. Mostly humanoid looking animal people, all walking around doing their daily tasks.

Jim, getting straight to the point, says they should get some weapons. The players are suspicious of Jim, what is this lanky teenager doing acting like he’s the boss of them? However, they fail their insight checks so they won’t know for another like 4 sessions.

They find a closed down weapons shop, several weapons and armor line the walls of it. the party suggests they rob it, and Jim doesn’t refute

They lock pick the door and have 5 minutes to gather anything they need.

Maisie, with an unnatural 20, find 16 god damned daggers underneath the table. 10 are rusted, only one good use, 3 are new, and 3 are slightly used. Good enough, it’s 16 GOD DAMNED DAGGERS

Damien, being the rouge he is, just grabs anything and everything he can find. Beautiful bows, cases of arrows, swords, daggers, etc. life is great when the DM uses minecraft inventory mechanics

Goose goes straight for a giant ax. That’s it. The biggest ass ax he could find that is about 5x his size. Jim is fearful for his life.

Thomas just wanders around the shop, gawking at everything. He’s was a sheltered kid, doesn’t even have a phone. The most he was allowed out was going to school, so the sight of all this weaponry was a shock to him.

Alex began eyeing the armor. Large pieces of leather, iron, chain mail, and a material he can’t quite place. Though he knows nothing of magic in this world, the armor is glowing a bright neon blue and, when he got closer, emitted ice cold air.

he reached out to touch the armor, enamored by it. Yet once his hand reached the glowing chest plate, it disappeared. A sharp, ice cold pain shot through his arm and through his entire body. His blood felt like it was freezing, yet all at once, it stopped

“oi, Morekai!” The players hear from outside, “Theres some people in yer shop! Call the guards or ey dunno, get em!”

They’ve been spotted through the window! They really need new dice! They keep failing their stealth checks! Seriously guys! Please get new dice! (/directed)

They begin to scramble out the door, Goose and Damien dropping everything they had on the way out

Thomas, in his panicked state, trips over his own two feet and face plants into the floor. The glass shards from the window dug deeper into his skin and he let out a small whimper of pain, just as the door opens

in the doorway stands a tall, humanoid blue jay. He had thin stick like legs, blue feathers, and the face of a man who works in retail

he begins to comfort Thomas, offering to take him downstairs and remove the shards from his skin. Thomas, failing yet another insight check, agrees and follows him down

outside the shop, the players catch their breath. After a quick headcount, they realize they’ve lost Thomas. They must go back inside to get him, much to the dismay of damien.

You can’t blame Damien though. born to a neglectful father and a mother who would die a week into his life, he doesn’t understand why these people care about others. Damien has long scars across his face, old and faded with time. These scars were caused by his father, an abusive man who cared about nothing other than himself and who he was sleeping with that day. Damien was raised as a solider, who knows how long it would take to undo that damage.

back inside the shop, Thomas and morekai descend the stairs to the basement

“so,” started morekai, “what’s your diet like?”

“????? Excuse me????” Asked Thomas, “who???? Asks that??,, kind of question??,, what’s your diet like then man?”

“Fish and gum! It’s not an unusual question, It’s just small talk, jesus!” Replied Morekai, annoyed and seemingly offended

“fine, I guess normal???”

“would you consider your self poisonous?”

The party breaks back into the building and rushes into the stairwell to the basement. It is long and winding, seemingly going on forever. They descend slowly, trying to not be spotted by Morekai (they finally succeeded their rolls!).

as they reach the bottom, a low, hungry growl is heard. A kind of hungry growl that you only hear from a stomach that hasn’t eaten in days. A growl of pure feral hunger.

Morekai grips the back of Thomas’ shirt “you seriously thought I would be HELPING you?? After you broke into my shop and stole who knows what?” Morekai mocked, “seriously man, get less gullible”

morekai shoved Thomas into the room, and that’s when Goose took his strike

Goose leapt off the top of the staircase and began freefalling downwards. Unbeknownst to him, Maisie had tripped and fallen at the same time, taking Jim and Damien with it. now, 70% of the party was freefalling down yo the bottom of a cavern. Alex, being the only sensible one, just kept running down the stairs.

Jim reached into his bag and grabbed a pair of boots. He slipped them on and began to fall slower, leaving Damien and Maisie to continue freefalling. Realizing this, he turned upside down and began falling FASTER

Damien reached out to him and latched onto his arm, but due to the way physics work idk they begin to spin in the air, faster and faster until they’re just a circular blur

goose flies over to Maisie. Maisie reaches up and grabs his legs as they begin to slowly descend to the ground. Maisie and Goose Are fine

Damien and Jim, on the other hand, are violently still freefalling toward the floor. With a final roll of dexterity, Jim grabs onto Damien and flips him on top of him. When they crash to the ground, Jim took most of the damage instead of Damien, leaving a cartoonish hole in the floor

A surprised morekai screamed at them. Goose saw this as a challenge and, after a quick argument and a Google search, started biting his legs with his teeth that he apparently has. He gnaws and gnaws on his leg until the thin ass stick snaps in half

morekai falls to the ground, bleeding profusely. Maisie takes the opportunity as well, and begins stabbing at morekai with the stolen daggers

