#thewolvesof1998 writes

Part One:

Bruce didn’t mean for it to happen like this. Not that he’d thought about it many times before — don’t listen to his kids; they exaggerate how much Bruce overthinks things. But if he’d been asked and he had felt the out of character urge to share, he would have said that it would probably happen after a particularly difficult battle, with one or two close brushes with death, emotions running high, adrenaline crashing through their bodies — do Kryptonians have adrenaline? He mentally adds it to the list of biological questions he can now probably ask without it being too weird — resulting in a desperate crushing of lips in a dark corner of the watchtower. 

Not this. Not Bruce Wayne “tripping” into Superman’s arms after a textbook recovery of “Brucie” after his 501st kidnapping. Clark’s “Mr Wayne, we have to stop meeting like this,” a line he uses all the time, in and out of the suits with Mr Wayne swapped out to Batman and, on rare occasions B, the same nickname his sons use causing a traitorous skip of his heart every single time. 

And Bruce is just so happy to see Clark; it hadn't been a hardship per say being kidnapped this time, unless you count being talked to death by the Riddler for the last six hours, which Bruce is pretty sure he'd take being tortured over having to endure that again so he was pretty damn happy when Clark had come crashing through the warehouse roof to rescue him. 

Bruce had fallen into Clark's rather sculptured arms and he had said that stupid cheesy line and Bruce just hadn't been able to stop himself from leaning up and planting a kiss on those plush lips. Which upon parting in surprise Bruce deepened the kiss to probably a level of inappropriate for public, not because of scandalous reasons, that would in fact work for Bruce's alter ego, but because even though it was a first kiss, it didn't feel like it and to an astute onlooker might seem too familiar for rescuer and rescuee. The way their tongues danced and breath synced spoke to the years they'd spent working alongside each other. How well they knew the other move was obvious in the coordinated waist grab and fingers tangling in the curls at the back of Clark's neck, anticipating the next step exactly how they would during a battle; with unspoken agreement, a slight tensing of muscle, the quite exhale of breath. When Bruce finally pulled back, Clark looked dazed, a similar to the look "Brucie" usually displayed when wanting to come across to people as dimwitted. 

Bruce extracted himself from Clark's grip, straightened his crumpled suit and with a wink said, "A pleasure as always, Superman," Before disappearing into the growing crowd of Gothemites. 

Little did Bruce know, Clark used that line on most people he'd saved at least three times. And while he took special pleasure on using it on Batman because the man's usual brooding exterior would sometimes crack just a little to let out a huff of annoyance with the smallest hint of amusement and Clark coveted that. 

Clark had certainly not expected Bruce Wayne to take it as sign of familiarity enough to kiss him, but what a kiss it had been, Mr Wayne was known for his …uh …dalliances and they had resulted in a man who knew how to kiss. Clark had forgotten where he was and almost his own name until Bruce had smugly winked and called him Superman. Right, people were watching, expecting the usual hero schtick. He let out a laugh, aiming for golly but defiantly leaned a bit too hysterical, "Not an ever day thank you, that's for sure." 

When none of the gathered people laughed, Clark awkwardly cleared his throat, "Right, well I should get going, people to save an all." And with that Clark leaped into the sky and if he almost flew into a plane because he was so distracted thinking about the kiss that was between him, the pilots and the 300 and something passengers that got a fright. 

Part Two

“You saw it?” “Hmmm,” Ilya kissed his neck, “Channel surfing,” tongue brushed against his skin, “Caught end of the game,” teeth scraped, “Was hot.” That short-circuited Shane’s brain, “hot?” “Very, been thinking about it…a lot,” “A lot?” He repeated dumbly. “Yes, when I’m alone, at night, in the shower, ” Oh, OH. “Yes, Hollander, you get it, yeah?” Rozanov nips at his earlobe before whispering, “It made me hard watching you fight Hunter.”

read here

Tagged by the wonderful @daffi-990 who posted a whole ass fic so go read that!

Here’s some more Mpreg Buck - sorry for the angst 😅

Buck doesn’t tell anyone that he’s pregnant. Can’t tell anyone, because it might get back to Eddie but also because then he would have to admit that yes he was in love with his best friend and that he only figured it out after they’d drunkling slept together and the morning after Eddie pretended it didn’t happen because he didn’t want Buck like that which was-is fine but now he’s pregnant with his best friends baby and- and he’s still in love with him.

Also, said best friend is moving 800 miles away to be with his son, which Buck fully supports, even if it feels like his heart is constantly breaking into a thousand pieces. He might have googled whether being sad in pregnancy affects the baby; the results were inconclusive, but Buck still resolved to be happier. This was something he had wanted for years, it might not be happening how he would like, with a loving partner, but he would be damn he if let himself continue to ruin this. 

