#I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRINK COFFEE GODDAMN IT WHATS THE POINT OF BEING A GRAD STUDENT IF I CANT HAVE A FUN LITTLE LATTE

[fan-kingdoms]

“wow! i haven’t felt the anxious caffeine jitters all day!” i said with joys. i was then shot 57 times.

[sun-kissy]

espresso | j.p

james potter x sunshine!reader

summary: james sees you at a cafe, and is enamoured by your brightness. you pay for his drink, and he can't help falling in love.

cw: fluff

James Potter could count the number of times he’d been told he was bright with both hands – what a ray of sunshine he was, how he lit up the room with his smile – and he still wouldn’t have enough fingers. 

But one look at you made him question every such compliment he’d been given. If he was sunshine, you were the whole goddamn sun. 

So close, yet so far; you stood just a few feet in front of him in the queue to the café counter. And he was lying if he said he wasn’t already enamoured.

James thought the word pretty must’ve been made to describe you, all soft curves, sweet smiles, daisies in your braid and little white dress. You were laughing brightly, phone clutched to your ear. He felt a small pang of envy for not being the one to elicit it. 

But he felt lucky to even be able to see you like this — in all your beauty and light and gentleness. It wasn’t even winter, and he’d gotten so close to warmth. What a great day.

You step forward for your turn, and James shamelessly gazes at you. He sees you beam at the barista and order your drink, before jerking your thumb backwards. He steps forward curiously.

“... yeah, I’d like to pay for the person behind me, if that’s okay,” you smile and nod. 

His heart does a little somersault in his chest, and he feels the affection pool like honey in his throat. So you didn’t just look the part, you really were sweetness personified.

James steps up to order next, clearing his throat. You’re stood beside him, patiently waiting for your drink as you type away on your phone. Maybe this is his chance.

He clears his throat and looks at the barista. “Hi.” Loud. Too loud. “Um… I’d like to get an espresso, please.”

“Okay, anything else? Your drink’s been paid for by the person in front of you.”

“Oh, wow,” he tries to look surprised, nervous fingers going to rub the nape of his neck. “Wow, that’s… that’s really nice. Um, I’d like to pay for the person behind me too,” he says slightly louder than he would’ve. 

You hear, just like James wanted you to, and turn to give him a small smile. He feels like doing a victory lap around the block.

That’s until a confused Sirius pokes his head out from behind James, giving him a strange look. “Prongs, weren’t you gonna pay for me anyway?”

James internally smacks his palm to his forehead. Instead, he turns to glare at Sirius, hoping it conveys everything he wants it to. Sirius just blinks.

He sighs and turns back to the barista embarrassedly, hoping you hadn’t noticed.

He’s about to open his mouth to wave it off when he hears you giggle, and swivels to look at you. It’s like everything in him instantly softens, seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the bashful way you press your hand to your mouth. You’re looking at him like he just said something really funny. He thinks maybe he’d be the butt of every joke if it meant getting to see that smile.

James mindlessly pays for his drink before eagerly stepping towards you. His heart feels like it’s going to start doing jumping jacks, or maybe he might, to get rid of this insane amount of anxiety. “Hi.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels.

“Hi,” you smile sweetly, slurping on your drink.

“You owe me one,” he blurts out.

“Huh?”

God, now he’s really messed up. “No, no, I meant –” he runs his hand through his hair, “– I owe you one. For, you know, the coffee?”

“Oh,” you laugh softly, easing up a little. He releases the breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “No, you don’t. That was the whole point of it.”

“Let me take you out.”

He almost lets out a squeak after having said that, immediately pressing his palm to his mouth like he’d just revealed a national secret. What was wrong with him? He watches your reaction carefully.

You smile, and turn the loveliest shade of pink he’s ever seen. “You don’t even know me.”

“I want to know you.”

His tongue seemed to be speaking of its own accord. Maybe he’d give it a tongue-lashing later, but for now, he’d let it get him a date.

You consider him for a while, smile widening slightly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he exhales with a grin, running his fingers through his curls again. “Okay, sunshine. I’m James.”

You blush at the term of endearment. “Hi, James. I’m Y/n.”

“Hi,” he mumbles. “Hi, Y/n.”

You both stare shyly at each other for a moment, like you’re taking the other in. Getting to know them, even though you weren’t, really. Maybe that’s how it had always been; the sun knew of its sunshine even though it couldn’t see the rays itself.

You clear your throat bashfully. “I have to go.”

“Oh, um – okay, wait –” James scrambles in his pocket for his phone before holding it out to you. “Your number?”

Your face lights up as you take it and type your number in. You hand it back to him. “Does tomorrow work?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yup, tomorrow works. Same place?”

“Same place.”

“Okay, then,” he exhales, unable to stop the smile on his lips. “Bye, sunshine.”

“Bye,” you grin shyly and wave, pressing your straw to your lips as you turn around to leave.

A daisy falls out of your hair, landing softly on the wooden tiles. James picks it up and tucks it into the shirt pocket next to his heart.

[thevoidstaredback]

Tim was curious. Maybe a little addicted to whatever the hell was in that coffee, he's still standing by the point that no other coffee will ever be enough, but that's not the point.

He wants answers. The Justice League want answers. No one has been able to get them. Because Phantom stays in the House of Mysteries, no one but the JLD can actually get time him. The Supers have tried listening out for him, but magic is something they're weak against and therefore can't hear through. Batman has tried to get into the House, but he's been sent everywhere else for his attempts. They would track him down as a civilian, but no one actually knows if he has a civilian disguise. It's very hard to hide hair that starkly white and skin pale enough to be blue.

Regardless, everyone wanted answers and Tim was determined to be the one to get them. Why does Phantom claim to be thirty-eight, fourteen, and eighteen all at the same time? Where did he come from? When did he die? How did he die? What the hell is in his coffee because damn was it good!

Off topic.

Tim had the rest of the Titans return to the tower while he stayed out. It'd be easier to track if he was the only one doing it. Besides, these guys work with Raven, they won't hurt him. Probably.

The fact that Phantom apparently smelled like death was another concern Tim had. Was it because he was dead? And what did Constantine mean that 'the smell lingers'?

More questions kept popping up like goddamn daisies, and there was no answers to clip them down. Tim was getting frustrated, to say the least.

***

Danny made an effort to at least try and help Constantine with the demon problem the building was having. Honestly, it wasn't even that bad, in Danny's humble opinion. The demon was just messing with people, not hurting anyone or stealing anything! He was, at most, planting minor inconveniences everywhere.

That's not technically his monkey, though, and it was most definitely not his circus. He figured he'd offer to be helpful, though, if only so that Constantine would owe him a favor. A favor he already knows how he's going to cash in.

"Why'd you really want to tag along?" Constantine asked Danny while they searched for the demon.

"What do you mean? You offered to bring me along."

"Yeah, but that's because you need to get out of the House more."

"Funny, coming from you."

"I spend more time outside of the House than I do inside." the Brit scoffed, "Now tell me why you agreed to come along. This is demon hunting. You only ever go ghost hunting."

Danny sighed and ran his left hand through his hair. Not that he could feel it, stupid nerve damage. "Deadman's been on my ass about my first trip to Gotham. I would've left to go find some place to crash, but the entire Justice League is also on my ass for some reason! I'd honestly rather not have to face any of them."

"You've been to Gotham?" Constantine asked, "When?"

Danny groaned, "Not you, too!"

"Whoa, okay, okay. You don't need to share with the class."

"Sorry."

"You better be."

"Hey!"

"Now tell my why the JL proper are after you?"

A sigh. "You remember at that meeting when Red Robin mistook my drink for his?"

"Yeah. Hard to forget. You freaked everyone out a little bit."

"Yeah. Turns out they all have questions that I don't want to answer. Avoiding them all has been the best way to not answer."

"You know you can't dodge them all forever."

"I know, but I really don't want to have to explain anything!" he whined, "The questions that they'll end up asking are gonna be really painful to answer."

A raised eyebrow. "How do you know what they'll ask?"

"Because everyone always asks the same things. Worded differently, but still that same."

"Then refuse to answer."

Danny met Constantine's eyes with a deadpan glare. "You're gonna look me in the eye and tell me that the Justice League and their sidekicks will leave me alone if I tell them 'no'?" He shook his head. "Lying's a bad habit, old man."

Constantine rolled his eyes as he went for his lighter, remembering they were were in a no smoke zone and retracting his hand. "Don't sass me, brat. Wonder Woman and Superman, at the very least, would back off. They'd get everyone else to, too."

"What about Batman and his brood?"

"Touche." the man said, "But you can't hide from them forever."

"I can try,"

"But you'll fail."

Another groan. "Can we just get this thing over with? I want to lock myself in the basement and wallow."

Part 5 Part 7

Tag List:

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kiss it better ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Jill Valentine x Reader Smut / MDLG mdni wc: ~5.6k i don't have to explain myself, so i won't. 🙂‍↕️ dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

summary: Jill's got reservations about this whole 'mommy' thing. She's not the maternal type - but for you, she can try.

content: mommy dom!Jill, little!reader, afab!reader, boot riding, dumbification, extensive depiction of cgl dynamics/lifestyle, humiliation, finger-sucking, spit, fingering, titsucking, aftercare, use of sippy cups/coloring book/the word 'stuffies', ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, implied age gap (di era jill, mid-late 20s+ reader).

In hindsight, the sippy cup should have been the first red flag.

Jill didn’t even bat an eye when you bought it. You'd tucked it to the back of the belt during a grocery trip, hiding it amidst the other canned goods, tried your damnedest to distract her while the cashier rang it up. She didn't know how to break it to you that she had seen you pick it out. She'd watched you deliberate between pink or green - strawberries or watermelon - before settling on pink.

You'd said you were going to look at candles - probably the truth, because you'd put one in the cart, too. Jill had doubled back to pick up laundry detergent and had caught you lingering in the kids aisle. She had always been able to pick you out of a crowd, had a sixth sense for where you were, hand practically magnetized to the small of your back. You looked so focused alone in that aisle that she had swallowed the call of your name and marched back to the cart.

So yes, she’d glossed over the (rather obvious) way you had tried to hide the purchase from her. That was as far as she was letting it go, though. Once you got home, you tried to bury it behind all the coffee mugs. Weird, she thought. You just bought the goddamn thing. You'd been talking about wanting a water bottle with a straw for a full month. It would be out of sight out of mind if you put it way back there, eaten up by the cabinet. 

You shuffled away to put up the rest of the groceries and Jill plucked the cup from the back. She put the pink plastic front and center, right next to the rest of the glassware, as though it belonged there.

“That’ll cut down on our carpet cleaning,” she had even joked when she heard you traipsing back in.

A beat. She turns to look at you over her shoulder, brow raised. You look like a deer caught in floodlights, waiting to be gunned down. It took a moment for you to dig your voice up from the pit of your stomach.

“I know. All the regular ones didn't have the latching lid. Like, I need that anti-spill technology. I have to be baby-proofed.”

Yeah. It was a little out of place that you felt the need to justify the cup to her. Again - in hindsight, maybe it was a little odd. Surely there had been a water bottle that wasn’t pink and covered in cute little strawberries, but you were an adult. You made your own money. If you wanted the sippy cup with the strawberries on it, then you could have it. She wasn't about to police your tastes. After all, at a certain point of maturity you started to realize that the difference between kid stuff and adult stuff was just marketing. So many 'kid' versions of things were just the same as their adult counterparts. Covered in smiling bunnies and rainbows, maybe, but functionally the same item. 

Suffice it to say, Jill didn't give two shits what stuff you bought for yourself. You were prone to spilling drinks, so the latching lid excuse made sense. Her singular complaint was the size. As your designated drink-getter, her trips had doubled. (She'd found some online in a bigger size, all muted, muddy colors, no cartoon strawberries. “Anti-spill technology,” she'd pointed out. You had shrugged, sipping at your little drink. It was the perfect size for one bottle of your favorite apple juice. That, she couldn't deny.)

She'd been unintentionally feeding into your preferred lifestyle the whole time, buying you the cutesy set of stickers for your scrapbook, picking up glittery markers when she saw them on sale. 

The coloring books certainly weren't a bridge too far. You wanted to turn your brain off after a long week at work. That was all, really. Jill hadn’t asked for an explanation - she had asked which ones you liked, that she might pick one out for you. The first few she chosen had been branded 'adult coloring books' but again - what was the difference, other than subject matter and the complexity of some of them? You'd dutifully sat next to her during movie nights and colored regardless of difficulty. Your hand-eye coordination was developed, see? Made staying in the lines so much easier. And the colors you picked out - they don't (usually) clash. That all ties back to that developed eye for style.

‘Babydoll’ might not have been the best choice of pet names for you, but it had slipped out. It felt right, more sincere than ‘dear’ or ‘babe’. If she had known she was unintentionally enabling you, sending the little plastic gears in your head grinding to a halt, she might have picked something different. 

The first time she'd said it, you'd given her a blank look. Jill had sworn not to say it again, already marking that off the list of options, but your response had been quick.

“No–” you reeled yourself in, a little too forceful there. Like a kid stomping their feet. “No, it's okay. I like it.”

How was she supposed to know that you had dubbed her ‘mommy’ in your internal monologue? That ‘babydoll’ did nothing but feed into your perception of her? 

After it had all come out, after your first little slip-up that had sent both of you hurtling headlong into a series of changes in your lifestyle, you'd confessed that you had been thinking of her this way since you had moved in. Jill had been synonymous with ‘mommy’ since your possessions had spilled from the open mouth of the U-Haul and flooded her apartment. Her sparse, curated collection of decorations had been swallowed up in a wash of stuffed animals and plush blankets, and she had done nothing to stem the tide. Hell, she’d piled more on. Bought you stuffed animals from boutiques, airport giftshops, gas stations - anywhere, so long as it made her think of you.

Jill hadn’t thought twice about the stuffies. If most of her keepsakes hadn’t been obliterated via air strike, courtesy of the U.S.A. back in 1998, she’d probably have a collection of decor to contend with yours. Maybe less of the fuzzy variety, but she understood the appeal. She had never been one to get jealous of an inanimate object. If you wanted to lay your head on her lap, favorite stuffed animal coiled tight in your arms, then she had no objection. She’d willingly cocooned you in the fluffiest blanket within reach, her hand settling at the bend of your waist.

So, the stuffed animals? Totally normal. The sleepy, nonsensical babbles you’d catch from time to time during a night in, when it was just the two of you? She didn’t think twice. That had hardly been an adjustment.

Jill felt a little slow for not catching on before you let it slip. There had been so many signs. Piles of evidence all around her, some of which she had contributed to. She must be getting lax as the years wear on. Normally, she's sharp as can be. She'd know things about you before you did.

You’d been riding her boot the first time you said it. Jill had been busy - too busy to spend a couple hours folding you in half and fucking you to sleep, she told you. You'd dragged yourself into her office in your barely-there shorts, nipples pert and peaking the flimsy fabric of your tank top. Wait a minute - not your tank top. Hers. An old, faded Depeche Mode tank, white, damn near see-through.

She kept track of you in her peripheral as you dragged your bean bag chair (she'd offered to get you a real chair, something with back support, but you'd insisted; when you hit thirty, she’ll be able to gloat) right up next to hers, and dropped into it. Foosh. Makes your tits bounce when you plop down like that. That's probably why you did it.

She scooted forward in her chair, flipping the armrest up and kicking one leg out. Your eyes lit with glee. Horny little goblin. You moved to straddle her thigh, hands braced on her knee while you wobbled into position.

“Ah-ah.” Jill didn’t take her eyes from the screen. She kept hammering away at her report, the deadline looming. She stopped at a paragraph break to snap her fingers twice, pointing to the floor. “Down.”

You’d cratered to your knees without so much a second thought. See? Obedience wasn’t new to you. How was she supposed to know it was a different sort of devotion, different from the submission she was used to?

Something warm curls around her ankle - your hand, she realizes with a glance. Jill sighs. She hadn’t said not to touch. It’s difficult to be mad at the way your thumb circles her calf, especially for a command she hadn’t issued. Jill’s chair creaks backwards, her hands stilling on the keyboard. Your chin settles on her knee, eyes big and pleading for her touch.

Jill folds her arms under her chest. Your eyes track the way her chest moves. It's almost cartoonish - she half expects your tongue to loll out of your mouth.

“Get on.” Jill wiggles her boot back and forth. Your head tips to the side, confusion drawing your brows up. “On my boot, babydoll.”

She sees it - the brief flash where you’re drawn out of play time. The quickest twist of annoyance in your pout. How many times did you have to tell her to stop wearing her shoes inside? Especially her work boots, crusted with mud and shit and god knows what else. But if you’re worried about that then you’re too horny to protest. Her babydoll comes back in another blink, pressing your cunt down onto her steel toe.

There you go. Jill starts typing again and you get the hint. You're independent enough that you don't need her direction at every turn. Thank god - she'd never get anything done if you couldn't find a rhythm on your own, if you couldn't use whatever part of her body she dictated to get yourself off.

It doesn't take long for you to start whimpering. Your arms wind around her leg, chest pressed tight to her while you grind your drippy pussy against her. You use her body as leverage to drag yourself back and forth. Poor baby. Reduced to humping her leg like a damn dog.

Your pretty little whimpers come quicker, louder. Jill's fingers scrape against your scalp, urging your head upwards. She pools spit at the tip of her tongue, considers dripping it into you. Your mouth is popped open for her already, moans punctuating every push of your hips.

Any thought of tormenting you with the anticipation disappears when she sees you pinch your nipple, hips circling against the toe of her boot frantically. Your eyes flutter, thighs pulsing, so close–

“Stop.”

Jill rips her boot away for you. You plop against the floor, whining at the loss. Your hand flies to your pussy, rubbing your clit desperately through your shorts.

“I said stop,” Jill grinds out. 

Her hand grips your jaw, fingers curling. You pull your hands away from yourself, fingers glistening when you lay them flat against the tops of your thighs. A whine squeaks out of you. Jill’s eyes narrow.

“Open,” she demands. Your mouth pops open obediently. When Jill gives you a directive, you follow it. Jump— how high? Cum— how hard?

Look at you - perfect little slut, tongue plopped out for her. She spits a fat glob of spit dead center and drops your jaw.