Thomas, witnessing his friends murdering his captor, beings to cry. He just kinda does that

the sound of his cries alerts something

something big

something hungry

out from the shadows emerges an enormous raccoon named Rigabus

he glared down at the party and begins his slow, predatorial walk towards them

the party must think fast

Jim, being the idiot he is, grabs Damien from on top of him, sits up

and throws him over Rigabus

With a strength check from Jim and a nat 20 performance check from Damien

Damien backflips over rigabus, Doing a triple twirl in the air, and spiderman poses onto the ground, causing Rigabus to be so enamored better just stares at damien

the rest of the party takes their chance and begins to sprint up the stairs. They make it about a 1/3 of the way before they realize

oh yeah

Damien’s down there

Damien screams at them as he begins to run, breaking the trance with rigabus

Now, picture this dear readers

a goose, a 6’0 goblin, 4 teenagers, and a giant raccoon I plagiarized from Regular Show, all running up a giant staircase to freedom

I couldn’t believe it either, and I was there

the players run as fast as they can. Jim manages to grab Damien like a cat and begins to run faster

With a final jump, the players make it through the door, trapping Rigabus in the doorway. They sprint out of the shop into the street, running and running as fast as they can

finally, once they stop, they realize they had run to the edge of town, and are standing in front of a giant coliseum

inside, as seen through the glass ceiling, a woman stands trapped inside a cage. She is tall, beautiful,

and Calluna Grace, Maisies Mother

[mmaurysiek]

ch1 - the Good Place Mechs AU

While this post fic contains a major spoiler to the Good Place, no familiarity with the Good Place is required to understand this post. I'm merely putting our favourite immortal space pirates (including the space vampire mum) in a fun story setting 😈

...

Jonny blinks and, huh, what's going on in there? He is in an unfamiliar place, all pastel colours and space bare like a hostel room, and in some weird getup he doesn't remember putting on.

A door opens, and some pointy-eared lanky person in an ugly yellow uniform grins at him.

"Hello," says the stranger. "You are dead and you've made it to the Good Place, congratulations. Before we begin, John, do you intend to continue upholding the vow of silence you took back when you joined the monastery - also thorough your afterlife?"

Jonny gapes a little, and gives a small nod.

It's convenient, really. That way, he can always pretend that he's figured out this fucking prank much earlier.

"It works a little differently than you may have expected, John," prattles the stranger, "but the essentials should sound familiar to you. The neighbourhood has 322 residents perfectly matched to live together in a blissful harmony. I will show you around on the way to your new home. Quite a lovely little farm, I must say. Your soulmate came to us not long before you, and has kept that little farm running ever since."

Jonny nods. Get on with the exposure, he thinks impatiently, only half-listening. A giant line of bright green text stretches over one of the yellow walls.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," muses the stranger. "Ah, right, we've done a little experiment on the resurrection of the flesh, here. See, some of the life's pleasures are only available to you mortals while you wear your, ah, flesh bag - we've made sure to fix them up a little, please remember to not pour any water inside when you shower - we have tried to improve the bodies a bit, too. It took a little guessing, i hope your facial hair is what you've wanted it to be because, frankly, you're stuck with it now."

Jonny touches his face to check. There is a thin hairy line on his chin and it doesn't fall off when he pulls on it. He manages to rip out a single hair.

He's got real facial hair! Woah!

Huh, maybe he really is in heaven. If they've got the gender reassignment shit done for him, well, Jonny supposes he can play along for a little while. Just until he figures out how to make the good parts stick, maybe.

"Aurora," says the - angel? - and a second version of them appears out of thin air.

"Hello world! I am Aurora!" says the copy cheerfully.

"Yes, Aurora, we know," the first angel says and then takes a second look at Jonny. "Oh, right, this is Aurora - she works with me as we keep watch over this neighbourhood. She appears when called by name, and takes shape of whoever said it out loud. She can conjure anything people ask for, and knows the answer to any question she might be asked. Of course you've always been very self-sufficient, John, so I understand that you won't ever need her assistance anyway."

...

"...a sprout salad bar, a sprout burger stand," the angel kept filling the silence, and Jonny yearned to loose them a little early. "And there is this little sprout garden there, so you can eat them directly from the soil if that strikes your fancy... Oh, hello Ahega, fancy seeing you here! John, look who is there! Ahega, look, your soulmate has finally arrived-"

"I'm forking begging you," whines a tall stranger who looks pretty cool actually, piercings and all - but forking? what the fuck? - "call me almost literally anything else. Maybe a nickname-"

The angel shakes Jonny's shoulder so hard that Jonny bites his tongue, ow.

"John here won't be calling you anything," the angel cheerfully announces, apparently oblivious. "He took a vow of silence while alive, and still upholds it here. Aurora?"

"Hello world! I am Aurora!" announces the copy, and Jonny jumps a little.

He's still not used that that, okay? And by the looks of it, his - or maybe the other John's - his soulmate doesn't seem to be used to Aurora yet, either.

"Aurora, would you please be so kind to give us a recording of brother John's life from his point of view, so that he can share it with his soulmate despite having vowed not to talk?"

"Processing... Here you go!" announces Aurora, handing Jonny something that looks like a real life save button. Huh.

"We'll leave you two to catch up, come on, Aurora," says the angel.

"Goodbye, Edda," answers Jonny's new soulmate with much less enthusiasm. Huh, the angel apparently does have a name, after all. "Goodbye, little moon," Jonny's new soulmate adds much more gently.

Aurora beams and skips steps, as she and Edda walk away.

...

(to be continued)

[strelles-universe]

The Forest Clans - The Grand Spirits

The Souls have a vast amount of children - either elevated mortals, mortals they lay with in their hidden forms or sole spawned - and the clans worship them proudly. While there are more spirits than even ShadowClan can keep up with, the Grand Spirits are the most popular tales and represent some of the most important minor aspects of clan life.

It's generally accepted that these minor gods are more promiscuous than their parents and that most demigods of the clans and gifted cats in history are children of these spirits.

---

Haseni | Silverfoot - The Breeze

---

As a mortal, Silverfoot was a member of old WindClan with their lanky builds and long, winding tails. As his name implied, he was a very pretty tom with a silvery coat and deep black spots across his fur - he was the fastest runner to ever grace the moor. The legend goes that Silverfoot was approached by a series of cats who egged him into a race, wanting to see how fast he can go. The race was around the entirety of WindClan territory and when Silverfoot took off, he was so fast he outraced his own shadow - he flew across the moor like a bird in the thermals, springing over the smallest dips with barely a twinge of muscle. 

When he reached the starting place panting the cat who’d challenged him laughed heartily and his formed shifted until Moonsoul himself stood before him. 

“You are faster than even my fastest servants,” the god boomed joyously. “I have a deal for you dear Silverfoot - become my messenger. I will grant you the ability to run tirelessly across any terrain, the freedom to climb over trees and race across waves - and in return you ferry messages between me and my cohorts.”

SIlverfoot thought about the offer, “I will if I am allowed to remain with my family first.”

And so it was - when Silverfoot died, he became the wind the buffets the moor. It’s said that during the few times the air is still on the plain, that Silverfoot is visiting his family on the edges of StarClan.

Divine Parent: Moonsoul

Domains: Wind, Freedom, Messengers, Patron of WindClan

---

Huyewa | Whitespirit - The Dreamer

---

A leucistic fishing cat with glowing eye sockets. The motherless child of Riversoul, it’s said that Whitespirit was a ghostly figure in his dreams that he grew to love and care about; then one day when he opened his eyes, Huyewa was standing before him and called him father. With a chuckle, he accepted his accepted her as his daughter. Being born in the realm of dreams, Whitespirit is still capable of entering the dreams of mortals everywhere. Often she does so with the purpose of looking in on dreams with her father and changing them if she so pleases.

When angered or trying to give someone a warning, Huyewa is known to dredge up nightmares in the cat’s mind as fear would make them focus on all little details. It’s said that Huyewa is actually very good friends with Haanuki and so when someone is sick, their dreams become distorted and frightening in the prense of the two minor gods. 

Divine Parent: Riversoul

Domains: Dreams, Nightmares, Hallucinations

---

Haanuki | Greenspirit - The Harbinger

---

Haanuki isn’t exactly a cat in the normal sense, not an organic being with organs inside of her. When the creatures of the world had begun to injure themselves, some of them begged to heal and help those who were harmed. Treesoul took pity upon them and scraped together a large pawful of earth and leaves - both poison and herbal - and with Riversoul’s help, molded it. She has a small puff of a tail, juniper berries growing around her throat and yew berries around the base of her tail. When the shaping was done, she seemed to be a cat with wings made of herbs and stalks in her head in the form of antenna to allow her to travel fast.

With that, Treesoul sent Haanuki off to teach and nurture the wanting tutors of the world. They were eager to work with her, listening with intense ears and following along with careful paws. For a while this was fine and Haanuki was content with her purpose. Then she came across the smog-hearted creatures that used their talents to heal and took advantage of those in pain - those who threatened wanderers with the safety of their loved ones with the herbs in their paws.

Furious she levied a curse upon them, a curse that has steadily begun to destroy their bodies and began jumping from cat to cat. Sickness was cursed upon the creatures of the world for the first time and Haanuki turned away from them, choosing not to teach them anything and not to save them.

Many seasons later, a cat now known as Moth Flight the First Prophet followed the green moth sent out by Haanuki. Moth Flight traveled into the Moontunnels following the moth as it led her through a series of scenarios created by Haanuki from her memories of the cruel cats she came to know. Moth Flight responded to each situation with mild panic but a heart overflowing with kindness and empathy. When she entered the mooncavern, standing upon the glittering stone was Haanuki deeply proud and pleased with what she’s seen.

The creatures of the world were ready for healers again.

She touched noses with Moth Flight and in that single instant, transferred all of the knowledge she had of healing, herbs and poisons to the molly. The information was so voluminous that her mind seemed to fracture and for the rest of her life, she was always faintly distracted by things other cats couldn’t see - for the cracking of her mind opened her spirit to the omens of the world. Moth Flight became the first prophet, always able to see and sense the presence of Haanuki’s Moth and so could all her kin from then on.