Because of all that, he also doesn’t tell anyone that he’s going to have his first ultrasound, doesn’t have anyone to hold his hand as he waits until he can finally see his baby and hear their heartbeat. It’s fine. He only cries in the car about it for twenty minutes, holding on to the ultrasound images until it’s just a blurry blob, his chest hurts, and he’s promising to be happier soon with a hand to his stomach as if he can press that promise through skin and muscle. 

Tagged by the wonderful @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks

I’ve been working on a Heated Rivalry fantasy au inspired by @sleepyfortress amazing fantasy artwork; go check it out if you haven’t seen it already - you can also purchase prints from their website!!!

Here are some previous snippets: Thee Queen Yuna snippet and Ilya’s thoughts on the Crowned Prince

I think this is going to be the start of the fic, even though starting with a dream is such a cliche, hope you enjoy!!

Ilya was dreaming about his Mother, she looks like she did on that fateful day, unnaturally pale with blood loss, deep sunken eyes that had never been truly happy. She was trying to tell him something but her mouth had been cruelly sown shut. He was able to do nothing but watch in horror as she tore her lips in desperation to get the words out. With tattered, bloody lips, she rasped “Don’t trust him.”

“Ilyusha,” a hand shakes his shoulder, “wake up!”

Ilya bolts awake, nearly head butting Svetlana in his panic. “What? What is it?” He asks, eyes scanning his tent for anything to explain the urgency in Svetlana’s voice, a hand already curling around the pummel of his knife.

“I’m so sorry, Ilyusha,” He can’t remember the last time he heard her so gentle, not since…but no it couldn’t be…“It is your father…the King has died.”

He could hear it now, the sounds of a camp awake in the dead of night but not with the urgency of an army about to be attacked. “When?”

“The page just arrived, he left as soon as the doctors confirmed it.” They were a few days ride from the capitol, that meant his father had been dead for days and Ilya hadn’t even known, had been going about his days like everything was normal, when it would never be again.

“My brother?”

Svetlana scoffed, “He is requesting your presence for the coronation, its in two days time, we’ll have to ride through the night to make it.”

His heart clenched, “We?”

“You think I would let you walk into that vipers nest alone?”

“Svet…what would I do without you.”

She consider it for a moment, like he was truly asking, “Probably perish and die.”

He attempted a smile, “Probably,” he wasn’t sure what his face was doing but Svetlana took one look at it and pulled him into a hug. He blinked back tears, unsure if the disturbing dream with his mother or the news of his father’s death was responsible for the sudden overwhelming emotion.

“You can talk to me,” Svetlana said when she finally pulled back and if anyone knew about the complicated relationship between the King and the second-born Prince, it was Svetlana, as his oldest friend she would not judge him for the emotions but she would have an opinion on the cryptic dream. She would say it was a warning from the gods and Ilya would say it was just another nightmare to join the rest of them. He dreamed about his mother many times in the years since her passing, though it usually was a memory, he’d probably just drunk too much last night is all.

“I know, Svet, but I’m okay,” It was mostly the truth.

“Okay,” She seemed skeptical but let it go, she pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before climbing off the bed, “Come on, we must haste, you must speak to your men before we leave.”

Tagging some people who might be interested:

Part Two:

Clark is unsure how he's gotten himself into this mess and he would like it noted for the record that none of this had been his idea. After the first kiss with Bruce Wayne, Clark had decided to put some space between them, let some other heroes save the poor guy. But it was like Mr Wayne was a magnet for trouble when Batman was not available to rescue him. The coms from the bat children asking for assistance in rescuing the billionaire were coming in in a unsettling frequency, that if Clark hadn't seen Batman at the watchtower like normal he would have worried that something terrible had befallen the man for him to not be available to aid in rescuing Mr Wayne.

And Clark would like to clarify that not every time he had saved Mr Wayne since the first kiss had resulted in other kisses. Some had. You could even argue that many had as Lois often did after he had finally confided in her and she had finished laughing at him. 

"Clark Kent, Journalist with the Daily Planet." Speak of the devil and he shall appear or apparently thinking about him will also summoned him. It was only a matter of time, seeing as Clark was working a Charity Gala in Gotham and despite being a billionaire, Bruce Wayne was known for his philanthropy. Clark had just hoped that he would go unnoticed by the man, like he had in the past. 

"Mr Wayne." Thankfully he won't be getting kissed by the man this time, seeing as Clark was in his civilian identity, he tried convincing himself that he wasn't upset by that. "I don't suppose you want to give the Daily Planet a quote?"