“Swallow.” It’s said carelessly. She looks away from you as if uninterested in you display. Her clit throbs in time with her heartbeat. Perfect girl, perfect, trained little–

You swallow. From the edges of her vision, she sees you stick your tongue back out as proof. “Thank you, mommy.”

The air in the room shifts, suddenly colder. Her skin feels as though it’s been pulled taut. Confusion swirls with her arousal. You said ma’am. Surely you said ma’am.

“What?” She blurts out, hands at a full rest on her keyboard.

You’ve still got that floaty, airy look about you. Jill wonders if it’s even possible to get a straight answer out of you right now.

“Thank you?” You repeat, unsure yourself. You blink quickly. She can pinpoint the moment you come back into your body, shoulders tensing, eyes widening, skirting away from her. “Uh– ma’am?”

Nice try. Not buying it.

“Did you call me mommy?”

Jill will probably regret the way she had spat that out until the day she died. It hadn’t been worth seeing the crushed look on your face, the shame flushed through you in a full-body shudder. In the moment, though, she can’t deny the pulse of disgust.

That night had ended on unsteady footing. She’d asked you not to call her that. You’d apologized again and again throughout the conversation, set her teeth on edge with how small you’d made yourself. It felt worse, seeing you slink out of her office, knowing you were going to curl up in bed - knowing you’d pretend to be asleep when she came in to check on you a few minutes later.

She had already been doing this for you, she realized. The new context was uncomfortable. She had sat in that feeling for a few days, tried to fall back into the patterns of your relationship without thinking of them these new, strained terms. Despite reassurances, she’d watched you shove away the things that had made you so comfortable.

No more coloring books - not in front of her at least. You’d left a stray marker lying out when you scrambled to hide the evidence of your coloring from her. Your sippy cup had been pushed to the back of the cabinet again, no matter how many times she’d moved it back to the front.

The final straw was when you’d started packing your stuffed animals away.

She could have been gentler about the whole thing, admittedly, but it had made her so goddamn angry to see you shove away things that made you happy. You had misunderstood her - or she hadn’t communicated clearly, or – or something.

“Quit,” she demands, pulling the stuffies from their cardboard prison. She set them firmly back on your side of the bed (never tossing - you’d told her before, tossing them was mean). “Stop doing this shit, babe. You don’t have to quit doing stuff you like.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I–” Jill pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going nowhere, round and round in circles. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slow.

“I don’t want it in the bedroom.”

“Then where do you want them?”

“Not the– the stuffed animals can stay. Okay? I just don’t like it when we’re having sex. The ‘mommy’ stuff. But you– I want you to be how you want to be with me. We were already doing the little stuff before. Right?” Jill’s hand cups your cheek, urges you to keep looking at her. There’s no hiding from this, not from her.

You still struggle to meet her eyes. She can tell you’ve picked a spot over her shoulder, staring past her. She ducks her head, puts herself into your vision.

“...Kinda. Yeah.”

“Then we can keep doing that.” Her answer is firm. She’s spent hours thinking about this, analyzing where her discomfort came from, why it hit her so goddamn hard – how to ensure you never felt so rejected by her again. The discomfort lingers, smaller than before. Dwarfed by how greatly she misses having you next to her and comfortable. There had been an openness that she had stolen from you. “...Just don’t call me mommy when you’re getting off on my boot anymore, okay? I’m not ready for that.”

In time, the discomfort faded. Having you next to her at the end of a hard week, eyes wide and vulnerable, trusting her completely to take care of her - it became a little intoxicating. Her boundaries expanded, pushed farther and farther from where they had started as she slipped back into routine.

It surprises her how well she takes to it. Jill hasn't got much in the way of maternal instincts. She's good with dogs, though, and kids and dogs both need discipline. It's the same thing, right?

No. Not at all. But you're not really a kid. Your real mom did all the hard work, and now Jill gets to sweep in and have all the fun. Sit. Roll over. Speak. You're good at those. 

Stay, not so much. She knows she’s got you in the right headspace when you won't stop wiggling. Jill's grown accustomed to slinging an arm across your stomach when she buries her face in your pussy. The squirming never ends, and pressing your hips into the mattress had only ever made you curl upwards, arms bracketing her head, shoving her face into your cunt.

The real danger is letting you sit on her face while you're like this. You squirm and buck, squeal out your pleasure while she laps at you. She rocks her head from side to side, her nose bumping against your pudgy clit. The way you thrust down into her - christ, you’re going to send her to the hospital one day.

That was how it had been the first time Jill had opened up the floodgates, the first time she’d let these little games back into your bedroom.

Her hands palm the globes of your ass, spreading you open for her tongue. She keeps you nice and tight against her face, her neck craned at an angle that would hurt later. A problem for tomorrow. Today’s problem is that you keep biting your knuckle, tucking those pretty little sounds away from her.

Jill swats your ass, quick, sharp. She pulled away only far enough to reprimand you – “Don’t hide from mommy” – before she wrapped her lips around your clit and churned her tongue against you, again and again.

You let out a surprised squeak, garbled behind your fist. Your hips shot forward, pressing her face into the mattress, suffocating her with your cunt. Jill moaned, gripped you tighter, held you to her face and tongue-fucked you through an orgasm that made your spine twist, your thighs clamp tight around her head.

Jesus Christ - that’s what she’d been missing out on? All because she’d been too squeamish about a title?

That was all it took to convince herself that she was fine with it, really. Jill helped you roll off of her. She lowered you back to the mattress as if you were a priceless, fragile little thing. The urge to care for you, to pamper you, had never been stronger. You’d nearly had to force her to quit flitting around you. It took insisting that you needed to cuddle for her to stop, for her to let you settle against her.

“I think you broke my nose,” Jill teases.

“Stop.” You hide your face in the top sheet, but she hears you bite off a giggle. Her hands float to your sides, long digits brushing along the curve of your ribs, snaking up your stomach to cup your breasts. She rolls them in her palms - together, then apart, thumbs flicking over your nipples. Languid, no heat behind it. No need for another round, not yet, but she wants to appreciate the art before her.

“I'm serious.” Jill turns her head to the side. Her profile silhouettes in the lamplight.

She's the kind of woman they make statues of. Her nose cuts a proud shape from the light, the slope of her brow relaxed only here in your bedroom. It occurs to you to trail a finger along contour of her face and, uninhibited, you do. Jill holds still for you, let’s you marvel at the work before your eyes. Her nose has been broken before - not by your weight, but by fists. Her throat bobs as you trail a knuckle down her chin, against the delicate skin of her neck, childish in your wonder. 

Jill still had her boundaries, the same as you had yours.

Your appreciation is every bit grown. You tuck yourself against her side, kiss along her jaw until you reach her lips. You mutter your ‘I love you’ against her there. She can be ‘mommy’, she realizes. Just for you, just within your home.

No disciplinarian stuff, not while you're acting all little. It makes her feel grimy. You don't get in trouble for little stuff, not for leaving your coloring book out or for flooding the living room with stuffies while she's away. You do get in trouble being an absolute brat and pawing at her leg while she's in the middle of a meeting.

That had been fun. You'd been all curled up in your beanbag chair, tucked out of frame while Jill listened in on the eastern European division’s quarterly report. Evidently, reduction in bioterrorism incidents weren't thrilling enough for you. She’d popped her leg out to the side, wiggled her boot at you - a command you knew well enough by then. 

What kind of mommy makes her baby girl ride her boot? A strict one. It had always been a favorite punishment, denying you her touch and making you get yourself off however she dictated. But when you were all soft and malleable? Desperate for her attention, for her touch? Now it has her soaking herself. An added, unexpected side effect? You'd stopped nagging her to take her boots off as much.

On the other hand, you staunchly refused for this to be a 24/7 arrangement. You were an adult. You contributed to the house, had goals and ambitions just as much as she did. As happy as Jill was to pamper you, to be your mommy when you needed it, she wasn't ever to hold that over your head. 

Once, she'd dared to tease you in the middle of a discussion about utilities - gas bill's so high 'cause my babydoll like the house too warm - and the look you'd given her had been enough to make her backtrack immediately. You hadn't even been willing to entertain the notion that she might treat you as less capable, less of an equal partner just because you enjoyed her care.

That had been a rocky discussion.

“I don't want to do this with you if you're just going to think less of me for it.”

Christ, she wants to pull her hair out, stuff her words back into her mouth and just pay the goddamn gas bill. It wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

“I don't think less of you.”

“Then don't say stuff like that.”

“Babe, you're kind of overreacting.”

Your eyes harden. Obviously, that hadn't been the right thing to say either.

She'd nearly lost you in that conversation. Not entirely, not your whole relationship - just this soft, needy part that craves a softer touch, a nurturing hand. Maybe a better, more experienced mommy would have stepped it back better, assured you that wasn't what she meant. But Jill's not built for this, not naturally.

It's your thing. She's just indulging you.

She gathers up your coloring books, piling them neatly on the coffee table. She takes a minute to thumb through them, to admire the work you'd done that evening. Spooky Cutie, Gummy Bear World, the more complicated dinosaur coloring book from the Smithsonian. You'd been rotating - proudly showing her your work from page to page, polling her on what color you should use from time to time. One moment it was a bear and a cat cooking stew together in a simplified, cutesy kitchen. The broth was dark brown because mommy had decided they were having beef stew, not chicken and dumplings.

The next, you were asking for her favorite dinosaur, then her second favorite, then her third, and flipping through your book to find any one of them. She'd never seen a more elaborate backdrop for a triceratops. You'd dutifully laid out every shade of green you had and set to work on the foliage. Halfway through the movie she realized she'd missed a plot point, too busy checking in on your coloring.

It's not her thing. She just ended up at a craft store one day for something completely different. It was a good deal on markers, honest. Yeah. The deal had been on the ones that were high-end, that had the shades of green you needed to really make that cretaceous-era flora pop.

Jill is so fucked.

Right. Definitely just your thing.

She's above this. Keeps her personal life and her professional life neatly separated, despite the Redfield's best efforts. Claire knows she has a serious girlfriend. She'd done the detective work on Jill's limited social media, pored over new friends and comments like it was her job. 

(“I had in-flight wi-fi.” Never a sentence you want to hear Claire Redfield say.

“So you wasted your time stalking me online?”

Claire shrugs. “Your girlfriend posts a lot and she likes everything you post. It wasn't hard to figure it out. She seems nice. Not subtle, but, you know – nice.”)

If Claire knows, then Chris knows. For years he's maintained that he hates gossip, but he's always suspiciously well-informed.  

So when Chris sets a big hand on her shoulder and asks how the detective work is going, the appropriate answer should be ‘fine’ or ‘I'm going to blow my brains out if I have to dig through another financial record’. It should not be:

“Mommy's tired.”

Silence. God, she can't have said that. That wasn't what came out of her mouth, surely. She just said ‘I'm tired’, right?

Jill looks up at Chris. His eyebrows are in the fucking stratosphere. Before she can tell him not to say a goddamn word, his face splits into a grin.

“Does mommy want a coffee?”

“I'm reporting you to HR.”

Chris laughs, full-bodied, the sound bursting from his chest. He looks years younger in that moment, and when she huffs a laugh she wonders if she does too. All of that gets wiped away when she remembers how utterly fucked she is. Her cover is blown, her personal life finally hemorrhaged into the office.

“I'm reporting you to HR,” he counters. He swings himself into the chair opposite her desk. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not if I have to call you mommy.”

Jill’s more than a little pent up when she kicks the door closed that evening. You turn your head, hands plunged in the basin of the sink. Domestic, homey - not quite her babydoll, but her girlfriend.

As you can imagine, the rest of the day was a nightmare. Chris didn’t know how to let a joke die, but at least he had the sense to keep it between the two of them.

She can change that.

“How was work?” You greet.

“You got me in trouble today.”

Confusion clouds your eyes. You try to turn from the sink, but Jill's arms cage you in. She's not a tall woman, but it's never stopped her from being imposing. She wedges her knee between your legs and lifts, pressing against your cunt. The heat pouring through you short circuits your brain, leaves all your intelligible thoughts fizzling out of your mouth in a confused heap.

“Huh?” Is what you finally manage to muster.

Jill snorts. Very intelligent. Her hands grip your hips. She turns you to face her, presses you down against her thigh, rocks your hips back and forth for you until you get the picture. Your movements are slower, uncertain. She has to battle the urge to force your movements quicker. Patience. She can rip the pleasure from you later.

Her mouth latches onto your neck, open-mouthed kisses pressed against your skin again and again, your pulse quick and unsteady under her lips. Your hands hover inches over her sides, water dripping from your fingertips, iridescent suds drying against your skin. You're not going back to the dishes, not if she can help it; leave them to soak in the sink.

Jill shifts a hand under your waistband, fingers ghosting just above your panties. A shudder rattles down your spine, stomach rolling against her hand. She slips her other hand up your front, ghosting between your breasts. Her knuckles catch under your chin.

“Everyone knows, babydoll.”

It's cute, watching you try to put the pieces together. Your poor little brain is frying and she still turns up the temperature on you. She shifts her leg away to palm your cunt through your panties. Goddamn, you may as well be molten heat at this point. Won't be much longer before she has you dripping into her palm.

It takes all her restraint not to shove your panties to the side and plunge her fingers into your needy little pussy then and there. Patience will make it sweeter, wetter, make you cling to her shoulders, clamp around her so tightly she loses circulation.

Her hand moves from your chin the moment you start forming a question. She presses her middle and ring finger to the seam of your lips and you open before she can so much as muster the first syllable. She chuckles, derisive. Your tongue swirls around her, laving against the pads of her fingers. Dutiful, obedient, her perfect little babydoll lapping at her skin.

You suckle, sloppy wet noise spilling from your mouth. A rush of love hits Jill square in the chest. It drops, settles in her gut right next to the need to claim.

“Everyone knows you need mommy to take care of you,” she coos, mocking. You squirm, something between fear and arousal sparking in your eyes. You suck harder. Definitely arousal.

It’s easy to walk you over to the counter, hips pressed tight to yours. She lets you suck at her fingers as long as she can before she needs that hand to pick you up and drop you on the countertop. Jill shoves your shorts down, tugs your panties to the side. Her spit-slick fingers trail along your slit. You shuffle down, greedy for more of her touch. Her poor baby, alone all day - and already so wet for her.

You suck her fingers in greedily. Her hand presses at your hip, a silent urge for you to stay still, to let her prep you. You can get so ahead of yourself, she knows - but she’ll take care of you. Jill’s mouth latches onto your neck. She only detaches to shuck your t-shirt up and off.

Your legs latch over her hips, trapping her hand between your bodies. Greedy little girl, taking more than she wanted to give. Jill can’t be angry about it, not now. She pumps her fingers into you steadily. Her mouth trails down to your chest, lips latching onto your nipple.

“Take it, babydoll, there you go – take it for me.” Her breath fans against your breast. She buries her face between them, moans against your sternum. Your back arches, tits pressing into her. Your arms press your tits together around her head, smothering her, and her pussy clenches around nothing.

Jill's fingers drill into you, grind right up against that spot that makes you squirm. She could find it blindfolded. No more long, slow-strokes with her thick fingers. Hard, deep, just how you need, thumb rubbing your clit.

Fuck - you must need this as badly as she does. You snap after a few more strokes, moan strangled and high. Your chest arches, your hands flying into her hair, holding her tight to your tits.

“Good girl, perfect girl for mommy– gonna have you cumming all night.” Promises seared into your skin just before her mouth latches above your breast, sucks a bruise into your skin.

Your hand pushes at her wrist, babbling about too much. Jill nearly goddamn growls, as if you’re trying to take her favorite toy away. Her thumb slows against your clit, fingers drawing languidly out of you. One last pump for good measure, just to watch your legs twitch.

Her cheek rests against your chest, rising and falling with your breaths.. She watches you recover with half-lidded eyes.

“Do– do people really know?” You ask once you’ve managed to regain the ability for language processing.

Jill pouts. Clearly she hasn’t fucked you good enough if you’re still worried about that. She shifts to grip your hips, tugging you the the edge of the counter. She cants her hips up, trying to fit them flush with yours. Promises for later.

“Just Chris.” You groan. Honestly, it could be way worse. You’re overreacting. She knows better than to say that out loud now. “He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“Not even his sister?”

Jill hesitates. She steps back from the counter, helps your newborn deer legs find their foot on the floor. She thumbs the button of her jeans open, stumbling out of them while she helps you over to the couch. You’re easy to position like this, malleable to her wants. Just how you both like it. Jill swats your ass - playful, not punishing.

“You worry too much. They’re not gonna care.”

“What if I care?”

Jill sinks to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs up to her shoulders. She kisses her way up your sweat-slick skin, savoring the taste on her tongue on her way to your core.

“Just let mommy kiss it all better.”

[stuckyrogersbarnes]

'Fuck me then.' (Pietro smut)

Warnings - Creampie, oral, praise kink. 

Word count - 1.3K

Female reader

You and Wanda had been bestfriends since your traumatic days trapped at HYDRA. And even though it was long gone, you still met eachother at least every 2 weeks. She was quite busy after joining the Avengers, you couldn't be prouder. And although she tried to convince you to join, you didn't want to get back into that. So, you got a normal job as a barista at a local coffee shop. It wasn't the best, but it was fine for the moment. 

However, Wanda's brother, Pietro Maximoff, never failed to get on your nerves (and vice versa). Sure, he was attractive, but he was a huge asshole, unlike his sweet sister. You, unfortunately, had been blessed with x-ray vision so you got to see Pietro's "progress," all throughout his teenage years, without being able to do anything about it. Meh, he was average. But, luckily, now you know how to control it. 

"Hi, what can I get-" you gasp as you look up. Pietro, the man you hadn't seen in years, was standing right in front of you. "Good to see you too, kochanie. Long time." The word 'kochanie,' never failed to piss me off. It meant 'darling,' or something in Polish, around where he was from. "Pietro, never thought I would see you again." "Life's full of surprises, Kochanie. I'll have a regular cold coffee." You put on a sarcastic smile. "Coming right up." He walks off. You hand the drink to a waiter to give to him so that you won't have to see his insufferable face ever again. And although you hated him, you couldn't help but think that he had become super-duper good-looking, atleast compared to what he used to look like. 