Divine Parent: Treesoul

Domains: Disease, Curses, Misfortune,

---

Siyeyim | Fleetfoot - The Planner

---

Siyeyim - more commonly known as Fleetfoot - was a proud and courageous warrior of Ancient RiverClan said to rival even the lions of Ancient ThunderClan in reckless bravery. A with a proper pelt of gold and the sleekest of pelts, she was the purest of RiverClan blood that you could get. The granddaughter of the Ancient leader Swiftstar, it was long expected that Siyeyim would do something great one day - and something great she certainly did.

It was during a Gathering that Goldenstar of Ancient ThunderClan confessed to the deaths of two apprentices and a young queen at the sharp hooves of Rage, the gigantic boar and one of the Great Beasts. Shadestar of ShadowClan and Flickerstar of WindClan both admitted to suffering casualties of their own from the great boar as he rampaged throughout their territories.

Fleetfoot was young and arrogant, laughing when that was said and proudly boasting that if it were a RiverClan problem, they would face the beast effortlessly, outsmarting and outspeeding it. Rightfully angry by such a flagrant dismissal of their grief of their clans; Goldenstar angrily challenged Fleetfoot to do just that. Fleetfoot was confident and self-assured, even when Shadestar and Flickerstar both agreed that she was barred the assistance her clanmates. It was only when she stood face to face with the napping Rage, father of all boars that she realizes she may have bitten off more than she could chew as the beast was easily larger than even the grandest of bucks that roamed the forest. Instead of her previous plan spawned of bravado and arrogance where she’d charge in and face the beast in direct combat, she wisely chose to outwit it instead.

She fooled the boar into fighting her in the thick brush of ThunderClan territory - for in the ancient days, there was bracken high as a cat was tall and not even the might of Rage would break free. It seemed like an endless assault when Fleetfoot clawed, bit and scratched at the thick, secure pelt of the vengefully squealing boar. Finally the boar died with an agitated wail and Fleetfoot had been prepared to stalk home, head held high with pleasure and success when she was rammed from behind amd flung all the way into Fourtrees.

Rage had a made by the name of Fury and she was so large, so terrifying, so menacing that she could’ve uprooted Fourtrees with a few angry changes into the massive trunks. Fleetfoot fled, suddenly understanding why the three clans couldn’t face the boar - with the RiverClan camp surrounded by water, Fury and Rage would never feel the need to chase them. Still she did not give up; she plotted and tricked and planned - her battle against Fury lasted three long days and three long nights of endless doging, swiping and baiting until she was on the edge of the gorge. Crossing the river , Fleetfoot watched with relief as the sharp hooves of the boar, not meant for smooth, slippery rocks lost their grip and sent her toppling into the river.

When Fleetfoot followed the river down to the slowing stream, she discovered Fury’s drowned body and took one of her tusks in triumph. She lugged both it and a tusk from Rage all the way back to Fourtrees where the leaders had gathered together at the whispers from Slysoul in their ears. She deposited the tusks in front of all five four leaders and bowed her head.

“I apologize for my arrogance,” she said, for Fleetfoot’s usually gorgeously cared for coat was now strewn with mud and lanced with scrapes and blood from the times she couldn’t dodge the tusks of her opponents. “Your dead deserved not the disrespect I showed them.”

“And you deserved not to be surprised,” Goldenstar murmured guiltily.

And then Goldenstar announced that he was granting RiverClan the river and all the fish that inhabited it, a stance echoed by both Shadestar and Flickerstar. Swiftstar proudly accepted their offerings pleased to see that his granddaughter had not only learned a bit of humility but has also displayed the true strength that all of RiverClan possessed to the other clans. 

When she died, Fleetfoot looked shocked into the eyes of Slysoul herself who warmly welcomed her.

“Stay with your kin in the stars,” Slysoul said. “Or become a servant of mine and encourage the cats of the clans to always be as clever, determined and strategic as you were.”

“But I leave my kin?”

“Never for long little one - for RiverClan will immortalize your deeds and the Stars will welcome you.”

And so Fleetfoot accepted, venturing back into the land of the leaving as the burst of pride and assurance you feel whenever you’re defending your clan from a threat. The pride of a warrior on a night’s vigil - Siyeyim is by your side. 

Divine Parent: Slysoul

Domains: Strategy, creativity, determination, pursuit, confidence

---

Sukahur | Redtalon - The Harvester

---

Suhakur is a brilliant russet tiger/hawk opinicus the soars through the air determinedly. When he was still mortal, he lived his life in fear; having been an apprentice during the age of the Scarlet Leader. During those times, the Scarlet Leader truly despised ShadowClan and the principals that they upheld and claimed linked them tighter to the Souls than any other clan. Redpaw watched as raid after raid of WindClan warriors assaulted their camp, chasing off prey and destroying vital herbs to force ShadowClan into a weakened state. Then they were too tired to fight back, Duststar had any cat he found wandering the moor slaughtered even if they claimed to be heading to StarClan. 

It was long after Redpaw had earned his name as Redtalon that he was approached in the night by haggard looking WindClan warriors, He attacked but they fended him off easily in his weakened and starved state. He expected them to kill him but instead the lead warrior dropped a large rabbit beforehim.

“We’ve seen you fight,” said the warrior. “Like a crimson wave. We want your help.”

“I will not slaughter my clanmates,” Redtalon spat.

“We’re not asking you to - we’re asking you to kill our leader.”

Redralon had been shocked - like everyone he’d assumed that WindClan all supported and agreed with their leader’s actions. They certainly never seemed to have a shortage of warriors on the warpath. That, the small patrol explained is because Duststar kept all dissenters under lock and key, separating kits from their mothers to indoctrinate them in the story he was spinning and culling any that doubted him. The tactics he used to weaken and ruin ShadowClan were first tested on those who spoke against them, leaving the resistance weak and frail. This small trio of warriors were the only ones who escaped and at the cost of their kin’s lives, they sought out a warrior who could be made strong enough to fight.

Redtalon had been wary but eventually he accepted the deal.

For one full moon, the three warriors fed him well while Redtalon sharpened his claws. He felt immense guilt that as he got stronger, his clan got weaker but he understood why they couldn’t share the prey - the strength of one warrior would have to be enough. Nerves danced along his pelt but Redtalon had long stopped jumping at shadows - he embraced the prickling sensation in his toes at the thought of his final battle against Duststar and longed for the taste of the tyrant’s blood on his tongue.

Then one day the squad didn’t come back. One day turned to two and on the third, the leader staggered into their clearing dripping blood and mangled.

“Run,” they rasped. “He knows of you.”

And as the lead warrior died, Redtalon considers that he probably meant for him to leave. But instead, Redtalon had gotten outraged. Without even thinking he sprinted from ShadowClan territory, his paws carrying him across the marsh and then across the moor like he was winged. He saw the shadow of a hawk above him and knew at once that Slysoul was with him - he blended into the shadows, staying hidden as he ventured deeper and deeper into WindClan and abandoned stealth altogether when he reached the wall defending the camp.

With a roar of outrage, he sprung from the edge and landed in the clearing. The warriors of WindClan surged up and despite the waves of claws upon him, Redtalon never felt anything but pity for the those crazed cats who’d been fooled by the captivating words of their leader. Redtalon carved a sea of blood through the WindClan camp and his stalked towards Duststar who snarled and raced to meet him. Though Duststar has the lighter, leaner frame of a WindClan warrior, Redtalon only had one moon of decent food after several seasons of starvation. The battle was hard fought and seemed endless - in all his time as the Scarlet Leader, Duststar had only lost two lives since his ceremony.

Redtalon slashed blindly at the warriors who attacked him, desperate to defend their leader as Redtalon slowly bled out from the number of wounds. A shriek filled the air and the warriors were suddenly pulled off of him as three hawks descended upon the battlefield, targeting any warriors who got near him. Redtalon roared for he knew that these were the warriors who helped him - whose kin sacrificed themselves so that Redtalon may be given a chance. He sank his claws into Duststar’s throat even as the leader slashed his own. Redtalon ripped and Duststar finally fell, the Scarlet Leader’s brown pelt as crimson as his title.

Redtalon collapsed there and then, panting as blood soaked into his pelt unable to stand through his exhaustion. As he stared through half-lidded eyes, he saw the ghostly figures of his three helpers standing around Slysoul who was grinning down at him.

“You’ve done well for yourself Redtalon.”

“I did well for my clan,” he corrected tiredly. “Now no kit will grow up under this bloody reign.”

“Others will come,” said Slysoul dismisively. “Other cats that hunger for power and are willing to sink their claws into anyone to get it.”

“So was my life wasted then? What was the point of my death when other tyrants will rise?”

Slysoul grinned an eerie grin, “Would you like to stop them? Continue to ensure that no tyrant will remain in rule for long?”

Redtalon’s clws sank into the ground as his vision began to blacken, “Yes. Let no further Scarlet Leaders live long and prosperous.”

“So be it.”

And when Redtalon reawoke, he awoke as Suhakur the spirit of rebellion, anticipation, nerves, deadly focus and sacrifice. In his new form, he soars across the world collecting the souls of the deceased and delivering them to StarClan while he sends out his hawks to monitor the creatures of the world.

Divine Parent: Slysoul

Domains: Death, anticipation, nerves, rebellion, focus and sacrifice

---

Hanimu | Littlespirit - The Orphan

---

Little spirit was a small cheetah cub said to be from Ancient WindClan during one of the hardest dodahiim that the clans had ever seen and the brunt of it raked across the moor. A powerful, deadly wind filled their camp with snow that reached the chests of even their tallest warriors and the ground froze so hard that even the strongest of tunnelers couldn’t break through the permafrost. They struggled day in and day out seeking food. Littlekit saw his clanmates starving and refused to eat the food he was given, secretly feeding it to his den mates. He warmed the smallest kits while the warriors searched desperately for food and did his best to reassure the kits when the queens were busy

 One day on the hardest snow, one of his siblings - Flakekit - went missing. Flakekit was deeply ill and constantly seeing visions from Haanuki - such visions confused him, leading him to wander out and away from the camp. While the clan mourned, unwilling to risk more lives in the intense blizzard, Littlekit snuck out on a quest to find his brother. He eventually found him, trembling in a hollow with a Reaper circling above him. Littlekit didn’t hesitate, carrying his brother through the snow, keeping his head high as his ears, tail and nose froze. When he made it back to camp, the clan was in uproar. Looking at his brother from his nest, he realized that he was too late and his brother’s breathing was slowing - when he spotted Suhakur creeping in, he begged for a chance only to be denied. Littlekit stood in front of his brother and instead offered a trade - his life and warmth to be given to his brother. Surprised by the bravery of the young kit, Suhakur consulted the Souls to reach a decision.

In the end it was Sweetsoul who put down her paw, awed by the loyalty and dedication shown by this small kit to his clan. She offered him a choice - die in place of his brother and ascend to the stars, or to die and become a spirit; looking out for other lost kits and those who need help. Littlekit accepted the offer of becoming a spirit, taking on the domains of orphans, lost children, young travelers, generosity and of course; sacrifice. Young kits who wander too far from camp often remark they saw a little brown kit with strange spots like WindClan and a white mantle down his back, his tail and nose coated in ice that led them back home. 

Within ThunderClan, Littlespirit is viewed as a Soul rather than a spirit and is worshipped accordingly. 

Divine Parent: Sweetsoul

Domains: Orphans, lost children, young travelers, generosity, sacrifice

---

Temekur | Silenttalon - The Merciful

---

The most unusual of the spirits, Temekur is another spirit who was brought to immortality for their actions. Unlike the other spirits however, Temekur was a mere ghost owl that lurked in the canopy of ThunderClan’s forest. Long-lived enough that many cats claim the owl had somehow obtained and stored the energy of the spirits to enhance its lifespan, this owl had the opportunity to watch the cats of the woods wander about freely. The owl of course was also witness to the first Great Famine of ThunderClan that happened during the reign of Owlstar.

The creature watched as the cats’ bellies grew thin, their ribs stick out and their kits die slowly. It watched in muted sort of fascination as one cat finally collapsed before its tree. The owl was aware enough to understand that this cat was a leader - understood that the presence of this cat could even bring more cats. It made a decision that set it apart from the mindless creatures of the world - it took off and hunted in the dead of night, capturing two decent sized rats outside of clan territory and dropped them before the body of Owlstar. 

To say the ThunderClan leader was astonished was an understatement but he grabbed both mice and sprinted back to camp, unaware that the ghost owl followed him from above. This trip was what led the owl to the camp; led to it witnessing the companionship and prioritizing of the clan over a single cat’s life. No one is quite sure what did it, but the owl waited until dusk and drew the attention of a frightened patrol. It never swooped just fluttered over them - for two more nights the owl did this before Owlstar joined a night patrol. Remembering what this owl had done, he followed his instincts and when the owl flew off he followed.

The owl seemed pleased eventually flew ahead, circling a clearing very slowly. When Owlstar and his patrol emerged on the edge of the clearing, they encountered a deeply injured boar that appeared to be alone. They couldn’t believe their luck - they attacked the boar and brought it down. Following another hunch, he ripped a large mouthful of boar flesh free and tossed it as high as he could. The owl swooped, accepting the freed meet and flew onward.

From then on, Owlstar ordered hunting patrols to follow the owl and somehow, there was always prey available when the owl sought them out. ThunderClan always shared these catches with the owl making sure that the owl knew of the deep gratitude. The cats of ThunderClan even granted it a warrior name - the name Silenttalon, to honor its large part in their survival. Before long, ThunderClan had mostly recovered from the famine and the owl was on the last feathers of its life. As it lay dying in the leaf litter, one of its chicks chirping desperately; the owl watched as a ThunderClan catch clambered up to its nest and grabbed its chick. Instead of eating or killing it, the cat fed it.

The Owl died that day, but its heart was that of a warrior’s so when Bravesoul explained to her fellow Souls that she wanted to ascend it, there was no argument to have. Slysoul created a harvester-like form, leaving it its owl head and wings but offering it the Ancient Form of a ThunderClan cat as its body. Temekur collects the souls of those who died of starvation or dehydration, making sure to frequently visit its favored clan in ThunderClan and to check on its descendants. It’s said that all boreals in ThunderClan were talon picked by Temekur himself.

Divine Parent: Bravesoul and Slysoul

Domains: Sanity, wilderness, mercy, famine, surplus

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Husakhmek | Amberspirit - The Fear Bringer

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Husakhmek is less of a cat and more of a terrifying entity - born of the more horrifying and ignoble side of the warrior life, The Fear Bringer is said to have been born of the Scarlet Leader ‘s actions. When the moors of WindClan were filled with the splayed and mangled bodes of cats of all clans, the kingdoms shied away, and the canines fled from the sea of red that drowned all that roamed, Husakhmek crawled from the carnage. A lopsided face due to the left side of their skull being caved in, split like massive teeth had crushed it and blood leaking from the remaining golden socket is the first thing most think of when Husakhmek comes up. His body is covered in deep scars and drips of blood with overgrown claws that scrape the ground with every step. Husakhmek speaks with the voices of thousands - a raspy and pained throated sound borne of the spirits who perished to create them

Husakhmek is regarded with terror by the clans and is one of the few spirits deliberately referred to by their connection tongue name of Amberspirit for fear that speaking their name aloud would draw their attention. It’s said that if you forsake Bravesoul and shatter the code senselessly, then Husakhek will begin to lurk on your peripherals and stalk your dreams. The worst part of it all is that Husakhmek is very clever - made of the millions of corpses and the innocent blood spilled on the moor, he changes form to hide himself from those who’d be frightened away from him.

Amberspirit is known as the spirit of fear, trauma, despair, horror and slaughter. Though terrifying, it’s necessary to accept that Amberspirit is the lesser acknowledged side of warriorhood - that a cat left to stray could easily fall into his talons. Many cats believe that the Canyons were created by Husakhmek so that they can be surrounded by like-minded individuals - murderers, serial killers, abusers and the spillers of innocent blood. Some cats insist that if you commit deeds atrocious enough, Husakhmek would greet you upon your death and scar you with his sibling.

All of the clans have carved wooden dolls of Husakhmek that are cautiously given offerings and gifts to appease the spirit. 

Divine Parent: Bravesoul

Domains: Fear, trauma, despair, horror, pain, slaughter, night terrors

[soloyolo89]

Dating Eddie Munson HeadCanons (Part One)

SFW! Tooth Rotting Fluffy Nerds in Love - Besties to Lovers

(This is my first ever headcanon type thing so please be gentle but def please also let me know what you think! More to come! Maybe even Smut! *LE GASP!* Anyway, I'm very happy to be a part of the Eddie Munson Stan Fam. <3) P.S. Any formatting tips/help would be greatly appreciated because Tumblr is a freakin' mystery to me. I wanna make my posts pretty like ya'alls! <3

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*You probably met in some unlikely place like the middle of the woods or maybe the video store - you are probably not his usual type but in this case it's likely a good thing!

*Prepare yourself for lots of DnD/High Fantasy references being applied to everyday life. You’re the Arwen to his Aragorn, but he only ever goes so far as to directly say when he’s very high or  very drunk - usually only to his closest friends (though you might have overheard him once!)

*He painstakingly taught himself Elvish as developed by Tolkien for Lord of the Rings. Sometimes he speaks it in his sleep (you’re learning if only to see what he whispers about - also, he smiles in his sleep and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen.)

*You are never cold because Eddie is 100% a gentleman and if the air is even somewhat chilly, you find yourself draped in his denim or leather! He even had a custom fleece lined denim jacket made for you for your birthday - it has a large Corroded Coffin patch on the back and you wear it constantly. He always takes your hands in his and even puts them into his pockets to warm them if he senses they’re too cold or notices you shivering. Without being asked to he blocks you from the wind, using his own lanky body to keep you from the harshness of winter in Hawkins. (He only complains a little but you know he is just being dramatic from the love in his eyes and the dimpled grin on his face).

*Speaking of Eddie being a gentleman - he opens all doors, pulls out your chair, and in his book ‘Ladies are always first.’ He treats all women with respect because that’s just how he is, but he is especially attentive to you. While he isn’t smothering or what one might consider ‘clingy,’ he does take a protective stance over you mostly because he is aware that dating the ‘Freak of Hawkins’ would likely paint some sort of target on you. Whenever someone says something or gives you the side eye, he always makes sure any flack falls onto him and not you if at all possible. And sometimes he’s not around when girls giggle at you and talk behind their hands and ask what it’s like to be violated by a Freak. They ask personal questions that borderline violate - Eddie isn’t a violent man but he didn’t say one crossword to you when you punched out Stephanie Lotterman for saying Eddie should be dead for what he did to Chrissy. He just kissed your busted knuckles and asked if you wanted ice, casually offering to give Steph’s boyfriend a matching black eye after he called you a whore.

*(He didn’t tell you everything about the Upside Down likely as a way to protect you, but he explained what happened with Chrissy in particular during the earlier part of your relationship. Everyone backed him up and you weren’t involved in that but you believe him - you believe all of them. The fear in their eyes and the way they talk about it - plus some of the unexplainable things you saw during that time…you just….believe them. Also…you saw the scars. You tended to them and kissed them and felt his breath hitch when you did.)

*You spend a lot of your time in Eddie and Wayne’s trailer - Wayne all but adores you and gives you plenty of privacy though he does occasionally join you two for dinner because they both absolutely adore your cooking. It’s been a long time since either of them have had good, home cooked meals and it shows. You watch a lot of bad horror movies and epic fantasy - read a lot, listen to tons of music in his room. You frequently trade books and mix tapes and give him feedback on his campaigns. Occasionally you even play with the Hellfire Club though you’re mostly a stand in because you’re still learning - but you’re happy to be the one to fetch drinks and snacks and help clean up at the end of the night because you’re terribly fond of the entire group. (Henderson is lowkey your favorite though.)

*You were absolutely not prepared for how utterly hilarious and charming Eddie is. He frequently has you doubling over with laughter - once he even made you genuinely concerned that you might pee yourself in the movie theater because of his quick witted snark. You realize the source of his humor is his perceptiveness and keen sense of people - he’s unique, no doubt about it.

*He took you on a picnic for your first “official” date. Skull Rock, a local makeout spot. Maybe not that romantic of a location but the effort he put into it was. There was music, flowers, and all your favorite snacks and drinks. Even candles! The set up was nestled on the very apex, away from the ground, making it less likely to have uninvited critters invade your meal. The view from up there was spectacular, especially at sunset. You could see all of Hawkins and its surrounding woods spread out beneath you. It seemed so small from this high up. The little lights that were houses and businesses were all but swallowed by the fierce green around them. Eddie’s eyes wandered idly between your side profile and the view. Eventually the stars came out and witness your first awkward, slightly sporadic kiss. Eddie made the first move, his lips a livewire against yours. He later admitted he felt like if he hadn’t kissed you in that moment he might have vibrated out of his skin. He admitted also that it was different with you. There was some sort of something between you - magnetic. Electric. It thrilled him. And terrified him.

*You felt very much the same.

*You were dating for six months before you had “the talk.” You wanted to wait - not for marriage, because you weren’t that religious, but for…well, the feeling it was right. Eddie was so patient, so understanding the entire time. No pressure. He respected your boundaries, always, and never went past a certain point. There was definite want in his dark eyes, though they were also tinged with slight hesitation. He was afraid of hurting you - he was more experienced than you, though most people your age could easily claim that because you were still a virgin at 19. 

*He was also respectful about smoking weed around you - he didn’t pressure you to drink or smoke, or try anything else either. You did eventually ask to try a joint and found you liked it, though you were not always in the mood to or able to smoke. Weed made you so relaxed and giggly it was practically impossible to hold a serious conversation or do anything near productive. Mostly you just snacked, laughed, talked about nonsense, watched garbage tv, or cuddled well into the night. 

*You were very sick with the flu the first time he told you he loved you. He’d come over with store bought chicken noodle soup and what must have been the entire cold & flu aisle at the local pharmacy. He’d whispered those three little words against your hair while he kissed your temple, thinking his little guitar strummed lullaby had put you to sleep. It had, but not deep enough to miss the confession.

*The look on his face when you sleepily grumbled them back was priceless.

[lucariwoah]

SEND ME ASKS ABOUT MY STORIES (PLZ :3)

Hey.

Send me asks about my stories. Please for the love of God. I need to talk about my stories. Here, I'll give synopsis of each one!!

Badrigulay

A not-so-human creature awakens in a dark castle in a forest as deep as it is old. Their realm is in chaos, demons have come to claim the souls of it's people to take to their realm for slave labor and punishment. Badrigulay, our nature-goddess hero, must put a stop to this and reclaim the lost souls of the Garden of Eden. The overweight dragon god of souls, life, nature, and the very essence of this world has a lot of work ahead of them.

The Fable Lands

Life is simple for Blumure Murduesong. Their sterile human life remains monotonous and safe within the walls of Capital West, one of six human cities upon Earth. All there have ever been is humanity, and that's all that will ever be. But nobody knows about his imaginary friend he's kept secret all this time. The painted dragon, Kolena. She helps take care of him and keep him company. But the Church of the Immutable Form does not tolerate any shape besides human. Blumure may be changed forever by the unknowable darkness of night, outside the walls of Capital West.

Rather Be Dragon

Eleni Bellum, a boy who has always longed to be more than human, maybe even a dragon, wakes up in the body of an ancient, morbidly obese, time-manipilating Mercury dragon after dreaming of receiving a porcelain dragon masked inscribed with the name Somastra. They meet a gravity dragon named Sid with a cracked mask similar to theirs who has forgotten their past and seeks friendship and safety with others. They want to escape the danger and darkness of the layer of filth they both woke up in, so they must go on a journey to navigate the dimensions and realms of elements and intensities that surround our universe, seemingly created by dragons, so they can get back to Earth safely with their bodies and minds still intact.

Lossery

Two employees of a digital flower shop that exists in the atomic virtual universe, the Omnisrete, have to deal with the horrible wickedness of their capitalist overlords and find ways to survive and fight back against unjust punishment, horrible labor laws, and lack of breaks. Yarrow, the huge strawberry cow, has trouble remembering who she was and loses consciousness when trying to think to hard. Dillard, the lanky blackberry armadillo, tries to take care of her friend but can't do much against the bosses and rules and mysterious lack of infrastructure and resources this job expects them to have but is absent like erased code from the flower fields they work in. Will they survive this digital hellscape to understand who they are and why they're here?

No Kobolds on Unia

On a planet where goblins have Snapchat and dwarves have perfected fracking and oil drilling, the modern fantasy world of Asbreicha is teeming with life, people, and technology. One kobold, Squeesha Firefoot, has recently been dumped by her long-time boyfriend who is going off to the esteemed college of Bridleheart to pursue an education in historical research. Wanting to impress her ex, she follows in his footsteps to try and get his attention and love back, only to fall in love with ancient history of the world she calls home. Myths and legends give way to historical record and fact. Once upon a time, magic existed in these lands, but an ancient threat required that power sealed off from the universe. Squeesha vows she will understand more about this history for herself, and goes to Unia on the first-ever Bridleheart historical expedition to look for clues surrounding a mysterious relic known only as The Black Door. What will she find there, and will it change life as she knows it forever?

Lmao I love how at the end there the synopsis get really long. Honestly the stories are in order of oldest to newest so there's different levels of development between them.

Anyway please let me know if you're curious about any of these a little more!!! I'm so happy to share cuz I've got so many ideas and written a lot already.