"I can do you one better," Clark didn't like the look of that smile spreading on the other man's face, "How about an exclusive interview? 

"That's really not necessary," He said, thankful that there was no other journalists near him that he would have to explain turning down an interview with thee Bruce Wayne. 

"I insist, anything to help the…"

When the pause went on too long, Clark prompted, "Endangered Red Panda."

"Really? I could have sworn this ball was for the Restoration of the Dung Beetle."

"That was last month's."

Bruce snaps his fingers, "Right! They had the truffles that look like dung balls, quite unfortunate look for food." That had been a mild way of putting the very disguising looking appetisers, Clark had still eaten ten of them seeing journalism really didn't pay well and it was free food. "Well I had better go and say hi to the host and write a check to help save the Endangered Red Pandas. Why don't you meet me in the Blue Dining room in five and I'll give you that exclusive." Bruce winked, like it was some sort of innuendo, before all but flouncing off back into the crowd of his peers. 

Clark wasn't going to meet Bruce in the Blue Dining room, he wasn't. But what kind of rich do you have to be to have dining room's named after colours? and was it actually blue? These were important journalistic questions and not just an excuse to see if Bruce would actually show up. 

Navy and gold might be a more accurate descriptor of the room even if the sign above the door announced it as the "Blue Dining" room. And Clark was barely alone for a minute before the door opened and Bruce slipped in. 

"I'm sorry for the terrible ruse, but I just had to get you alone," Bruce said, joining Clark where he was standing looking at the gaudy gilded walls.

"Me?" Clark is not proud of how squeaky that came out. 

"Yes, you," Bruce gave him an odd look, before moving closer and smirking, "You look very handsome in this kind of suit." Bruce's hand lands on the lapel of Clark's very boring, oversized grey suit, chosen specifically to avoid attracting attention. "Different from your other suit, but just as good," Bruce said with a wink, Clark was a little blown away that Bruce took that much notice of him at the last Charity ball to notice the difference in shades of grey. 

"Thanks…" Clark said, cringing when it came out sounding too much like a question.

Bruce snorted, "Enough talking, it won't be long until they realise I am absconded, come here," And with that Bruce hand slid up to his shoulders, around the back of his neck and reeled Clark in until their lips were meeting. 

Now, Clark has been kissed by Bruce a fare few times by now, he knew what to expect, he shouldn't be so shocked by it, but here he was again being kiss by this beautiful man and he was too surprised by it again to do much other than vaguely kiss back. Bruce must think he's a terrible kisser by this point, expect…This is the first time Bruce is kissing Clark not Superman. 

Bruce Wayne is kissing Clark Kent. Not Superman. 

Which means all those kisses when he had been Superman, were just kisses, they meant nothing, because if that had meant something Bruce Wayne wouldn't be kissing another man in the Blue Dining room. It didn't matter that the other man was the same man because Bruce didn't know that or was it okay because technically they were the same man? Clark was a lot confused and a little hurt by it all. 

Bruce pulls back, obviously feeling Clark's lack of enthusiasm. "Everything okay?" he asks, thumb brushing hypnotically along his jaw. 

"Is this how you conduct all of your exclusive interviews?" Clark asks somewhat breathless. 

The smile the breaks over Bruce's face is shocking in it's earnestness, and wow Clark's not sure he's ever seen a true smile on Bruce's face before this moment, "No, just the ones with handsome men."

"Oh." And Clark can feel his cheeks heat into a blush at the complement. 

"Let me take you on a date, Clark."

"Really?" Less than half an hour ago, he could have sworn Bruce Wayne had no idea he existed and now he was being asked on a date by him. 

"Yes, I want to do this the right way," Bruce says with a sincerity that Clark hadn't been sure he could possessed. It reminded him of strangely enough of how Batman could get sometimes, when he got all quiet and retrospective about his kids. 

"Okay." Clark agreed with what he was sure was a cheesy smile. 

"Okay," Bruce pressed a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away, "I'll call you," He said over his shoulder and with a wink, before slipping out of the room.

It wasn't until much later that night that Clark realised Bruce didn't have his number. 

Part One

Tagged by @bekkachaos - I haven’t stopped thinking about stripper Eddie’s and stuttering Buck

Here’s something for a WIP I’ve been playing around with, it’s super angsty but will have a lot of fluffy and a happy ending. Here’s my Mpreg Buck wip:

The two red lines stare back at Buck; it’s actually six red lines, if you count all three of the pregnancy tests sitting on the edge of the porcelain sink. He’s locked the door of his bathroom even though he’s the only one in his loft at the moment. It felt like a locked door kind of situation.