Tony and you were quite close too, so of course, you were invited to his huge New Year's Eve party. You put on your slutty red dress with a pair of golden earrings. After seeing Pietro today, your ovaries had kind of been in a twist, if you know what I mean. You walk your way down the large stairway and feel the stares of hungry men on you. You look around, only to find a certain someone looking directly at you. The same man who you saw today in the coffee shop, he looked taller, more defined, and with a beard than when you knew him. You had a thing for beards, you loved the sting. Your breath hitches. Pietro. "Kochanie, how pleasant to see you here." He greets you. "Mhmm, good to see you too." You try to sound confident but little does he know, you're dying to use those powers of yours right now. You shake it off and begin to walk away.

 Instead of walking away and never seeing him again, you trip and he instantly grabs you by the stomach. "Fuck." you whisper. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck as he leans closer, "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes." he whispers in your ear. He then leaves you, alone, with goosebumps surrounded on your skin. What just happened?

Even though you tried your best not to let your curiosity take over you, you find yourself outside the fancy bathroom. Should I go in? "Ugh." you groan. "Ah. I see you came." "What do you want Pietro?" You didn't turn back to see him, but you could hear his steps as he walked closer to you. "I'll get straight to the point, kochanie. After seeing you today, I needed to see you again. Now that I see you in that dress, looking so goddamn beautiful Y/n, I need to fuck you. Hard." You gasp and your pussy clenches. You slowly turn back, the background music slowly fading out. You thought for a second before saying, "fuck me then." He instantly grabs your neck and connects his soft lips to yours. He pushes you into the bathroom and locks the door. "You sure about this, darling?" "Yes." "good girl," he smirks and hitches you up onto the counter. He immediately bends down to his knees, spreads your legs wide open, and moans at the sight of your bare, wet pussy. No panties, no nothing. "Oh, I have been waiting for this for so fucking long." Before you get to even process what he says his tongue enters your wet hole, you moan and he begins to thrust. He then adds one finger to your pussy and latches his lips to your clit and sucks on it, hard. You grind on his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You never thought Pietro would be so good at eating you out. You pull on his hair and grind on his face as he inhales your juices. "Fuck, you smell amazing." That statement alone was enough to send you on edge. But as soon as he says it, he adds two more fingers, completely stretching you out. "PIETRO!" you scream, unable to hold it back. Your pussy pulsates and you squirt, all over his face, leaving his hair and face wet. "You taste amazing, kachanie." Your blush in embarrassment. Did I just do that?  "I-i'm sorry that never happened before-" Before you finish he cuts off with a kiss, making your pussy even wetter. You can taste your sweet juices in his mouth and lips. "Don't be embarrassed, Kochanie. That was so fucking hot." he then takes two of his fingers and enters your pussy abruptly. He kisses down your neck, immediately finding your soft spot. You moan.

 "Fuck me Pietro." as soon as you say that he unlatches his belt with one hand and takes his jeans off. You can see his hard-on through his boxers. You moan at the nibling sensation on your neck. The surprise and shock of this happening sent you more on edge as your pussy clenches on his fingers and he pulled out, panting, making all your juices spill on his boxers, leaving them see-through. You could see his pink tip and his veins pulsating. He slowly takes off his boxers, his dick jumps out, almost reaching his belly button. You gasp. You do not remember it being so long. And you certainly don't remember it having a slight curve, which it does now. Wow, he has become a man. He takes off the straps of your dress, only to see your tiny, hard nipples. Your breath hitches as he latches his lips onto one of them and plays with the other one with his fingers. You moan, "Pietro. Inside. please," unable to form proper sentences. "Tsk. No patience. Though, I'm complaining." He unlatches his lips from your throbbing nipple. He lifts you up, you yelp. He bends you over on the cold marble counter, making you shiver from the cold sensation. His cock enters you, reaching a spot that had never been reached by anyone, including you, ever before. Before he even started thrusting, your vision blurs and you come. Wow. He groans and begins to thrust. "Fuck y/n, you're so tight." You moan. He bangs into you, again and again and again. You scream. He keeps hitting your G-spot over and over again. "I need you, Pietro." "Need me to do what, my darling?" "I need you to go faster, harder." He speeds up, banging harder. "Fuuuckkkkk." you moan. "Ugh," he moans, "I'm going to come Y/n." "Me too." You clench on his dick, seeing stars for the fourth time in the last half an hour. You can feel his come ooze out of him in your pussy as he pulls out. You squirt all over his still-hard cock. 

"One more round?" He asks. "Yes please." 

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Pretty sure this has been done a million times before, BUT I am bored and have been sitting for 3 hours in a train and the internet is very bad and I desperately need something to do.

Tw: Some noncon elements? Nothing explicit or in detail. Fem! Reader

What if you're on a train, or bus, or some other form of public transport, so crowded you don't even question it when a stranger suddenly sits next to you.

Kyle would draw you in with his charisma and good looks. I mean, have you seen this man?? Even as he sits a bit too close, thighs and shoulders almost touching yours, you don't question it too much. Or when his hand touches your thigh. He apologizes, of course, with that goddamn pretty smile of his, excusing it as him being tired after a long day. Even when he does it again, giving your soft thigh a squeeze, you don't even mention it. Even when his fingers discreetly slip under the hem of your sundress.

Soap wouldn't be nearly as apologetic. He's got charisma, keeps yapping throughout the drive about whatever, askong you questions. Where are you going, why, ye got anyone waiting there? Come on, he doesn't mean anything by it, just some small talk! But sure, he understands your anxiety about sharing all that info with a stranger, he doesn't intend to make you feel uncomfortable (maybe he doesn't intend to, but he sure as shit doesn't really care when he does, squishing his thigh against yours and practically pressing up against your when he points at something through the window you're seated next to, his hand "accidentally" brushing up against your chest, whispering something in your ear).

Ghost would crowd you into that tiny seat for the whole drive, barely saying a word to you. You're happy to stay in your own little bubble as much as you can, with the slightly creepy man next to you with the black mask (what's it called in English, not his regular mask/balaclava but like a medical one?? Surgical mask? The type people wore during covid????). You swear he keeps staring at you, but every time you glance in his direction, he seems to be looking at his phone, or maybe reading something. The moment you turn you feel eyes on you again.

Would follow you after it, though, that man has no shame whatsoever. Doesn't even realize why you keep glancing behind you and speeding up your pace. He just wants to make sure you make it safely to wherever you're going, right? Won't leave until he sees you walk inside your apartment building, or hotel, or wherever you're headed.

Then again, nobody is going to even think about messing with you while you walk, not when they see the fucking giant following you from a small distance.

Price. Price Price Price. I don't intend to really write for him because I'm not as into him as I am into the rest of 141 (love him!!! Just don't feel like writing for him usually!!) but I am, still, very bored and have some thoughts. He'd follow you, just like Ghost, but unlike the lieutenant, he'd shamelessly walk right alongside you, keeping the now-very-one-sided conversation going. Even when you seem a bit uncomfortable and try to turn to another street, hoping he wouldn't follow, but he does. He's a gentleman, you know? No gentleman would allow a lady like yourself to walk home alone at this time of night, no ma'am.

Might even invite himself into your humble abode, politely removing his shoes at the entrance and asking you where the kitchen is so he can get something to drink. "You want anything, love?"

Yeah, you're not getting rid of any of them after meeting them. Even if they didn't follow you (as far as you know) you will bump into them again sometime later, laughing about what a coincidence it is when he asks you out for coffee or whatever.

Thank you for reading!🌷 I slept for one hour last night and haven't been able to sleep on the train, someone help me it's going to be a long day :)

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Request thing: Steve Roger + "you're so cute" "what did you just say?" "I said you look like a boot"

(Omif there are others feel free to ignore mines cause I am just being greedy now)

There aren't others. Pretty sure there's only 4 of you out there reading me anymore :D

word count: 1951

@bolontiku @rampant-salamander @castiels-sunflowers @feelmyroarrrr __________

Steve Rogers irritated the shit out of you. From the moment Nick Fury thought you should babysit him, he’d just been annoying in all his ‘Gee Golly Ma’am’ goodness and earnest honesty and, well, and he just annoyed you. Sure, he was handsome, and his physique left not a single area needing improvement. And yes, his dry sense of humour and quick way with words made most people just fall into the Captain America fan club without questioning the price of admission. But you couldn’t. You’d been stung before. There was no way someone who looked like the whole package wasn’t hiding something.

You were parked at your desk, cursing a major snarl in traffic that had caused you to skip picking up a coffee. There was a cute barista at the coffee shop by your apartment and you’d been working your way up to asking his name, but missing a single day had made your courage evaporate. You dug through your drawer, but had apparently run out of pods for the office keurig. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a few bills and made your way to the coffee shop on the main floor. 

Smothering a yawn, you made your order and tried to pay. The young woman behind the counter shook her head and tilted it to where the drinks were coming up. “He paid for you, ma’am.” You followed her gaze over and cringed. Of course, it was goddamn Steve. 

“Thanks,” you grumbled as you approached him. He smiled.

“My pleasure, Agent,” he nodded. After a brief pause, he continued, “You’re a tough nut to crack, you know. I’m never quite sure what you think of all this.” He gestured around vaguely.

“I’m really into coffee. So this is okay,” you replied, deliberately being difficult. He frowned, and then sighed.

“I kind of meant what you think about this.” Again, the gesture was vague, but he included himself, and pointed obviously above you both, where the offices were. 

“Does it matter? It pays well, I have great health insurance and a not-shitty 401K. It’s not exactly what I went to university for, but every day is different, and I’ve met some pretty interesting people,” you shrugged.

“Interesting way to look at it.” There was a soft, humble chuckle that escaped him and just made you even more irritated. You closed your eyes to avoid rolling them. Your name was called, and you opened your eyes, took your coffee and smiled blandly at him.

“Thanks for the joe, Steve,” you nodded again, and made your way back to your office.

__________

“I don’t want to go,” you protested to your handler. He sighed and glared at you.

“Look, your specialized knowledge of the era and the subject means that -”

“No, I get it. Really, I do. But what you’re asking me to do is straight-up psychological manipulation, which is not what I’m here for. I’m here because I have extensive specialized knowledge about the era and -”

“Your PhD is on the impact of the loss of Sgt. Barnes on the Howling Commandos and Steve. You have immense knowledge about Barnes, and about his friendship with Steve. If anyone is going to be able to work with Captain Rogers on the deprogramming of Barnes, it’s you. Whether or not you want to go, you are going.” Nick Fury had entered the room and interrupted you.

“But -” you started. Fury silenced you with a glare. You sighed and pursed your lips.

“You’re the only agent I’ve ever had complain about being assigned to work with Rogers,” he started. “Care to explain?”

“It has nothing to do with him, sir,” you lied. Fury raised his eyebrow, clearly not believing you.

“Figure it out. You two are wheels-up in an hour.”

__________

You leaned back in the quinjet hold and closed your eyes, trying to imagine Steve Rogers was not sitting across from you, staring daggers at you. 

“I have to ask, Agent. What did I do that was so offensive? Was it the coffee? I know a lot of dames, er, women, don’t like it when men do that anymore,” he broke the silence.

“Not at all, I very much appreciated the coffee,” you replied, keeping your tone light. You were very well aware that your issue was with you, and not actually with him. You’d been mulling it over since he’d bought the damn coffee. All you could come up with was that you were behaving like a child with a crush. You couldn’t accept that you liked him, so you chose to dislike him instead.

“Did I say or do something at some other time?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head.

“Captain Rogers, we’re about to land,” the pilot interrupted. “Based on scans you have approximately three minutes once off the jet to find cover. There’s frequent patrols of the area by Hydra agents, and no real way to keep this bird off the radar.”

“We’ll finish this chat later,” Steve promised.

Once off the jet, you followed him into the forest to find cover. Just as the pilot had warned, it was not long after you deplaned that a patrol came by, and Steve tackled you into the underbrush. You pushed at him feebly, opening your mouth to protest, and he slapped his hand across your mouth, nodding to the west, where the crunch of leaves betrayed the patrol’s presence. Your eyes widened and you quit moving. When you were clear of danger, he rolled off you.

“Some warning would have been nice,” you whispered as you picked pine needles and moss out of your hair.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan,” he hissed back. “Hey goons, we’re over here!”

“I’m sure your super-soldiery brain could have figured out a way to give me a heads up before you tackled me,” you snapped back. 

“Ingrate,” he muttered, loudly enough that you could hear him.

“Jackass,” you retorted. His eyebrow raised.

“Watch your language,” he warned.

“Because it might offend the hydra goon squad?” You asked.

“You know, dames didn’t used to talk like that.” His tone was tight. You rolled your eyes.

“I’d like to remind you, I’m an agent first, an expert in history second and a dame third, you fucking cro-magnon,” you spat. “Also, this isn’t my first rodeo, Cap. I’ve been on surveillance missions before. I also saw the patrol.”

Steve glared at you and shook his head. “Instead of arguing about the finer points of your genetic composition, do you think you can drop your hate for the rest of the mission? If Bucky’s here, I’d like to find him. And Fury assured me, you’re the agent for the job if we do.”

“Is that an order, Cap?” You asked. He looked away, and drew in a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes, agent, I believe it is,” he snapped.

__________

You’d been unsuccessful. You’d managed to infiltrate the base, but the cells were all empty. The base had just recently been cleared out, and there was enough equipment left behind that you felt confident it was where Sgt. Barnes had been held, at some point. On your way to the extraction point, you saw muzzle-flash and moved faster than you thought possible to knock Steve out of the way. A blinding pain struck you in the midsection and Steve turned around to watch you fall to the ground, a silent scream on your lips. The look of combined annoyance and fear on his face was the last thing you remembered seeing before blackness took you.

When you came to, it was so bright you blinked and lifted your hand to cover your eyes, pressing them shut again. There was an overpowering smell of antiseptic and an IV tethered to your right hand. A monitor beeped systematically and you realized it was a heart monitor when it matched pace with the thumping in your head. You were parched, and when you tried to push yourself to sit, a gentle hand landed on your chest, pressing you back into the mattress.

“Stay put. There’s a remote here, I’ll lift your head,” a gentle male voice rumbled. Your head slowly lifted and you tried opening your eyes again, just a little. Through your lashes, you saw Steve pouring you a glass of water. He held it out to you. “Just sips.”

It was cool against your lips, and you sucked in a couple of little chips of ice to suck on. 

“Thanks,” you breathed. “What happened?”

“We didn’t find Bucky,” he started. “We were headed to the quinjet and you decided to play hero and jumped in front of a bullet.”

“You’re welcome,” you coughed. He raised the bed a little higher. Your eyes finally adapted to the bright light of the infirmary and you looked at him. He was still in his uniform, was wearing a fair amount of your blood and looked angry.

“What kind of idiotic idea was that, anyhow?” He demanded. Your ears rang at the heightened volume of his voice. You flinched in pain.

“I saw the muzzle flash and just moved,” you replied. 

“A bullet wound to the shoulder would barely slow me down,” he snapped. “Instead you took one to the lung and required a few hours of surgery.”

“Sorry that I was such a huge inconvenience to you,” you managed. “Maybe you should make it clear to Fury that you don’t want to partner with me again.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have such a huge goddamn chip on your shoulder, we would have worked better together,” he retorted. You gestured to yourself, in your blue hospital gown, and IV tubing.

“I’m pretty sure the wound is right here,” you gestured to the dressing on your side, “if you’re like to really get a few good kicks in while I’m down.”

He stood up and flipped his chair over before walking to the far wall and slamming his fist against it. “What the hell did I do? Why do you hate me?” You flinched away from his angry tone.

“I don’t, I don’t hate you, Cap, I just -”

“Bullshit,” he interrupted.

“Now who has a foul mouth?” You snapped. “I don’t hate you, Cap. I don’t. I just don’t know how to act around you and it makes me guarded and defensive, I guess.” You took another small sip of water.

“Because I’m somehow your enemy?” He asked. You could feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment and glanced up at the IV bag. It was pain medication. Go for it, you thought, at least you had plausible deniability due to the intoxicating effects of the medication.

“It’s just that you’re so cute, and you’re kind, and you’re so genuine, and you smell good and -”

“What did you just say?” He interrupted, pulling the chair back to the beside and sitting in it. He took your hand between his and looked at you intently. You’d said too much and felt the panic of admitting all of that hit you as he stared at you.

“Uh, I said you look like a boot and I’m pretty sure you’re out of your mind, and you smell like swine and -”

“That’s not what you said,” he laughed and squeezed your hand.

“I’m pretty sure I did,” you averted your gaze from his. He cupped your cheek in one of his hands and turned you back to face him. “I like you too.”

“Oh.”

“Get some rest. I’m going to get a shower so I stop smelling like swine, and I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” you nodded. He tucked your hand under the cover, smoothed your hair away and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Wayne Jackson x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: Lyle demands that you find some nice clothes for Wayne so that he can be seen with him in public and not be embarrassed. Simultaneously, you're dealing with a particularly bad Tinder match sending you eggplants.

You help Wayne to be presentable and Wayne helps you to make a wierdo leave you alone.

Warnings: Sexual references as well as mentions of dick picks.

*I wanted to write for Greasy and Wheezy Weasel... but also Jim Bickerman... this is the natural conclusion XD

Tagging: @masqueradeball and @slxsherwriter

"Ooookay, look... " You feel like a master chef judge except theirs no cake, there's just Wayne. Disappointing. "The outfit is fine, you cant go wrong with a clean shirt and jeans." Clearing your throat, you turn promptly to the men's jackets section of T.K. Max, wondering to the medium section and giving the choices a quick overlook. "You just need a good coat- because this jean jacket and hoodie combination is not it. You're a 60 year old man not a 19 year old drug dealer, dress like it."

"Thought I was."

"No."

Giving a sigh as you look through the options, because this is absolutely not what you would like to be doing today (Though, it still beat answering the phone right now), you pick out a few of the coats and hand them over to Wayne. You choose a coat in off-white, too, but pause. You look at him and screw up your nose in a wince, considering what he does for a living. He shakes his head. No. Bad idea. Put it back.

Shame; he'd look good in white.

"Anyway, we'll also pick up a few more shirts and jeans because you cant live on a rotation of 3 to 2 ratio. No. We might get you a haircut too, and maybe- "

"God. You wanna shave me, too??" He cuts you off, and you hear the exaggerated sarcasm clear as day, but still give him a deeply unamused.

"No, the beard's sexy." You say bluntly, feeling your phone buzz in your back pocket and fighting off a frustrated sigh; knowing exactly who it was from. "-Thats your only redeeming feature right now. Don't say crazy stuff like that!, because I do not have the patience for it today."

The man gives you a sheepish shrug, but looks wholly shut up. "... jeez... You're a real ball a' joy, today."

You feel the tell-tale buzz again, and let air whisper out from between your lips in frustration. "... you have no idea."

"Great." Wayne rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at this whole situation just like you. And you get it- if your cousin said he was embarrassed of you and demanded someone else take you out and dress you at the crack of dawn on a Saturday then you'd be pretty damn annoyed, too. You're about to offer an olive branch, ask if he wants to get something to drink before you start, but then a mischievous vulgar grin spreads across his rough-looking face and immediately you groan. Before words even come out. This goddamn man- "... Hey, I do like to hear ya think I'm sexy, though. How about that, huh?"

Without a word, you deadpan-point him towards the changing rooms.

~

Its a couple of hours later and- to be honest- you are in a better mood, now. This is definitely better then answering your Tinder messages, at least. For sure.

At first all the two of you did was argue, until you marched him out of the store to get a coffee. You found, after that, that you were both far more likeable people with a caffeinated/sugary drink in your hands. You got along a lot better, then.

After a few try-on's, you both agreed on a plain old grey long coat. not quite a trench coat, because he's creepy enough you think, but nothing fancy either, with nice deep pockets. That feature particularly made him happy, and you couldn't blame him. Pockets make you happy, too. You didn't think about what he might want to put in the pockets, though he did try to tell you. You didn't want to know.

"No- but wait, see here?? I could totally fit a- "

"Thats okay Wayne, I don't need to know."

"B- "

"No."

*Huff* "Suit yourself. ... Hm, but I might even be able to get me in here some- " This man chose to look up and wriggle his eyebrows at you, almost causing you to choke on a laugh. Almost. "You know."

Okay, you're not made of stone. At this you did snort; shaking your head. "No, I don't know."

"... you wanna?"

"Nope."

Now Wayne was just trying a few pairs of jeans (He offered to let you in so you could 'help him'... you politely turned that oh so very kind and beyond charming offer down with a 'no you're a big boy; I have the utmost faith in you that you can do it' and an encouraging pat on the shoulder), and while you sat outside the changing rooms with the coat hung over your legs and a basket half full with some more shirts in various cobalt hue's, you finally see fit to open up your phone for the first time in the day and... oh, boy.

You wince.

"Yep," You mutter, shaking your head and shifting to make sure no one was around to see. "Thats a penis."

God, what is wrong with men?

'U gotta send me some now' the guy, Brandon, texts you then seeing that you were online. 'Thats fair'. You groan. Oh no you do not.

When Wayne comes out of one of the changing rooms, tucking his shirt into his new jeans, you quickly switch off your phone and lower it into your lap. A second ago you were having a good day (A good day! With crazy Wayne of all people!), but now... aghhh, you just wanted to go home. Be alone. Lament over the fact that, at this rate, you're never going to find a man you have any kind of real chemistry with. "- that looks great." You say quickly, flashing a kind smile and getting up. "We'll get a couple of those. Its all on Lyle, anyway. Come on, lets ring up. You wanna get Taco Bell on the way back?- "

"Uh uh uh," As you're attempting to walk by Wayne and head for the registers, he grabs you by the crook of your arm and stops you right there. "What just happened here?"

Taking a deep breath, you cross you arms and face him; never mind the proximity he set. "Nothing. We've been out for hours, and I'm tired."

"You are not." He growls, then you peer and watch a sly grin spread across his face. "You cant lie to a liar, sweetheart, trust me. But hey," Suddenly he plucks your phone right out of your hand, making you yelp and go wide-eyed. Oy- "lets see for ourselves what the problem is, huh?"

"No, no, no- " You reach for the phone as soon as you see it, but he turns around.

Your phone comes to life and, holding the device just out of your reach (Well, you could move and grab it, but at this point you're frozen out of mortification), Wayne flicks to the most recently opened app. Then the photo's slide across the screen again and your nose wrinkles. "Ahhhh... " You roll your eyes deeply. You can imagine the nasty grin on the dirty old man's face without even seeing it. "... So? You gonna uhh... repay the favour, or not? Hm??" He chuckles. and you groan.

"What do you think?" You ask his back, rubbing your face.

"Well I'm sure I don't know- "

"No! The answer is no!"

"Heheh,.. " Suddenly an odd calm settles over Wayne, and you hear rather then see the phone shut off. Then there's a consoling tone in his voice that makes you nervous. "Alright, we can go. I'm all done here, after all, aren't I? Nothin for my Cuz to be embarrassed about anymore, hm? Lemme just put my old pants back on."

"Okay... thank you... ... hey, wait, gimmie back my phone, first- "

"Not just yet."

... that sure makes you nervous.

For the few moments you're waiting for him you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, worried. You just want your phone back! You want to delete. Tinder. damnit.

When Wayne's in there for a few moments too long, you awkwardly approach and knock on the door. "... Way- "

He opens the door almost as soon as your knuckles hit the surface, startling you, and hands you the phone back with a terrible, satisfied look on his face.

... you squint. "What did you do."

"Nothin'." He tells you back, noncommittally; shrugging and adjusting his pants as you open up your phone and navigate back to Tinder.

...

...

...

..

...

..- "OH." Immediately you turn off your phone all the way again and cross your arms, fighting to urge to throw it. THATS not gonna give you nightmares at all. After a moment, your eyes flick to Wayne grinning proud. "... why."

"Well he aint gonna bother you no more now, is he?"

"The concept of your penis does seem to have that effect on people." You say... but cant help it. You laugh, shaking your head; more an inappropriate cackle then a laugh, really. It feels good. "Come on lets go,.. Flaccid, and everything. Very sexy, Wayne."

"I thought so." He's still grinning with pride, and that only makes your giggles worse.

"Move it, Jackson."

~

You did end up getting lunch on the way back, opting to eat in the parking lot on the hood of the car, and you're still sipping coke when you pull into Wayne's driveway. He lives with Dale, its the only way the two of them can afford a semi-decent place with the wages that Lyle pays them, and as you slowly roll over the driveway you see Dale's motorbike in the open garage. He must be working on it today.

When Wayne pipes up from the passenger seat, you turn and watch him while chewing the paper straw in your taco bell cup. "Welll, this has been sorta fun, sweetheart. Coulda been more fun," He gives you a meaningful look and you shake your head, but grin with the straw still between your teeth. He clears his throat, opening the car door. "But, eh, not bad."

"Not bad??" You ask, teasing. "My company is just 'not bad'??"

There's a wicked look in his eye and on his face. "... yep."

"Ass."

"Never claimed to be anything else, did I now?" With that light-hearted but very true remark, Wayne turns to get out of the car- but a crazy split-second urge has you putting down your drink and stopping him.

"Wayne?- "

"Huh?- "

When your lips meet in a deep kiss with the old bastard you didn't even know you wanted until then, you feel every nerve in your body light up. Its slow and a little dirty, and you love it. You didnt know you could be kissed like this. So when you pull back you cant help the smirk that matches his.

"... well, now I think you're company's a lil better, Y/N." You snort, at that. "What? I manage t' seduce you with that photo? Hm?"

You roll your eyes and give a sigh. "Good lord- "

[adelle-ein]

i'm so goddamn tired. i've been so tired since middle school. i can't sleep for more than three hours maximum at a time and even that's a huge success. i have nightmares every single time i sleep (if i don't wake up full on panicking it's a win!) i go to bed pretty early but spend most of the night just struggling. i'm scared to and desperate to sleep 24/7. i wake up tired and i'm exhausted by the time i'm done with breakfast. i fall asleep during the day because i regularly hit the point of fatigue where i physically cannot move anymore. i haven't felt rested or wide awake or anything resembling those things since i was a pretty young kid. "well rested" is like. that's not a real thing even i bet. if i was a sim my little energy bar would max out at halfway and deplete doubly fast. i do not understand how people work full time jobs or do multiple activities in a day. i would sleep until the last minute before leaving for high school and then go back to bed immediately when i got home and i was still struggling with severe exhaustion all school day. even now i have to intersperse work and naps to get fucking anything done and it's a nightmare.

not anemic. vit d is fine (still taking the supplement, been ok for years tho), thyroid is fine. i'm on melatonin and my fibro meds are supposed to be helping with sleep (but just make me more tired while still achieving nothing.) every time we mess with the dosage of pretty much any med, no matter what it is, i get even worse for a day or two and then return to the very bad baseline. i do not have any solid idea what could actually be wrong - i don't think narcolepsy or similar fits but it's not like i'm in any way a professional. that's what i'm afraid of - that nothing is wrong and i can't be helped.

i don't think i'm fully honest with anyone but my therapists about how bad it is. it's really bad. it does not get better, nothing makes it better. i try to bring it up with people and it's like "oh i'm tired all the time too!" and that just reinforces that everyone is like this and i'm just pathetic and the only one who can't handle it. my parents have consistently blamed me and ignored me and downright refused to ever take this seriously, but honestly i don't know if i've ever made it clear to them that i need help. i'm ashamed of it so i try to hide it. nobody in my family is a "good sleeper" so that adds to my conviction that this is a mental problem i need to get over.

i was like half-asleep sitting up on my grandparents' couch a bunch when we were down there, and they were like "are you okay? do you need to nap?" etc and i laughed it off but it was really weird because i am like that All The Time and nobody has ever been concerned about it before. i have my head in my arms at the breakfast table and my parents just talk over me. lace is just like that. so dramatic.

i'm scared to try coffee/energy drinks because in addition to hating flavored drinks and having a sensitive stomach, i don't trust myself with addictive substances of literally any kind no matter how mild or mainstream. i would also have to be able to drink them without gagging ofc

i know i need to see a sleep doc, but the only time my parents took me to an ent when i was 18 (my psych made them. do not be misled into thinking they gave a shit) she was kinda condescending and useless and said nothing was wrong and i just needed to stop napping (revolutionary i never considered this), so of course i have Decided that i can Never Again be tested and i am Making Everything Up. said psych had me on various things for energy over the years including ritalin, nothing did anything.

i'm seeing a new GP next week bc my old one left and i am terrified out of my mind about it, i have to ask them for a couple other things already like the horrible demanding patient i am, and the very idea of broaching the sleep topic makes me want to vomit. and i probably won't do it. but i need to. i know i need to. i just don't have any hope that it'll help and i'll never be able to be fucking normal.

i'm tired.

[zmagpie]

25 Dreams for 2025

try to be okay with the fact that it is indeed twenty twenty five. um, excuse me, like, who gave time the goddamn right?

finish a half marathon on prefarably the better half of the gaussian curve. I'll take anything in the first standard deviation.

I hope this is a safe space for us to share our dreams, I'd like to think that it is, but I just want my local haunt to be able to predict my order, you know? I just want someone to know me, okay?

banish scrolling and do not let the Algorithm Overlords rule my life. seek books, newsletters, essays, movies, tv shows, and people who live like their life is art.

consume more intentionally, nutrition version. I think health is important for sanity at this point. and vanity. because it's nice to be hot.

write in my journal everyday about what I did because when someone asks what I did last night, I'd at least like to be able to pull up some documentation and provide some alibis!

find someone to share my 132 spotify playlists with.

try not to let chess make me cry.

create more. write a book, terrible first draft, slightly less terrible second draft. the work is the reward itself.

find people to laugh with.

find people to drink coffee with.

find people to drink wine with.

find people to drink whiskey with. they're all different btw, and if you find them all in the same person, you're a lucky sob.

find courage. daily. a practice you will need to hone like a craftsman.

drive more. be the kind of person who drives. (not change, we're not quite ready for that, but a car, preferably)

live your life like you're the screenwriter. drive plot.

rewrite painful histories with new chapters and new directions and new character arcs.

fall for emotional itimacy and not only the other superficial ego-driven stuff.

be kind even in conflict, especially in conflict.

practice loving action, compassionate discipline with yourself.

try new th- don't try any new things this year actually, we don't have the emotional budget for it. we can check in again in Q3

practice more playfulness in your life

take more friends to homecenter and pretend like you're a married couple

don't write placeholder points like this one.

find someone to be excited about NYE 2026 with you

[clericofshadows]

a night to remember

Sequel to don't ask about Ryuusei. Description: Regis, Kaidan, and Zaeed dress-up to invade Khan's domain at the Silver Coast Casino and learn more about the identity theft plot against Regis.

Paring: Kaidan Alenko/Regis Shepard/Zaeed Massani

Regis put the final touches on his outfit, a pair of cufflinks adorned with both the Spectre and Alliance logos and a chain across his shirt collar, gleaming in the light of their bedroom.  In some ways, he considered formal wear to be another type of armor, another way of masking and protecting himself.

He also enjoys looking damn good, so there’s that too.  

In a sudden burst of inspiration, he knocked Zaeed out of the way in the bathroom and grabbed the pencil eyeliner from the drawer, lining his eyes with a bit of smudge, preferring a more lived-in look over precision.  

Zaeed wrapped his arms around Regis’s body, making the atmosphere in the room even more intimate. Regis turned his head slightly to meet Zaeed's gaze through the mirror as he continued to line his eyes.

“If we weren’t about to go on a mission, I doubt we’d ever make it to the door,” Zaeed teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll make good on your promise eventually,” Regis said, putting the cap back on the eyeliner and placing it back in the drawer.  “What about my own ideas?  Remember one of the first nights in this apartment, and I took the both of you apart with only my biotics, you two bare to the world while I was dressed to the fucking nines?’

Zaeed kissed a spot of skin under his ear.  “Oh yes, I do remember.  You can be a sadistic bastard when you want to be.”

“We all contain multitudes,” Kaidan said, leaning in the doorway.  Regis took him in, noticing a bit of nude lipstick and highlighted cheeks, a hint of blush and shadow around his eyes, a beautiful addition to the three piece suit he wore so well.

"That we do, love," Regis replied. "Damn we look good."

"We are going to steal the goddamn show," Zaeed said, leaning in to steal a quick peck on Kaidan's lips before heading towards the bedroom door. "A damn shame we're working this evening.  Would've liked to be able to show off and let loose."

"We can still do that, you know," Kaidan said, linking his arm with Zaeed's. Regis followed behind them. "All part of the mission.”

A whistle and a round of applause greeted them as they walked down the stairs.  Regis preened under the attention, knowing that he was the mastermind behind their ensemble.  “Looking good!” Ashley whistled.  “Almost too good.”

Regis rolled his eyes.  “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“For you, maybe,” Zaeed muttered, keeping himself pressed against Kaidan’s side. 

“I doubt anyone will bother with us once we’re inside,” Kaidan replied.  “All the spectacle of us being there will be lost once we start mingling with the masses.”

“No matter what, we’ll be one hell of a distraction for Brooks,” Regis said.  “Speaking of, where is she?”  He didn’t see her among the crowd.

“Getting ready in the spare bedroom,” Wren said, now sitting at the bar with a colorful drink.  “Myself, Ash, and EDI have volunteered to be your immediate backup.”

“Good team,” Zaeed nodded.  “Are we just waiting on the specialist?” He shuffled on his feet, hands going up to adjust his tie.  Zaeed gave him a pleading look, and Regis let out a resigned sigh, motioning for him to take off the damn thing.  He grinned at him and pulled it off, setting it down in a heap on the coffee table.  There goes that perfect pressing.

Wren nodded, taking a sip of her cocktail.  “Of course, in the world of rich socialites aboard this station, being late is almost expected.  But with you here, Regis, I can’t expect you to abide by that.”

“Being on time is a good thing,,” Regis replied, crossing his arms.  “I doubt the information business thrives on lack of punctuality.”

Wren's lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned back in her barstool.  “As far as I’m concerned, I make the rules.  I have enough agents where it doesn’t matter.  Sometimes being a little late works in our favor, don’t you think?  Panic… fear… all good motivators to get what we want.”  

Regis smirked.  “Fair enough, but I’d like to get a handle on this situation ASAP.  Not exactly fond of someone trying to gain my identity.”

“Of course not.  I’m doing what I can, but this whole thing even has me stumped,” she said, finishing off her drink.  “And I hate being in the goddamn dark.”

“Amen, Wren,” Zaeed said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  Again, messing up the perfectly pressed suit.

Regis will make him pay for that later.  He knows this kind of shit annoys him…

“Makes you wonder if it's someone close,” Kaidan mused.  “Or at least, someone familiar with our methods.”

“I’ve approached that angle and haven’t come up with anything yet.  Joker was kind enough to let me check the sigs of the messages you both supposedly sent out.  Curiously devoid of any information save for the signs that belong to you.  Location data was a bit fucked, but these days that’s normal.  Very impressive work, I’m afraid,” Wren elaborated, pushing the empty drink away from her.  “Hope you don’t mind me taking shit from your bar, by the way.”

Regis shrugged. “I don’t drink most of that shit anyway.  Take what you want.”

That was more of Kaidan’s and Zaeed’s hobby, the two of them sharing a similar taste in drinks.  And men, Regis couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.  They are the ones who will squabble over the perfect liquor for the evening, while Regis just grabs a hard lemonade or cider from the fridge and uses that as his drink of choice.  He wasn’t much of a fan of mixed drinks either, unless they were mostly sugar and syrup and fruit.  

Something he definitely got from his mother.  She and Adrian have both teased him how he managed to find men who had damn near the same taste in alcohol as his father.

It’s been a while since he’s thought about Atlas.  Sometimes he wonders what he would’ve thought of Regis’s career in the Alliance, his choice in relationship, and his ultimate decisions in the midst of the Reaper War.

In these times of peace, Regis’s mind wandered more and more.

“Be careful who you say that around,” Wrex piped up from the kitchen.  

“I think we have enough credits to cover everyone here if it came to it,” Kaidan chuckled.  “Not that we have any krogan liquor here, but if you put it on the tab, I might be inclined to pay for it.  You did help save our lives after all.”

“It amazes me how good of a person you are, Kaidan.  I won’t take too much advantage of your generosity.”

“I will!” Tali exclaimed, seated next to Wrex.  They fist bumped. 

Kaidan rolled his eyes.  “Thanks.”

“You do have an impressive bar here,” Ashley said, moving to grab Wren’s empty drink, pour out the ice, and drop it in the sink.  She sat down next to her.  “It’s a damn shame you never took up my offer for that drinking contest.  Didn’t want to lose against the ‘Glamorous and beautiful superstar Spectre agent’?”

“My biotics and my modifications would give me an unfair advantage.  I don’t get drunk easily,” Regis defended.  Mostly he didn’t want to drink whatever hard shit she would insist on, and she most definitely knew that.  Better suited for Zaeed and Kaidan to take her up on her offer.  “Cute title.  Might need to come up with one like that for Kaidan.”

“I’ll get right on it,” she laughed, giving Kaidan a wink.  He merely shook his head, walking into the kitchen to sit with Tali and Wrex.  Zaeed joined Vik on the couch.

As Regis moved to join Zaeed by the fireplace, he saw Brooks rushing towards them from the spare bedroom, wearing a simple, but elegant dress, just enough to fit the dress code without drawing too much attention.  She had pulled her hair up into a bun and curled her hair, adding a bit of extra makeup to her face and finishing off the look with a hint of gloss.  “Sorry for the delay!  Got a little distracted.  Wow, you have such a great apartment!”

Regis nodded his head at the compliment.  “Ready to go?  Or do we need to debrief again before we take the skycars over?” He motioned to the door, anxious to get on with it. 

He was more unnerved about the situation than he let on, wondering how someone managed to get past his security and get too close to ending him once and for all.  After they get the apartment back to themselves, he's going to seek comfort in Kaidan and Zaeed, hoping that this will all blow over soon. 

They know how vulnerable the restaurant attack made him.  His injuries and immediate clinginess was enough proof of that. 

“Skycars?” Brooks asked.  “Plural?  I thought we would all be walking in together?”  She looked a little put out.

“This is as much of a press event as it is a mission,” Kaidan said.  “Better for the three of us to get all the attention first, while you follow behind.  Nothing personal.”

“Maybe a little personal,” Zaeed said under his breath.  Kaidan would’ve elbowed him for that.  Regis wasn’t that tactful. 

"Okay, that makes sense!  I'll be able to slip away and get ready while you three steal the show.  Got it," she said with a nod. 

Yes, that was the point of the mission.  Regis kept his snide comment silent.  “So, are we ready?  Any last minute preparations?”

Wren stood up and shook her head.  “None at all from my end.  We’ll also be in civilian wear, to not draw too much attention to ourselves in the area.  The rest of the squad will be ready to go in full gear if necessary, but somehow I doubt that will be an issue.  I’ll hail the skycars.”

– –

They stepped out of the skycar, and Regis held out his arms, waiting for Kaidan and Zaeed to link arms with him before heading down the red carpet lining the path into the Silver Coast Casino.  Flashing lights, cheering crowds, and adoring masses lined the area, held back by rope barriers.  

Regis couldn't help but flash a charming smile to the crowds. “We are going to be all over the headlines tomorrow morning,” he remarked, amused at the whole situation.  There were benefits to being the man in the middle, having no hand free to wave to the crowd.

Kaidan waved at the crowd, playing the ever-so-perfect media darling.  Regis could play the part as well, but Kaidan was quite the natural at it these days.  Let Kaidan do the talking, while Regis stands menacingly for recruitment posters.  “All part of being who we are, I’m afraid.”

“Don't rope me into your celebrity statuses, babe," Zaeed grumbled, keeping his free hand stashed in a pocket, "I'm just an accessory to both of your Spectre and Admiral nonsenses."  He may have sounded reluctant, but Regis knew he secretly enjoyed all the attention, loving that he could be out and open in the spotlight with his husbands by his side.

“You love it, though,” Kaidan said as they walked through the grand doors, stopping at the foot of the stairs.  Regis moved his grip to brush against their hands before breaking apart.  They stayed close together, shoulders touching, unafraid to be out and open with who they are.  “The press are only allowed outside.  We should have nothing to worry about once inside. Except for some extranet gossip, but that's normal."

“I am going to hold you to that,” Zaeed said, popping another button open on his collar, smirking at Regis as he did so.  Regis narrowed his eyes a fraction, raising an eyebrow.  Zaeed mirrored the motion, as if goading him into doing something about it.  And oh, he wanted to.  Wanted to find a stray alcove or hidden corner somewhere and wipe that damn expression off his face, make him let loose and ruin his suit under Regis’s terms.

This is going to be a game all evening, isn’t it?

Brooks joined them soon after, walking quickly down the red carpet behind them.  “Well, I guess I’ll get to the ventilation shaft.  Wish me luck!”

As she walked up the stairs, Regis double checked the comms and activated his link.  Kaidan and Zaeed did the same.  “Wren, have anything for us?”

“Not currently.  EDI and I will keep in contact in case we’re needed.  As you can imagine, Khan is a paranoid bastard, and has lots of surveillance.  Act natural, mingle, and be in oh-so-disgusting-love,” Wren said, chuckling at the end of her sentence.

“It’s like you want us to be all over the extranet,” Zaeed muttered, shaking his head.  “Remind me why I signed up for this?”

“I’d imagine because of whatever Regis and maybe Kaidan promised you.  And I don’t want to hear it.  But remember: this is supposed to be a press-free event on the inside.  You’ll be fine, Zaeed.  Also: mute button.  Use it!”  Wren chimed in.

Regis rolled his eyes, despite knowing she couldn’t see it, and muted his comm for now.  “Time to meet the riff-raff.”

“And I’m going to hang out at the goddamn bar,” Zaeed said, making a motion with his thumb.  “You two can look pretty and talk politics or some shit.  Lots of crowds mingling.  Maybe you can learn something new.”

There were plenty of groups, mixed between humans and aliens, all in formal wear.  Some were hanging out by the gambling areas, others stayed put in the various couches for a semblance of privacy.  Others were walking hand in hand, pointing and marveling at the spectacle.  It was quite the elegant place, a soft piano ambience in the air mingling with the sound of the crowds.  

“So you want us to do all the distracting work so you can look pretty drinking the night away at the bar,” Regis said, linking his arm back with Zaeed's.  “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left it at the door with my guns.”    

Regis did let Zaeed guide him to the bar, where he asked for some sparkling flavored water.  “Three of the strawberry flavored, will you?”  He held up three fingers, nodding once the bartender set three cans on the table.  “Have to stay focused tonight, you hear me?”  The bartender nodded, likely getting lots of similar requests.  People either wanting to get drunk and have fun, or those that want to take part in the festivities without losing face.  Or a lot of money.

Huh.  Maybe he did plan something out of this.  Kaidan looked at him curiously, grabbing a can and opening it, taking a long sip.  “Are a lot of people enjoying the evening?” Kaidan asked, motioning to the well-stocked bar.

“People are feeling adventurous lately.  Some asari gelatin shots that kick like a shotgun.  Even some hanar delicacies.  Ever heard of mindfish?”

Regis and Kaidan shared a look.  Zaeed grinned.  “Sure have.  Never tried it myself, it seemed too goddamn wild even for my tastes.”

“So, what is it?” Regis asked, taking a drink.  

The bartender went into detail about hallucinogenic skin oils and how it works in humans.  Yeah, no, not for him.  He likes being in control.  And something like that sounds like his worst nightmare.  “I think I’ll pass,” Regis said, finishing off the small can.  The bartender took it off his hands.

“I don’t blame you.  We have many more ‘normal’ concoctions, if you desire to get something stronger.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Kaidan said diplomatically, finishing off his drink.  “Have a good evening.”

“You too, gentlemen.”  They stepped away from the bar.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Regis muttered, heading towards the grand stairway in the back.

“Isn’t that the whole point?  To waste time?” Zaeed asked, giving him an unimpressed look, but following behind him.

“He’s got a point, love,” Kaidan said, moving up beside Regis.  “Besides, do you really want to entertain most of the people here who are probably vying to get a special talk with the oh-so-great Admiral Shepard?”

“As if you aren’t the oh-so-wonderful Admiral Alenko.  But fair, I can concede to that,” Regis admitted, moving to lean against the railing in front of the waterfalls.  “This should be my element,” he murmured, crossing his arms against his chest.  “I sometimes like doing these things, but tonight I just want to get to Khan.”

“It’s not a normal evening,” Zaeed said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.  “We’ll find the bastards that are doing this and make them fucking pay for nearly taking you away from us.”

“I know.  Can’t help but dwell on it,” he sighed.  

“Admiral, I’m upstairs by the grate leading to the shaft, but there’s a problem.  Can you meet me?” Brooks said over the comm, sounding worried.

Kaidan answered, “We’re on our way.”

They walked up the stairs and met her off to the side, away from the dance floor and yet another well-stocked bar.  She was standing in front of the vent, her omnitool out.  “Ah, there you are!  Okay, just like we thought.  There’s an alarm on the grate.”

“We’ll need to bypass it,” Regis said with a nod.  “Something tells me this isn’t something I can do cleanly with one of my programs?”

“Probably not…?” She trailed off, glancing back at the vent.  “In any case, Major Clarkson gave me these to pass to you.”  She pulled out a small lens case from her pocket.  “These are resonance emitter lenses.  They will let you see security grids and wiring.”

Regis sanitized his hands with a quick flash of his omnitool and put in the lenses, blinking quickly as his eyes adjusted to the intrusion.  A slight haze settled over his vision, and he saw bright blue glowing wiring on the wall surrounding the vent and climbing down to the floor.

“I love your glowing eyes, but that’s freaky on another level,” Zaeed said, blunt as ever.  Kaidan gave him one of his signature looks.  

Regis ignored them but made a point to catch his reflection later. “Good.  I'll disable the alarm.  Should be rudimentary with this shit in my eyes.”

“Fingers crossed!” She said, holding up a hand.   

���I’ll be right back,” Regis said.  He activated the comm.  “Wren, the lenses are working great.  Bit disorienting though.”

“Yeah, they aren’t my favorite thing either.  Calibrated well with your cybernetics?”

“Perfectly.  Great work as always.”

“You flatter me.  Follow the blue wiring for me.”

As he walked across the upper floor, careful to not bump into any of the dancing, drinking patrons, he noticed glowing areas around the cameras.  “I see the camera zones as well.  I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

“Wasn’t even worried about you.”  

He stopped at the wall on the other side of the room, directly across from the vent.  “I see the junction, and of course a camera is watching it.  Need me to hack and fool it, or am I going to need a Wren and EDI special?”

“Pfft, nah.  You got the good shit.  The stuff I have is a fork of your stuff anyway.  It’s pretty sad that the shit you and Adrian do was far better than a lot of stuff in the former SB’s database.”

Regis chuckled, activating his hack with a flourish and disabling the alarm.  “Thought I’d ask anyway.”

“Such a gentleman.”

The camera turned back on a moment later, and Regis stepped away.  “Should be disabled now, Brooks.” He took a moment to glance at his reflection by opening the camera on his 'tool.

His normally red glowing eyes were lined with yellow scan lines. He blinked a few times and the light dimmed some, but not going away completely.

Zaeed had a point. It was a little off putting, even by his normal post-Lazarus apperance.

“Good!  Zaeed helped me get the grate open and… in we go!  Act casual, this could take a while.”

Kaidan and Zaeed rejoined him in the center of the room.  “Nice and efficient as always,” Kaidan praised, leaning up against him.  He motioned to the dance floor.  “Want to let loose for a bit?”

“The kind of dancing I want to do with you two is not appropriate for this kind of shindig,” Zaeed chuckled, his eyes darkening.  “But I did catch an interesting figure there in the back.  Ashland… Jonah, I believe.”

“Of Eldfell-Ashland Energy?” Regis asked, the name vaguely familiar.

Ah, right.  The owners of the facility on Zorya, back when they hired Zaeed to free it from the Blue Suns…

“One and the same,” Zaeed nodded.  “Want to say hello?”

“Probably one of the more interesting people up here to talk to,” Regis said.  “Shall we?”

A well-dressed older man was leaning against the bar, speaking to a turian dressed in casual wear.  As they approached, his face broke out into recognition.  “Two Admirals and a well-known mercenary.  Interesting company.”

“Enjoying the party?” Kaidan asked, joining him against the bar.  Regis and Zaeed stood next to Kaidan, getting comfortable.

“Young people party.  I drink.  Tonight it’s ryncol on the rocks,” he chuckled, holding up his glass.  “What brings you here?”

“Business,” Regis said, keeping it truthful but vague.  “A common reason here, I’m sure.”

“It’s never just business,” Ashland replied, looking over at Zaeed.  “I heard what you did on Zorya back a few years ago.  Good work keeping our people safe.  Blue Suns can be such a stain on this galaxy.”

He couldn’t help but share a look with Zaeed.  They long since worked past Zorya, and the moment Wren became the Broker, they were able to hunt Vido down once and for all before their final mission with Cerberus.

Still, it wasn’t easy thinking about what had happened.  No regrets from the both of them now, but Regis hated what that mission did to them, hated how fragile things could get concerning his command.

One of the few times he wasn’t sure if he would have done the same thing if he could repeat the mission.  Best to leave those thoughts buried in the past with Vido’s corpse.

“All in a day's work,” Zaeed said, brushing off the compliment.  “I had Shepard’s resources on my side.  Good to know that it worked out in the end.”  It worked out for the company.  For them?  Eventually.

Kaidan sent a reassuring push into the gravity well, sensing the change in the air between them, caught in their old conflict like everyone else on board the SR-2.

Regis sent one back.  They will be fine.

They continued to talk more about the state of the galaxy.  Ashland offered up some information pertaining to his company's growth and reconstruction post-war.  He kept his comm open, knowing Wren would likely enjoy the tidbits of knowledge.  

“Seeing all this,” he said, gesturing around him.  “Nobody is afraid of each other anymore.  You’ve made the galaxy quite a better place, Admiral.”

“I wanted to win,” Regis said.  “And the only way was to unite the galaxy to the best of my ability.”

“I’d argue you did far more than that.  Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.  Don’t waste your time speaking to me.” He raised his glass and took a long sip.

“I’d argue you’re one of the more interesting people here,” Kaidan said, amping up the charm as always.  “It looks like most are here to throw around their wealth and status.  What brings you here?”

He laughed and talked about his daughter, asking if they had run into her yet.  They hadn’t and the topic changed to her and his concerns about her.  Young, impulsive, not yet knowing much about the world.  Like they all were once upon a time.

Eventually, it was time for them to move on, Regis departing with a laugh and well wishes.  They walked back down the stairs, heading back down to the main area to grab some more refreshments and eat some of the variety of foods offered to the event’s guests.  However, an asari caught his eye at the bottom of the stairs, looking somewhat familiar.

She caught his gaze and tilted her head to the side.

Sha’ira.

“Admiral Shepard,” she greeted.  Regis stayed a few feet away, recalling their last meeting with a bit of distaste.  He doubted she would do anything–hell, she backed off when he asked her to–but he found the whole situation… uncomfortable, especially with Kaidan and Ash in the room with him, as if she wanted to put on a show.  “Or do you go by your full name these days?”

“Whichever you prefer,” he replied.  “It’s been a long time.”

“My idea of a long time is different from yours.  I see some of your companions have remained the same,” she said softly, nodding at Kaidan.  He returned the gesture, but Regis could feel the tense air around them.  Kaidan also wasn’t too happy at her display back in her chambers, ranting about it the moment they left the chambers.  “And some are new.”  Zaeed didn't introduce himself, and she didn’t ask.  

He remembered their call to Zaeed all about her later that day, catching him up on everything that had gone on since Eden Prime.

They have come a long way since then.

“I’ve put a lot of living in the past few years,” Regis replied, adjusting his tie.  “But even these times must feel long to an asari.”

“Indeed,” she said, taking a sip from her drink.  “If this was a couple of years ago, I would have had more advice for you.”

“Oh, really?” Regis asked, admittedly a bit curious to learn what she had to say.

She smirked.  “One word: win.  You’ve done far more than that, and I applaud you.  I would offer you a drink, but something tells me you would decline.”

“Want to have a clear head tonight.”

“I see.” She sat her glass down.  “Good to see that you are doing well, Admiral, after everything.”

“Same to you,” he offered.  “The galaxy has come a long way since its first human Spectre.”

“And now there’s more than a few,” she glanced over at Kaidan.  “Some even I would consider honorary in deeds if not in name.” Her gaze landed on Zaeed.  

She turned back to him.  “Did you ever find a use for that trinket?”

A vision on Eletania, after examining a floating prothean relic.  A chance, a hunch, a sensation from the trinket that brought him to test it in the slot.

He became enmeshed in the life of a Cro-Magnon hunter, captured by a prothean drone.  The implication of being watched and studied, but unable to comprehend it.

It disturbed him and still does to this day.  

“No,” Regis lied.  “I did not.  It was lost with the SR-1.”  That part wasn’t a lie.  It stayed hidden in a drawer after it detached itself from the relic.  He damn near wanted to blow it up, but he kept it, just in case.

His visions may have played a part in preventing him from destroying it.  Dwelling on it these days creates nothing but disquiet and unease.

Zaeed sensed a change in the air and brushed up against him  Right.  He never told him about the vision, barely even giving Kaidan the details after they got back to the Normandy and ensured Regis suffered no ill effects from the relic.

“A shame.  Maybe some mysteries were never meant to be solved.”

“Agreed,” Regis said, moving to take Zaeed’s hand.  He squeezed it tightly in response.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to enjoy the rest of the evening with my husbands.”

“I can see saying that makes you very happy, Admiral.  I wish you peace for the rest of your life,” she nodded.  “A better gift of words than the ones I gave you all those years ago.”

“Thank you,” Kaidan answered, taking Regis’s other hand.  “Times are better for us.  I hope they are also peaceful for you too.”

“As do I, Admiral.  Have a good rest of your evening.”

“What was that about?” Zaeed asked as they walked back to the railing in front of the waterfalls.

“The trinket?” Regis asked, already knowing the answer.  

“Yeah, exactly.”  Zaeed nodded.  “Trust me, I remember the story about her.  You lied to her, didn’t you?”

“Can’t hide anything from you.  We found a relic on an UNC.  Her trinket just so happened to interface with it.  I saw… and damn near lived the life of an ancient hunter.  The protheans were watching us, throughout our history” Regis said.  Zaeed and Kaidan both provided reassuring squeezes, punctuated by Kaidan reaching into the gravity well, his eyes igniting blue briefly.  “It’s… not fun to talk about.”

“That’s about what I got out of him after it happened,” Kaidan said for Zaeed’s benefit, moving in to brush a soft kiss on the side of Regis’s neck.  “Never expected to see her again.”

“That prothean shit freaks me out.  No offense,” Zaeed said.  Regis waved it off,

“Can’t say I’ve enjoyed having it in my head either.  It is what it is,” he sighed.

“Admiral!” Brook’s voice appeared over the comms in a harsh whisper.

“What?” Regis asked, lowering his voice.

“There’s a guard right below me.  He’s on the uh–left? Side of the room?  From your left.  Not mine.”

Regis looked over and saw a guard on the other side of the bar. “Don’t panic.  We’ll get his attention.”

But how… Hmm.  The three of them shared a look, and Kaidan kicked off from the railing, volunteering himself to do the job.  “Excuse me.” The guard turned to him, his visor shutting off momentarily.  Interesting little feature.  Kaidan leaned in close, as if he was telling a secret.  “You may want to check out the men’s restrooms.  I don’t want to snitch but…” He lowered his voice.  “Might have seen some people using red sand.”

“Goddamn snitch,” Zaeed chuckled.  “Hope there aren’t any unsuspecting folks in there.”

“It’s effective,” Regis defended, watching as the guard opened his omnitool and relayed the information to the rest of security. “But I’ll agree.  Was damn near tempted to bring my Astras with me.”

“Thought you quit that.”  His tone wasn’t accusatory, but his glare damn sure was.

“I did.  Shit like this wants me to bring it back.”

Zaeed wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close to his side.  “I get it.  Just don’t like you relying on them.”

“Neither do I.”  But he still has that feeling all the same.

“We’re taking care of it sir.  Appreciate your help.  You have a good night, now.”

Kaidan rubbed the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish.  “Uh, no problem.”  The guard turned away from him and started on a different patrol route.  Kaidan rejoined them as Regis relayed to Brooks that the route was clear.

“Thanks!  I’ll see if I can get to the panic room.”

Zaeed motioned for them to follow him, walking over to the other side of the room in the back, a quieter area with some mixed seating and refreshments.  A bit of a break from standing around and making conversation with people.  Regis was very thankful for it.

Kaidan grabbed a couple of little tarts and passed them around.  “Looked like you two weren’t too impressed with my display there,” he commented, taking a bite out of the tart.

“Wasn’t all about that,” Zaeed said, eating his in one go.  He wiped away crumbs from his mouth, getting some on his suit.  Regis moved to brush them off, but he dodged him, stepping aside with a laugh.  “It will be fine, babe.”

“You’re paying for the goddamn dry cleaning.”

“Our money anyway.” He shrugged.  “Anything to get out of this suit faster.”

“There’s a coat check,” Kaidan helpfully suggested.  He moved in, grabbed Zaeed’s suit by the lapels.  “You’ve always looked better without the jacket, showing off those arms of yours.”

Regis couldn’t exactly disagree with that.  But it’s about the fucking principle.  “And what happened to me making all of us match?”

“We’ve matched for the goddamn press already.”  Zaeed let Kaidan slip the jacket off his shoulders before he started rolling up the sleeves of his black, silk shirt.  Regis tried to not focus too much on the action, knowing it will definitely betray his real feelings on the matter.  “Take off your coats too and we can all match again.”

“Tempting.” Regis narrowed his eyes as Kaidan walked over to a room in the corner.  “But I'm not going to do it.  Besides, didn’t you want to take this off of me later?”

“You’re still all dressed up,” he purred into his ear.  “One less layer just makes it easier for me to make you writhe.”

Regis had to hold back a shiver.  It’s been a while since they were able to take a moment for themselves.  This shore leave was meant to be a bunch of self-indulgent laziness, plenty of sex, and ignoring the responsibilities of the greater galaxy.

Instead, he was fighting off yet another attempt on his life.  When will people learn that it isn’t easy to take down Regis Shepard?

“Careful,” Regis replied.  “You may be the one helpless if you keep up this game of yours.”

Zaeed popped another button, showing off more of his skin in response.  

Kaidan rejoined them, watching them with an exasperated look on his face.  “Not that I’m not enjoying the show, but time and a place.”

“Says you,” both he and Zaeed said together.  

Kaidan held up his hands in surrender.  “I like what I like.  But the last thing I think you want to deal with is getting in the moment and hearing Brooks’s voice over the comm.”

“I hate it when you’re being so reasonable,” Regis said, shaking his head.  

Kaidan hooked his arm with Zaeed’s.  “You can do whatever you want to each other later.”

“You aren’t involving yourself?” Zaeed asked with narrowed eyes.  “What are you planning?”

“I think I’m going to let you two take the lead on this one.  See who wins out on this petty game you have going on.”  Kaidan always liked to watch when it was the three of them, being a vocal spectator, directing the scene to his specifications.  Or he’ll be content just watching in silence, joining in after Regis and Zaeed were nearly spent to push them all over the edge.

Regis walked back over to the table of refreshments and grabbed some more desserts.  He was getting hungry, and these tiny little portions weren’t helping.  “Whatever happens will be after we get some takeout.”

“And we still need to test out your amp,” Kaidan reminded with a pointed look.

Regis rolled his neck.  “I can test out plenty of maneuvers in the bedroom,” he said, looking at Zaeed as he did so.  Zaeed smirked in response.  “Anyway, want to gamble some of our money away?”  He pointed to the door.

“Not particularly,” Zaeed replied, letting Kaidan guide him over to the door.  “Who else is there to even talk to in this place?  Politicians and shit?”

Regis followed them back to the main area, heading to one of the side gambling areas.  They can at least watch and feign interest in what's going on.  This was getting old, fast.  “Wren, did you ever get a guest list together?” He asked, unmuting himself. 

“I can send you one.  Why?  Zaeed complaining about the company?”

She knows them so well. 

“Am I wrong?” Zaeed shot back. 

She snorted. “No.  I’ll send you a list.  But since I haven’t seen anything too untoward posted to the ‘net about you three, I think you’re going just fine.”

Their omnitools pinged with the file transfer.

Zaeed opened it, examining the dossier.  “See, I was right.  Mostly a bunch of bullshit.”

“At least many are high paying donors.  And as far as I can tell, most of the money goes where it says it's going to be.  I’ll make sure that it all gets routed to the charity efforts.  I’ll leave you three to it, unless you have anything else for me?”

“I think we’re good, thanks,” Regis said, taking a cup of water from a nearby waiter.  “We’ve made good progress.”

“To be honest, I’m impressed.  Like you, I thought this whole thing was going to go up in flames.”

“A little faith goes a long way,” Kaidan said diplomatically.  

“You’re too goddamn nice, Kaidan,” Wren chuckled.

Kaidan looked at Regis and Zaeed, shaking his head.  “Someone has to be on our team.”

Before Regis could even attempt to defend himself–and it would be for naught, as it is very hard for him to be nice most of the time–the comms came to life from Brooks.  “Um, I’ve got a pressure pad and an obstruction detector ahead.  I can’t disable them from here.”

What kind of spy-movie bullshit is going on in this place?  Then again, physical security was never Regis’s thing.  Maybe this kind of stuff really was effective.

“Sounds like a job for EDI,” Zaeed answered, to his surprise. “We’ll figure this shit out for you.”

“I was talking to–oh nevermind!  Okay… I’ll stay here, hoping to not blow up anything.”

Her enthusiasm and focus on him was getting real grating.  Zaeed grimaced, muting his comm.  “This shit can’t end any sooner.”

“I don’t foresee how you need my help.  You have Shepard, who is capable enough with his own programs to handle your situation from my knowledge.  Unless you want me to improve outputs by an incremental only I will notice… then no,” EDI piped up.  “Wait, you wanted her to get off the comms.”

“You’re goddamn right, EDI,” Zaeed said.  “Regis, what do you got for us?”

Regis scanned the room, now since used to all the extra information coming from the lenses.  He identified one point in the gambling area they were in, and what appeared to be another on the other area on the other side of the room.  “We’re in the perfect spot, found one of the junction points.  Only problem is we have both a camera and a guard over here.”

The guard was weaving between the betting races and the quasar machines, making a long, but predictable path.  Moving fast enough to where Regis knew he couldn’t hack the junction and deal with the camera without her noticing.  

“Don’t worry.  I’ll distract her,” Zaeed said, undoing his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.  He handed Kaidan his cufflinks.

Kaidan gave him an unimpressed look.  “Zee, I love you, but–”

“No buts.  I can handle this.  You both do remember what I used to do for a goddamn living, right?”

Yes, in many explosive and non-clandestine ways.  But Regis also wanted to see what he was planning, and chose to not support Kaidan in this.  When Kaidan looked at him for back up, Regis shrugged.  Kaidan’s gaze fell on Zaeed’s arms and pursed his lips.

He got to see those large, muscled arms.  Can he really judge him?  Focus, Regis.  You can’t let him win.

Kaidan sighed and waved him off, moving to make small talk with some of the gamblers as Regis moved to the junction, starting by disabling the camera.  

“Hey, can we talk shop for a second here? What kind of resume do you need to work at a place like this?" Regis overheard Zaeed ask the guard as he inputted his program and waited for the camera to clear.

He had to stifle a laugh.  Effective for sure. 

“Well, if you're really interested, we have an extranet site with the details,” she replied, sounding hesitant, as if she was expecting something else out of him.

The camera cleared out, and he slid over to the junction, keeping a mental timer in his head.  Plenty of time to get rid of the first obstruction.  According to the printouts, this belonged to the pressure pad.

“Ah, thanks.  You see, I think a gig like this can really help me impress my boyfriend.”

Regis wanted to know which one, feeling like he could hear Kaidan rolling his eyes.  He finalized his entry, looking through the printouts as they appeared to ensure there were no errors.

His display flashed green, and he was in the clear just in time for the camera to recover.

One down, one more to go.

He sent a push through the gravity well to let Kaidan know he was done.  Kaidan nodded at the group he was talking to and walked up to Zaeed, reaching out for his hand.  “Hey love, what are you getting up to?”

The guard only smiled at them before continuing her route.  “Oh, you know, just making conversation.”

“Hope you weren’t flirting,” Kaidan teased, lightly punching him on the shoulder.  “Come on, let’s check out the other activities.”

Regis started to make his way over to the other side of the room.  “Brooks, try the pressure pad.”

“Checking the pressure pad… no alarms.  Looks good!”

“Good, I’ll get the other module disabled.  Stay put.”

“Not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon!”

Regis glanced behind him to make sure Kaidan and Zaeed were following him as they made their way over to the roulette tables.  

He saw the junction on the wall, confirming it was the right one by following the wires.  Unfortunately, this area was also heavily guarded.  Two guards were patrolling, and sending both Zaeed and Kaidan to deal with them would look suspect.   However, there was no camera this time.

Regis positioned himself near the junction panel.  “One of you needs to distract the guard, while the other keeps an eye out for me.”

“Sounds like it’s my turn,” Kaidan said, adjusting his suit, heading towards the guard that was patrolling closer to the junction controls.

Regis wondered how this was going to go.  Zaeed gave him a nod and settled near one of the roulette tables, keeping an eye on the game and the guard.

“Excuse me, sir,” Kaidan began, sounding a little… guilty?  “Uh, I accidentally used biotics on the roulette wheel.  Sorry.” Regis had to hide a snort.  He started to input his program, watching the printouts for anything he might need to adjust on the fly.  Nothing.

Man, the security in this place is terrible.  Either that, or his programs are that good.

Most likely a bit of both, if he had to guess.  The guard replied, “We can eject you for that, sir.  Do I make myself clear?”

The program was almost done.  “Extremely.  Though, I’m not the only one, those groups of asari–” he pointed behind him.  “Watch.”

The display flashed green before Regis turned around to see where Kaidan was going with this.  To his surprise, Kaidan was right.  Two asari’s eyes flashed a light violet as the roulette spun.

The guard hurried over to the table without a second glance.  Nice one, babe.

Regis sent a push through the gravity well, and they were off, leaving as the guard started to escort out the cheating asari.

Zaeed started to laugh as they settled down in a quiet corner.  “I love you, Kaid.”

“Noticed it when we walked over.  I wasn’t going to ‘incriminate’ myself at first, but why not.  Funny seeing him get so mad until I dropped that bombshell onto him,” Kaidan said, a smile tugging on his lips.

“I was wondering where you were going with that,” Regis said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.  “Nice one.”

“I don’t get a kiss for my distraction?” Zaeed said, crossing his arms, looking unimpressed.

“Depends on which boyfriend you were talking about back there,” Regis replied.

“Uh, did you get it working?” Brooks asked, interrupting their conversation.  Ah, right.

“Yes, the detector should be disabled.”

“Okay… yes!  Alright, I’m already at the storage room grate.  Time to hit the lock.”

“Be careful,” he said, and then heard sounds of metal and general commotion.  “Uh, Brooks?  Everything okay?”

“Oh, son of a–hey, Admiral?”

The three of them shared a look.  “What happened?”

She started to whisper.  “Infrared laser hooked up to a silent alarm.  I didn’t get it in time.”

Shit.  EDI piped up, “Shepard, I’ll call the responding guard to say it was a false alarm, but you must stall her before she reaches Brooks.  She is coming from the racing area.”

“Got it, EDI.  Thanks.”

Regis hurried back over to the other gambling area, wondering if it was the same female guard Zaeed was talking to earlier.  As he rounded the corner, he saw that it was, her hand on her comm link and the other holding up her omnitool display.

He motioned for Kaidan and Zaeed to stay behind.  “Hey!” he yelled, trying to get her attention.

She held up her hands.  “Jesus, calm down.  I’m trying to do three things at once here!” Her omnitool pinged with an alarm.  She held up a finger.  “One moment, please, sir,” she sighed, activating the vid.

“EDI’s got it handled, thankfully,” Wren said quietly.  “She’s so cool”

Regis only smiled, despite knowing she couldn’t see it. 

Will she do something about it already?

“Barrow?” The guard sighed.  “What is it?”

“Ma’am, we’ve checked out the alarm in storage.  It’s nothing.  Minor accident,” EDI said with her voice disguised to be that of one of the guards.  

“Find out who tripped it and get them in my office by the end of the shift!” she ordered, shutting down her omnitool.  She brought her attention back to Regis.  “Now you. What is it you needed?”

Uh… that’s a damn good question.  He was going to be a little shit and bring up Zaeed, but maybe that’s not a good idea.  Try not to bring too much attention to them.  So… what now?

“Ah shit, I’m sorry.  Thought you were an old friend of mine.  Sorry about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.  “I’ll leave you back to your work.”

Good enough.  Plausible, if a bit weak.

She paused and shook her head.  “You… have a good evening, sir.” She walked away.

Regis returned back to his laughing lovers.  “What is it?” he sighed.

“You came up with that on the fly, didn’t you?” Zaeed laughed. 

Regis ignored them.  “Brooks, you’re in the clear.  Please, be careful.”

“Thanks, Admiral.  I will!  I’ll see if I can get to the panic room.”

So close to getting to Khan.  Regis was getting tired of this back and forth, running on fumes at this point.  He moved to lean against the wall, taking a breath.  He knew he wasn’t getting a migraine, none of the tell-tale signs were there, but his head was starting to pound.  

Kaidan picked up on it.  “Regis, love, everything okay?”

“Just tired,” he said. “Shouldn’t have volunteered to do this so soon.  Wren, can you do me a favor?”

“Depends.  Related to the mission?”

“Not this current one.  I’ll say it anyway.  Get my goddamn apartment cleared before we get in there, and I don’t want to hear anyone bitching about it.”

“Ah, I see.  No problem.  I imagine some of us might want to stay behind in case there’s a problem… Vik already let me know they were going to meet up with Adrian to get him informed on the situation.”

“Sure, that’s fine.  Got a number in mind?”

“Myself and EDI… Ash for sure…”

Wren and EDI… that’s something he’s been keeping a close eye on from the beginning.  He first thought Joker was interested in EDI, but when Regis made that suggestion, he shot it down fast, saying that he and EDI were best as friends, even making a comment about Wren’s interest.

He also knew Traynor had a thing for EDI as well, but he wasn’t sure if that was just attraction to her voice or something more.  Wren, however, got to know EDI and her mech would often spend time in Wren’s office, helping her sort out stuff with her network and her liaison, an N7 Paladin by the name of Seth Nomad, still on board the old Broker’s ship.  

Keeping that ship intact gave them a lot of good resources in the Reaper War.  Too valuable to be decommissioned or sacrificed.

“That’s fine with me.  We have two guest bedrooms you can bunk in,” Regis said, looking at both Kaidan and Zaeed who nodded at the suggestion.

“I’ll let them know.  I know you want some time alone, so we’ll keep to ourselves.”

“Thanks, Wren.  You’re the best!”

She laughed.  “I’m well aware, my friend.  You three are being quite antisocial.”

“At this point, we’re tired of all this bullshit,” Zaeed said.  “I, for one, was tired of it when we walked through the goddamn door.”

“Fair enough.  Not that I really expected anything else from you,” she chuckled.  “Ah, well, as long as we get something out of Khan I don’t really care what you three get up to at this point.”

“I’d be careful, Wren.  Best not to give them anymore leeway they need,” Kaidan said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked at Regis and Zaeed.  

“What are they doing now?”

“Zaeed keeps messing with his suit,” Regis supplied, and Wren made a sound of understanding.  “It’s become a whole thing.”

“And Kaidan, you say that like you aren’t the reason why I cleared the camera feeds in the docking bay a couple of months ago.”

He shrugged as Regis recalled that memory.  Kaidan and Zaeed got a little… distracted with one another, to put it simply. 

Both of their exhibition kinks will be the death of him. 

Kaidan had the decency to look a little guilty at that, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Fair enough.  We’re all horrible.”

“That’s more like it,” Wren said.  “Don’t worry, we love you three anyway even if y’all love each other a little too much.”

Regis opened his mouth to reply, but Brooks appeared over the comms once more.  “Okay, so now I think you just need to get to me.  I’m on the other side of the security gate.”

“Sounds good.  We’re on our way.  Have you bypassed the camera back there?” Regis asked, eager to finally get the answers they came here for.

“Well, I got my side.  Yours is still on, though.  We need to finish this before someone comes by.”  Regis wondered if the security differed that much between the two areas, but then again, time wasn’t exactly on Brooks’ side.  It’s not like it would take him long to hack into any of the cameras on his side, but something about her blase attitude bugged him despite being so nervous earlier on.

Maybe she’s becoming more sure of herself as she goes through the motions.  Or maybe he’s just really fucking tired and is trying to make sense of something that doesn’t need it.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.  On it,” Regis replied, nodding at Kaidan and Zaeed.

“It’s the yellow wiring,” EDI chimed in.  Regis glanced down and made note of the path, leading them to an area in the back of the casino.  

“I can’t get the security gate to open from here.  The junction must be on your side,” Brooks said as they got closer to her location.  “It might be tricky, just so you know.”

Regis chose to not reply to that statement, looking into the doorway,

All that remained in order to get inside the safe room was a few cameras, a patrolling guard, and a stationary one looking bored against the wall. They were alone in the room; a couple walked out as the three of them lingered nearby the entrance.

“So, how are we going to handle this?” Regis asked, pathing out a way to disable everything as cleanly as possible.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” Zaeed said, motioning for Regis to enter the room. “Get yourself nice and positioned by the controls, and we’ll make sure you get us in with no problems.”

Regis looked at Kaidan who merely shrugged in response, not appearing to know what Zaeed was planning, which didn’t concern him at all. Nope.

If worse comes to worse, they can just Stasis the guards and threaten Khan. Not the end of the world.

Regis gave them one last lingering look before walking inside, sitting down on one of the couches closest to the first panel. He made a show as if he was searching for something in his coat, waiting to see if any of the guards were about to approach him.

Regis was in the clear. Ready to activate his omnitool at any moment, he kept a lazy eye out for his lovers, watching as they walked inside, looking a little flustered.

Oh, no. Really?

“What the hell were you thinking, spending all my goddamn money like that?” Zaeed asked, his voice in a low, dangerous growl reserved for the worst of the scum of the galaxy.

“‘My’ money,” Kaidan replied, with dramatic air quotes, his voice carefully flat. “I don’t know, what was that doc we signed all those years ago, signifying the joining of what, exactly? Remind me of that Zachary!”

Regis had to hide a snort as he activated his omnitool. The stationary guard shuffled on his feet, careful to look at anything other than them.

“Yes, yes, commitment and all that goddamn shit, I haven’t forgotten! Do you know what I was saving up for you, Kevin?” Laying it on thick with the names, loves, Regis thought to himself, listening out for the tell-tale sign of the program finishing up. It was taking a bit longer with this one.

“I don’t know, tell me. You’ve been awfully cagey lately. And hey, I ended up making more goddamn money than what we started with, so stop with your complaining!”

“Yeah, you may have made more money, but guess what? That wasn’t your fucking decision to make. Because I was going to buy us a goddamn home on Bekenstein, and you nearly robbed us of a chance for that!”

Aw, how sweet. The program chimed, and Regis got up to deal with the next one. The other guard in his route had moved closer to his lovers, slowing down as he assessed the situation.

“You… what? Our dream home?” Kaidan asked, all starry-eyed. He’s sure Wren was getting an absolute kick out of this, but she was suspiciously quiet. Maybe she was enjoying the show as much as Regis was.

“Yes, you blind idiot!” Out of the corner of his eye, Regis saw Zaeed step closer to Kaidan.

“You should’ve told me! You know how much planning I have to do now to make it perfect? Come here, you asshole.” Kaidan closed the distance between them, grabbing Zaeed by the shirt collar, and pushing him up against the wall near the door.

Regis activated his omnitool the moment he heard the patrolling guard clear his throat awkwardly, inputting the program and watching for the cameras, both still disabled. He would’ve love to watch the show, having just enough of them in view to see that they were ignoring the guard, too absorbed in each other and their love. Or something.

The other guard had joined his partner, clearing his throat louder and trying to find a way to deal with the… situation.

The program chimed, and Regis moved away from the wall, sending out a quick pulse in the gravity well to signify he was ready to go.  In the corner of his eye he saw Brooks outside the door with her omnitool out.  Just in time.

He watched, amused, as they broke apart. “Sorry, gentlemen. A place like this makes you feel so in love,” Kaidan sighed. “We’ll finish this later, darling. Got to show all my appreciation somehow.”

The guards waved his lovers off, turning their backs to them and giving them a bit of space.  Honestly, it was a good plan, making the air awkward and causing the guards to stumble in their routine.

Still, they could work on their acting skills.  He has half a mind to call them by their fake names on their way back to the apartment, just to see how they will react.

They slipped past the guards, the three of them now ready and waiting in the hallway in front of the door.  Brooks nodded at them and opened the door, the four of them rushing inside the office as the doors closed and locked behind them, the faint voice of a guard shouting cut off by the sudden closure.  A problem they will deal with later.

The office itself was fancy, a large, long, wooden desk that appeared to be an Earth antique, and had to be decades, if not over a hundred years old judging by the craftsmanship.  Dimly lit by a fireplace, the office had a nice aura to it.  A couple of chairs lined the desk, and Khan’s chair with him in it was facing away from them.  

A large vid screen was placed above the fireplace, clear of any data.  Other screens lined the walls of the office, filled with scrolling text.  Perhaps something of interest could be gleaned from those later.

The lack of reaction upon their entrance was not lost on Regis.  Or Kaidan and Zaeed, judging by their narrowed eyes.  

“Khan,” Regis began, stepping forward.  “We need to talk.”

No reaction.  Only silence.

Regis sniffed the air, fine tuning his senses augmented by Cebrerus’s project.  Blood.  Singed flesh.  Shit.

Kaidan tilted his head to the side and walked around the desk.  Once he got a look at Khan, a grim expression formed on his face as he turned the chair around.  Khan was slumped in his chair, dead.

“What the hell?!” Brooks exclaimed, stepping forward to join Kaidan behind the desk.

Kaidan scanned his corpse with his omnitool to confirm it.  “Dead by cardiac arrest.  An overload, perhaps.  This wasn’t accidental.”

“And here I had this bad-cop routine all planned,” Zaeed muttered as he and Regis joined them, all huddled around the smaller terminal.  It was open and logged in.  Brooks moved to activate it, but Regis pushed her aside and starting looking through the outputs.

“Fucking hell,” Wren cursed.  “Got me in?”

“Almost there… ah, there you go,” Regis said, getting her linked into Khan’s systems.  “And well, shit, there’s a deletion order.”

“Goddammit.  What a fucking–ugh.”  Wren let out another string of curses, her composure surprisingly lost.  

Brooks started to ramble behind them, pacing back and forth and apologizing if this was because something she did.  Regis paid her no mind as he continued to look through the terminal along with Wren in his ear in case there was something left.

And there–a comm that was left.  Only the terminal was wiped.  Amateurs Regis scoffed to himself.  “Looks like our killer is an idiot.  Didn’t wipe everything.  Let’s see what this is.”

“So, that means we can bring it back to the safe house and scan it or–”

Regis rolled his eyes and activated the comm, turning around to face the screen once it went through.

A figure appeared on the screen, obscured by static and a feed disguised to be lagged out.  “Already on it, Regis,” Wren said.

“Elijah, come crawling back?” The voice taunted, the same modulator as the earlier call Wren got her hands on.

Regis couldn’t help but smirk, crossing his arms and punctuating it by roaring his corona to life.  “Afraid not.”

“You!  I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.” The voice was carefully neutral, only losing a bit of composure at the beginning.

Have they not checked the news feeds?  Or maybe this was just part of the show they are putting on?

“Fucking pathetic work,” Regis scoffed.  “Please, you must know my track record.  Did you really think falling from an abomination of a restaurant would be my end?”

“Brave.  I thought as much, but it won’t matter.  You have nothing.  All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall.”

Regis blinked.  Is this guy serious?  “I have nothing?  Huh, interesting.  And yet you want me and all that I stand for.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll take everything you have and everything you are.  And there won’t be anything you can do about it.”  The call ended from the voice’s end.

“Shit.  Almost enough time to track it.  Still, it’s something,” Wren muttered over the comms, almost sounding a little defeated.  “Pull out any data drives you can find.”

“Already on it,” Zaeed said, taking Regis’s place at the terminal.  “Think EDI can find something?”

“I’ll be surprised if I am unable to locate anything from the drives,” EDI said.  “Also, there are guards and C-Sec behind the door.  I suggest letting them in so you can explain the situation.”

“Never a dull day,” Kaidan said, moving to unlock the door, already prepping his Spectre credentials.  A few armed C-ec and a couple of the casino guards were waiting on the other side, their own pistols drawn.

Brooks instinctively put her hands up, but Zaeed shot her a glare, causing her to slowly put them down.

“Excuse me, Kaidan Alenko, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.  With me here is Regis Shepard, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, Zaeed Massani, Spectre liaison, and Maya Brooks, Alliance Staff Analyst,” Kaidan said, smoothly diffusing the situation.  “This is under our jurisdiction.”

The salarian officer stepped forward and scanned the credentials.  “If we didn’t recognize you by sight, these definitely prove it.  What’s the situation, Spectre Alenko?”

The next hour passed in a flurry as Zaeed prepped the data drives for transport and Kaidan and Regis talked to the officers to prepare basic reports about the situation, giving the officers a general breakdown of the situation, careful to not reveal anything about the identify theft plot but instead about Khan’s seedier operations.

Enough to provide plausible reason without informing more people of the situation, heeding Brooks’s earlier warnings.  Not that Regis still wanted to abide by them at this point, but there was wisdom in giving information as little as possible.  

Soon enough, they were able to gather their things and leave, Regis making a point to stop by the coat check to give Zaeed his goddamn suit coat with a pointed look that went nowhere.

The only good thing to come out of this mission, really, their teasing keeping things interesting even if they don't keep their promises to do something about it in the end. 

At least they weren’t entirely empty handed, but it didn’t inspire confidence either.  EDI was known to work miracles, and even more so with Wren by her side.

The ride back to the apartment was slightly awkward as they only called one skycar for the four of them to share.   And one of them had to be the one to break the news that the apartment was off-limits to Brooks, who seemed eager to get to the bottom of this, even more so than Regis.

Which, again, fair, but Regis was only human, and he was tired of chasing ghosts.

“But, we have to–”

“No, we fucking don’t,” Zaeed interjected, stopping Brooks from responding to Kaidan telling her to join the rest of the crew in local accommodations.  “Shepard is exhausted, hell, we all are.  And we’ll be goddamn useless if we don’t rest for a few hours before reconvening. Give EDI time to look over our shit.  The Reaper War wasn’t won in a day, and neither will this.”

She slumped down in her seat, and the rest of the ride was filled with an awkward silence.

– –

The smell of soup greeted them as they entered the apartment, shrugging off jackets and taking off their dress shoes.  EDI immediately reached out for the physical drives to go along with the data transfers they sent her before they left the office.  “Ashley took the liberty to order some food.  She opted for an array of soups from a local kitchen, citing that comfort food is exactly what the three of you need.  Was she correct?”

“She was,” Regis said, waving at her in the kitchen.  “I’m going to get undressed, and I’ll be right down.”

“Same here,” Kaidan said, and they all made their way upstairs.  

The door to their bedroom was barely closed before they all started stripping down.  This night should’ve concluded with them enjoying each other, high after a successful mission.  Regis making good on his own promise to take Zaeed apart, as Zaeed fought to do the same to him.  Kaidan watching, observing, waiting to find the right moment to join in.  Or maybe he would’ve been drawn into their shenanigans anyway, siding with the partner he agreed with most at the moment.

Instead, they barely even looked at each other as they shrugged on some comfy clothes, washed their faces, and hung up their suits to be dry cleaned later.  Regis took out the lenses and trashed them, not worth it to reuse them for a later mission.

They all did make a point to prep their hardsuits for later, just in case something were to arise.

Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.

Waiting for them downstairs were bowls of piping hot soup.  Homestyle chicken noodle for Regis, cheesy baked potato for Zaeed, and a hearty vegetable stew for Kaidan, their usual orders. 

“Cute,” Ashley said as she sat down with them at the dining room table, also changed into some loungewear.  “I like your shirts.”

Regis shrugged, knowing he was wearing one of Kaidan’s Spectre shirts, and Kaidan wore one of Zaeed’s yellow tank tops proudly.  “Are you really surprised that we wear each other’s shit?”

“No, but I like teasing you about it anyway.  Big bad merc wearing your too small N7 tank top,” she said, looking at Zaeed.  

He raised his glass of water in response.  “What are you trying to say, Ash?  Want me to flex for you?”  

Ashley raised her own glass in response, winking at him.  “Be my guest, if only for your husbands.  You’re a great friend.  Rather not see more of you than I have to.”  Zaeed barked out a laugh.

“However much I would like to see that,” Regis began, smiling at Wren who sat down with a bowl and a datapad.  He pulled the datapad away from her with a pointed look.  She rolled her eyes and started eating.  “It’s still my tank top.  And l like that one.”

“Between the two of us, we have plenty,” Kaidan said between bites.  

“Whose side are you on?” Regis asked, putting his spoon down.

“The side of seeing Zee in an N7 tank top,” Kaidan replied with a smile on his face. “Everyone wins.”

As they continued to eat, the conversation changed subjects to the mission, all expressing disappointment at the outcome.  “EDI has situated herself in our-er the downstairs bedroom,” Wren said, reaching back out for her datapad.  Ashley and him shared a look, the same way Kaidan and Zaeed did, but Wren didn’t appear to notice.  Regis was tempted to just tell EDI already so she will make a move in lieu of Wren.

Regis gave it back to her.  “Don’t stay up too late pouring over reports when EDI can handle it without worrying about organic shit.”

“I make no promises.  But yes, I’m sure we’ll be working into the night.  We’ll try to get you a few hours of sleep instead of relying on stims, that I can promise you.”  

At that, Regis let out a yawn.  He finished off his soup and got up to put the bowl in the sink.  “And with that, I’m going to get some sleep and hope this all turns out to be some weird nightmare.”

“If only it were that easy,” Kaidan chuckled, moving to do the same.  “Good night, ladies, and good luck.”

“Try to actually get some sleep, boys, but by the way Regis here looks, he ain’t putting out tonight,” Ashley grinned.

Zaeed punched her lightly on the shoulder as he passed by.  “Trust me, the only thing this goddamn merc is doing is getting some rest.  Damn near gave me a heart attack when you sent that distress message.  I blame Kaid for calling that jinx.”

“Regis started it,” Kaidan replied, crossing his arms against his chest.  Regis didn't argue, he did make light of the whole weird email situation and he’s definitely regretting it now.  “Either way, it’s never a dull leave.  Hell, did anyone complain when you commandeered our apartment back?”

Regis didn’t even think to ask, too focused on getting some goddamn rest.  

Ashley shrugged.  “Not really.  Everyone understood.  Even Joker wished you weil.” “He did see me on the front lines.  Not easy when you’re always behind the scenes,” Regis said.  “Reassure everyone that I’m fine, but even their Admiral needs some time to himself.”

“Trust me, we did,” Wren said.  “Or at least, Vikram did in your place.  Everyone knows to listen to your doc.”

Regis smiled, stopping at the base of the stairway.  “Thanks, guys.  Remind me what I’ll do without you?”

“Hopefully you never find out,” Ashley replied good-naturedly, echoing what Kaidan and Zaeed said to him prior.  He rolled his eyes, but leaned into his lovers beside him all the same.  “Goodnight.”

Regis replied the same in response, as did Kaidan and Zaeed, and they hurried up the stairs.  Kaidan dimmed the lights in their bedroom, moving to turn down the covers while Regis and Zaeed went to do their nightly routines.  Regis admittedly rushed through them, the comfort of their bed calling for him throughout every step, barely spending the time to get his teeth cleaned and some of his piercings taken out before getting in the middle.  At a more subdued pace, his husbands finished their routines, sharing a quick kiss before crawling in the bed next to him.

Zaeed settled behind him while Kaidan was in front of him, turning to face Regis to kiss him softly and sweetly on the lips.  A lazy wave of his omnitool turned off the lights completely, leaving only a couple of night lights to light the way for the non-cybernetically enhanced members of their triad.

Zaeed pressed a kiss on the back of Regis’s neck, wrapping himself around him to make Regis his little spoon.  “We got you, baby,” he murmured.  “Safe in our arms.”

Regis smiled, cuddling up against him.  “I know.  This mission is getting to me.”

“I’m sure we’ll have some answers in the morning.  We’ll make them pay,” Kaidan said, his eyes flashing blue momentarily.

“I love you,” Regis said, cupping Kaidan’s face and glancing back at Zaeed.

“I love you too,” they echoed, and they all settled down in the comfort of their bed, in each other’s warmth, and hoped that this mess of a mission would be over soon.

[mimisempai]

You are extraordinary

Summary

Greg is frustrated and angry at not being able to perform a relatively ordinary task. Mycroft wonders if there isn't a deeper meaning to his ange

Notes

Mystrade Monday  1.0  #35 - "I'm done! You can fix it!"

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On AO3

Rating G - 734 words

"Will you fit in that hole, you bloody little screw?"

Mycroft had watched Greg assemble a bookshelf for a few minutes from the couch where he was reading.

He could see his lover's growing frustration and hesitated to intervene.

The screw in question dropped to the floor again and Greg picked it up for the twentieth time.

Mycroft cleared his throat and said quietly, "Greg, you don't want me to..."

"No."

He saw from his lover's stubborn expression that he wasn't going to be helped.

Greg continued, "I said I'd take care of it, so I'll take care of it."

Mycroft understood that there was no point in insisting, at least for the moment.

Twenty minutes later, as he heard for at least the thirtieth time the annoying little sound of the screw falling to the floor, Greg blurted out, "I'm done! You can fix it!"

Then he tossed the assembly instructions to Mycroft before stomping out of the living room. Mycroft stood up and picked up the piece of paper, frowning as he heard the kitchen cupboard doors open and close noisily.

Mycroft understood the frustration of not being able to do what you set out to do, but he had a feeling there was more to Greg's disproportionate anger.

He placed the assembly instructions on the coffee table and headed for the kitchen, where he found Greg staring out the window, the picture of discouragement. Mycroft approached gently from behind, wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

He asked softly, "Greg, tell me, what are you so angry about?"

Greg lowered his head, "You'll find this absolutely ridiculous."

Mycroft coaxed him, "Come on, it can't be that bad."

Greg sighed.

"It's just a piece of furniture, but it's something I'm good at, tinkering, and for once I had the opportunity to shine in some way."

Mycroft shook his head in confusion, "I don't understand. Why do you say for once?"

Greg sighed again. 

"You deal with crisis situations every day, super important stuff, you're extremely good at everything you do, and I... I thought, here's something I can do, and in the end I can't even do it. It's just a goddamn bookshelf and I. can't. Do. It."

"Oh, Greg..." Mycroft shook his head again, "My little idiot."

Greg struggled in Mycroft's arms, but Mycroft wouldn't let him out of his embrace, and tightening his grip, he said quietly, "Let me continue. You're an idiot for not seeing how precious you are to me. You don't have to do anything extraordinary to be precious to me. You're already extraordinary."

He made his lover turn around in his arms, then he let go and grabbed Greg's chin before lifting it to his face, "The fact that you're the one I feel safest with, the fact that you're the one who knows everything about me, even the worst, and that you've stayed and love me. Not to mention all the little things, like the fact that you're there in our living room building a bookshelf for my books, that you know exactly how I drink my tea or coffee, that you know how to toast my bread the perfect way, I can go on and on because the list of your qualities, of what I love about you is endless."

Greg's expression had softened as Mycroft spoke, his cheeks even flushed at the flood of praise.

Mycroft continued, not without emotion, "To me, you're extraordinary."

Then he leaned in closer and pressed his lips to Greg's in a deep, lingering kiss. And when they broke apart to catch their breath, he was pleased to see the smile back on his lover's lips.

Greg said cheekily, "It's still up to you to fix it. I'm really done with it."

Mycroft chuckled softly and held out his hand to Greg, "As you wish, but I have a better suggestion. How about we do it together?"

Greg took the outstretched hand and replied, "Deal."

Then, with a playful expression on his face, he continued, "That way, if the bookshelf doesn't hold up, I can put all the responsibility on you."

They laughed as they left the kitchen and, against all odds, half an hour later, curled up together on their sofa, they admired the new bookshelf that had taken its place alongside the others on the wall of their living room.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

Mystrade Monday 1.0 : here

[crackedpumpkin]

“Chicken and croffles” I had flashbacks at that man. There’s this person I watch and they were telling their story of trying to rizz someone through food, and by rizz I mean they tried to impress an attractive waiter, but fumbled a bit and ordered chicken and waffles. He got so nervous they ordered the first thing he saw, which was chicken and waffles. How attractive was this waiter? So attractive that his friends literally had to warn them and also tried to clean him up a bit to look more presentable LMAO

Really liked this chapter!!! Love the sceneries and how Miles and “Ray Paynt” interacted!!!! Something about how you write feels real, like even in the little things with Miles’ “It’s a choice.” And when dragging him along to the cafe at an unexpected notice. Stop writing food so deliciously it’s nearly 8am for me and I’m wanting some nice fruit-ade or something!!! 😭/pos

From one Michael to another, MICHAEL STAHP WITH THE TOUCHING YOU’RE GONNA GET YOUR WILLYIAM CHOPPED OFF FR

omfg i felt that fr im not even kidding. what i would give to be on the receiving end of that starstruckness.... okay in all honesty I'd probably be that very dude dropping my utensils.

WAIT OKAY STORY TIME BECAUSE IVE GOT ONE OF MY OWN:

So i recently went to korea in june and i went with 2 other friends who went to queue up at the NIKE store in the morning for their customization stuff right? So I wake up later and i go grab a coffee first at this store my friend recommended because it's cheap + rly good.

As such, I casually stroll along the street with my earbuds in bc im cool and swag and feeling myself right? I finally find this coffee shop and step up to the counter to order, except what do i see?

A GORGEOUS, STUNNING GIRL MANNING THE CASHIER.

At this point i am in full blown panic. I have never met anyone so pretty in my life. Her hair was silky smooth and dyed a light platinum-ish shade, and her makeup was flawless. her skin? dewy like a morning glory in bloom. Her entire figure and being? goddesslike.

at this point i am sweating buckets just from the thought of talking to her. but it's fine, right? its just a cup of coffee. i can do this.

i then proceed to ABSOLUTELY FUMBLE MY WORDS.

I just wanted this pretty drink called a franobe guys. thats all i wanted. but i got so shy and she couldnt hear me saying franobe so she kept going 'ah, latte?' and guys. i almost died on the spot.

I repeated it like 2x before she got what i was trying to say. Quick PSA that i am not fluent in korean at all, and understand more than i can speak. she asks me something in korean and i just go 'ne?' with wideass eyes like id just seen my newborn child or some shit.

anyway i finally manage to pay and get my drink and i walk away with my head practically in my hands. up till this day i am paranoid she thinks im an idiot. this is my chicken and croffles story for all you guys out there.

also im straight but this is one of the rare exceptions i lost my composure fr. what can i say? im w e ak.

im really glad you liked this chapter !! if it's one trait i could've given my characters or reader oc its the endless funds to go cafe hopping. cafe hopping is so, so fun, but so, so expensive like goddamn let me live my main character life in peace fr....

it's euphoric to hear that you liked the little moments !! i enjoyed thinking through those and just going like ah yes, he would say this! i really love writing or thinking about the small moments that lead up to the big picture. (also @buthowboutno-spamming gave me such great advice regarding this, and i wouldnt have been able to flesh out my fic and vision if not for his advice)

michael deserves to get his dick chopped off fr. but it's okay!! I plan for all my characters to go through developmental arcs lmfao, ive gotten too attached to the two idiots to let go of their potential now :)

Go get some fruit-ade or make some yourself bro it's super easy super good. lmk if you want a recipe and im more than happy to provide~

[tratserenoyreve]

been a bit of me watching general world news stuff and feeling deep existential exhaustion but it has also been a bit since ive rambled about genshin game quest stuff so im going to do that real quick

with the parade of providence quest i am a bit sad that these elements won't be made as kaveh's character quest, but it was fun seeing faruzan and layla etc all get to play to their strengths. but, this is one of those events that is written assuming players have done all of the side quests and character hangouts so things like faruzan's situation and layla's alter being very familiar with the traveler can feel abrupt.

i enjoyed both faruzan and layla's quests, but with how new they are it feels odd to treat them as like. common knowledge? layla's in particular since her "sleepwalking" alter is a whole mystery you unravel.

i did enjoy the background bit of wanderer just. drinking coffee while everyone went at it for the contest. also the bit where he just showed up like a goddamn typhoon and beat the hell out of people for causing trouble with zero proclamation or explanation as to 1) who he is 2) why he was beating them up. even when working for nahida he's got a mean streak.

kaveh having a fairly normal but still tragic backstory combined with his very emotional and caring nature was neat to see play out, his unintentional self-sabotaging choices because he wants to do good by others even if it means he loses out. i also like how they express kaveh and alhaithem's dysfunction and poor communication. when alhaithem is trying to genuinely congratulate kaveh for doing the right thing, kaveh is so used to alhaithem talking down to him that he assumes alhaithem is being condescending and tells him he doesn't want to hear it. the schism between them is going to be difficult for alhaithem to mend, kaveh went into the competition ready and desperate to move out because he believes alhaithem will kick him to the curb.

even if alhaithem only shuts kaveh down because he's worried about his altruism getting further out of hand, he's so bad at expressing it in a way that kaveh will actually accept that it only pushes him to frustrated outbursts. kaveh even has a profile dialogue that's to the effect of, "alhaithem knows how to be polite to people, he just chooses not to be." for someone who is such a stickler about linguistics and information, alhaithem keeps making things harder than they need to be.

speaking of altruism: baizhu's story quest! i really liked it. i appreciate how his character retains some darker angles while emphasizing that he is a doctor because he genuinely wants to help people. changsheng only made a deal with him because he is "pure of heart" but that doesn't mean he won't use methods others find scary or unsettling to accomplish his goals. poisons can be medicine depending on what you need to do.

having xiao present, secretly following to ensure the traveler's safety in case the doctor awakens something he shouldn't, and showing hu tao heavily disagreeing with baizhu gets the point across pretty well that, even if baizhu has good intentions, the path he walks is one that seeks to defy the natural laws of death.

even if baizhu does one day succeed in being immortal, achieves his dream of being able to take all ills of the world upon himself, we know from other immortals in teyvat that that immortality can itself be dangerous. baizhu would still be subject to erosion or the corrosive rot of all the illnesses he takes upon himself through changsheng. there's no guarantee that he'd be able to withstand it forever, xiao himself is wracked with karmic debt from trying to contain the miasma that plagued liyue and we see that having a toll on his mind and body.

but, baizhu wants to do this regardless, buy people the time they need to live their lives even though this is already destroying his own body. him referencing how he'll "seek the guidance of the moon", while poetic, carries a worrisome undertone. there is an old legend about how a rabbit on the moon with a mortar and pestle would craft the elixir of immortality for the gods, but in teyvat imagery of the moon is regularly associated with the abyss and destruction...

[druggonaut]

Btw in HMV they have these really fucking cool 3D layered T H I C K LOTR mugs for fucking £95 right, and I mean what I'm about to say next in reference to actual mugs but also to the mug metaphor itself... I fucking stole that goddamn mug. I wanted it so I Just decided to become the proud owner of something expensive I wanted but could never afford. I took the financial viability factor out of the equation and I now own the sickest mug in the world.

I don't use it for coffee. I have it on a shelf of cool expensive things I've stolen; with the Giant Amethyst, Thor's light up hammer, Wizard statue, Rare plant cutting I Prop lifted from Kew Botanical Gardens, Ornate bottle of Absinthe and Abbie Hoffman's book "Steal this book".

Of course I too would like to be able to make purchases without considering how I'd have to risk or sacrifice bills, food or hobbies if I did buy it. But every now and again it's very important to just fucking steal something if the opportunity arises.

shoplifting is actually one of your 5 a day. It's my enrichment. It can be yours too!

Disclaimer: yes I understand the original point of this post, yes I'm mostly speaking in jest, no it's not actually sound advice to expect everyone to be in a position or comfortable or indeed lucky enough to get away with shoplifting, yes we all should be able to make any purchases we want without worrying about the immediate future and financial consequences of doing so, Yes I just wanted to flex about my cool mug, yes one of you are sure to attack me regardless, yes I'll be drinking absinthe out of my cool mug with Thor's hammer in my hand and Abbie's philosophy in my head as I whimsically stroke my Giant amethyst and talk to my rare plant under the protective gaze of my wizard statue no matter what or if someone tries to negate my addition to this post or not.

Yes we should overthrow the tyrannical system that subjugates us all and feast on the flesh of Musk.

When I grow up I wanna be upper middle class.

[bunnyandcomet]

Prequel: The Twilit Road Home - Chapter 1

Kamiya: Welcome back.

A deserted parking lot on the way back from an out-of-town job site. Annoyed by all the sold-out signs in the vending machine, I return to the car.

As soon as I open the door, Kamiya starts speaking to me in an abnormally hushed voice, which pisses me off even more.

Urara: (What's with him? He's usually......ah?)

Tomose: ......

Urara: (......They’re always on about how he "won't sleep without Nina there" and act like it's normal. But in reality, as long Nina's around, he'll doze off basically anywhere, anytime.) (Though unlike Roka, he's not fucking annoying when he doesn't sleep.) Didn't we stop here to switch drivers? Why're we just letting him snooze?

Kamiya: It's okay, Yu-san said he'd continue driving. Though I did ask if he’d like to take a nap too while we're stopped.

Yu: I'm fine. If you're finished here, let's go.

Kamiya: Ah, wait a sec. If we're heading off now, I'll go buy something to drink too.

Yu, Urara: ......

Although he appears to just be sitting silently with his eyes closed, Onda's head falls slightly to the side.

I simply sigh as Nina carefully returns it to its original position, as if he thinks Onda might get a crick in his neck.

Urara: Can’t you just wake him up? He ain’t the kinda guy who'd blow up at you if you do.

Yu: That's true.

So he says, while not moving an inch.

Urara: (......Onda seems to hate it every time you handicap yourself for his sake like this without telling him.) (You're stupidly attentive of him, saying crazy shit like, "No matter what, Tomose's word is absolute". Seriously, don’t ignore only that part. What a pain......)

While I may think that, it’s pointless to say it. Either way, he'd just reply with "Is that so" or "That's true" and the conversation would end there.

Urara: ......If you ain’t gonna wake him up now, then don't start anything 'til I get out of the car. Argue all you want at your own house.

Yu: Tomose will wake up when he wakes up. I don't plan on arguing with him, so your concern is unnecessary.

Urara: Shut up.

As always, these two are actually beyond help. I doubt that's gonna change at this point.

Kamiya: I'm back, thanks for waiting.

Urara: You're so slow, idiot. You walk at a snail's pace?

Kamiya: I ran both there and back, though. Yu-san, here, coffee. Maybe it’s just for my peace of mind, but it’ll stave off the sleepiness. I'll leave them in the cupholder.

Yu: ......Two?

Kamiya: Ah, I don't mean for you to drink a lot and hang in there. One's for Tomose-san. I thought you might swap places when he wakes up.

Yu: ......I see.

Kamiya: Oh, is that not the case?

Yu: No. You're right.

Urara: ......

Kamiya: Give it to him if I fall asleep.

Yu: Got it. Thanks.

Kamiya: You're welcome. If anything, I'm sorry for not being able to switch with you. We’ll be counting on you.

Yu: Yeah.

After a quick "I'll take it", Nina grips the steering wheel once more and the car begins to move.

Thanks to Kamiya’s last-minute hold-up, the air inside the car has suddenly become lukewarm when it had been neither hot nor cold before, and I feel a little irritated again.

Kamiya: ......Isn't this kind of nostalgic? Whispering to each other like this, it's like the drive home on that day.

Urara: (That day......)

Kamiya brings it up outta the blue, maintaining a hushed voice as if he’s trying to be considerate of Onda, who’s out like a light anyway.

I’m about to just say "who gives a shit" and ignore him, but—

When I remember everything that happened then, I unintentionally glare at Kamiya.

Kamiya: Maybe it's because we haven't traveled such a long distance as the four of us since then, but I was reminded of it. Look, Tomose-san was sleeping at the beginning of that trip too.

Urara: ......Who cares, I don't remember every single goddamn thing. I'm taking a nap, so don't talk to me 'til we arrive. You better not lean on me or I'll send you flying.

Kamiya: Lean on......? Ahh, I see, like back then? Ahaha, so you do remember.

Urara: ......!

(Thwack)

Kamiya: Ow!

I kick Kamiya in the shin before sitting back down and folding my arms.

Urara: (Every last one of ‘em……well. This idiot is the worst. No matter how much time passes, he never learns and never changes......) (......No.)

Kamiya: What?

Urara: I said, don't talk to me.

Kamiya: You were looking this way, so I was wondering if there’s something wrong. Want me to lend a shoulder?

Urara: Are you asking to be kicked?

It's not that he won't learn his lesson. Most likely, he already has and still acts this way, and that's what makes him nasty.

Urara: (......What the hell’s wrong with him?)

He's known that I dislike him ever since then, yet he still smiles at me without a care in the world. I hate him.

This ain’t a joke. I'll never acknowledge him, not now or ever.

Not a guy like this, as my "partner".

Last year, late summer.

Yuzuru: Ah, Urara. Good morning.

Rare: Urara, good morning ♪

Urara: You...You're here again?

Yuzuru: I was just about to leave for the day.

Past one o'clock, in the middle of the night.

This is the second time this week that I’ve run into Yuzuru, who would’ve been working since morning. I've already forgotten how many times it’s been this month.

Apparently, this guy doesn't value his life.

Rare: As long as you stay healthy, that's​​ the most important thing ☆

Urara: Oi, don't copy that idiot, you'll become one too.

Rare: What’s this, are you in a good mood?

Urara: You are.

Yuzuru: Right, Urara. How has your right arm been?

Urara: Ah?

Yuzuru: After your injury the other day.

Urara: Ahh…it already healed ages ago.

Yuzuru: I see, that's good.

Rare: Good, good.

Yuzuru: It is.

Urara: Big deal, it was just one little scrape.

Yuzuru: Like I said at the time, even a small injury can become infected. You need to treat them properly. If it were to worsen, the one who'll be in pain is you, Urara.

Urara: (......Even if it did, that's none of your business. Do you really have to get that serious about it every single time?)

Yuzuru: Urara. Are you listening?

Urara: Shut up. Hurry up and go home......

—Ker-chak

Urara: (......Ah?)

Yuzuru: Tomose. Good work today.

Tomose: Sorry, I'm slightly late.

Yuzuru: It's totally fine. I had something I wanted to get done today anyway. Was everything all right on your end?

Tomose: We settled everything without issue at the scene. This is the seal that I talked about over the phone.

Yuzuru: Thank you. ......It certainly is. Then, the shop will deal with this.

Urara: (......He was waiting for him?)

Tomose: Manami is here as well?

Urara: ! So what if I am?

Tomose: Nothing.

Urara: Then don't bother pointing it out.

Tomose: I see. My bad. Kise, can I have a bit of your time now?

Yuzuru: Yeah? Of course.

Urara: ......

Onda starts speaking to Yuzuru as if nothing had happened. I really don't get him, he’s a weird guy.

I basically never even see him outside of unarmed combat training and I don't really wanna have anything to do with him, so it doesn't matter to me what he's like as a person.

Urara: (Anyway, you guys are getting in the way of cleaning. Why the hell did you come here at this hour, get out and go home......)

Just as I’m about to leave and do the office later......

Without meaning to, I overhear them talking about that.

Yuzuru: Is this about Kamiya? All I know is that he discussed some things with Kiho-san and the others yesterday.

Tomose: Yeah. Provided that there won't be any problems with the Main Office's workload……as per his wishes, the ST Department will take him in.

Urara: (......Huh?)

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