“Fuck.” He sits down hard on the closed lid of his toilet, still unable to look away from those two red lines. “Fuck.”

He feels the numb shock slowly start to recede, replaced by heavy dread that should be excitement, wonder, anything else than the despair that was currently turning his blood to ice. He squeezes his eyes shut as the world starts to blur, feels the tears escape and slip down his face.

“Oh,” Buck sobs, hand coming up to rest on his stomach, too early to show the life that is growing there, “I’m sorry,” He says to his baby, feeling guilty for having this response when he should be happy.

His phone buzzes on the counter, Buck’s reaching for it before he can think, moving on autopilot; it’s a text from Eddie:

Eddie: Can you pick up a scented candle on your way over?

Eddie: and some flowers?

Eddie: I have a good feeling about these applicants, I want to go BIG

“Fuck.” Eddie, oh god, what was he going to tell Eddie? Should he tell Eddie? Of course, he should, he’s-he’s the father, but he’s leaving, going to Texas to be with Chris, his son, who needs him, and Buck can’t, won’t get in the way of that.

It took him only ten seconds to decide not to tell Eddie. Maybe he should have thought it through for longer, when he wasn’t so emotional, but he knew he was always going to put one of the most important kids in his life first, Chris, and he needs his Dad.

“It’s just going to be me and you, kid.” He hopes they don’t hate him for that. He thinks Eddie will if he finds out. But Eddie has the guilt of not being there for Chris as a baby, as soon as he knows Buck’s pregnant, he won’t leave, and he has to. Buck isn’t happy about it, but he knows Eddie has to go to El Paso. One caring parent per kid, it's more than what he got. He promises that he’s going to love this baby so much that they won’t even know that there’s only one of him.

Inspired by this post - who knew my ramblings about baggy clothes and pregnant Buck would lead me to writing my first mpreg fic?

@bucksbirthmark - @bigsistersyndrome I finally completed this fic - only two years late 😅 I hope you enjoy!!

He takes a few mouthfuls, steals himself and admits, “I don’t even know if I’m,” he waves, unable to say the word, which is something he was still working on with Frank.

“Gay?”

“Yeah, I just, there's this guy…Do you remember Buck?”

“Hmmm Buck, Buck?” Sophia teases, tapping her chin exaggerated like a goddamn cartoon, “Oh yes! Your best friend, the person my nephew, Abuela, and you can’t stop talking about?”

“Shut up,” He says, ducking his head and hoping the dark hides that he’s blushing furiously.

“And does he like you back?”

Eddie hesitates, thinking back over the last few months, all the moments that left him wondering if just maybe his feelings are returned, he sighs, “I don’t know.”

OR

Eddie has a no good, very bad day and the only thing that makes him feel better is talking to his bestest friend Buck.

Read on AO3

Tagged by the lovely @spotsandsocks and @hippolotamus

So since all of y’all really liked my Golden Retriever Werewolf Buck here’s some more:

The next time something happens Buck doesn’t even realise it, because it so common for Buck to stop by Eddie’s favourite coffee shop and pick him up a something or for Eddie to order extra fries because he knows Buck will want some of his even though he said he didn’t want fries.

“Is that a werewolf thing?” Eddie asks one day while watching Buck shovel said fries into his mouth.

Buck tries to say ‘What?’ but he still got a mouth full of food and it comes out garbled, Eddie understands him just fine.

“Gross dude,” Eddie shakes his head, a fond smile caught in the corner of his lips, Buck doesn’t stare at them, he doesn’t. “All the food, how much you eat, I just thought it was just a you thing, with you being so big-” Eddie cuts himself off, looking away from Buck, cheeks turning that beautifully rosey colour that makes Buck just want to lick him, not sexually, just to see if that blush taste as sweet as it looks, okay maybe a little sexually, because if given the chance he would follow that down and down -nope not going there. Eddie’s just embarrassed because he made an assumption about Buck being a werewolf don’t make it weird Buckley. Eddie clears his throat, oblivious to Buck’s run away thoughts, “I mean with you trying to bulk up, have bulked up! Because you have! And you look great man…” Eddie trails off, cheeks still bright red, hand running through his hair nervously.

Buck decides to ignore how that complement went straight to his dick, licks some stray sauce of his fingers, not looking at Eddie under his eyes lashes as he does because that would be weird, right? Yes, weird because Eddie is blushing even more and now looking down at the table as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

Tagging:

@exhuastedpigeon @oureddie @wildlife4life @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @diazheartsbuckley @drmellking @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @idealuk @try-set-me-on-fire @bekkachaos @ladydorian05 @princehattric @devirnis @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove