#and yes my partner has to do the rhythm games unless i want to look at the fail journal entries lol

[paperkatt]

Some fanart featuring me and my partner as Night in the Woods characters! I know fall is the usual time to be thinking about this game, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately and will probably be wandering Possum Springs again soon.

[oneshot-wxnderland]

Lab Partners With Benefits Pt. 3 | Percy Jackson

Summary: Another week, another lab and Y/n and Percy are feeling a different kind of tension this time.

Category: fluff 

Part 1 | Part 2

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          Percy had been kicking himself all week. He had forgotten to ask you for your number before you left his place and now you probably thought he was just some asshole looking for a one-time hookup. And he didn’t want that. And he hoped you didn’t want that either. But he wasn’t really sure what he wanted. 

         It’d been a hot minute since Percy was in any kind of relationship and he wasn’t sure if he was even the relationship kind. Even if he did want to be, his life just didn’t lend itself to dating mortals. There was always some monster popping up that he’d have to fight, or quest he’d have to go on, or emergency at camp he’d have to run off to, and Percy was a shit liar. It’s what messed up the last time he’d tried to date somebody. He was constantly blowing off dates and rain-checking everything because the gods are needy attention seekers. 

          He’d seen superhero movies before and related a lot to when they had similar issues. Percy’s not saying he’s Spiderman or anything, but he does live in New York and save it from constant peril – so yeah, he’s Spiderman. 

          This time, however, he was really considering trying again. Trying with you. And Percy had a plan. 

          Sliding into his seat when there were only a few other people in the room yet, Percy felt pumped up. He woke up early, showered, had a FaceTime with the boys to discuss the game plan, and got to class ahead of you so that he was ready to give you his number the first chance he got before he lost his nerve. That was part of Jason’s advice: offer his number to you instead of asking for yours. He claimed it would make Percy come off more vulnerable and less pushy. Leo mostly just spouted different cheesy lines that Percy would never use. Frank didn’t say much but Hazel piped in every now and then when she took the phone from him. 

          “So, you’re lab partners,” Hazel started. “Do you talk outside of your lab?”

          “No, that’s why I need her number.”

          “But you said you did homework together at your place right? So how’d that go? Did she seem interested?”

          Percy paused. 

          “Yeah, it went... fine.”

          Hazel was blissfully unaware of the blush that was creeping up his neck but Jason didn’t miss it. Or the way he suddenly needed to roll up his sleeves and fiddle with them. 

          “Did you just do the homework?” Jason asked suspiciously. 

          “We uh... kissed...” 

          “Niiiiiicee, Percy!” Leo hollered. “That’s my boy!”

          Frank retook the phone from Hazel and hastily gave an excuse to go before leaving the call and cutting off Hazel’s confused protests.

          “I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Jason shook his head. “This is way beyond my level now. Piper and Annabeth are nearby I’ll go get them-.”

          “No!” Percy cut him off. That’s the last thing he wanted. The girl’s won’t know or care what to do so they’d ask Piper’s siblings and then the entirety of camp would know. “It doesn’t really change anything. I’m going to give her my number and then the ball’s in her court and I don’t have to worry about it.”

          “But your balls were in her court, weren’t they Percy.” 

          “Leo I am going to kill you when I get back to camp and that is a threat.”

          Leo left the call.

          “I’m sure it’ll be fine, just don’t do your game-time face because it’ll scare her off,” Jason tried to get the conversation back on track.

          “What face? I don’t have a scary face?” Percy added another item to the list of things to not do when he saw her.

          “Yes you do. It’s when you’re charging into battle but this isn’t battle is it Percy?” 

          “You’re lucky,” Percy lamented while he grabbed his backpack. “You just woke up and were already with Piper. All the hard work done for you.” 

          “You got this man, just be yourself.” 

          Percy decided to throw that particular bit of garbage advice away. 

          Now he was sitting in his seat, got there early, and he was even wearing his nice t-shirt, so what could go wrong.

          As soon as you walked in the door all of his carefully curated bravado deflated inside of him. You walked towards your shared table and he had to expel childish nerves he hadn’t felt in years. He’s in college now, for Hades’ sake. He was a man.

          “Hey,” you greeted as you sat down.

          “Hi.” That was stupid. Men don’t say ‘hi’. He should’ve said ‘hey’ back.

          “You’re here early,” you commented and Percy just nodded like an idiot. 

          The plan was to giver you his number as soon as he saw you, but he couldn’t just blurt that out of nowhere. 

          “How’ve you been?” 

          There. Establishing a conversation and definitely not stalling.

          “I’ve been good.” The small amused smile on your face calmed him down a little. He’s got this.

          Class started before he could slip his number in casually but Percy wasn’t deterred. He wasn’t going to let geology get in his way.

                    While you were reading the data you had to chart on the graph, you noticed Percy’s usual fidgeting get even worse. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you saw him concentrating intensely on the paper and trying to contain his frustration. You recognized the signs since one of your friends has dyslexia, but you knew he wouldn’t ask for help.

          “So we have to plot the points on the graph and then draw the elevation lines, right?” You asked casually, looking over to him for confirmation. He nodded his head, but still continued to squint at the numbers which all were very small print and close to each other.

         Muttering the numbers as if to yourself but loud enough for him to hear, you got to work. 

          Percy sat back and smiled a little, knowing what you were doing. He looked over at you, from your furrowed brow to your crossed legs bouncing with your tapping foot. With a contented sigh, he recalled what it felt like to be in between those legs. Having them wrapped around his hips while you moaned his name. 

          His eyes trailed up your body, memories that were attached to each part flooding through him like a highlight reel of his deepest fantasies. Then he got to your bare arms and the goosebumps on the skin shook him out of it.

          “Cold?” he asked, interrupting you trying to help him which he really should have been listening to. 

          “Yeah, a little.” 

          “Here.” Percy shrugged off his hoodie and held it out to you before pausing (and slightly panicking.)

          Hold up, is this weird? Am I being weird right now? Should giving her my hoodie come before or after we exchange numbers? I guess doing it before could be a good test of whether she would be interested in exchanging numbers. But this is couple stuff. Her wearing my hoodie. That usually comes after numbers. But she’s cold now and I can’t seem like an asshole withholding warmth unless she accepts or declines my number. 

           Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice his panic as you took the hoodie from him without hesitation and put it on. “Thanks.”

          He calmed down as he watched you roll up the sleeves so that your hands were free to work and he felt a different kind of warmth spread through him. He liked the way you looked in his hoodie. 

          You caught him watching you and it threw you off. This wasn’t the heated gaze that had made you melt before, this was... softer. But the moment was ruined when you glanced down and saw that he hadn’t drawn a single point yet.

          “Hey,” you tapped your pencil on his paper. “Focus.”

          “Sorry.”

          You worked well together for a while. The rhythm of plotting points distracted Percy from his nerves. That is until he felt your hand on his forearm.

          “What’s this?” You asked, finger tracing the SPQR of his tattoo and making him shiver.

          “Oh, it’s a band.” 

          “What band?”

          “The Super Popular... Cool Rockers.”

          “They spell Cool with a Q?”

          “That’s what makes it cool.”

          “Ah.”

          Percy went back to the worksheet, congratulating himself on his quick thinking when he saw you pull out your phone. 

          “What are you doing?” he asked, totally nonchalant. 

          “Looking up the Super Popular Qool Rockers.”

          Percy snatched your phone. 

          “Oh, you won’t find them.” He dodged your attempts to grab it. “They’re really underground.”

          “You’ll be really underground if you don’t give me my phone back.” Percy hastily returned your phone, as if the threat scared him. You tried to glare at him, but found it too hard to suppress your smile once his broke out. “Thank you. Now will you tell me what it really means?”

          “Maybe one day.” People started packing their things and leaving since class had flown by faster than Percy liked. Sensing his window of opportunity closing he decided to Hades with it. “Depends if you go on a date with me.”

          You took your time standing up and gathering your things while pretending to mull it over in your head. Which Percy really did not appreciate. 

          “Maybe one day,” you answered him with a coquettish smile and took a few steps towards the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

          Percy was too concentrated on restraining a fist pump to puzzle out your meaning. 

          “We didn’t get much work done today, so we better finish what we started at your place.” You winked at him and strided out the door.

          With a mischievous grin, Percy was quick to follow. 

[mammoneymelon]

How the brothers would react to finding out that MC is autistic

before anyone says anything, i’m autistic and just really want some representation

TW for ableism! the boys are doing their best but no NT immediately knows everything about autism

it’s a bit random, but i headcanon that lucifer has misophonia, so it’s only a matter of time before a noisy/verbal stim starts to drive him up a wall

“what in the devildom are you doing?” he’d ask, eyebrows scrunched in frustration

you have no idea what he’s talking about; after all, you’ve just been sitting on your DDD playing some rhythm game

“what do you mean?”

“you’ve been making that noise for hours; cut it out before i have to go find the packing tape.”

you know him well enough to know he isn’t joking, so you nod and do your best to stop, ignoring the feeling of dread beginning to well up in your chest

you go back to your game, and soon enough, you’re back to ‘making that noise’

you see lucifer stand up, bringing your action to your attention.

“oh, sorry! i didn’t realize i was doing it again, sorry!”

“oh?” he asked, looking down at you. 

“it’s stimming. autistic people do it a lot more than others, and sometimes we don’t even notice it.” there’s a moment of silence but you realize you just told him something you hadn’t even told your human friends

“ah, yes, i do remember reading about that in your file. i didn’t want to say anything so as not to offend you.”

you shake your head. “dude! that’s personal business! i don’t like telling people.”

lucifer’s gaze seems to soften. “don’t fret, MC. i won’t tell a soul.”

and he doesn’t.

he also totally buys you quiet stim toys

it’s not long before mammon realizes you are terrible at reading the room

you have a terrible habit of cracking a joke at the worst time or saying the first thing that comes to your mind, even if it was at the expense of others

at first, mammon, mammon thought you were really brave. now, however, he sees that you just have no idea what you’re doing

currently, your knack for trouble had landed you in detention, something you’d gotten fairly used to in the human world. mammon was sitting next to you - he was paying for trying to defend you

“lucifer’s going to kill us. again.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“sorry,” you mumble. “it’s not like i was trying to get us here.”

“really? because it’s startin’ to seem like you are. not that i blame ya, if i were you i’d do anything to spend more time with the great mammon.” he gives you a smile, and you really hope that means he isn’t mad

“i really don’t like upsetting people, i just don’t really get tone? i didn’t even realize the teacher was mad until you stepped in. “

“dude, she was on the verge of killing ya! what do ya mean you “didn’t even realize”?

you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “it’s part of a disorder i have. autism. i just don’t get some stuff that comes naturally to other people.”

“ohhh.” mammon slaps his head, feeling like an idiot. “sorry,” he murmurs, and you barely hear it

mammon, being, well, mammon, will probably forget.

it’s not that he doesn’t care! it’s just not something that comes up in conversation.

of course, when the two of you do talk about it, he picks up on the symptoms pretty quickly. he’s a pretty smart guy, and he’ll do anything and everything for his human

the two of you are working on a co-op dungeon while you talk about your current special interest

“wow, MC, you know a lot about this!”

“thanks,” you respond, and it hits you - you’ve been infodumping almost this whole time

“haha, yeah, blame it on the autism brain,” you joke absentmindedly, not really caring if he knew. you two were good friends, why would being neurodivergent make a difference?

levi, on the other hand, does a double take. being the gamer he is, he’d definitely heard the word used as an insult, but he’d never thought about anyone actually having autism - much less his best friend

“MC, you have autism?” he turns to you looking genuinely confused, his controller sitting, forgotten, in his lap

“um, yeah? it’s not really a big deal,” you say, shrugging

“yeah it is! i mean i knew you were pretty weird, since you hang out with me-” he stops mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. “NOT IN A BAD WAY, OF COURSE! ah sorry, i said something stupid, like always.”

you shake your head with a small smile. you can tell he’s trying. “trust me, i’ve heard much worse. you’re fine, levi.”

he glances up at you, face red from embarrassment, and your smile widens. “i mean, i don’t think like ‘normal’ people anyway, so yeah, i kinda am weird.”

once you leave his room, he’s at his pc, researching more vigorously that he’s ever done for a class

the more he learns, the more annoyed he gets at the complete misunderstanding of the disorder

ultimately, he just wants to make sure you feel supported and understood

you’re sitting in the library, doing your homework while satan looks over your essay, checking for errors

“oi, MC”

“what’s up?” you respond, still focused on your work

“are you scared of me?”

this prompts you to look up, focusing your eyes on his hands

“i was when i first came here, and i definitely would be scared if i really pissed you off, but no, i’m not scared of you. why do you ask?”

“you never look me in the eyes. or my brothers, actually.”

oh. you’d been hoping no one had noticed. “oh, i just don’t like eye contact. it makes me uncomfortable.” you return your eyes to your paper, hoping that was enough.

“how so?” 

so it wasn’t enough.

“i’m autistic, genius. i figured it was obvious by now.”

“oh. that makes sense.” that’s all he says, so you try to return your focus to your homework.

satan is probably the most comfortable talking to you about it. he’ll ask you questions about your personal experiences and make an effort to understand you better

one day you look over his shoulder to find him reading an article on masking on his DDD

he cares deeply for you, even if it’s hard for him to say so

asmo has wrangled you into yet another shopping trip

“MC, look at this!! you have to try it on!”

one look at the article of clothing and your face is already scrunching up

“absolutely not.”

“awe, why not?” he gives you the biggest puppy eyes and you sigh. he knows your weaknesses.

“the material. i hate it.”

“but it would look so good on you~”

clearly, he’s not going to give up unless you explain yourself to him

“sure, for a couple seconds, until i have a complete meltdown,” you remark. “i’m autistic, so some textures just make me feel really bad.”

his mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, and then he goes back to looking confused. “i hadn’t even thought about that as a possibility! you should’ve said something earlier!”

he feels really bad about all the times he’s touched you without warning. he thought your shock was cute (and he still does), but he knows that autistic people sometimes dislike touch - he’s definitely had at least a couple autistic ‘partners’ in the past

he’s quite the observant demon, quickly picking up on sensations you d and don’t like. if you’re bothered by smells, he does his best to lay off on the perfume - granted, it’s a necessary part of his routine that he absolutely cannot give up completely. he lets you play with the dimmer in his room so you can find the amount of light that works best.

occasionally, he’ll have to tell you that he’s trying his absolute best to flirt and you are giving him nothing. you’re just like “oh shit i didn’t realize”

asmo’s just a sweetheart who wants you to be comfortable

beel unfortunately has to learn about your autism because of a situation out of your control

you’re in the gym, keeping him company while he works out

you’re searching his bag and you realize you don’t have your headphones

oh fuck.

you always bring your headphones to the gym; the sounds of televisions, music, people talking, weights clinking, treadmills rumbling... it’s too much

not to mention the stench of sweat and the florescent lights - truly an autistic person’s nightmare

you squeeze you eyes shut, but that only makes the noise worse. you’re surrounded by noise and you can’t stop it. it occurs to you that you’re no longer breathing properly but it’s just too loud and you’re so small

“MC?” beel’s voice is soft and filled with obvious concern. you open your eyes, seeing him kneeling in front of you. your eyes sting, and you realize you’re tearing up. “MC, are you alright?” 

all you can do is shake your head

“do you want to go home?” you nod, biting your lip as he stands up, making you feel even smaller.

he quickly packs his things into his bag and offers you a hand, helping you get up

he quickly escorts you outside, where you practically gulp for air. 

he waits patiently with you while you slowly ground yourself. 

“okay, let’s go home.” you explain sensory overload as you walk, then tell him about your autism

beel, like asmo, is very observant and he learns surprisingly fast. 

he’s also very protective of you. if someone triggers you, he won’t hesitate to tell them off before doing a grounding exercise with you

he’s basically you’re giant therapy demon and you love him for it

it’s becoming way too much. you’ve been masking heavily for months, monitoring your every move while doing your absolute best to thrive in a (literally) completely different universe than what you’re used to

you’re laying facedown on the couch, practically unable to move. you want to go to your room, but your body won’t let you

“mc?” you hear belphegor’s voice. “are you trying to imitate me?” he teases

you simply groan in response, not wanting to bother

for a moment he goes silent. then, you feel a hand on your shoulder

you jolt up, swiping his hand away as you let out a small shout. belphie’s eyes are widened in surprise

“don’t touch me! ...please,” you add as an afterthought, feeling bad for scaring him

he sits with you on the couch, taking care to leave space between the two of you. “what’s wrong?” you don’t respond. “mc?”

“burnout. too much. feel bad.”

belphie has absolutely no clue what that means, but he figures he knows something that might help.

“want to take a nap with me?”

you have to think about it before responding with a “sure” and slowly crawling into his arms (if that’s something you’re okay with)

it’s night when the two of you wake up. you still feel awful, but you can at least cope better.

once belphie’s more awake, he asks you what the hell happened

“two words: autistic shutdown”

“that doesn’t explain anything” - belphie really doesn’t know anything about humans

you do your best to explain - you were born with a brain that works a bit differently than most humans. some of the symptoms are an aversion to change and ‘odd’ behavior that’s difficult to hide. when you get too stressed, you just kinda ‘shut down’

he takes a bit to really understand, but once he does, he does his best to support you.

he falls asleep to your infodumping and you find it endearing

he gets good at recognizing when you’re starting to shut down and he always convinces you to take a break via a cuddly nap

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers: Part 5 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW. (It's finally happening.)

masterlist

Suguru stares at the screen in disbelief.

"I don't know what else to say," you breathe, eyes wide. "I think that we should go to the Grand Council or my parents and--"

"It's a hoax," he frowns, shaking his head. "None of this makes any sense. And I've seen fabricated shit like this before."

"But the timestamps!" you retort, pointing at the metadata.

"Those can be fabricated by using an old machine. You can't trust anything these days unless it comes from the Archives."

"But--"

"I think you need to delete these and forget about it. This is someone's sick idea of a joke, y/n." Suguru stands, scowling at the computer one last time before turning away. "I'll figure out who did this. Don't worry. Just delete that shit and don't mention it to anyone." Suguru stalks out of the room and you look at the files, dragging them to the trash before turning your computer off and trying to put it out of your mind.

_____________________________________________________________

You're back at the club with your friends, sitting among new faces and old ones just the same. But the nagging feeling that something isn't right is dragging across the pit of your stomach like a rake. When you glance at Suguru, he's laughing with his other Leviathan friends, but barely touching his only drink.

He must be unnerved by it, too, you think, and rub your forehead before watching Yuji try his best dance moves on Nobara, which fails miserably, of course. Yuki sits to your left, also watching the show with varying degrees of amusement before looking over at you.

"Why the long face, Ms. Successful? Is this too boring for you?" You consider telling her what's really bothering you, turning to her in the dim lighting and pressing your lips together. Her face changes and you know your secret can't be kept for long.

"What would you do if someone played a really bad prank on you?"

"What, did Suguru piss on your curtains?"

"Huh?" You look at her in shock, and she shrugs.

"Alright, maybe that's just a Toji thing. My bad." She sips her drink thoughtfully. "What kind of prank are you talking about?"

"Someone..." You hesitate, but decide to keep going anyways. "Someone put files on my computer to make it seem like my parents were involved with something called Project Kudzu and Project Redroot." Yuki frowns deeply, blinking rapidly.

"Y/n, I've never heard of those things before." You sigh, shaking your head. "Did they have any real proof?"

"Yeah, some audio files, two videos, and a bunch of TS-CO labeled documents that--" A hand lands on your shoulder, and you look up to see Suguru standing above you.

"That pre-game was wild, wasn't it?" Pre-game? "Sorry, Yuki. Y/n here had a whole bottle of red wine and played some weird game before coming. She's been going on about it to me for hours... projects and stuff." Yuki laughs, waving him off.

"It's okay! I was a little confused, too, but I get it. Girl," she turns to you, shaking her head. "You should probably go home and get some rest. If I had known you were drunk already I would've--"

"I'm not drunk," you reply, looking back and forth between Suguru and Yuki. "I swear, I'm not--"

"Let me get you home, party girl," Suguru mumbles, pulling you up from your seated position and gripping your hand tightly as he drags you along with him. "It's been a long day."

"But I'm not--" The look Suguru gives you is deadly, and you shut your lips as he takes you to the car you both came in, opening your door silently. You slide into the seat and he shuts the door with force, climbing into the driver's seat, but not starting the car. He grips the steering wheel and clenches his jaw, finally muttering,

"Didn't I tell you not to say anything to anyone?"

"Suguru, this has been bothering me for days! I don't know what to do!"

"I'm trying to find out who would break into your room and do this to you. Can you let me work?" he asks tersely. "For once in your life, can you let someone look out for you?" His black eyes are blazing in the dim light of the parking lot, and your bottom lip quivers.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he exhales, starting the car. "I just... I just need you to let me figure this out. Someone isn't playing nice in our own organization and if it comes at the expense of my partner, I'm not having it. Lay low for me for a while, got it?" Suguru places his hand on your thigh and you nod, feeling your heart pick up an uneven rhythm. Your mouth goes dry at his lingering touch, but before you can think about it any further, he removes his hand and pulls out of the parking lot to take both of you back to the base.

When you get back to your barracks, you pause in the living room, looking over at your Leviathan as he removes his leather jacket and deposits it on the couch, sighing. You slowly approach him from behind and touch his back, which makes him flinch a little.

"I don't know why you continue to put up with my antics," you murmur and he huffs a breath out, shaking his head. "But thank you for saving my ass... and for looking out for me." Suguru turns to you, his lips quirking up a bit.

"Little Ms. Successful is thanking me for my service? Are you drunk?" Your cheeks heat up at the nickname and you roll your eyes, about to turn away from him when he catches your wrist. "Don't do that," he breathes, bringing you in close so your chests are touching. Your breathing hitches and he raises his knuckles, grazing them over your cheek. You close your eyes at the contact, and he slides his fingers down to your chin, tilting it up and humming softly.

"Open your eyes," Geto whispers, and you do so, trying your best not to seem too flustered. He leans down, brushing his lips across yours for permission, and your close your eyes again, letting him kiss you. When his lips separate from yours, he touches your nose with his, and you raise up on your tiptoes to feel his lips on yours again. "Are you sure you want to do that?" he wonders as you pull away. You nod your head, and he laughs softly.

"I do want to keep kissing you, yes," you reply, and he wraps a hand around your waist, lifting you off your feet and wrapping your legs around him.

"Nothing good comes of that," he warns, but you scoff.

"I'd beg to differ."

And that's how you find yourself on his neatly made bed, legs pushed up to your chest as Suguru greedily laps at your cunt like a starving man. "Su..." you moan, and he grunts in response. "That feels so good."

"I bet it does," the Leviathan replies, raising his brow at you salaciously before flicking your clit with his tongue. Your toes curl painfully as he dips a finger into you, then raises it up to your lips, tugging your mouth open so you can taste yourself. You suck on the digit with pleasure, humming when he pulls it back out and finger fucks you while sucking on your clit.

You buck under his grip, but he raises off of you, denying you an orgasm so soon. Geto kisses you deeply, swiping his tongue across yours so you can taste yourself again, then sits up, motioning for you to do the same.

"You want to do this?"

"Yeah." Suguru pulls his long hair up with an elastic and removes his pants, climbing back onto the bed and sitting against the headboard. He pulls you into his lap and raises you up, allowing you to grasp his hard length before sliding onto it carefully.

"Easy, easy..." he hisses, and you slow down, taking him inch by inch. You place your arms around his neck and rock back and forth, closing your eyes when you feel all of him nestled inside of you. Suguru groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head forward onto your shoulder. "Hold on, I'm gonna lay on my back." You allow him to slide forward, and he pushes you down onto his chest with a broad hand before pumping into you methodically.

"Oh, god..." you moan, and Suguru exhales shakily. "Su, you feel amazing."

"Say it a little louder so our neighbors can hear you," he jokes, but you clench around him and his laughter is cut short. "Fuck!" The man beneath you smacks your ass, and you yelp in response. "Keep doing that and this will be over faster than you can spell your own name."

"Then fuck me and quit being a smart ass," you gripe. Suguru shrugs and mutters,

"You asked for it." before slamming his hips into your ruthlessly. You cry out at the sensations his pace brings, and he grips your wrist as you lift off of him, holding your left hand against his chest. "Stay right here, princess. I'm not letting you go for shit." Your mouth seems to maintain its "O" shape the entire time he's fucking you senseless, and you can't say a word, eyes crossing and making you see double of your partner.

"Oh, god," you finally shudder, and Suguru lets go of your hand to lean you back down, mouth latching on one of your breasts.

"Cum for me," Geto challenges you before going back to sucking on your nipples relentlessly. You feel something inside of you break - almost like a busted dam releasing a flood of sensations and emotions that you've held at bay since you arrived here. "Oh, you're doing so good," Suguru grunts, holding you as you tremble fiercely while his hips stutter. "Just let it all go."

And for some reason, tears - actual tears - come out of your eyes as if this sexual release also broke your heart in two.

"Did I hurt you?" Suguru asks, swiping at your tears with a worried expression.

"No," you reassure him, shaking your head fiercely. "Not at all."

"Hmmm..." He rests your head against his chest as his breathing slows, hands stroking your back and hair with care. "You've had a hard couple of days. Just rest, alright? I'll be here when you wake up." So, you fall asleep, trusting your partner who's never betrayed you before.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut@r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23@rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on

[darlingandmreames]

No One Knows (Until Everyone Knows)

(also on ao3)

Ariadne got a couple of blocks away from the workshop before she reached for her phone and found an empty pocket instead. If it had been anything else- except maybe her keys, she needed those unless she wanted to sleep outside- she would’ve just kept going and grabbed them when she got in the next day. Not her phone though. That she needed.

The door was still unlocked when she tried the handle and the lights were on when she slipped back inside. Normally she would’ve assumed it was Cobb, he tended to stay late, but he’d headed out surprisingly early that day. Both Arthur and Eames had still been finishing up working when she’d left, though, so at least one of them must have still been in. It was a bit late for both of them, particularly Eames, but she’d long given up trying to figure out any of their schedules. If taking this job had taught her anything it was that people in the dream sharing field had the most incomprehensible sleep and work schedules of anyone she’d ever met. 

“We should head out soon.”

“I heard you the first six times. Let me finish this first.” Ariadne could almost hear Arthur rolling his eyes. “Unlike you, I am actually doing work.”

She smiled, half listening to their conversation in the other room as she scanned the tables for her phone. Out of everyone it had taken her the longest to get used to working with the two of them. On their own they were both fine; they both had their oddities but were still nice enough, and Arthur in particular had been helpful and patient as Ariadne had tried to adjust to dream sharing and manipulating. The two of them together, though, was a very different story. They argued constantly and she'd thought at first that they didn't like each other, but she realized quickly enough that their bickering was more banter than actual arguing. They were an odd pair, but entertaining once she'd gotten more used to it. 

"I was working but then you said you were almost ready to head out so I stopped working. You're the one holding us up."

"You realize you can just leave without me, right? You're under no obligation to wait if my desire to actually do my job is bothering you so much."

Ariadne could already see them in her mind. Arthur sitting at the table he'd staked out as his, papers spread around him, Eames leaning against the table next to him, grinning and arms crossed. It was a scene she'd seen plenty of times over the past couple of weeks, sometimes multiple times a day.

It was not the scene she found when she finally rounded the corner, however. Some pieces were the same- Arthur was indeed standing at his usual table, papers spread around him- but Eames wasn’t leaning against the table. He was standing behind Arthur, his arms wrapped around Arthur’s waist and chin resting on his shoulder as Arthur sifted through various papers. “And miss out on your delightful company?” He kissed Arthur’s cheek. “Never.”

She watched, surprised, as Arthur laughed quietly. “Thought I was difficult and annoying?”

“You are. Very annoying. Especially when you’re keeping me from heading back to the hotel.”

Ariadne backed up around the corner and back out of view quietly, feeling awkward. She certainly couldn’t say she was shocked, the two of them spent most of their time walking the very thin line between banter and outright flirting, but still. She’d never seen them like this, and she got the feeling that was very much intentional. She hesitated a moment, thinking over her options, before dropping her keys loudly on the concrete floor. She took her time picking them up, trying to make as much noise as she could without it being obvious that that's what she was doing. Let them know she was there and give them a moment to move if they wanted to before she walked in.

Sure enough when she rounded the corner again Eames was leaning against the table several feet from Arthur, who suddenly seemed singularly focused on whatever papers he had in front of him. Ariadne smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I know I already said night for the evening, but have either of you seen my phone? I think I left it here, and I didn’t see it on any of the tables in the other room.”

Eames glanced around, frowning, before pointing to the counter. “Is that it?”

She followed his finger, smiling in relief when she spotted her phone lying next to some of Yusuf’s equipment. “Shit, yeah, thanks.” She slipped it into her pocket and gave a quick wave as she headed back towards the door, walking quickly. She already felt awkward for interrupting, no need to make it worse by staying longer than absolutely necessary. “Okay, goodnight for real this time!”

Ariadne glanced back once she was back outside, the light from the workshop shining dimly through the obscured windows. That…certainly hadn't been what she'd expected to find. It was sweet though, honestly. And it certainly put their bickering in a new light. She wondered if Cobb knew; he and Arthur clearly knew each other fairly well, so if anyone else knew it'd be him. Given their apparent desire to keep their relationship hidden, though, she doubted it. She set off down the sidewalk toward her apartment, smiling slightly. Well, he wouldn't hear it from her. 

XXX

When Saito had first begun considering hiring Dominic Cobb to perform inception, he’d done his homework. Arthur Cohen- though Saito doubted that was his real name- had come up repeatedly in the process, and Saito hadn’t been surprised in the least to find him working this job as well. He was known for being one of the best pointmen in the field and for being serious, efficient, and perfectionistic. And he had very much lived up to that reputation in the short time Saito had been working with him.

Unless Eames was around.

“Thank you for your input, Eames, it was most helpful.”

Eames leaned back in his chair with what might have passed as a polite smile if he’d been aiming it at anyone else. Saito couldn’t tell which Eames seemed to enjoy more: starting disagreements with Arthur, or egging him on once they began. Either way it was a common enough occurrence that Saito knew exactly what was coming. This was the third time they’d gone at it in as many hours. “Well someone has to bring some imagination to the job, and it clearly isn’t going to be you, love.”

“Yes, your imagination is always so wonderfully helpful. Like on the Barraker job, remember how helpful it was then? It even managed to get me shot if I remember correctly.”

“See?” Eames grinned. “Very helpful indeed.”

Cobb sighed. “Focus, gentlemen. Please.” He turned back to papers spread out across the table. “We need to figure out how to get Fischer from ‘I will create something for myself’ on the second level to ‘my father doesn’t want me to be him’ on the third. It’s a logical leap, but still a bit of a leap all the same.”

That was when it happened. A small smile that was more warm than teasing, met with an eye roll that was more fond than annoyed. The exchange was over almost immediately and both men were back to paying attention to Cobb like nothing had happened. If Saito hadn’t been specifically watching the two of them he would’ve missed it, and as it was he seemed to be the only one who’d caught it. 

Saito'd had several affairs over the years. He'd never married himself, nor did he intend to, but several of his partners had been, so he knew that game quite well. Hiding affection in plain sight. Stolen glances when no one else was looking, lingering touches that were just brief enough to still look casual, carefully maintained appearances and interactions that often carried a second, more intimate meaning. He was familiar with all of them, having been both the initiator and recipient of them on numerous occasions. It was a game built on subtlety. On delicacy. On smiles and eye rolls when no one else was paying attention. 

He continued watching Arthur and Eames as the conversation continued but the moment didn't repeat itself, not even when they started bickering again a few minutes later. Saito couldn't help but wonder what they were like when they were alone; the fondness and warmth had been brief, but it hinted at a side to both men that was surprising. It perhaps shouldn't have been- he knew as well as anyone that a professional persona was often little more than that, a persona- but it was nonetheless.

He sighed slightly and went back to actually listening to what Cobb was saying. He was the one who'd insisted on being this involved in the job in the first place, the least he could do was pay attention. 

XXX

For a profession that took place almost entirely while asleep, dream sharing was full of people with terrible sleep schedules. Even occasional somnacin use fucked with the circadian rhythm and the amounts professional extractors used were enough to completely destroy any hope of a regular sleeping pattern. So Yusuf didn't think twice about knocking on Eames' hotel door at 11pm. He was three cups of coffee in and eager to share the breakthrough he'd just had, nearly vibrating with a combination of caffeine and excitement. Actively working with a team on a job opened up so many new possibilities that he'd never really had the chance to explore running his shop back in Mombasa, and he was thrilled to finally have the chance to do so. 

Eames gave him a tired smile when he opened the door. "Yes, hello Yusuf, can I help you?"

He looked surprisingly disheveled, his shirt untucked and hair out of place, and Yusuf briefly wondered if he'd maybe been getting ready for bed. Even if he was this wouldn't take long, and Yusuf was too excited to not tell someone what he'd figured out. "I was working- well, I was actually making coffee, but that's a necessary part of working, so basically the same thing- and I realized something." He pushed past Eames and into his room. He had a tendency to get a little loud once he got going, so he figured it'd be best if they didn't have this conversation in the hallway. "So the compound we'll be using creates a super clear connection, right? Between dreamers? And normally we talk about that just in relation to the team members, but it obviously includes the mark as well! That means when you're impersonating Browning on the first level you could…"

Yusuf stopped, confused, when he got into the main part of Eames' room. He'd assumed Eames would be alone because, well, it was 11pm on a Tuesday. Not exactly prime time for company. But Arthur was there too, laying on the bed. He was propped up on his elbows, expression somewhere between mortification and murderous intent. It would've been pretty funny, honestly, if it hadn't been directed at Yusuf. He frowned. Had Arthur come in to talk about the job with Eames as well? He couldn't think of any other reason for him to be here. He looked a bit disheveled too, jacket laying on the ground beside the bed and shirt partially unbuttoned, which was odd given how proper Arthur usually was, and… Yusuf stopped.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Did you need something?" 

Arthur's tone was tight and yeah, that was definitely murderous intent in his expression. "I, uh…" Yusuf glanced around, panicking. This was bad. He needed to get out of here. "I, um, you know, it's really not that important. It can, uh, it can wait. Until tomorrow. Yeah. I'm, um, I'm going to, uh, go now."

"That'd be great, thanks." Eames was still standing by the door, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking like he wanted Yusuf out of the room just as much as Yusuf wanted to leave. He moved aside as Yusuf hurried passed him and back out into the hallway. "Oh, and Yusuf?"

Yusuf turned around, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Y-yeah?"

"This, um," Eames ran a hand through his hair, giving Yusuf an embarrassed smile, "this just stays between us, yeah?"

Yusuf nodded. Keep it quiet, he could do that. "Not a word."

"Thanks." Eames closed his door and Yusuf hurried back to his own room. He closed the door behind him and quickly locked it, deadbolt and chain, just for good measure. He didn't think Arthur would actually kill him- there were clearly…other things to occupy his attention right now- but he still intimidated Yusuf enough that he figured it was better safe than sorry.

It was a bit sweet though, now that he had a chance to actually think about it. The two of them were insufferable around each other but in the sort of way a kid was insufferable around their crush, and he'd wondered if they had a bit of a thing for each other. It was nice to know he'd been right, even if it meant avoiding Arthur for the next few days.

XXX

In retrospect, Dom felt rather stupid for not having seen it earlier.

He'd known Arthur a long time. He’d actually been the architect on the first job Arthur ever worked, which was how they’d met, and they’d worked together relatively frequently in the years since. He was the only person Dom had worked with who had met his kids, even if just briefly, and he’d been one of the only semi-stable parts of Dom’s life since Mal’s death. They’d had their differences over the years, but Dom unquestionably considered him a friend. Probably the closest one he had anymore, and he liked to think he knew at least a decent bit about him.

One of the things he knew was that Arthur and Eames bickered. They always had, ever since the first job Dom had worked with both of them. It was just what they did. That was the unspoken arrangement of any job both of them were working: you got an excellent point man, an excellent forger, and a guarantee that they’d refuse to shut up or get along for more than 5 minutes for the entirety of the job. Dom had occasionally wondered if it was more flirting than actual bickering- it certainly walked the line sometimes- but he’d never really given it much mind. Even if it had been flirting, there hadn’t been anything behind it.

Except maybe there had.

Because Arthur’s voice wasn’t usually as soft, or as fond, as it was when he told Eames to go to sleep. Dom glanced over at him as he rolled up his own sleeve. Eames had already gone under but Arthur was still crouched by him, Eames’ hand in his. It was small, maybe nothing for most people, but Dom knew Arthur. Knew him pretty well, or at least as well as Arthur let anyone know him. He wasn’t nearly as cold or emotionless as people tended to assume he was, but he also wasn’t a particularly affectionate person, not openly at least. And that was affection in his expression, clear as day.

He looked away as Arthur stood back up, busying himself with his IV. That…wasn't a side of Arthur he'd really seen before, and he got the feeling that was intentional. Arthur was a private man after all, even for someone in their profession, and this was far from a good time to risk infringing on that. There was more than enough shit going on that was more important, and Arthur would have his hands full enough trying to hold off Fischer's sub-security for Dom to risk throwing him off; their lives depended on Arthur being focused. 

"Hey, you ready?"

"Yeah, just…just give me a sec." Dom finished rolling up his sleeve and got ready to insert the line. Maybe he'd ask after the job, assuming they all made it.

XXX

Arthur was usually a pretty even keeled person. Years of working in the underworld of extraction meant that very little surprised him anymore, and he tended to be unfazed by most things. Even when things did manage to surprise him he'd long learned to keep it hidden below the surface, away and out of sight. Right now, though, he felt almost giddy.

They’d done it. They’d fucking done it. Inception. It’d gone sideways in just about every way possible, but they’d still done it. It was an amazing feeling and as Eames came up beside him, Arthur couldn’t help but look at him with a grin. Eames raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “You’re in a good mood.”

“And you’re not?”

“Course I am.” Eames grinned back and leaned in slightly, his hand brushing briefly against Arthur’s hip. “You just don’t usually show it so openly.”

Arthur leaned in as well, resting against Eames' arm. "I have my moments."

"That you do, darling," Eames laughed. "That you do." After a moment he shifted, slipping his arm around Arthur's waist. They generally avoided any sort of public affection but Arthur leaned into the touch, wrapping his own arm around Eames' waist in return. Eames laughed again. "You really are in a good mood."

"Just looking forward to celebrating a job well done." He rested his head against Eames' shoulder. Across the baggage carousel Saito caught his eye, raising an eyebrow, and Arthur shrugged slightly in return. "I was thinking dinner?"

"Mm, maybe a few drinks too." Eames pulled him in slightly. "I know a wonderful bar near the hotel, one of my favourites in the city."

"Sounds like an excellent plan." Knowing Eames, a favourite bar could refer to anything from an exclusive establishment to a hole in the wall dive bar, and Arthur absolutely couldn't find it in him to care which it was. All that mattered was that it was the two of them, celebrating. 

The baggage area slowly began to clear out as people's luggage began dropping down onto the carousel. Yusuf hurried by them, bag in hand, glancing at them briefly and nodding before looking away again almost immediately. Eames chuckled and Arthur couldn't help but smile as well; he'd been awkward around them ever since he'd stopped by Eames' room unannounced, even going so far as to avoid the both of them as much possible for a few days afterwards. Ariadne seemed to have no such qualms, though, flashing them a wide grin as she walked by. Arthur smiled back; if Ariadne stayed in the dreamsharing field- which Arthur had a feeling she would, reality was never enough after getting a taste for dream construction- he had no doubt he and Eames would get a comment or two from her the next job they worked together.

The giddiness faded somewhat as he and Eames waited for their bags to appear, but the sense of excitement and disbelief stayed. Arthur caught Dom's eye as he made his way across the room and Dom nodded, his own expression mirroring Arthur's disbelief. They'd really done it. They'd performed inception. Completed a job that shouldn't have been possible and gotten Dom home. Arthur hummed happily as Eames rested his cheek against the top of his head. It would be nice to spend the night out, dinner and drinks and wherever else they ended up until they finally ended up back at the hotel, riding the high of what they'd managed to pull off. After everything, they deserved it. 

[ripley95]

Self-positivity ask! Show off some of your favorite bits of writing. It can be from a WIP or a published work, but go ahead an show off and be proud of your amazing work!

Thank you so much for this awesome ask whoever you are!! It means so much to me that you’re interested and thought of me. I’ve chosen a few passages all from already published works, some are under the read more including a long passage:

From A Cursed Blessing - Synthesis ending one-shot, F!Shenko:

He sees the husks helping rebuild in droves. Once grotesque reanimations of humans, asari and turians with the sole purpose to harvest are now breathing and civilized and have lives of their own. They are no longer hordes meant to kill. They're functional and cooperative. He laments at the thought that his father could be among them. He doesn't know what to make of them, and he can't decide if it's a blessing or a curse.

...

He turns in the middle of the night and moves his arm to envelope a body that isn't there. His fingers brush the empty pillow. He opens his eyes to see his arm, covered in green. He feels tears begin to form. He shuts his eyes tight and presses his fingers gently against his eyelids, and still sees green. Everything's green. He curses it and wants to scream. Just one night, he doesn't want the reminder. He clings the empty pillow tightly to his chest and imagines how he used to brush her hair out of her face as she slept. He remembers that this green sheen was because of her. The thought of it quiets his breath. He trusts in her decision. It was an end to the war, even if it wasn't how they'd planned it. He still doesn't know what happened up there, but he knows he would have done anything to stop the war. He knows he may very well have done the exact same thing as Shepard had their positions been reversed. It's a small comfort. He reminds himself that they'd won, and the war is over, and that's all that should matter. He willfully reaffirms that this is a blessing as much as it feels like a curse. He bunches the pillow up closer to his face and is saddened that it no longer smells like her. It hasn't for quite some time now. Eventually, he finds fitful sleep.

-

From This Ratty Old Thing - Post Alchera, Hannah Shepard grieving the death of her daughter:

She looked back to the screen then, any trace of mirth entirely gone. “Sometimes I wonder if we pushed you into this life. It was never my intention. As much as I’ve appreciated my time in the Alliance, I always felt like it was my only option. I never wanted that for you. I can’t deny that you’ve done well with it, but sometimes I wish I pushed you harder to consider other things. We never really talked about our careers much, but were you happy? Did you like it?” She cut herself off rather abruptly after that, realising she would never get a response.

Her gaze shifted back to the stuffed dog. Any semblance of happy memories was exchanged for something resembling disdain. “They never even found your body. How is someone supposed to grieve with no proof of death? I don’t even have any ashes. No dog tags. Nothing!” She was visibly upset now, still not looking at the screen. She waited until she calmed down slightly before continuing. “Nothing but this ratty old thing.”

She gave the toy one last glance as she brushed her thumb over the dog’s face, and set it down on the desk. She didn’t even bother looking back at the screen as she stood up, her finger hovering over the power button to her terminal.

“This was a mistake.”

She pushed the power button, and the room returned to blackness.

-

From Echoes of Old Embers - Post-War, accidental/fake dating, F!Shenko (this one’s long) Honestly, I think this has become my favourite story of mine, and it probably has most of my favourite passages in it, but only chose one to share:

Maisie walked up to them, moving to the beat as she made her way from the dance floor.

“What, you guys aren’t going to dance?” She asked with a beaming grin on her face.

Even if this was an ideal situation and she and Kaidan were somehow together, she would have had a good excuse for getting out of this one. She may as well have been a ballerina on the battlefield, but she had absolutely no rhythm when it came to dancing. Unless she wanted to make a mockery of herself, she wasn’t about to go out there. It was one thing in privacy with her crew. Under normal circumstances, she might not even mind letting loose here, but it would have been one more thing to draw attention to her. For the most part, Libby’s already had her magical night, but she still hated the potential to steal it from her and opted to want to stay on the sidelines.

“I’m afraid I’m a horrible dancer,” Shepard said.

“What?” Maisie asked incredulously, stopping dead in her tracks. “You can’t be serious. You?”

“Oh, she’s telling the truth all right,” Kaidan said from beside her with a snort.

“Hey! You’re one to talk. I seem to remember you making finger guns at that party in my apartment,” she said with a big grin on her face.

“Hey, now, this conversation isn’t about me. Maisie’s already well aware of my dancing abilities.”

“Uh-huh,” Shepard said with a smile that she couldn’t help thinking would wane the moment that Maisie left them alone again.

“It’s true, I know he’s got no game on the dance floor. You, on the other hand, are not allowed to say that without a show,” she said, all but ready to drag Shepard into the middle of the crowd when Shepard pulled back.

“Maisie, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to draw attention to myself,” Shepard tried to say in a lowered voice.

Maisie huffed out a laugh at her. “Well, if that’s your goal, maybe you should reconsider. Have you taken a good look at that crowd?” she asked, turning to look at everyone dancing. “Everyone’s making a fool of themselves. Only ‘Commander Shepard’ would have a complex about this. If you ask me, I think standing on the sidelines is probably drawing more attention to you than however bad your dancing must be.”

Shepard looked out into the crowd. Sure enough, it was full of people just letting loose. No one cared about how they looked, though she still thought her skills were subpar to everyone out there. At the same time, she probably wasn’t bad enough to draw attention away from everyone else who was just out there having fun.

Shepard turned to Kaidan then, “Shit. She has a point, doesn’t she?”

“I’m afraid she might,” Kaidan said with a smirk.

“Yes! You know I’m always right,” Maisie said with a smile.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Kaidan said, holding his hand out to Jane. “Shall we?”

“Can’t wait to see this,” Maisie said with a smirk.

Maisie took their glasses and Kaidan gave her the tiniest of glares before he and Shepard made their way out onto the dance floor.

“So, do you have a buzz going yet?” Kaidan asked.

Shepard looked at him, slightly amused. “A bit,” she answered.

“Good, because I think it’ll at least help us not be so self-conscious out here,” he said with a smile as he started dancing.

Maybe it was because she was teasing him about it moments before, but it seemed like he would be leaving his finger guns holstered for the evening. His rhythm was almost as bad as hers. In fact, it was as bad as hers. It brought back memories of them dancing in that casino on the Citadel when they were trying to figure out who stole her identity. Before they even knew she had a clone. They had the exact same dance style then too… And somehow she was always the one that got flack about it from the crew. It made her wonder how security at the casino never thought they were suspicious, because who would want to be seen dancing like that out in public? Shepard had to laugh at the memory of it.

“What?” he said, in mock offense as he stopped dancing immediately, thanks to her outburst. “You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, grabbing his arms to get him to start bopping them again. “It’s just that, I’d say we’re two peas in a pod or something.”

She started mimicking his moves. Not that she was trying to match him or anything, but more because she legitimately didn’t know any other way to dance. She never knew what to do with her arms. Or her legs for that matter... or where to look. Practically nothing came naturally to her about dancing, but then again, she rarely ever had a partner. Today, she had Kaidan as a distraction and it was easier to let go of the insecurities, already knowing that she looked ridiculous, because he looked ridiculous too. They looked into each other’s eyes. It made both of them laugh some more as they kept dancing.

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the dancing, but the night’s tension finally started to feel like it was easing away. She liked seeing Kaidan let loose a bit. It wasn’t something that was typically easy for him either.

Before they knew it, they danced through song after song, and the tempo suddenly changed to something much slower. That made them both stop and catch their breath as they looked to each other again, wondering what to do.

Kaidan saw everyone else around them starting to dance, so he looked back towards her with a smile, holding his hands out in question for her to join him. “I guess we probably should.”

Shepard looked around her, realising the same thing. “Right,” she said as she put her hands in his, and he pulled her closer.

-

Thanks again for this ask! This was really fun to pick out some favourites.

[acefrogmonarch]

Headcanons pt.4

Middle school and early high school

I know American class but also Japanese class schedules. I don’t know if I want either or a hybrid.

Based off this post (If i can find it)

Naruto-band

Shikamaru has a knack for playing the drums, but he's never serious about it. He plays the drums because the systematic rhythm helps him think of strategies for shoji.

Has been asked multiple times to join the jazz band in Spring. He refuses everytime because it cuts his time in shoji, but once he gets his own cubie in the band hall he sets up his shoji board and plays it when he has free time.

Hinata has played the violin but hates the way her fingers hurt after being forced to play for long hours.

So she seeks asylum in the band hall, and has secretly taken lessons how to play the saxophone. It's her favorite of all the wind instruments.

She has been asked to join the spring jazz band, despite not being an actual member. She easily took the first chair when they were evaluating their skills.

Choji has been following a senior that's been teaching him the guitar, he's in the brass section playing the tuba. Has been asked to replace the senior when he gets older and wants to.

Naruto is in the brass section with Kiba but only Kiba is the trumpet player. Naruto is a trombone player and tells dad jokes. He didn’t fit the mold of a trumpet player but he still loves it regardless.

But his energy is definitely on par, if not greater than the rest. He will always cheer up everyone around him and is a part of the cheerleading squad.

Hates that there aren't anyone other guys. He just wants to flip off someone's shoulders. Damnit! 

He's flipped off Sasuke's and Shikamaru's shoulders before. In Sasuke's case, it was during elementary/primary. They were on the playground and this was Naruto’s second ever attempt to land a backflip. They couldn’t do it because the teacher caught them when a group started forming and they started betting their snacks from lunch to see if Naruto failed or not.

They continued their promise after school and Naruto broke his arm, but he did do it right after. He ate like a King the next day. It was great for him.

The first time Naruto did it was completely by accident and because he was so excited that he got a trampoline.

He’s never taken gymnasium classes before and has not seen a backflip before. But he somehow did it. It still shocks his parent’s to this day. Sasuke and him are neighbors and he came over to see what Naruto was so happy about.

Sasuke came just in time to see him do it. It was the greatest moment of his life because then Naruto tried to do it again and fell flat on his face. 

In shikamaru’s case it was during middle school and they were next to the pool. They were at Sasuke’s house for the day because he had a cool deck and pool.

Naruto wanted to jump off his shoulders into the pool. Shikamaru agreed because he didn’t think Naruto could actually do it. He realized his mistake when Naruto beamed in total confidence and Sasuke moved away from the pair.

Naruto didn’t do his back flip because Shikamaru moved the second Naruto decided to jump, without warning.

Needless to say, Shikamaru didn’t support his legs enough and Naruto accidently kicked him in the chin. Naruto ended up on the pool, back first, and Shikamaru fell on his ass.

Naruto swims up to the edge of the pool and looks at Sasuke, trying so hard not to laugh.

Naruto: Did I do it?!

Sasuke, trying to reclaim his composer: No, not at all.

Shikamaru, on the ground rubbing his chin: How did you even hit me!?

Naruto: Again!

Shikamaru: No!

Sasuke, running inside to get a camera or phone to record it: Yes!

Naruto is sometimes very confused as to why he is going to a house, when he has an apartment and his milk is about to expire! Also, his stash of untouched ramen!

Kushina: Naruto, sweetie. Where are you going?

Naruto: My apartment!

Minato: Naruto, we have a house.

Naruto: What’s that? Is it edible?

Kushina: Sometimes. During winter.

Naruto: Why winter?

Kushina: There are houses made of cookies.

Naruto: Really?!

Kushina, nodding along: Yup!

Anyway after High school they sometimes played together. Naruto had to buy a new entire trumpet because he rented from the school. Hinata bought her saxophone and has kept it under maintenance.

Shikamaru’s parents bought him his drum set and he learned how to play on his own. Choji does keep up with his guitar lessons but he did save up alot to get his electric guitar and a bass.

Card games

Hinata, Sasuke, and Shikamaru cannot play competitive and strategic card/board games. Scrabble, poker, 21, War, Bullshit is off the list. A Lot of decks, mostly up to 3 at a time and they are very distinguished between all of them.

Sakura refuses to play but does rude commentary to any group she is overseeing. Usually magic, because of Sasuke.

Choji doesn’t play anything but he does place bets on who would win with his snacks.

Magic the gathering.

Sasuke, Itachi played. Black Commander Deck

Sai, again his older brother. Green and Black Commander Deck.

Tenten; She found it and didn’t want something that Lee and Neji enjoy. Standard White and Blue Deck.

Yu-gi-oh.

Hinata; only because Neji played. Silent Magician Deck

Neji; because Lee played. He didn’t want to seem stupid. Hero elemental deck

Lee, he just likes the anime. But does have Yusei’s deck

Ino, she likes the pictures on Toon town and they let her do whatever but to some extent.

Both. 

Kiba; Rarely, Magic first. Green and Red Commander. Gear deck

Naruto; Rarely, yugioh first Odd-eyes deck and Black and White Standard Deck.

Kiba, dissing on Yugioh.

Naruto: Shut up, your mother buys you mega blocks instead of legos.

Hinata and Sasuke are both petty about each other’s card games. They each have respective sleeves and taunt each other, constantly.

Neji and Lee look at Tenten on the magic side and hate that she betrayed them. She’s just glad that they don't harp on her in her card game.

Pokemon.

Shikamaru, because no one knows how to fucking play.

Shino only collects the cards.

Shino showing Shikamaru his deck.

Hinata: Oh, are you playing?

Shino: You can play it?

Shikamaru has tried to teach Shino. Shino doesn’t sleeve his cards and when they take damage, he puts some non wet, non greasy food on his card.

Once the pokemon dies, Shino eats the snack. There are crumbs everywhere and Shikamaru’s pet peeve is being messy. Shikamaru appreciates Hinata’s and Sasuke’s sleeves.

Shows

Ino loves Reality TV and other things. But hates the Kardasians. Loves Rupaul drag race.

Sai is often encouraged by Ino to watch anime around her and he also finds anime that she thinks he hasn’t seen.

Sai has brought up Keeping up with the Kardasians and it was a mistake, he thought she would like it.

Ino: The Kardaisians are garbage and Kyle Jenner is a fake as hoe!

Sakura, from another room, hearing Ino rant: Did someone bring up the Kardasians?

Sai: Yeah.

Ino: Never do that again dear.

Sai: Got it sweetheart.

Ino has never actually called any other of her partners by a pet name but she does with Sai and they act like a married couple sometimes. They never talked about it. I mean they have shared stuff about each other that no one else knows. Coming out to each other, learning together because they both feel safe and comfortable with each other. Trust each other a lot.

Elementary bus crew.

Morning

Konoha 12 except Hinata

Naruto was so used to being independent that he has left his house on his own for school. It has freaked his parents more than once but they just watch over him as he goes to school.

Naruto always spots a red haired kid on the opposite of his bus stop with two older people that he holds their hands. Naruto always waves at him and waits until the day he waves back.

Gaara is very affected by his past life, like he was carving the kanji for love when his mom walked in because Temari tried to stop it but couldn’t take the blade away from him. She got slashed on her arm as a result.

Karura walks in and gasps softly.

Karura: Gaara sweetie.

Gaara: Mama, you're alive?

Karura: Of course. Please put the knife down.

Gaara: Knife?

Gaara completes carving in perfect kanji and stops once he completes it. Then the pain registrator for him

Choji is allergic to mustard, he found out in elementary and by accident. Shikamaru went to the teacher and Hinata stayed with Choji because he was rubbing his face and making his hives worse.

Afternoon

Rest of the Konoha 12 except (Hinata Neji and Shikamaru) No Sai yet.

Middle school. Bus Crew

Morning

Konoha 12 except Hinata, Ino, and Sakura

Afternoon

Konoha 12 Except Hinata, Tenten, Neji and Sasuke

High school bus crew.

Morning

Hinata was too scared to do it on her own in elementary, she tried in middle school and failed, but she succeeded in high school. She has to wake up an extra hour and walk to her stop but she doesn’t after freshman year. She got used to it

Afternoon

Everyone unless they have clubs, even then there is an after after school bus.

Hinata and Neji are on the richer side of town and everyone in middle school often joked about how they are on the west side while everyone else is on the east side.

They all meet on sports day. The other schools were pitted against each other east versus west.

Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto were in a group together and were mocking Neji from a distance.

Naruto: Ew, is that a West sider?!

Sakura: Is that a boy or girl?

Naruto: It doesn’t matter! It’s a west sider!

Hinata from behind them, joins in.

Hinata: Ew a west sider.

Naruto, turning around: You got that r-

Hinata a carbon copy of the guy they were mocking.

Naruto: AH!!! They got us from behind!

Hinata blushes: Naruto-kun 

Naruto: Oh, it’s just you Hinata.

They don’t know each other at this point, Sasuke and Sakura look bamboozled at their interaction.

Hinata is going to therapy for this because her parents are worried and she just wants a break from the whole past life stuff.

Hinata sighs to herself: Not again

Hinata walks off towards where Neji is and leaves Naruto in her wake.

Naruto’s motto: We are here to cause some ruckus, then DIP!!!

[platypanthewriter]

Blind as a Bat

Silly 5+1 misunderstanding chat prompt for @susiecarter!  Ao3 link in the notes!

Clark Kent widened his stance in front of Bruce Wayne’s desk, steadying himself for a blow. He frowned down, and adjusted his press pass. “So, ah, the thing is. I love you.”

Bruce’s smile flickered, the arms of his calf-leather desk chair creaking under his hands, before he spun it around and stood, straightening his blazer. “...really.” He crouched, and ran his fingers along the bottom of the chair, then frowned under his desk. “I, also, yes, our posteriors are obviously designed to complement each other, Mr. Kent.” Standing, he waggled his eyebrows, grabbing his desk phone and frowning into the undercarriage. “Go on, I’m listening--”

“...Bruce. Your office isn’t bugged. I seriously can't make this any simpler, I love you. I, Clark Kent, love--”

“Are you mind controlled?” Bruce stepped in close, eyes narrowed. “This is a clever signal.”

Clark backed away, waving. “Actually, you know what, no, Mom was wrong. I can't do this, Superman out--”

“I have a scanner for interference by hostile entities--”

Clark groaned. “Nope, no, we’re good, it's fine, I fixed it. Just now.”

The stillness made Bruce Wayne resemble his alter ego. “That's an astoundingly obvious ploy, but given the initial attempt at intimacy, not out of character--”

Clark stalked out. “I am having a picnic. With my blanket, on the moon.”

Months later, Aquaman requested their help, and Clark found himself questioned in front of a device humming in the rhythm of the dancing fish that hovered and stared at it.

“No, I’m not feeling it, Arthur,” he sighed.

Batman’s voice burbled through his scuba gear. “I'd know if Superman was mind controlled. We have a signal.”

Clark repressed a vicious urge to point out Batman looked ridiculous with bright orange diving weights strapped everywhere, and a fish swimming in and out of his cape. “Oh my god.” He turned to smile at Arthur. “Yes, okay, if I get whammied I'll just...I’ll tell Batman he's hot even though he can't move his neck in that getup. His little ears make me wild.”

“...that should do it,” Arthur bit back a grin, crouching to frown at the device.

“‘I would thrill to remove his Batboots, and see whether his Batsocks have little Batpatterns,’ I’ll say.”

“...that is more than sufficient,” Batman burbled, drifting slightly sideways. “If we could stick to the actual plan.”

“I could say absolutely anything, couldn't I?” Clark’s Politeness Smile felt more fake than usual, and he dropped it. “Bruce Wayne, I'd like you to smile and suffer through my weekly meatloaf for the rest of our lives. I'd like to help you into the Batsuit, and every night, help you peel out of it.”

The barnacle-covered rebar Batman was clinging to in his inexorable tidal drift burst as Clark spoke, crunching into a cloud of grey shell fragments and rust in the water. Batman adjusted his grip on the machine in his other hand. “Stick to simple control statements, or I can’t recalibrate the sensor.”

“Bruce.” More barnacles crunched, and they both ignored them. “What would convince you I'm telling the truth. One truthful sentence. What kind of tests--”

“Howzabout you two go back to the boat, if you’re not gonna help--” Arthur glanced back, eyebrow raised.

“If you could take this seriously--”

Clark laughed so hard he had to steady himself against the rocks, and Arthur glanced back with a grimace. “I have never taken anything so seriously, nor been so tempted to fling a human being into the soundless vacuum of space. What tests.”

Batman made a noise. It was hard to tell through the scuba bubbles, but probably he was clearing his throat. “Nothing can rule out every possibility--”

Clark snorted, leaning his head away from an inquisitive fish. “Or we could borrow Diana's lasso. ‘Diana,’ I’ll say, ‘We need your lasso to discuss my mom's recipe for meatloaf, because Bruce Wayne believes in nothing and no one’--”

“...I would never doubt your mom's recipe for meatloaf,” Batman said flatly, and Arthur covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.

Clark, not seeing the humor, hissed back. “In that case, I will tell my mother that at least you believe in something.”

Diana crossed her arms, watching Clark floating on his back in a slow, ranting circuit of her apartment ceiling. “ ...of course you may borrow it. I can do no less, if you think it will help.”

“It has to, right?” Clark turned to frown down.

“I once offered to cover while he was on vacation,” she confided. “He clenched his jaw and said he'd keep me in mind the next time he required transplant of a crushed organ.”

“The...the next time?” Clark froze in midair, staring back, and she gave a wide-eyed, graceful shrug.

“Keep it as long as you like,” she said, eventually. “I’ll use the time I’d spend doing paperwork for interrogations on doing my actual job.” At her soft smile, he dropped to watch her unwrap something extremely...broken. “This just arrived from a dig in Akrotiri. You...understand my fascination, I think,” she glanced over, “--having so little, of Krypton.”

He nodded, and whisked off to get the brushes and glue. Together, they leaned over the shards until close to morning.

“I’d give up on him,” Clark muttered, squinting at what might have been a piece of a pattern, then leaning back to see the sizable chunk of urn they’d reassembled. “I mean, I did quit trying for a while. But it's just bothering at me, now. How can someone so smart--”

Diana grinned. “I wish you both joy.”

When Clark wafted down onto the balcony at Wayne Tower, Bruce was leaning on the railing. “So do you have a few minutes free? Or are you busy staring out over Gotham and adding to the Batman Translate on Google.”

“What?” Bruce snorted, his gaze fixing on the lasso Clark had wrapped around his arm. The ice in his glass settled.

“May I,” Clark breathed through his nose, trying to sound civil, “--have your permission to tie us up securely in this, Diana's lasso, for the purpose of convincing you that you, Bruce Wayne are honest to god my--”

“You have some reason to believe I’ve been compromised.” Bruce's smile faltered, and he held out his hand.

“Uh, I'll, ah.” Clark wavered. “Y’know, actually, I'm--I’m losing momentum. Uh, do you remember what I was saying in your office, when, um. And about meatloaf.”

Bruce frowned deeply, taking the end of it. “I do remember. You suspect someone successfully duplicated a lasso? This is excellent scotch.” The lasso glowed and twined, and he winced. “It seems to be working.”

“...never mind,” Clark sighed, and whipped back to Diana.

Behind him on the wind, he heard Bruce Wayne’s voice. “...what?”

When Bruce showed up at the party Diana and Atlanna were throwing for the finale of Game of Thrones--“To yell at it?” Clark had asked. “They, ah, they sort of address it with great sincerity, and then tell it they’re disappointed,” his mother laughed. “It’s worth watching.”--Clark was in the kitchen, sliding the third pizza in the oven. Arthur and his mom had oddly similar confusion squints at the screen, heads cocked in unison, and Diana was flopped over the arm of the couch on her belly, investigating Clark’s mom’s knitting. Clark found a plate to scrub just as Bruce Wayne crossed from the front room carpet to the linoleum kitchen floor.

“...may I help?”

The gall of him, Clark thought, posing like a fashion ad in my mother’s kitchen. “I dunno, can you understand the words I say?”

“You have been...strange, recently.” Bruce stepped closer, placing a gift bag with two bottles of wine on the counter. Their chests nearly brushed. Their breath mingled, Bruce minty, and Clark, he thought in passing, probably redolent of pepperoni. He met Bruce’s gaze, and watched him swallow, his gaze flicking down. Bruce opened his mouth, closed it, and Clark leaned in without meaning to, letting his head tip just slightly, so their lips would meet. “You’re standing in front of the drawer with the corkscrew,” Bruce whispered.

Clark stalked by him, remembering he was Superman, and as satisfying as it would have been to shoulder-slam by, he could hardly claim Bruce deserved a broken collarbone. He let himself drift to rest on the roof, listening to his city, and only roused himself at the rising smell of burning pizza.

Two weeks later, Clark watched Batman fail to find any crime, and dropped next to him on a roof. He dodged two batarangs, and caught the third. “Okay, as an experiment. If someone were in love with Batman, what signs would you expect them to exhibit.”

Bruce’s voice was especially throaty when startled, unless he was coming down with a cold. “No one knows Batman, he's a construct of--”

“Someone that does.” Clark held up a hand. “Okay. Let’s just say. Someone that does know Batman.”

“...I am not participating in any of the Flash’s ridiculous projects, and I do not need a personals ad.” Batman swooped his cape around him like a smoke bomb, and rapidly scrabbled down the side of the building.

Clark thought about that for a long moment, cocked his head, and then shook it to dismiss the image. Bat seeking partner for aerial maneuvers, his reporter brain supplied. He dropped next to Batman in the alley. “Somebody three blocks away is trying to pee on a wall, but mostly it’s going in his boot,” he reported, saluting. “Unless that needs your attention, can we talk?”

“...you’ll let me know if anything else happens,” Batman growled.

“I’m not trying to get anyone hurt.”

Batman snorted and muttered something, unintelligible in the Batvoice, and stalked away down the alley, and Clark floated along behind him like a balloon on a string.

“I--I know this isn’t anything you want to talk about,” Clark kept his voice low, “--but if--if you are repulsed by--by all the people that know Batman, now’s the time to speak up, and, uh, I’ll. I’ll just--I’ll go buy some ice cream.” Bruce had stopped walking, and the silence stretched out. “...there’s even an apple pie flavor,” Clark forced a laugh. “Perfect for me, midwestern boy, right? And Mom sent me a new comfy sweater, it’s, uh, it’s fine, y’know. Fine.”

“If you already assume I will not be receptive,” Batman’s voice scraped, “--than this is a truly--” He staggered forward as the breeze of Superman’s passage whumped his cape against his back.

When the knock came, Clark was in his Kansas City Royals boxers, and his fluffy sweater with the too-long sleeves and the slightly crooked sigil of the House of El. It still smelled like his mom--her lotion, and instant coffee, and the slight lingering stench of burned pizza. He’d ensconced himself on the couch with a spoon and a gallon of mint chip, just as his phone lit up with a Songs To Cry Through While Heartbroken playlist from Kara.

The knock came again. As it wasn’t likely to be League business, he hunkered down, stuck a huge bite of ice cream in his mouth, and resisted the urge to laser his visitor through the door for interrupting his caterwauled duet with Adele.

“What!” he finally yelled.

The knock came a third time, and then movement made him pay attention to the other end of the couch, where Bruce Wayne stood. He was dressed down, a bit, holding a leather briefcase in both hands. Of course Batman wasn’t slowed by a locked door. “What,” Clark groaned, wishing he could get drunk.

“I did ask if I could come in,” Bruce pitched his voice over Adele, and Clark narrowed his eyes, and clicked her off.

“Pretty sure I didn’t say ‘yes’.”

“...is that...Titanic, The Notebook, and Romeo + Juliet?”

“Yes. I’m watching loving couples die. What do you want.” Clark shoveled in another mouthful of ice cream.

“...of course I’ll leave, if you want me to,” Bruce clicked his briefcase, and shiny cobalt silk billowed out, “--but I did bring pajamas. And--” he waved back towards the door, “I asked for your order at the bodega. Pastrami sandwiches?”

Clark considered for a long moment, eyeing the Batjamas, then the delicious smelling bag of sandwiches. “...I don’t want to make a habit of accepting bribes, but…”

“It is one of the things I admire about you,” Bruce said, straight-faced, and Clark paused half out of his blanket cocoon to stare over.

Bruce’s eyes strayed down the admittedly lumpy sweater to his Kansas boxers, and Clark hugged himself, shuffling over to the bag of sandwiches. “Apology accepted, then. Why’d you bring your...loungewear, or whatever? You can’t think I’d want to see you.” He snorted, unwrapping the deli parchment. “And you obviously didn’t want to see me--”

“What I said about knowing Batman was true,” Bruce came over to lean against the counter, watching the lights of the city outside Clark’s apartment, and Clark rolled his eyes. “No one truly knows Batman, not enough to love him. No one...really knows Bruce Wayne, either.”

Clark wanted to argue, or throw a sandwich at his head, but either of the options involved more pastrami in his mouth, so he listened, and chewed.

“I’m not...perfect--”

Clark coughed. “Well that’s your application in the trash,” he snorted. “I can only date perfect people.”

“I have...hidden some things, even from the League,” Bruce smirked, ducking his head, “--my money makes certain aspects of my...unforgivable lack of foresight just...go away. There have been times I have--not chosen the most effective plan, because it caused me personal discomfort.”

“If this is supposed to make me feel better,” Clark swallowed, and took a sip of the supplied root beer, “--it doesn’t. What do you want, Bruce. I won’t cause problems in the League, I’m not--you have every right to refuse my attentions.”

“I brought the pajamas in case you would like to know...me,” Bruce told the counter, smile practiced and charming, his knuckles white on the handle of his bag. “I will understand, of course, if you--”

Clark dropped the sandwich, speeding so fast around the counter it probably looked to Bruce like he’d teleported. “You’re saying yes?”

“Clark…”

“You brought your pajamas, Bruce,” Clark clenched his teeth, torn between the fizzy feeling of hope urging him to spin them around the ceiling like Mary Poppins characters, and the strong need to tie Bruce Wayne to a lamppost outside a police station--with his own pajamas--and a note taped to his chest that said ‘DANGER TO SELF AND OTHERS’. “When you couldn’t prevent harm as Batman, you did your best to help as Bruce Wayne, that’s what I’m hearing.”

“That is--optimistic.”

“Get in your goddamn pajamas,” Clark pointed with his second sandwich half, and narrowed his eyes at Bruce covering a grin. “I’m not Superman right now, I’m enraged. What do you mean ‘personal discomfort,’ that’s what we’re working on, you not risking yourself in every fight. Flash is talking about making a stamp booklet. You get one every time you don’t dash in front of a bullet--” Clark choked, pounding his chest, as Bruce dropped his pants, revealing black athletic socks, pale, scarred hairy legs, and a rapidly-covered patch of black silk undies.

Bruce shook out the pajama pants, pulled them on, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Sometimes the strategy requires the strategist endanger himself, for the cumulative good.”

“Don’t give me that--”

“I don't want to watch any of those movies,” Bruce told his own buttons, frowning down. “I’m not sure why anyone does--do you have something less...?”

“Ye-yeah,” Clark swallowed, close enough he could feel the warmth from Bruce’s skin. He grabbed his half-eaten sandwich, slowly chewing as Bruce revealed more scars, and muscles, and he tasted nothing. “Um. Is this a date?”

“Perhaps.” Bruce buttoned himself into his pajama top, and Clark watched his fingers fly, wishing he didn’t have pastrami all over his own. He frowned at the sandwich, wondering if he’d fallen for a trap.

“Depending on what?”

“Whether you like what Martha Wayne’s boy actually turned into.” Bruce smiled his polished magazine cover smile, dropped it to go oddly blank, and then stared into the distance between he and Clark’s bag of sandwiches.

I should enjoy his discomfiture more, Clark thought, but he just changed the subject to Netflix selection, and watched Bruce flick through the selection with a darkening frown. “Does Martha Wayne’s boy want a bowl of ice cream?”

“...maybe?” Bruce squinted back at him, and Clark leaned over the back of the couch to bump shoulders.

“You are your choices, and all, but I promise not to decide who you are based on Netflix special.” He caught Bruce’s eye, and grinned, enjoying the quirked smile he got in return. “Just pick the next thing that looks fun, you’re thinking too hard about this.”

Bruce nodded, watching the preview for what looked like a show about friendship between female wrestlers.

Clark properly served a bowl of the less-melty ice cream near the bottom, instead of passing over the carton, and Bruce’s lips twitched.

“...what.”

“Oh, just remembering Alfred sitting the ice cream out until it wasn’t rock-hard. Your powers are so versatile.”

“I’ll remember to list ice-cream scooping next time anyone asks.” Clark grinned back. “Is that why you're here? You staying the night? There’s a good diner around the corner.”

Bruce accepted the bowl. “I did bring condoms.”

Clark steepled his fingers, frowning at the drippy ice cream scoop. “...so either you’re saying yes to dating, or you’re planning to zipline off my balcony as soon as I fall asleep. I hope it’s the former.”

“Not that kind of boy?”

“I mean,” Clark glared over, “I want to--to at least date you, not just ...have sex with Bruce Wayne, like I’m some--some person you will smirk at in the elevator for the rest of our lives.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at his spoonful of ice cream. “Batman does not smirk.”

“What a relief,” Clark growled. “And no, look, there is a Bat Smirk--do you want to make up a contract, would that work better for your brain? Should I let you talk to lawyers first?”

Bruce went still again. “...I--I apologize if--”

“No, sorry, I’m--I’m sorry.” Clark took a deep breath, and let it out. “I just--I thought you’d say yes, and--” he scrabbled at his hair, “--this would stop, I feel like--do you even want to be here?!”

“Relax,” Bruce scooted closer, leaning in to press his lips warmly against Clark’s, “--yes. And I can promise I won’t sneak away. If something does come up, I’ll leave a note.” He was smooth-shaven and cologne-scented, his pajamas warm and smooth under Clark’s uncalloused fingers.

Clark pulled him closer, grinning against his mouth, and feeling only slightly guilty about introducing pastrami onto Bruce’s mint-chocolate tongue. “We do usually figure things out,” he whispered, licking in for a deeper kiss, while Bruce waved the bowl of ice cream until it hit the coffee table.

“We do,” Bruce agreed, then relaxed--a bit--into the kiss. “That we do. If anyone could make this work--” He trailed off, letting Clark pull him closer, and smiling against his mouth.

Clark let his eyes close, until he felt Bruce laughing. He pulled back to realize he’d floated up with his arms around Bruce.

“Someone is going to look up and see us...why doesn’t the weight of my body make your points of contact hurt my ribs?”

“You know nobody looks up,” Clark nuzzled into the smooth-shaven skin at Bruce’s throat. Bruce leaned his head back, eyes fluttering shut. “...why isn't my face covered in bugs when I cross the city,” Clark mouthed against Bruce’s thudding jugular, breathing his cologne, “--it’s because I’m magic, Bruce. I’m a magic alien.”

“...hrmph," Bruce grunted, frowning his scientist frown, and Clark grinned, letting himself slowly spin in the air with inertia. He squeezed Bruce carefully tighter. "We should try out those condoms,” Bruce hummed against his mouth, and then staggered as Clark dropped back to the floor.

“There’s not--I didn’t--we don’t have to--”

“I know. But I’m very much that kind of boy.”

[tommynikkivincemick]

three way call — part 1

Summary: Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx find themselves in the frustrating predicament of being infatuated with the same woman. This calls for a competition.

Requested: Yes! But I did my own little spin on it, I hope you don’t mind.

Author’s note: Title is from “Scotty Doesn’t Know” by Lustra. The original request was for jealous Tommy and Nikki being in love with the same girl, so this was the approach I took. I think this has multi-part potential, so that’s the route I’m taking. This part is short, following parts will be longer. Enjoy.

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, mild sexual content, gambling (I guess).

Tommy and Nikki were the same in many ways— they looked alike, they acted alike, and now they found themselves in the strange predicament of loving the same woman. She had been friends with the infamous Terror Twins for years and never had either of the two let on that they had feelings for her until now. But something about the Twins was that they loved a good competition.

“What did you have in mind?” Tommy smirked wickedly at the older of the two, sipping his whiskey on the rocks.

“It’s simple— we woo her the best we can and see who can get her to fall desperately in love first. Or at least, get her to fall into our bed,” Nikki mirrored the drummer’s devilish grin.

“Rules of the bet?”

“Hm. We can’t kiss her on the mouth, she has to do that willingly. And we can’t ask her to go out with us, she has to ask. And we absolutely can’t use drugs or alcohol to coerce her because that’s just playing dirty,” Nikki stated, “Anything I missed?”

“If she sleeps with us, we have to give her an orgasm. If we don’t, the game continues,” Tommy added.

“Not a problem,” Nikki said, his cocky attitude showing itself.

“Not at all,” Tommy agreed.

“What should the stakes be, T-Bone?” The bassist asked, dreading the answer.

“Loser has to get a tattoo of whatever the winner wants. A big one,” The younger man said challengingly, holding out his hand to the elder, “Deal?”

Nikki took the drummers hand and shook it roughly.

“Deal.”

“What are you assholes planning?” Vince asked, amusement apparent on his face.

“You better not fuck around with that girl’s emotions. I’ll kick both of your asses,” Mick threatened.

“Never,” The Twins spoke in unison with matching grins.

The singer and the guitarist turned to walk away, whispering to each other.

“I got fifty on Tommy, my boy’s a romantic,” Vince murmured.

“I got Sixx, my boy plays dirty,” Mick chuckled.

———————————————————————

The following morning, Y/N climbed through the window of the Crüe apartment, ready to pull the boys from their death like slumbers and nurse their hangovers, only to find Nikki and Tommy already up and at ‘em, drinking coffees on the couch with a bag of breakfast burritos on the table.

“Morning, babe,” Nikki greeted, far more chipper than usual.

She didn’t question the pet name— they all called her something sweet now and then— but she did question the sobriety and general awake-ness of the rhythm section.

“Morning, Sixx,” She said confusedly, ruffling his fluffy hair, “Morning, Tommy,” She turned to the drummer, placing a kiss upon his temple and grabbing one of the cups of coffee off of the table to take a sip.

Nikki shot Tommy a glare which was returned with an arrogant grin. The bassist took the opportunity of the object of his affection being bent over in front of him to pull her onto the couch by the belt loops, effectively pulling her into a sitting position, leaning against him.

“Nikki, what the hell are you doing?” She asked dryly, unamused by his antics.

“Nothing, can’t I just show some love to my best friend?” Nikki pouted dramatically.

Tommy scoffed— he was Nikki’s best friend, thank you very much! In response he pulled Y/N’s legs over his lap, resting a hand on her thigh.

“So how’s your morning been, gorgeous?” The drummer asked sweetly.

“Fine, I guess. Better now that I’m seeing that you two can actually take care of yourselves,” She sighed, relaxing in the arms of the two men, knowing they probably wouldn’t let her up any time soon, “What’s with all the love anyway? You two usually don’t act like this unless your wasted.”

The drummer and bassist shared a look. It was obvious that they couldn’t tell her about the bet— she’d be furious, and might never speak to them again (or at least not for a few weeks).

“Because you do so much for us that we figure we should be as nice as possible to you,” Tommy began, looking to his partner in crime.

“And we will be acting like this every day. All the time. So... get used to it,” Nikki finished.

She looked at both of them curiously. They were up to something, she just didn’t know what. They had to have an angle to be this nice to her, for rarely were they so affectionate out of the sheer goodness of their hearts. Their motivations were usually alcohol, drugs, money, or sex, and she could give them none of the first three, so she figured the motivation had to be sex.

“If you two wanted a threesome, all you had to do was ask,” She spoke after a lengthy moment of silence.

“Y/N!” Tommy exclaimed as Nikki choked on his sip of coffee.

“Mother fucker—“ the older man cursed, “— no we don’t want a threesome!”

“I mean, unless you’re down—“

“NO!” Nikki abruptly cut off the younger Terror Twin.

The girl between them laughed. So it wasn’t a threesome— at least she could check that off of the list of suspected motives— but she didn’t think they planned on telling her any time soon. But she’d figure it out; of that, she was sure.

[squidpro-quo]

Sheep

AN: For @sup-poki and @mintchocolateleaves‘s emogust, I went through several ideas but in the end, it’s a kind of prequel to my Psycho-Pass au. You don’t need to have read it to get it, it’s just in the same universe. Feat. Chikage

Chikage watched as Kaito pulled a coin from beneath the cup they had been playing with, contemplating its glint in the kitchen’s light as if by staring at it intently he could understand the trick. It was just a bait and switch, the usual grifter’s play that Toichi had used to woo her with but he’d never gotten to show it to him after all, so it fell to her instead. She’d gotten rusty in the intervening years, her hands slowing down until she’d had to practice a few times to get the rhythm back and even then it was several tries before her tears didn’t blur her vision anymore. 

But Kaito had taken to it like a fish to water, begging her to keep doing it until he figured out what she was doing. It was a work in progress, he didn’t quite grasp it yet however, just the fact that she’d gotten him to sit still and concentrate was enough for her. 

The front doorbell rang and she rose to answer it, tousling his hair as she passed. 

“Have you tried it with two coins yet?” 

“But that’s cheating, Mom!” he retorted, though by the way his eyes narrowed at the thought she could tell he was already giving it its due consideration. 

“Who said anything about a ‘no cheating’ rule? It’s what magicians live by!” She chucked him under the chin when his jaw dropped open from her declaration. She might’ve made a menace with that simple sentence, but she could see Toichi’s smile in him and if his spark was anything like her husband’s then he’d grow up just fine. 

The bell rang again, more insistently despite its uniform chimes, and she slid into her slippers while she pulled the front door open. The Public Safety Office uniforms made her blood run cold but she forced herself to smile. 

“What can I do for you?” Glancing down the apartment’s corridor, she couldn’t see any signs of alert and the usual warnings weren’t ringing from any speaker systems. Her hope for a routine public service announcement or even a murderer loose in the area shrank and she dreaded what the man and woman were going to say. 

“We’re here on the school system’s behalf. Your son is Kaito, correct?” The officer’s clipped tones offered no comfort or even any sign of emotion as he flipped through a folder without looking her in the eyes. The woman met them instead and her smile was even worse than the man’s uninterest. 

“Y-yes, Kaito. Why? What has he done?” She struggled to keep the fear from wriggling its way into her voice. 

“Nothing just yet.” The man took a step forward, head cocked to the side to look inside the apartment. “Is he here? We’d like to see him.”

“Why?” Chikage couldn’t ignore the trail of dread sliding through her mind and she wanted to slam the door in their faces and run. Scoop up Kaito and escape like how Toichi had always talked of doing, before it was too late. 

“We’re checking up on a bug in the system, just a routine check. Nothing to worry about.” 

Not an ounce of reassurance reached from his attempt to coat his words, but she had to hold out hope. There wasn’t much else she could do anyway, not unless she wanted her coefficient to shoot up through the threshold. 

She reluctantly stepped back, allowing the officers access to the living room and the kitchen beyond. Over the click of closing the front door, she heard Kaito’s excited shout from the other end of the apartment. 

“Look! I did it! I made it disappear!” 

She turned to find the two officers standing by the kitchen table while Kaito leaned over the top and scooted the cups around in jerking but confident motions. She saw the moment he slipped the quarter out and back in, and she also saw the officers’ eyes flicking past Kaito’s demonstration to the pictures lining the mantle and the top hat in its case over the fireplace. 

When Kaito finally finished his trick, she wanted to bolt across the room at the way the two agents focused on her little boy as if he were a piece of meat to be appraised. Kaito didn’t notice and gestured proudly to his three cups. 

“Which one has the quarter in it?”

The woman played along and picked the middle cup while the man’s hand twitched at his side as if he’d been about to pick one as well. Chikage would have smiled at any other time but the sight of the emptiness underneath the cup just made her heart sink. 

“Now that we’ve played your game, how about you play ours?” The woman leaned close. “Stay still and look at my partner here, we’re going to see how your levels are.”

Chikage came closer at the mention of levels and put a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, feeling his warmth and trying to ground herself to it while she felt like she was turning to insubstantial mist. 

“Mm, looks like they weren’t being buggy after all.” The man hummed thoughtfully as his eyes flickered, the Sybil system staring out of him at Kaito. 

“What is it?” Chikage didn’t keep the heat out of her voice now, pulling Kaito close like it would make a difference. 

“His levels are abnormally high, already over 200 and rising. Your son is a verified latent criminal.” 

“You can’t be serious, he’s only six! What could a cymatic scan possibly read—” 

“We’re sorry, ma’am, but we can’t ignore this kind of threat. Not to the safety of other children or other families.” Still smiling, the woman held out her hands as if that would placate her. 

“Think how you would feel if it were another kid. You’d want him to be safe, right? Right now, he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” The man reached to his belt and unclipped his holster, but Chikage didn’t wait. 

Grabbing Kaito, she rounded the kitchen table at a sprint and ran for the front door. Her slippers didn’t find a grip on the waxed-wood floor and she’d only made it a yard or two before Kaito’s extra weight unbalanced her. Crashing into the corner of the wall, she heard the Dominator powering up and the memory of Toichi’s scream made her hesitate. Looking back over her shoulder for the briefest moment, she saw the Dominator shift into Lethal Mode as Kaito came back into view of the officers. 

“Don’t shoot!” she cried, curling around him again, anything to keep what happened to Toichi from happening to her precious boy. Kaito squirmed in her tight hold but she heard the Dominator shifting modes again, and breathed a sigh of relief as she got to her feet, thankful that her son was safe in her arms. 

The last thing she heard after the sound of the trigger being pulled was Kaito’s sharp yell as he was dropped from her numb hands and she lost sight of him as unconsciousness swallowed her up, her heart breaking for letting go.

[let-it-raines]

I know you must be so swamped on prompts right now but since you said you are still taking them... this one is more of sentence prompt: “Emma peppered his face with kisses before clinging to his chest, the reassurance that he was ok confirmed with every beat of his heart. ‘Emma,’ he murmured, with a tightness she didn’t understand in his voice. She looked up at him only to see his eyes directed over her head. She turned slightly only to see nearly every one of their friends staring back.”

Hi, Anon! I have LOVED this line prompt ever since you sent it to me, and I really hope you enjoy this prompt! I did change it the slightest bit, but it’s mostly just wording. The core is still there!

She hates him when they first meet. She hates him, and it’s not to any (okay, so much is a better word here because it really is partially on him) fault of his own, not really. She doesn’t like change, and after David being her partner for three years, she’s not exactly receptive to him getting a promotion to Lieutenant. Of course she’s proud of him and happy for him. He wants to be Captain one day, so this is a natural step. It just means David won’t be kicking by her side (but not a sidekick, as he likes to point out) every day.

So in comes Killian Jones from another district with his overwhelming confidence and relentless innuendos that border on the line of inappropriate. But they never do cross the line. He is an expert at toeing the line, apparently. If anything, she probably would find them funny, enjoying the way he manages to turn anything into a joke, but he is David’s replacement, and everything he does annoys her.

Seriously. Everything.

She is annoyed with the way he takes his coffee (seriously, who drinks just black coffee?), the way he ticks his right eyebrow up when asking a question instead of actually asking the question, the way he flirts with half of the people they question when out on a case, and in all honestly, she really hates the way he listens to NPR instead of music when they are out driving on the way to a crime scene.

But after four months of having a new partner – and after what is basically the equivalent of getting yelled at by a parent when David sits her down and tells her to give Killian a chance – she learns to accept Killian and the fact that he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So maybe she realizes that not everyone has to load more coffee creamer into their coffee than the actual coffee like she does, and maybe she realizes that she does the eyebrow thing too, possibly much more often than Killian does. And she definitely realizes that while, yes, he is a relentless flirt, he only does it with women who are a bit hesitant to talk to them and need a bit of coaxing. And it’s not so much flirting as charming and making them comfortable with him so that they’re not nervous. And sometimes he’s successful enough with it all to get people to let their guards down and tell him more information than they probably would had she stared them down with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips stretched into a thin line. And the NPR thing, well, that still annoys her, and she learns that he likes it simply because he’s a bit of a nerd.

A hot nerd, but a nerd all the same.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. She kind of likes the nerdy side to him. Not that she’d tell him that.

Yet.

Or the fact that she thinks he’s hot. That’s also a deep, dark secret that she hoards to herself.

Four months bleed into five, then six, then seven, and as the time passes, she and Killian get into a rhythm and a partnership that works for them. They know exactly how to investigate a scene together or how to question a suspect. When they work at night, Killian drives, more comfortable driving in the dark, and she drives during the day, letting him talk to her and entertain her when things are a little slow.

Not everything is about work, either. David and Killian pick up a friendship, and not only does he infiltrate their friend group, but he also becomes her friend. It’s slow at first, much like them becoming successful partners, but as more months pass, she stops thinking about Killian Jones as just someone who she works with.

She knows that he’s a detective because his older brother was killed in the line of duty while serving in the Navy, and while he didn’t want to join the military, he did want to be of service to his adopted country of America. And he knows that she does this because she didn’t know what else to do, her childhood dream of being a music teacher taking a backseat after Neal and her almost-arrest when he tried to frame her for stealing watches. But luck was on her side then because she’d been at her social worker’s office when the crime happened, and as much as she hated Mr. Hopper sometimes, she was thankful for him that day. And thus the fascination with police work and the justice system. But in no way will she ever thank Neal for putting her on this path. He doesn’t deserve a damn thing.

And after a night off where she and Killian both crash at Rose’s Pizzeria while all of their friends go home, they each know deep, dark dating histories full of more heartbreak than any two people deserve.

Something shifts somewhere along the way, the heavy secrets still spilling out on occasion when the other needs to talk, but it’s mostly small, inconsequential things that they share with each other, needing the heaviness to lighten a bit.

Killian’s favorite color is, unsurprisingly considering his wardrobe, black, and his favorite thing to eat is, deeply surprising considering his usual healthy eating, fried chicken and onion rings. He apparently hated it when he first moved to America, not liking the grease, but on days where he really is tired of salads and grilled fish, he will indulge. He likes comedies more than any other type of movie, and he’s got an entire wall full of bookshelves which barely contain all of the books that he reads. He hates hot weather, the summer months in New York some of his least favorite, and the day it starts to get cooler, he’s like a girl on Instagram with her LL Bean boots and pumpkin spice latte.

(“I don’t drink damn pumpkin spice lattes, Swan.”)

She learns that he’s a bigger neat freak than she thought, the way his apartment is spotless despite his roommate Will is proof enough of that, and she learns that he likes to fall asleep before ten, a cup of un-caffeinated tea sitting on his bedside table along with one of his books and his reading glasses.

(“You poke fun, darling, but it’s the most pleasurable way to end an evening. Unless I’m getting up to more enjoyable activities, of course.”)

And she only knows this because at some point in time, she and Killian stop toeing the line of partnership and friendship and dive right into dating.

And the enjoyable activities thing.

She really likes that.

By some point in time, she means a year and seven months after they met. They’d been hanging out with all of their friends (because they officially don’t have any that the other doesn’t) at Killian’s place, and instead of going home, she stayed over. It was mostly innocent, something she’d done several times before, but then her lips brushed over his, soft and sweet until things turned desperate and demanding, and they’ve been together in the four months since.

If she’s honest with herself, it’s been the best four months of her life. Everything is great, Killian showing her for the first time in her life that guys don’t have to always be assholes, and she’s happy more often than she has been in years. They do argue sometimes, neither of them pushing away their strong personality in order to appease the other, but they work it out. It’s something she can’t quite put her finger on…okay, it’s freaking awesome. She’s not even going to try to be eloquent with it.

Really, the only problem with their relationship is that only she and Killian know about it.

Well, Will might. They’re not sure, but there’s no way he hasn’t heard them when she stays with Killian.

Poor guy.

-/-

“Killian,” she laughs, tucking her feet and knees up and curling herself into a ball while he brushes his lips over her face, purposely breathing heavily over her so she can smell the garlic on his breath despite her stuffy nose. “You smell disgusting. S-stop.”

“I just really, desperately need to kiss you, darling, and my breath is not going to stop me.”

She groans before kicking out and hitting him in the stomach so that he falls back on the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath them. “Go brush your teeth and use a hell of a lot of mouthwash, and then I will make out with you. I promise.”

“That’s the kind of promise I can get behind.” He smacks his lips against her cheek before jumping off the bed and jogging to the bathroom, popping his head out a minute later with his toothbrush in his mouth and his cheeks hollowed out while he brushes.

God, he’s a goofball sometimes, and she imagines that he and David must have had a little something to drink while they went out to watch the baseball game at O’Leary’s. And Killian must have inhaled the garlic because damn, she’s never smelled it quite like that.

“Whyareyoualreadyinbed?”

“You gotta repeat that. It was not…English.”

Killian holds up in his hand before stepping back into the bathroom and audibly spitting into the sink at the same time the water turns on. He’s gone for a few more minutes, probably wiping down her bathroom counter while he swishes the mouthwash around, but he finally does emerge in his sweatpants and a t-shirt, having changed out of his jeans and sweater. Before he settles down in bed, he leans over her and slants his lips over hers so she can taste the peppermint and fresh breath. Yeah, that’s much better.

“Why are you already in bed?” Killian asks, his earlier words making more sense while he settles down under the covers and fiddles around for the TV remote, checking the guide.

“Cramps,” she answers honestly, never bothering to shield him from the realities of how she feels. “And I’m pretty sure I’m getting a cold, as if periods weren’t bad enough. Actually, I know I have a cold. I’m all stopped up.”

Killian turns on his side and reaches over to brush her hair out of her face, his touch as gentle as always. “I’m sorry, darling. I can go out and get you something if you need it. Have you eaten?”She nods her head, eyes fluttering closed at his touch. “I had a sandwich and some fruit. You know, an apple a day keeps the doctor away and all that jazz.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Do you need to go to your GP?”

“No, I’m fine, Killian. I promise. You still want to make out? I did promise to get you to practice some dental hygiene.”

“Now that I know you’re possibly dying with some kind of weird disease? Absolutely not. I’m not kissing you with that mouth.”“Sucks for you because you already did.”“I have leftovers of my shrimp. I can get garlic breath again and breath over you all night long.”

“Weirdo.”

“Takes one to know one.”She shakes her head before sliding down on her mattress, bringing her heating pad with her, and settling down under the covers. Killian does the same, going back to finding something to watch on TV, deciding on old reruns of The Office until they both fall asleep. When Killian’s alarm goes off in the morning, her lower back hurts and her head is pounding to the point where she can’t imagine moving from her spot in bed, let alone going to work.

“Killian?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, twisting in bed and propping himself up next to her head after shutting off his alarm.

“Will you get my phone and text Roberts that I’m not coming in today? I’m sorry, babe. I know we had a busy day, but I can’t…I feel awful.”

She feels his lips against her forehead before she feels his body stretch over hers to grab her phone off of her bedside table. “It’s fine, Swan. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the doctor?”“I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”

Killian eventually gets up and leaves for work, but it’s not before shuffling through her medicine cabinet and finding any possible medicine that she needs, as well as a few packages of crackers and some snacks. Bless him for being so caring, but she’s sure she’s simply got a damn head cold on top of her period, and the combination just sucks. A lot. Sneezing while on your period is like some kind of weird, gross torture.

But as the day goes on and her medicine kicks in, the headache fades, and she’s left with some minor back pain and the unfortunate sneezing. She probably could have suffered through work, but she’s not going to feel bad about using one of her sick days. Instead she enjoys it as much as she can, staying in bed and watching whatever bad soap operas are on TV while stuffing her face with the crackers…and the rest of Killian’s garlic shrimp. It’s fantastic and totally worth the bad breath. And if he didn’t want to risk her eating his food, he should have gone home to his apartment instead of coming over to see her last night.

It was the logical thing to do.

At some point she gets sucked into looking at brownstones online. It’s a guilty pleasure that she has, setting the highest price limit possible and browsing through the houses that she can literally never afford. Hell, she can barely afford this place, but she likes living alone and made the monetary sacrifice for her tiny one-bedroom. But then she starts thinking realistically, looking at apartments a little closer to the station, and while she could probably afford one on her own, she knows she could if she got a roommate.

Specifically Killian.

Which is crazy. They’ve only been together for four months. That’s far too soon. She hasn’t even told him she loves him yet. She does, though. Love him, that is. She’s known for a few weeks, realizing it while they went for a run together only to stuff their faces with ice cream right after they finished. It was his suggestion, too, and she’d had so much fun eating ice cream in sweaty clothes in the middle of December that suddenly everything clicked into place.

She loves him.

She’s just not sure how to tell him.

There have been plenty of opportunities to tell him. Every time she sees him really or every time they talk on the phone. Literally every moment of every day. She could tell him anytime. She’s not scared. She knows he loves her back, but for some reason, for once in her life, she wants everything to be perfect in a cheesy rom com kind of way. Which is ridiculous and so not her, but then again, maybe it is.

So she spends hours looking at real apartments that she and Killian can actually afford on their salaries. It may not be for right now, but it’s a future kind of thing, which would and should terrify her, but she’s accepted that she’s growing and changing. There’s no more running away and hiding from her problems. She’s got to be an adult about things.

Telling their friends about them should probably be at the top of the list of being mature.

Right after telling Killian she loves him. That’s priority number one.

When they first got together, neither of them really knew what exactly they were doing, and while it was never a question of whether or not it was serious, there were some complications. Most of all, they’re work partners and while not prohibited, it’s strongly discouraged. Partners who are emotionally connected more than normal are assumed to not be able to think clearly in a situation when their loved one is in danger, which she thinks is bullshit in a lot of ways.

Yeah, it makes sense. When someone you love might get hurt, you might be tempted to put their well-being over the success of the case, but everyone cares about their partner. You have to be to work well together, to be able to think clearly on cases. It happens whether you’re dating or not. But she and Killian very rarely go into situations that are actively dangerous. They mostly investigate closed off crime scenes and then do a hell of a lot of paperwork afterward. Then again, they do run into some…interesting people when investigating, so yeah, sometimes they’re not exactly safe.

But on top of that, they decided to keep things secret in case they do break up. They didn’t want everyone else looking at them with pitying looks and judgmental stares. Most of their precinct is awesome, but there are a few awful people who’d make their lives a living hell, not to mention the stares she’d get for sleeping with her partner. Killian wouldn’t get them, would probably get high fives, which makes her blood curdle, but she would. And she’s not someone who wants to deal with assholes at work making a big deal of her personal life when her job is supposed to be about her professional life. She’s damn good at what she does, and she’s not going to let anyone try to tell her otherwise because she happens to be dating Killian.

And at the bottom of their list of reasons, their friends would all be so damn smug about all of it. The more Killian became friends with everyone in their group, the more teasing they’d both get about flirting with each other and being close. You’d think they were fifteen and not thirty.

So they’d decided to keep things a secret, but really, they should probably talk about that. She’d like to be able to kiss him in front of other people and to not have to sneak in when staying at Killian’s.

But she has to tell him she loves him first. That’s on the top of the list. Definitely.

The day seems to fly by, the nap she takes in the middle of it helping her, and before she knows it, it’s six in the evening, and she hasn’t heard from Killian all day. Usually she’s with him, but when she’s not, he texts one or twice to check in. It’s not something she worries about, not needing to be in constant contact with him, so she doesn’t think anything of it, fixing herself something to eat and settling down on the couch and turning on the TV where the local news is playing.

“We don’t know much about the situation, but according to sources, two officers have been sent to the hospital with serious injuries while others have been checked out on the scene and cleared. Gold and three of his associates have all been taken into custody. We’ll update you the more we know. I’m Elizabeth Cartwright, signing off from location.”

Gold.

Gold.

Gold.

Holy shit. That’s her case. That’s their case. The one they’ve been working on for months. What the hell are they all doing going after him when she’s at home sick?

But then Elizabeth’s words hit her, the fact that two officers have been hurt and taken to the hospital. Killian isn’t an officer, but the news gets titles like that wrong all of the time. So as her heartrate picks up and her stomach is weighed down with every horrible thought racing through her mind, she tries to hold it together as she rushes back into her bedroom to grab her phone, immediately clicking on Killian’s name.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she chants, kicking off her pajama pants and changing into jeans all while the phone rings over and over again. She keeps calling, and all she gets is his voicemail every time. “Killian, please answer your fucking phone. I’m really freaking out, and I need to know that you’re alright.”

But Killian doesn’t pick up, and neither does David. She calls Mary Margaret, but she doesn’t get an answer from her either. No one is answering any of her calls, and she feels like she can’t breathe, her throat closing up in a way that has nothing to do with her cold. So she slips on her boots, not even really getting them down on her heels before she’s running out of her apartment and toward the subway station, probably looking like a crazy person as she swipes her metro card and rushes through the gates, hopping on a train and not bothering to sit down, knowing the she’ll just be fidgety and look even more crazed. God, she needs a tissue or something. She’s disgusting.

It seems to take longer than it ever has before for her to get through the three stops that it takes to get to the station, but she’s eventually there, rushing through the doors and up the stairs until she’s back in the not-so-fresh air of the city and just a few blocks over from where she needs to be. She runs, not caring anymore because the man she loves could be in critical condition in the hospital and she has no idea.

But then she’s in front of the double glass doors, flashing her badge at security and, as calmly as she can, walking into the elevator bay and attempting to even out her breathing, wiping her nose on her sleeve no matter how disgusting that is. There’re a few other people in the elevator with her, stopping on floors below hers, and by the time she reaches the twelfth floor, her heartrate has calmed even as her anxiety has heightened. She could vomit.

She didn’t even change her tampon, but she’s totally going to worry about that later.

Eventually the doors open to the bullpen, and it’s a mess of people walking around instead of sitting at their desks, and she can’t see the mop of black hair and ginger speckled beard that she’s looking for. But then her eyes connect with a flash of distinctive blue across the room, and she’s hurriedly pushing though people to get to him.

As soon as she reaches him, she peppers his face with kisses before clinging to his chest, the reassurance that he is ok confirmed with every beat of his heart beneath her touch. He’s here. He’s real, and he’s not hurt. He’s not dying or in a hospital or in any of the horrible situations that she imagined on her way over here.

“Emma,” he murmurs with a tightness in his voice that she doesn’t understand. She looks up at him only to see his eyes directed over her head, while his hands run up and down her back. She turns slightly only to see nearly every one of their coworkers staring at them as well as David, who’s got his arms crossed with a smug look on his face that she doesn’t even care about because he’s okay too. “Emma, darling, everyone can see us.”

“I don’t care,” she promises, tightening her arms around him and pressing them together as closely as she can. “I just don’t care right now, Killian.”

His hands leave her waist to come up and cup her face, light blue eyes staring intently into hers. “What the hell is happening, love? Why are you here? Why are you freaking out?”

“I thought…I thought you were hurt or dead. I saw on the news where we got Gold, but it also said people were injured. It just…it didn’t say who, and no one would answer their phones and I – I…” She slaps his chest, right over the heart she’s so glad to feel beating, “and I can’t believe you fucking went after Gold when I was sick and at home.”

“I didn’t.”“You didn’t? What? What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t go. I wasn’t there,” Killian answers, leaning down and brushing his lips over hers before stepping away and grabbing her hand, pulling her away to the break room with the sound of wolf whistles and cheers in the background. She rolls her eyes, but she’s too confused and upset and finally feeling her exertion to quickly get here taking its toll on her body for her to care about any of them right now.

Once they’re in the breakroom, only Officer Collins in there with her headphones in not paying them a bit of attention, she takes a few deep breaths, her chest heaving with the movement, and stares Killian, whose lips are stretched into a soft smile, down, all of her adrenaline completely fading and the little energy she has being redirected to work.

“I’m so confused. What do you mean you weren’t there? That’s our case.”

“I know that, and I’m not bloody stupid. I’d never dare go after him without you. He could be sitting in my living room asking to be arrested, and I’d wait for you.”

“That makes you horrible at your job.”

“But a damn good boyfriend.”

He winks at her before he smiles so brightly that his eyes crinkles and squint. God, she loves him. He’s ridiculous, but he didn’t go. He didn’t go because of her. “I love you,” she sighs, meaning every word and saying screw it to waiting for the perfect time. This, right here, is the perfect time. “I love you so damn much, Killian Jones, and I can’t believe you’d give up being there for one of the biggest cases of our careers just because I was home sick.”

He clicks his teeth and tilts his head before dipping it down and brushing his lips over hers again, passionate enough that she feels it down to her toes. She’s gone through so much today, and she has no idea what any feeling in her body is right now…except happiness. And love. Lots of that.

And maybe still her damn cold.

“I love you, Emma,” Killian promises, cupping her face and wiping off the tears (and in all honesty, snot) from her face while his words settle into her and replace the anxiety she was feeling earlier with an overwhelming sense of calm, her breathing and heartrate only increasing with the euphoria that he’s here and alive and he loves her. “Let’s go home and get you medicated again. And then I’ll tell you all about what’s been happening at work and why we all missed your calls, okay?”

“It better be a damn good reason. You almost gave me a heart attack, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t even lock the front door.”

-/-

In the following few days, her life feels like as much of a whirlwind as that hour where she didn’t know what the hell was going on with Killian, whether he was dead or alive or somewhere in between. Killian takes her back to her apartment, and after she’s showered and changed into her pajamas, he sits down with her on the couch and explains everything.

They got a tip from one of their sources that Gold was hiding out in an old warehouse down by the Hudson. He’d screwed up and left a paper trail buying lunch at a nearby café. The man is some kind of criminal mastermind with his drugs and his stolen goods, but he slipped up and paid with a debit card linked to one of his aliases. Years of never being caught, and it all went away for a sandwich and a cup of tea. So they’d sent out officers from their team as well as special ops and scoped out the area, quickly finding him early this morning based off of all of the research she and Killian had compiled.

And when their Captain asked for Killian to go even though Emma wasn’t there, he refused, stating he’d stay at the precinct and monitor the situation from there, feeding info into all of their offices who are more equip for active field work. He’d almost called her, wanting to update her on everything so she can be a part, but then everything had happened so quickly and he was being swept away into an office without his cell phone, which is why he didn’t answer any of his calls. The same with David. Mary Margaret not answering hers is still a mystery.

But they’d gotten Gold and despite not physically being there for his capture, she and Killian are awarded the credit for it. It is their case, after all. So somewhere between filing paperwork, answering questions, and actually getting to talk to Gold, she gets back to work and back into the swing of things even with her head cold still raging a war against her.

(And they welcome back Locksley and Penn two weeks later after they get the all clear from their doctors.)

She and Killian have to file their relationship with HR, which really isn’t an issue. Most of her annoyances come from her coworkers giving the two of them more glances than usual, even if they stay completely professional while working. But she doesn’t let it get to her, knowing that even if this isn’t how they really wanted things to happen, it’s good that they have.

David is expectedly smug, Mary Margaret is expectedly excited, Will is expectedly relieved that he can stop pretending he doesn’t know it’s Emma who spends the night, and Ruby is expectedly full of questions about the sex.

For the record, it’s fantastic.

Like everything with she and Killian, things progress naturally, even if life pushes and pulls them in certain directions that they may not want to go in. Their relationship is out there in the world and filed on some paperwork in the depths of the precinct, and it enables them to grow together, the “I love you’s” occurring every day and not just when Emma’s been thinking that Killian’s dead.

And then, after knowing Killian for three years, the period where he annoyed her daily included, Emma finally uses all of her useless knowledge of Brooklyn real estate to find a one bedroom apartment…for two people.

[the-ghost-and-the-writer]

NSFW Alphabet-Lando Calrissian

I haven’t been too into Star Wars since I was thirteen, but I decided to read some fanfiction and realised there needs to be more Lando stuff because I love him. I will fill that void like I want him to fill my ass

18+ F!Reader

(Yes, Original Lando. Solo Lando is fucking fine as well but this is the face that teenie-bean me fell for)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Almost immediately afterwards, he’ll sit up beside you, back against the headboard, and look down at you and smile as he asks you with a soft voice if you liked it

He’ll put his fingers under your chin and tip your head up so he can look at you properly and then dip down and kiss you. The kiss is usually followed by some sort of sappy comment. “You’re gorgeous”, “You did good, sweetheart”, “I love you”. Something that he knows will make you smile

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He thinks that his best part is his mouth. Not just because he looks damn fucking fine when he smirks, and he knows he looks fine, but because his silver tongue can charm him out of anything and into anyone. Plus, you sure do appreciate his talents with it.

Though it’s impossible for him to pick a favourite with you, he will gladly tell you that he loves your ass. He’ll show you at any moment as well, either by slipping his hand down from your lower back to grab at it while he’s leading you out of a room or pulling you closer to kiss you with his hands slipped into your back pockets. When you have sex, it’s rare that he doesn’t spank you at least once

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Though he does love how you look when he cums over your skin, he loves finishing inside you. Not only because it keeps him close to you through his end, but because he wants to show you that this is totally serious. This is It for him.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Since introducing you to his old friend, Han, he’s wanted to ask you if you wouldn’t mind letting him join the two of you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Please. It’s Lando.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

(http://sexpositions.club/positions/189.html)

More often than not, when he’s taking you from behind, he’ll pull you up to his chest. It gives him more ease of access to touch more of you, and he always aims to fuck you so good that you can do nothing more than tip your head back onto his shoulder so he can hear all your little noises.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sex is rarely too serious with Lando even before you were exclusive. He’ll be playful about his need for you from the minute he feels it to the minute you’ve both been satisfied. Why should it be serious? It’s fun

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

©       He takes care of his appearance all over. He doesn’t go bare unless you tell him you prefer it, but it’s not wild

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Just because you rarely have serious sex, it doesn’t mean he isn’t romantic. He gets cheesily romantic, with dimmed lights and flower petals and music while he’s on the bed waiting for you. He always makes sure that he tells you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

You’re both busy with Cloud City and sometimes you can’t get the time alone together, so he’ll take care of himself when you aren’t there. He’s unashamed with his actions when he gets caught by you and usually either offers you a seat to watch or for you to help him out with it

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Lando has quite a few kinks that he has explored extensively, and he had to pick out the ones he most enjoys it would probably be collars, having you sit on his face, and overstimulation

Collars; Either on you or himself, it doesn’t matter. With himself, he loves the tightness around his throat without his breathing being cut off and he loves how easily you can guide him around with your finger hooked into the loop. When you have your collar on,  he becomes borderline obsessive over how sweet you look and the slight wave of possessiveness that goes over him

Facesitting; Just in general, he prides himself on his oral skills and it gives him a rush to taste you so intimately, but having you sit on his face and take control of your own pleasure from him gets him so riled up that he sometimes doesn’t need to be touched before he cums.

Overstimulation; Even after you’ve cum twice, three times, he doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering that it’s too much and you’re shifting away from him. It’s a sort of playful masochism, a power trip, that you can’t chastise him over too much when he takes such care of you for it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

There are so many places he likes to have you, but your bedroom is the main favourite of course. It’s more comfortable than any of the other rooms, and your occasional giggle fits won’t get you caught

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Being bored and letting his thoughts wander, they usually turn to you and that often leads to thoughts about fucking you and then he can’t stop the need. It’s not helped when he sees you throughout the day and you can only have fleeting kisses and brief talks before you need to part again

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything involving blood or other such fluids, anything that’s dangerous to his or your health, or that he considers to be too ‘heavy’ for sex. If he thinks either of you won’t enjoy it, there’s a very slim chance he’ll try it

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves, loves, giving you oral. Every part of it, how you grip onto his hair and you slowly roll your hips against his face to how your thighs clench around his ears and the way you sound when you cum

Of course, he’ll never pass up the opportunity to have you suck him off. He keeps his hand in your hair or at the base of your skull less as a guide and more just to touch you, and he can never decide on if he should tip his head back or close his eyes and enjoy the feeling or watch you work him over

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

No matter how desperate he is for you or how long a day you’ve both had, he takes his time with you. You move together so well that he rarely messes with that rhythm because it just feels right to have you like that

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

If it’s been a long day and he has the need for you as well as the time to spend with you that way, then you can be damn sure that he’ll take advantage of that time and fuck you in any available room

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

To a point, he’s down for it. As long as it doesn’t seem like it could make either of you uncomfortable or hurt either of you, he’ll experiment

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

The two of you could be in bed all day if it was possible. He can last so long, for at least two rounds before he’s satisfied, and he’s borderline insatiable with you

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You own plenty. He has a whole little treasure chest of things that you can use on each other, and he is very proud of it. Each thing has been thoroughly tested by both of you; if there’s something that you try and don’t like then there is no way it goes in the chest.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can tease like the best (worst?) of them. Given the time, he can and will edge you for hours

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Oh, he’s totally unashamed with you. He doesn’t care if he’s loud or if anyone hears, he’ll moan and grunt and occasionally whine. There would be noise complaints, but he’s so charming to everyone around at other times that they just forget how boisterous the two of you can be

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Though not usually being so bold around people, there have been times where he’s been sat beside you or with you on his lap and he’s started fingering you. His poker face is impeccable in these situations, though it does crack sometimes for a second at certain little movements from you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He is so cocky for a reason. It’s a big one, and he knows just how to use it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s not constant, he can control himself, but any time you want it then there’s a high chance that he wants it just as much

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can stay up for a while after sex, but he usually chooses not to. After checking up on you it’s just more preferable for him to lay with you and fall asleep

If you want to me to write for pretty much any other character, requests are very much open. Tag list is also still open if you want to be the first to read something you might like here. All feedback, reblogs, and likes are my lifebood and make me feel like a real human

[ripley95]

Echoes of Old Embers

Chapter 12

Pairing: F!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Chapter length: 3.6K

Story Synopsis:

After surviving the war, one of Shepard’s biggest regrets was rejecting Kaidan at Apollo’s. Fate has a way of bringing Jane and Kaidan back into each other’s lives. A misunderstanding with his family makes Kaidan and Shepard relive old history and question where they stand.

Link to Chapter 1 on AO3

Chapter Synopsis:

It’s time for the reception, and nothing seems to go right. The memories of what Shepard used to have with Kaidan are becoming too painful, leading her to make a difficult decision.

Read to Chapter 12 on AO3

Tumblr Links:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Read the chapter here below the cut:

The wedding ceremony concluded and went off without a hitch. Shepard had never seen Libby happier. Granted, she’d only known Libby for a few days, but it was still a nice change to see that she was no longer stressed out or upset. She was finally enjoying this special day that she had worked so hard on, and it brought a smile to Shepard’s face as much as she was suffering on the inside for her own reasons.

After the ceremony, there was a brief period reserved for professional photos, which Shepard hadn’t really expected. Admittedly, she hadn’t actually gone to a wedding before, so she didn’t know what to expect, but she couldn’t help wishing she was more prepared for this particular event. She was glad the Alenko’s would all have these treasured memories, of course. She could imagine these photos being added to the datapad full of other family photos as a treasured memory.

What she wasn’t so fond of, was the fact that she had inevitably been roped into being included in more of them than she cared for. The Alenkos inclusivity and kind gestures were something she typically admired, but in this particular moment, she couldn’t help but think it was a flaw. She figured that she and Kaidan would be parting ways after this wedding. Knowing that, these pictures with her in them would be a sour spot on these otherwise happy memories. Part of her wanted to scream that she and Kaidan weren’t together to get them to stop once and for all, but that would have completely defeated the purpose of her keeping a low profile throughout the wedding. Instead, she stood right next to Kaidan, close enough to feel the heat of his body as she eyed him with the sadness of knowing their goodbye was coming soon. She forced a smile before each click of the camera and hoped it was convincing enough to not ruin Libby’s photos.

Time passed quickly, at least. It was perhaps the only small mercy she’d been granted this whole time. Before she knew it, the reception was already happening. Again, she didn’t know much about what to expect from a wedding, but it was her general understanding that it would be much more relaxed compared to the rest of the day’s events and that seemed to be the case. However, Shepard couldn’t help but feel that something had changed with Kaidan the entire time. He was more quiet and she wasn’t used to it. They shared a comfortable enough dinner passing conversations, but she couldn’t help but think that maybe this misunderstanding was getting to him more than she thought. It was one thing when she was the only one being tortured by the confused feelings and memories of what they used to be. She didn’t know if she could handle him being so hurt about it now too. She didn’t want to put him through that, especially when he was supposed to be celebrating.

She was supposed to be staying with him for the rest of the week until his vacation time was over, but all she could think about now was leaving. Her circumstances hadn’t changed. She still wasn’t about to be assigned housing anytime soon, but she’d done nothing but cause problems the entire time she was here. She didn’t think she could personally take much more of this. Surely she could think of a believable excuse to leave, making sure Kaidan’s family didn’t feel bad about her going on such short notice.

Dinner went by just about as quickly as everything else. Before she knew it, they were all standing to watch Libby and Derek have their first dance as a married couple. Shepard envied the way they looked at each other. Happy. Like having each other was the only thing that mattered. As soon as they were done, the music changed to something more upbeat, encouraging other couples standing on the sidelines to make their way to the dance floor. Shepard and Kaidan stood awkwardly by the edge, watching the fun, barely engaging each other.

“Do you want a drink?” he finally asked.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” she said.

He led them over towards the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“I’ll take a whiskey,” Kaidan said.

“Make that two,” she amended, appreciating that it was something strong.

“Here you go,” the bartender said, handing them each one.

They turned to leave and started watching the crowd that was now enjoying themselves on the dance floor. They both started nursing their drinks.

Maisie walked up to them, moving to the beat as she made her way from the dance floor.

“What, you guys aren’t going to dance?” She asked with a beaming grin on her face.

Even if this was an ideal situation and she and Kaidan were somehow together, she would have had a good excuse for getting out of this one. She may as well have been a ballerina in the battlefield, but she had absolutely no rhythm when it came to dancing. Unless she wanted to make a mockery of herself, she wasn’t about to go out there. It was one thing in privacy with her crew. Under normal circumstances, she might not even mind letting loose here, but it would have been one more thing to draw attention to her. For the most part, Libby’s already had her magical night, but she still hated the potential to steal it from her, and opted to want to stay on the sidelines.

“I’m afraid I’m a horrible dancer,” Shepard said.

“What?” Maisie asked incredulously, stopping dead in her tracks. “You can’t be serious. You?”

“Oh, she’s telling the truth all right,” Kaidan said from beside her with a snort.

“Hey! You’re one to talk. I seem to remember you making finger guns at that party in my apartment,” she said with a big grin on her face.

“Hey, now, this conversation isn’t about me. Maisie’s already well aware of my dancing abilities.”

“Uh-huh,” Shepard said with a smile that she couldn’t help thinking would wane the moment that Maisie left them alone again.

“It’s true, I know he’s got no game on the dance floor. You, on the other hand, are not allowed to say that without a show,” she said, all but ready to drag Shepard into the middle of the crowd when Shepard pulled back.

“Maisie, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to draw attention to myself,” Shepard tried to say in a lowered voice.

Maisie huffed out a laugh at her. “Well, if that’s your goal, maybe you should reconsider. Have you taken a good look at that crowd?” she asked, turning to look at everyone dancing. “Everyone’s making a fool of themselves. Only ‘Commander Shepard’ would have a complex about this. If you ask me, I think standing on the sidelines is probably drawing more attention to you than however bad your dancing must be.”

Shepard looked out into the crowd. Sure enough, it was full of people just letting loose. No one cared about how they looked, though she still thought her skills were subpar to everyone out there. At the same time, she probably wasn’t bad enough to draw attention away from everyone else who was just out there having fun.

Shepard turned to Kaidan then, “Shit. She has a point, doesn’t she?”

“I’m afraid she might,” Kaidan said with a smirk.

“Yes! You know I’m always right,” Maisie said with a smile.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Kaidan said, holding his hand out to Jane. “Shall we?”

“Can’t wait to see this,” Maisie said with a smirk.

Maisie took their glasses and Kaidan gave her the tiniest of glares before he and Shepard made their way out onto the dance floor.

“So, do you have a buzz going yet?” Kaidan asked.

Shepard looked at him, slightly amused. “A bit,” she answered.

“Good, because I think it’ll at least help us not be so self-conscious out here,” he said with a smile as he started dancing.

Maybe it was because she was teasing him about it moments before, but it seemed like he would be leaving his finger guns holstered for the evening. His rhythm was almost as bad as hers. In fact, it was as bad as hers. It brought back memories of them dancing in that casino on the Citadel when they were trying to figure out who stole her identity. Before they even knew she had a clone. They had the exact same dance style then too… And somehow she was always the one that got flack about it from the crew. It made her wonder how security at the casino never thought they were suspicious, because who would want to be seen dancing like that out in public? Shepard had to laugh at the memory of it.

“What?” he said, in mock offense as he stopped dancing immediately, thanks to her outburst. “You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, grabbing his arms to get him to start bopping them again. “It’s just that, I’d say we’re two peas in a pod or something.”

She started mimicking his moves. Not that she was trying to match him or anything, but more because she legitimately didn’t know any other way to dance. She never knew what to do with her arms. Or her legs for that matter... or where to look. Practically nothing came naturally to her about dancing, but then again, she rarely ever had a partner. Today, she had Kaidan as a distraction and it was easier to let go of the insecurities, already knowing that she looked ridiculous, because he looked ridiculous too. They looked into each other’s eyes. It made both of them laugh some more as they kept dancing.

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the dancing, but the night’s tension finally started to feel like it was easing away. She liked seeing Kaidan let loose a bit. It wasn’t something that was typically easy for him either.

Before they knew it, they danced through song after song, and the tempo suddenly changed to something much slower. That made them both stop and catch their breath as they looked to each other again, wondering what to do.

Kaidan saw everyone else around them starting to dance, so he looked back towards her with a smile, holding his hands out in question for her to join him. “I guess we probably should.”

Shepard looked around her, realising the same thing. “Right,” she said as she put her hands in his, and he pulled her closer.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or their lack of experience for dancing, but she thought it was a bit closer than most people typically got as they were slow dancing. So close that their torsos were touching and they couldn’t even see each other unless they pulled their faces apart. Shepard was so naturally inclined to want to rest her head on his shoulder. She wanted to fall into him and let his comfort take away the stress of the last few days as she nestled into him.

She pulled away slightly. “For appearances sake,” she said, remembering that they didn’t want to make this rumour about them being together get any deeper. She had to get a hold of herself. She was doing exactly what she knew she would when she agreed to come out here. It was so easy for this to feel real and she was finally letting that get the better of her.

“Right,” Kaidan muttered. “For appearances,” he said, with a smile that clearly felt forced to Shepard. She had already gone and made it awkward again. Just another reason that her plan to leave tomorrow was becoming more tempting by the minute. She was getting too close, not only to Kaidan but to his whole family now and that wasn’t fair to any of them.

After the song finished, the band got on the microphone. “All right, everybody, before we continue the dancing, we have to do one of the most important parts of the wedding,” they said in an excited tone. “We still have a bouquet toss to do!” they yelled into the mic, clearly trying to get the crowd riled up.

Shepard took that as her opportunity to pull away, leaving her with a pang of guilt, knowing she shouldn’t have let it get that far in the first place. “Do you want to get another drink?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the pain of it.

“All of the people hoping to get a ring on that finger soon, come make your way to the dance floor,” the announcer said.

Kaidan looked back to Shepard. “Yeah, I think that would be a good idea,” he said as they both made their way back to the bar.

“Two more whiskeys,” Kaidan said as they walked up to the bartender again.

He promptly handed them both a glass. Shepard couldn’t help but notice Kaidan taking a big swig of his. She followed suit.

“Jane, what the hell are you doing?” Maisie asked, startling them both to turn around. “This includes you, you know! Come on!” she said, pulling Shepard into the crowd of single people wanting to catch the bouquet.

“Maisie, that’s really not—” Shepard said, trying to protest the action, not wanting to be part of this.

“Don’t be silly, it’s just for fun.”

Shepard didn’t want to fight her or cause a scene by protesting. She relented, and let Maisie pull her out into the crowd. The two of them stayed in the front up close, which was even worse. Shepard would have preferred to blend into the background somewhere, but now she was on display. It would look weird if she wasn’t jumping to grab it, wouldn’t it? Even weirder if she purposely dodged out of the way of it as though it were a grenade. She figured she’d grab it if it headed directly at her, but she wouldn’t be going out of her way to catch it either.

Libby stood at the edge of the dance floor. She turned around so that her back was facing the crowd anticipating her throw. Libby gave them one last glance before she tossed the bouquet. She threw it high, but short, so it wasn’t going to reach the crowd. Everyone was lunging forward in an attempt to catch it. 

As the crowd moved forward, they pushed Shepard with them. As much as she was trying to hold herself back, it wasn’t working with everyone else encroaching behind her. She stopped even keeping an eye on the bouquet, just trying not to fall over from the horde of people when it suddenly hit her square in the face. Reflexes took over as she caught it.

That wasn’t good. She gathered that it was only a silly tradition and didn’t really mean anything, but it still left her feeling sullen. It was a symbol for something that wouldn’t be happening with her, at least not with the person she wanted. Not to mention that she didn’t want to add to whatever weird feelings there was with Kaidan now. He’d been through enough with the misunderstandings. Even though it was silly and insignificant, he didn’t need that reminder on top of everything.

Shepard heard clapping from behind her and turned to look. Maisie was jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Yay! Maybe you really will be my sister-in-law!” Maisie said excitedly.

Shepard wanted to let out a hard sigh of frustration, but knew better than to make a scene. Instead, she turned back towards the bar where Kaidan was standing. She couldn’t help but think he looked somewhat dejected. He was immediately distracted by his mother talking into his ear over the noise of the party.

The bouquet-seeking crowd dissipated and Shepard saw Raiya make her way over to her.

“You sure look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Uh… yeah, I guess you could say that. I’ll be honest, I’ve never been to a wedding before. I didn’t really expect something like that to be taken so seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s still just for fun. Don’t let it get to you.” Raiya said.

“Wait, yes, let it get to you!” Maisie jumped in. “I want a sister-in-law. Especially this one,” she said, pointing to Shepard.

Raiya scoffed. “It’s not like some magical spell. It’s not going to miraculously make them get married.”

“No, I know that, but I thought maybe if Kaidan could see her looking happy after catching it, something might click in his brain to make him consider it more. I like her. I want her to be permanent.”

“You can’t play with people’s emotions like that, Maisie. Just let them have their space. They’re clearly trying to figure things out. They don’t need the added pressure. You know, I bet it’s this kind of stuff that made Kaidan not bring anyone home before now.”

“All right, already, I get the point,” Maisie said. “I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s okay,” Shepard said, knowing the sentiment was innocent enough. “It’s kind of sweet to know you care about me that much already,” Shepard said with a genuine smile, not wanting her to feel bad about it.

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty cool. Plus, it’s nice to think of Kaidan being happy.”

Shepard just smiled at her, appreciating the gesture, though she knew deep down that Kaidan was anything but happy right now.

“Well, now I went and made this awkward. I think I hear the dance floor calling my name, so I’ll just give you some space. I really didn’t mean to add pressure, though,” Maisie said.

“It’s fine. Go have fun,” Shepard said, waving the bouquet towards the crowd that had picked up the dancing again.

Maisie took that as permission to leave. Now it was just her and Raiya.

“Try not to take stock in any of that. Not that I wouldn’t want you in our family if that’s the way you guys are naturally headed,” Raiya quickly amended. “But I just know how much pressure that kind of thing can be on a relationship. I know there’s complicated history there, so don’t let it be a burden on that. Maisie’s just really excitable and grasps onto anything that holds her interest for even a minute.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Shepard said with a laugh that Raiya returned.

“But seriously, just don’t let it get to you. It can be overwhelming to meet a family like ours when you guys are still trying to figure out exactly what you are. I think my talk with you earlier probably didn’t help with that. I can see that you care about Kaidan and I don’t think you’d do anything to purposely hurt him. You’re a good person, Jane. I just want you both to do what’s best for you,” Raiya said, looking like she genuinely cared for her, too. It was nice and an important gesture from her after being so protective.

“Thanks for understanding,” Shepard said genuinely.

That made her look back to where Kaidan was previously standing, only to notice that he was gone. Maybe their dance and her catching the bouquet hurt him even more than she feared. She couldn’t blame him after everything that had happened.

“Can you give this back to Libby,” Shepard said, handing the bouquet over to Raiya. In truth, she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it, if she was supposed to keep it or not. Was it bad form to give it back? She didn’t know, but she was also sidetracked, wanting to make sure Kaidan was okay. “I should probably go find Kaidan.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, taking it back.

Shepard headed towards the bar, where he had been standing before this whole debacle and looked through the crowd everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. She figured that a lot of the night’s events probably upset him, but she felt awful that she might have made him feel bad enough to miss out on the celebration. She’d rather talk to him now about her plan to leave so he could still get some enjoyment out of the night.

As she turned through the crowd one last time, she finally saw Ada heading towards her.

“Well, don’t you look like a chicken with its head cut off,” she said with a laugh. “If I had to venture a guess, you’re probably looking for Kaidan, aren’t you?”

“That obvious, huh?” Shepard said with a forced smile.

“Very,” she said teasingly. “I sent him to go get a bottle of wine from the cellar. It’s something I wanted to give to Libby and Derek as a gift, but I forgot to grab it earlier.”

That was actually perfect. Maybe she’d catch him while he was still there and they could have a moment to talk alone away from the crowds.

“Thanks,” Shepard said with a smile of gratitude.

“Don’t mention it,” Ada said with a warm smile.

Shepard took that as her opportunity to leave, exiting the barn, heading towards the house for the cellar. Finally, she’d have her chance to end this misery.

[bbbarneswrites]

Be With You

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Steve and Natasha had been setting Bucky in date after date. Little did they know that the man had his eye on you for a while now. Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, make-out sessions 4,741 words

Pinterest Board / Spotify Playlist

Notes: @brandybucky, you requested this fic in freaking 2016 if I’m not wrong and there hasn’t been a day where I didn’t think about it, LMAO. I don’t even have an excuse for how long I took (I bet you don’t even remember about this) but I seriously wrote more than 10 drafts for this and it was never enough for me. I just love the idea so much that I couldn’t let it go. Imagine my surprise when I finally got something that was at least decent. ANYWAY, I hope you like it (and forgive my sorry ass). TO Y’ALL, one more black!reader fic to the list and hopefully more to come! For this fic you can listen to Better Man by Leon Brigdes (it’s his concert that they go to) and She’s Mine Pt. 1 by J. Cole. Happy reading! <3

You’ve got the brightest eyes, smooth brown skin, hair that his fingers itch to touch and a smile that can easily brighten up his day and yet, back in his time, you'd be forbidden for him. Bucky sure misses a lot of things from the 40s but not being able to show off his girls is not one of them. He remembers it as clear as day – all the times he had to hide his relationships, deny them for his partner's own safety. No dates, no dances, no casual day-outs otherwise they'd be frowned and bullied upon. And he sure remembers them.

Jo, the girl he met down at the docks, absolutely hated staying cooped up in his place instead of going out and she hated that her fight wasn't enough to stop all the harassment they got.

Michelle from his usual diner was quiet and so shy that he wasn't sure what to do when it came to their relationship and he was often scared of hurting her because of that. It didn’t take much time until she decided to call it quits. 

Leslie patched Steve up sometimes and had her own way to deal with the situation – she liked him but it seemed like she knew nothing would come out of the relationship with the situation they lived in.

He loved all of his girls but they all had brief, short lived passages through his life due to other people’s judgements and discrimination. It was hard to live being constantly harassed, having a burden on your back that wasn't even meant to be there in the first place.

He’s pleased to know that the 21st century isn’t like that anymore – or sort of isn’t. 

Women own their own bodies and fight everyday for their rights now, LGBT couples are allowed to marry their loved ones and black people are finally free from the segregation that took place back in his day, becoming more engaging than ever.

But even so, there's still judgement, occasional dirty looks and mean words. There's still closed-minded people, narcissism and prejudice and privilege and his girl deserves nothing like that. He knows that you can crush the world beneath your feet if you want to so he tries to not care about them unless they're up for a confrontation. Nothing can hold him back now. His girl has the brightest eyes, the smoothest brown skin, hair that makes his fingers itch to touch and a smile that brighten up all of his days. And so he makes damn sure to show you off in all chances he's got – especially by doing all the things he couldn't back then. 

It happens for the first time when you have your first date in a little burrito shop in Hell’s Kitchen that you insisted in going, even if with his failed attempt of convincing you to go somewhere classier. 

That’s the first of the many differences from his previous dates. 

Bucky always had to look at his best for the dates Steve and Natasha set for him. Impeccable clothes, neat hair and a sharp mindset because the places were always classy and expensive and in the nicest are of the city. 

You deserve all that and more but he can’t deny it’s a nice surprise to have this, to not be uncomfortable in his own skin for once, not having to live up to any expectations his appearence might give out. 

It’s a nice surprise to just be with you in a random park spot, your drinks perched in a cut tree log as you sit on the grass and talk about everything between bites of your burritos. It’s a nice surprise to have you so comfortable around him, your thighs brushing against his own as you stay side by side. 

It’s nice to know that you know him, not whatever image he has to put up with the dates he’s used to. 

And Bucky can only guess his light demeanor is noticeable given you jump right into the dating topic about an hour into your talk. 

“Okay, I gotta ask though...” You smile cheekily after swallowing the last bite of your burrito, biting your lower lip when he nods for you to continue. “What made you call me on a date?” 

Bucky frowns confusedly, trying to look as collected as he could before asking, “What do you mean?” 

He watches as you sigh curtly, giving him a pointed look that he almost smirks at. He knows exactly what you’re talking about but he doesn’t feel like sharing the miserable details of his dating life just yet. 

“It’s just– I’ve seen your dates before, Bucky.” You roll your eyes playfully, making a funny face and letting out a short laugh when Bucky raises his eyebrows. “They’re definitely not like me. They just kinda look like...I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d be your type.” 

His dates. Ever since he got back in America and sorted out whatever mess he and Tony had, Bucky started living in the Avengers tower. Ever since he got back, Steve and Natasha had been insisting for him to test waters, get back into the dating game as a way to ease in into the modern world. 

Ever since he got back, he’s been set up with girls he didn’t want to or have interest in – all because his eyes had been on you since his very first day in the tower. 

Bucky doesn’t really want to admit the story behind his dates but hearing you say that you aren’t his type is more than enough to push him to tell the truth. 

“That’s Steve and Natasha’s fault.” Bucky feels his cheeks warm up at the admission, shrugging as nonchalantly as he can as you frown in confusion. “They made me this account on this...dating app thing. It’s not bad but the dates weren’t that good.” 

“A dating app? Like Tinder?” You ask in mild shock, your mouth hanging open for a moment until you chuckle in amusement. “Ok, wow. Finding out that Black Widow and Captain America are on Tinder was not part of today’s plans.” 

Bucky lets out a short laugh as he runs his fingers through his hair nervously, building up the nerve to speak up his next words and secretly wishing he still was as good with words as his younger self. 

“I actually wanted to ask you out for a while now.” He admits, feeling unusually shy as he watches your lips curve into a smug grin, your tongue right between your teeth. “That might be one of the reasons the other dates didn’t work out.” 

You shift around your seat, turning your body to his side so that he can feel the fabric of your fluffy top brushing against his flesh arm. As you hook one of your legs under his, Bucky places his arm right around your waist, his fingers brushing against your jeans clad hip and making him feel like a high school boy with a crush all over again. 

“Why didn’t you? I’d have said yes, that’s for sure.” You tilt your head to the side, still grinning smugly as Bucky lets out a small laugh and squeezes your hip fondly. “I might have had my eyes on you for some time now?” 

Bucky couldn’t help but feel his chest warm up at your words. 

Knowing that you worked at tower for Tony was one of the reasons why he took so long to finally ask you out, afraid that he could potentially jeopardize your job by doing so. His own insecurities were next on the list because honestly, he wasn’t the easiest man to deal with from time to time. 

But now hearing that you also were out there for him makes everything worth it. 

“Didn’t know if it was safe, doll.” Bucky replies hesitantly, seriousness now lacing his voice and features as you make a sour face once he continues. “Things weren’t easy for your folks back then. I just didn’t want to risk everything again.” 

“Ugh, I get that. Things aren’t perfect but they’re a bit better even if we have a Cheeto for a president.” You grimace playfully before tilting your chin up at him, feeling his breath mixing with yours as he looks down at you. “But we can definitely date now. And so, I’m in charge of what we’re going to do next.” 

The gloomy mood from the conversation immediately fades once you smile cheekily at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you lean closer to the point where your noses are almost touching and your lips are just inches away. 

Bucky feels like his heart might burst out of his chest because yeah, you can definitely date now. 

“Are you now?” He teases, his lips curving into a smirk and fingers brushing the exposed skin between your top and jeans as you raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Should I be scared?” 

And also because of the light touch of your lips on his before you pull back with a little grin and finally reply– 

“Only if you can’t keep up.”

Your dates come and go and Bucky couldn't be feeling better about everything. For the fifth one, you buy tickets for a special music concert of one of your favorite artists and Bucky can't say he isn't surprised at how lightly he takes the idea.  He's been back for a while now, his triggers words have been removed and his mind is slowly getting pieced back together but he still has a lot of issues to deal with. In any other time, going to an overcrowded place would set his nerves on fire at the mere thought of it. 

But as you bring it up one day as he meets you in one of the corridors of the tower, he just feels eager for the night to come. Truth to your word, the night and the concert are both amazing. The rhythm of the songs are familiar and though it leaves him a bit nostalgic sometimes, Bucky feels as comfortable and in place like back in the day. Your presence is soothing and he can't help but marvel at how pretty you look, hair brought in two cute buns and make-up looking as beautiful as ever.  It's a night where Bucky allows himself to just forget the shitload that is his past and try to be that guy again – except that now he's got his girl with him and nothing could be better than that. Song after song, he revels on the way that you freely sing the lyrics, the way you smile at him when he makes a comment about the crazy bassist on the band, the way you openly kiss his cheek and tighten his arms around your waist by pulling him closer, the way you playfully run your fingers through his hair. 

He revels that you both can do all that now, that you're safe despite the shit he grew up with.  Once the concert is over, you drag him all the way to a little hidden pizzeria in Brooklyn while vehemently claiming it's the best pizza you've gotten in your life. The place isn't too big and isn't too crowded but you both opt for a quiet little corner booth in the back of the room, taking a seat on each side of the table before entertaining yourselves with the ridiculous amount of pizza flavors on the menu. It doesn't take much until you choose yours (triple cheese with lots of oregano) and Bucky chooses his (meat and also lots of cheese) and you're falling into a playful conversation to wait on your orders. "So, how was it?" You cross your arms over the table and playfully squint your eyes at him, a closed smile curving your lips briefly. "Your first music concert in the 21st century?" "It was good. Familiar." Bucky grins boyishly, his blue gaze firmly locked with yours as he shrugs non-commitedly. "Company wasn't so bad either." "Flattery will get you nowhere and everywhere, Sergeant." You wink at him and hold back a giddy smile when he laughs in return. "Did you enjoy the music?" Bucky nods and immediately places both arms on the table, mirroring your pose as he leans forward to you with mischief written all over his face. "I did. It's an improvement from all that crap you got on radio nowadays." "Your old age is showing, grandpa." You joke with a flick of your tongue before leaning over the table like him, mocked worry now replacing the teasing in your voice. "Well, I'm glad. I wasn't sure if this was your type of thing, so..." "What's that supposed to mean?" Bucky asks with a frown, though the amusement is clear on his face by the way he holds back a smirk when you shrug. "What's my type of thing then?" "Corny country, maybe?" You feign innocence as you reply, soon breaking into laughter at the weird face he makes at your choice of style. "Hey, come on. A few songs are kinda decent if you squint." You reach out a hand to playfully swat at his forearm with your teasing but his prosthetic hand catches it midway as he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist, fingertips brushing against your skin before you interlace your fingers together. "You're lucky I like you, doll." Unbeknownst to Bucky, his words nearly makes your heart skip a beat and you can barely contain your love striked face as the waiter arrives with your orders, thankfully (or not) giving you both something to occupy yourselves after the sudden heartfelt moment. Bucky tries to not overthink his actions for once and keeps the conversation rolling as best as he can while you gush about how good your pizza is time and time again. He doesn't mind it much– Even because it earns him a very generous piece delivered directly to his mouth from you so he can't complain. Once you're finished and the night is almost coming to an end, Bucky feels like a changed man. Or in the very least, a prospect of a changed man. Not only because of the pizza (it was that good as you promised) but also because of the comfortableness he's feeling. 

On being with you, on being himself, on trying to bring back flickers of his old self that he swore it was gone.  He finally feels like he's balanced between the two lives he lead, balanced enough to start considering making this his third attempt with you by his side. As the waiter gathers your plates and leave with the promise of coming back with your check, you both realize that maybe this is the end of another of your dates but hopefully it's the start of something else. "Can we call this one date a success?" You ask coyly, resting your chin on your hand as you smile mischievously at him. "Because I think we can. You stand-spooned me the whole concert and you liked the songs." "I think we can, yeah." Bucky shoots you a half grin before frowning in mocked disappointment, though his tone of voice is still as teasingly as ever. "We're missing this one thing, though." You immediately raise your eyebrows, getting into his game by feigning confusion at his little smirk. "Oh? I wonder what that is?" Before his mind can make him second guess, Bucky leans over the small table and crashes his lips against yours, his flesh hand gently cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes softly against your warm cheekbones. He can feel you smile against his mouth before you pull back for a moment, diving into it again after a moment and raising your hand to rest at the base of his neck, fingertips scratching at his short beard. Neither of you mind the rather uncomfortable position, losing yourselves with each other until the waiter comes back with the check and interrupts the moment with an embarrassed clear of throat. Bucky can't help but smile as he senses your hesitancy on pulling back, downright loving the short pecks you keep giving him before you decide to back away for good. Even so, your hand still stays at the base of his neck and he can't help but press a kiss to your palm when you lovingly cup his cheek.  Your next words makes him laugh but also makes him feel like the luckiest bastard in the world. "You, Bucky Barnes, are the best white boy on Earth and I'm keeping you." He doesn't say anything in that moment but Bucky is beyond glad to be yours if you want it.

It’s been two months since you both started seeing each other when you playfully remark your next date is going to be your fifteenth date. 

Though you’re past the formalities and pretences of a usual date, Bucky actually enjoys all the opportunities he’s got to just let himself unwind and be with you whenever and wherever you want. 

It’s fun and never too usual and Bucky is always surprised to rediscover a piece of himself with you. 

There hasn’t been an official proposal but calling you his girlfriend and hearing you call him boyfriend might be one of the best things in life to him. 

Your plans for the anniversary date had been pretty tame with a reservation in a Nigerian restaurant you loved and a private night out club for a dance and drinks later. And Bucky was truly looking forward the said night, especially with a tough week of trainings and simulations. 

He most definitely isn’t expecting an impromptu mission to ruin it all. 

You react as lightly as ever at the news of your now cancelled night, rather pressing a firm kiss to his lips and demanding payback as soon as he got back. 

A week and half later and Bucky is standing in front of your door with a bag of takeout straight of your Nigerian place while his heart turns with a mix of feelings as soon as he sees you. Bedhair, little sweatshorts and a top that does little to hide the expense of your skin and keep him sane. 

And he swears he wants to have a nice night with you – it’s what you deserve after he blew your plans, it’s what he’s craving after another rough week. 

But Bucky knows you can feel that he needs more than just comfort food and idle talk. 

You don’t say anything as you place the bag of food on your kitchen’s counter and lead him to the bathroom, feeling his gaze on your frame as you fill up the tub with warm water and throw in one of your cute bathbombs inside. 

He doesn’t say anything as you start to undress him, your fingers smartly undoing the zippers and buckles from his tactical uniform before peeling off your own clothes. But before you can step into the tub, Bucky moves behind you and gets inside first, reaching out his hand to you once he’s settled in. 

Your comfort is always something he welcomes without any doubt but today he just needs to hold you for a few hours before moving on to something else. 

With your back against his chest, head on his shoulder, legs right between his and arms interlaced over your belly, Bucky finally feels home. 

It makes his heart skip a beat the way you know exactly how he feels, your next words taking a weight off his shoulders he didn’t even realize it was there. 

“I have a feeling you don’t really want to talk about your week so we’re both ignoring that for now, okay?” You break the silence with your soft whisper, your fingertips drawing random patterns on his hands as he nods quietly. “Okay. Tell me how you got Azi to make you a takeout meal when he doesn’t do that for anyone.”

Bucky smiles fondly at the mention of the Nigerian chef who had become very welcoming and solicitous in the very second Bucky brought your name up, asking for help to make up for your lost date at the restaurant. 

“All I did was mention your name.” Bucky chuckled lightly in amusement, his lips pressing a small kiss at the back of your neck as you hum contently. “I think he has a soft spot for you.” 

You turn your head around to face him, a teasing smile playing on your lips that only makes him want to take you there and then. 

“Everybody’s got a soft spot for me.” You shrug playfully with your lingering grin, settling back against his chest again with a little sigh. “Didn’t he...ask anything? Like who you were or something?” 

“Told him I was your boyfriend trying to surprise you.” Bucky replies with a smirk, the familiar teasing tone lacing his voice again. “He actually seemed surprised.” 

You only snicker in reply before reaching out to one of your loofahs, drowning it with your favorite honey shower gel and turning your body around his hold to start washing his skin as slowly and carefully as you can. 

The warm water feels good and so does the fluffy feeling of the loofah running through his chest.

But Bucky can safely say the cure of all his homesickness and heartbreak is you looking like a vision before him with your soaked and bare skin all on display just for him. 

He doesn’t even try to hide delight as you drop the loofah and lean over him, legs tucked between his own as your chests are pressed together. With your arms around his neck and his hands resting low on your hips, you press a slow kiss to his lips with a question on the tip of your tongue. 

“Did you ever had another black girlfriend?” You ask with a small smile, resting your chin against his collarbones as you look up at him. “Besides me, obviously. Back in your day.”

The memories from his younger days come back to him in a rush and Bucky can’t help but feel relieved that he’s there now – in a time where he can just be with you despite the occasional bumps on the road.

“Three of them.” Bucky lets out a heavy breath before shaking his head wistfully, hands tightening around your hips as he continues. “We couldn’t go out or be seen together. It always drained both of us until we just had to end things. And that’s not even the worse of it.”

With a hum of understanding, you slide your hands to the back of his neck where your fingertips keeps drawing soothing circles to his skin and hair scalp.

“That’s why you took so long to ask me out.” You guess, instantly frowning in dejection when Bucky nods in a silent reply. “It still isn’t easy. Some days I feel like things are getting better...but then there’s the harsh days.”

Bucky feels his chest flare up with a new purpose at your heartbroken little smile, his arms bringing your frame closer to him as he tightened his old around your waist. 

Your noses are just mere inches away when he firmly cups your jaw with his left hand, his blue eyes set with your own as you bite your lip in anticipation.

Not that it prepares you for his next words, neither how determined he looks.

“I’ve got your back in this.” Bucky murmurs decidedly against your mouth, his lips brushing with yours as you bump your nose against his with a smile. “For the rest of my life, for whenever you need. I mean it.”

He nearly doesn’t see it coming when you push him against the back of the tub, your lips eagerly meeting with his until you pull away in a breathless bliss and–

“I love you.”

Words that Bucky reciprocates over and over when he’s got you on the bed later that night with your legs over his shoulders and your sweet moans filling the room.

Bucky stretches his torso lazily on the bed, a low groan escaping his mouth as he feels the soothing heat from the morning sunlight filling up the hotel room you’re spending the weekend at.  Glimpses from the previous night fill up his mind immediately and he can't help but grin dumbly to himself before glancing over to his side, where you’re comfortably tucked beside him and looking as gorgeous as ever even deeply asleep.  He's one hundred percent sure you're a damn vision that he'll never get tired of admiring.  You've got his left arm under your body, curled around your frame as his hand rests on the curve of your hip.

Bucky secretly loves to trace his fingers from your hips and down to your thighs, trailing through your skin marks and spots even though you don't particularly like them. Your brown skin is a contrast to the usual plain white sheets and he relishes on the way your legs tangle around the fabric.

The messy bedhead is his favorite thing ever and even though your hair tickle his neck when you move, the sweet smell that lingers after is good enough for him.  You feel warm and soft and it makes his chest flutter with feelings he didn't even know he could feel five years ago. He can’t get over how much you feel like home to him.

Especially when you wake up just as lazily, body stretching up and scooting next to his own as your lips make its way to his neck and jaw, soothing the fresh lovebites you'd left on his skin just a few hours ago.

Bucky can feel your grin against his neck and it makes him hum contently, arms shifting to wrap up your frame completely and lift you up to his top completely. As soon as you've got your thighs on each side of his hips and hands shimming down his naked chest, Bucky's just gone. And he might think he's in heaven when your lips touch his, your bare skin rubbing so softly against his own that he almost feels drunk.

No panties, no bras, no boxers, nothing but your morning wake-up call make out session. Bucky almost whimpers when you break the kiss and sit up straight on his lap, gathering the sheets around your chest fully knowing he'd try and sneak in a touch or two if you let your body completely exposed. "I think I might be in Heaven." Bucky breaks the silence, his hands sneaking under the sheets and sliding through your thighs as you raise your eyebrows defiantly. "You just gotta be an angel baby doll, look at you."  You let out a laugh before leaning forward to him again, setting your elbows on his chest as his hands find home on the small of your exposed back, his fingers trailing up and down your skin. "You're such a sweet talker, Bucky Barnes. I don't even know how I fell in love with you." You say with a click of your tongue, watching as his lips grows into a grin before he miserably leans up to kiss you again. "I'm not kissing you. Not until you ring in some breakfast." Bucky smiles teasingly and quickly sits up on the bed, snaking an arm around your waist and the other under your bottom before lifiting both of you to stand in the middle of the room, a surprised squeak leaving your lips as you wrap your own arms tightly around his neck. "I’ve got a surprise for you first."

You don’t say anything as he walks out of the bedroom and heads to the living room, much less when you spot the coffee table set  with all kinds of fancy breakfast goodies just ready for you to dive in.

Bucky just smiles knowingly as he sits you on the couch and takes the seat next to yours almost giddily as if he’s up to something.

And even though you’re starving, your gaze can only focus on the small red box resting near a vase with a single sunflower inside. You don’t waste any second before throwing yourself against Bucky again, his sweet laugh filling the room as you kiss him over and over again, only stopping to scream–

“YES!”

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Running AU

Jaime Lannister is finally out of physical therapy after Gods know how long. The hand injury turned his whole life upside-down. Jaime used to be athletic, doing sports was his counterbalance to his life as a businessman.

Now back home, Jaime simply wants to gain some of his former shape back. Thus, he reckons starting with something as trivial as jogging. After all, that used to be his routine before breakfast while still right in the middle of his own life, until he was pushed to the margins.

However, jogging through the local park proves to be not at all as easy-going as Jaime thought it to be as he soon finds himself lying on the grass with a cramp in the leg, feeling nothing but humiliation and frustration.

This used to be easy, but now everything is difficult, everything that made up his daily routines, made up his life before that damned accident.

He is surprised when a jogger stops by and offers assistance to get rid of the cramp in the leg. Jaime refuses at first, feeling too shamed to accept the help of the tall, blonde woman with brilliant blue eyes.

However, the woman is having none of it, until Jaime gives in and accepts her help. Once the cramp is gone for good, the two start to have some casual conversation, whereby Jaime gets to know the fellow jogger a little more.

Brienne of Tarth is apparently training for the upcoming marathon in the Reach, having spent every free minute of the past few months to get in shape.

“Coming in first would be a dream, but I just finally want to run pas the finishing line after all this preparation.”

“Well, I reckon the latter will be easy to fulfill.”

“And why are you running?”

“To get back in shape again, though this is not working too greatly for me.”

“It just takes time and effort.”

“And cramps.”

“And cramps, yes.”

The two depart eventually, reckoning that they won’t see each other again – until they do, once they realize that they take the same jogging tour around the park.

Jaime jokingly suggests that they may just as well start running together, and somehow they actually end up doing just that.

While Brienne is very fast, being at the top of her game, Jaime finds his rhythm back step by step, or rather, he finds a new rhythm, a new pace matching hers.

And his training partner, for the first time in her life, has someone to talk to while running, someone who even jokes with her, someone who seems to enjoy her company in all earnest. And along that way, she discovers that there is something to be gained from simply having fun while running – because training for the marathon became such a major point in her life that she almost forgot what made her start in the first place, the sheer joy of it.

In fact, Brienne finds out that going slow every now and then is not the almost bad, because she could certainly go faster than she runs most of the time with Jaime.

And so, the two find something unexpected, something new, in their daily routines.

Things take a sudden turn for Jaime when Brienne does not show up in the park anymore. It is only at that point of time that he realizes that he never bothered exchanging contact details with her, which has him worried. Brienne is normally always on time, and now she does not come by at all, no matter how close the marathon is.

Two weeks of a strange kind of mixture of worry and feeling out of pace later, Jaime finds his training partner sitting on a bench in their park, crutches propped up next to her and her leg in a cast.

As it turns out, she had an accident and she spent the past few days at hospital and at home.

“I actually wanted to come by, after all, I didn’t have your number, but… I was just so frustrated with myself that I couldn’t bring myself to it.”

“Oh, trust me, I understand. I have been in a very similar spot. I am just glad you are alright… ish. I mean, I thought something worse happened to you since you no longer showed up, so I am glad that not more was broken.”

Brienne is surprised, never having expected that her training partner would care that much, but she can see it in his eyes that Jaime is genuine.

This time, to be sure, Jaime gives her his business card, “just in case you end up having another accident without my knowledge so that I can come to the rescue.” However, things don’t look bright for Brienne. The doctors say that the cast will come off before the marathon, but that her leg won’t have its mobility back until weeks after the event, telling her frankly that the only way that she is going to finish the marathon would be if she limped past it.

After a call from Jaime to suggest having a coffee instead of running for once, Brienne makes up her mind to make a suggestion to Jaime.

“Maybe you should register for the marathon.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You spent the past few weeks going through my routine. I don’t say you are going to come in first, but I am certain you could make it. Why not make your training worth something?”

After all, she already booked the tickets, the hotel, planned everything in advance, so why let it go to waste if there is someone who could use it?

Jaime is rather shocked at the proposal, telling Brienne that he has to think this through. Because he realizes that for Brienne, the marathon means so much more, as she spent hours, weeks, months training for that one goal – making it past the finishing line. Which is why he reckons Brienne offers this to him not just for his own sake, as she puts faith in him, but also because she wants the training to have some kind of pay-off. And he knows that this is a responsibility he cannot easily refuse.

Eventually, Jaime makes up his mind and informs Brienne that, yes, he is going to take part in the upcoming marathon, but to his own conditions.

“I won’t go unless you come along.”

“Come along? You did notice the cast, yes?”

“In fact. And of course this all goes under the premise that the docs give their okay for you to limp your way around again. But if not for you, I wouldn’t be running, I would still lie in the grass, having cramps and being miserable. So there is no way that I am going to travel to the Reach if you aren’t there. We are training partners, after all, and as such, we ought to stick together.”

Brienne is pretty shaken, but finds herself agreeing to their little “truce.”

And so, the two travel to the Reach together, suddenly confronted with the reality that they are far more to each other than training partners.

And so, the big day is not far away, where the two have to see whether Brienne will limp her way to the goal of finishing the marathon – and what position Jaime can get, granted the training he got thanks to Brienne, as both struggle to find and keep their rhythm…

Additional Image Sources: (x), (x).

[pruebopruebapruebe]

Found this in my drafts. Date unknown but maybe August 2019.

It's a letter (????) to my future sexual partners. Why sharing it? It may help me or someone else in the future. When I found about autism I thought "what is something I can not fake" so I searched for autistic afab and sex/orgasms. Thanks to that I get convinced. So, it may be useful.

This is in no way a guide of autism and sexuality. It's just about my sexuality at the time and I happen to be autistic and think that it has an effect in the way I experienced sexual relations. I'm not changing the format. I'm adding a read more so do interact with the post if you want. I haven't fixed grammar nor typos, I'm sorry for that.

20/V/2020

I have things to confess to my future partners, things I have never said because I was ashamed. I still am. But i have to say it.

So here we go.

For my future partner:

I like sexuality… The idea. The concept. The emotions involved. The pleasure. But i can’t really enjoy it. I can’t really enjoy the act of sex. Not freely. Not like normal people do.

So I’ll give you the option to look for sex outside our relationship, or the option of an open relationship when it comes to sex. It’s not that i don’t love you, nor that I want other experiences (that’s a lie, don’t believe me if I say that, it was the excuse to keep the secret). It’s because I’ll end up resenting you. I don’t want to keep having sex because i feel It’s what i have to do. That will transform love making in a choir and I’ll be thinking when and how is going to happen to end it quickly, so you will not leave me.

But, to be honest, i want to share sex with you. I want to believe I can do it. I want to believe I don’t need to be high or drunk to let myself enjoy it. It’s complicated and embarrassing and I don’t know where to start to explain it. But I’ll try.

>I can’t talk during sex. At best, I’ll avoid it, because it’s distracting. It’s an effort. At worst I won’t talk because i just can’t. I didn’t know why until very recently. So, if things are going bad, if I’m not enjoying myself, if I’m not feeling you, if I’m not having a good time, if it’s unpleasant, I won’t tell you because i can not articulate the words. And if I do, assume it’s taking me a lot of mental effort and strength. I’ll probably look at you blankly, do faces or start crying before talking. It’s not your fault. It’s not that I am mad (yet). It’s just the way it is.

>I need your voice. I need your sounds. If you are silent, if you don’t talk to me, you are making me suffer. You are making me feel like a piece of meat. I need to know what do you think about the sensations, about us, about me. About my body. About the things I’m doing to you. The things you are doing to me. What we have done, what we are doing and what will we do. I don’t care about the language you use, or if you don’t make much sense.

>If I’m asking you something it’s because i can’t ask you to talk to me, so the next “best” thing to do is to make you talk to me by doing those questions (”how does it feel?”, “Do you like it?”). Even if they come as casual, I’m doing a GREAT effort to make them. Don’t ignore me. Don’t answer with one word and then go back to silence. It fucking breaks my bloody heart.

>If I start crying, don’t panic! Don’t stop. I’m not hurt (just in the feelings). Take care of me, I’m desperate because i can’t tell you to do so.

>I may cry too because i feel like I'm going to die. The sensations are overwhelming and I feel like I can die from what my body is feeling, this strong sensation inside out, like a unreachable heat about to explode [and break your body, image, face, dignity for a moment, letting you vulnerable, exposed, ugly].

>I may or may not need to practice my breath during intercourse. I would love to extend on this item but it's embarrassing.

>Don’t squeeze the squeezable soft zones. Sorry not sorry [try with a gentle grip]. However, you can squeeze the hard zones, and you may touch the soft zones veryveryvery slightly. [Maybe you can wear gloves? I know is stupid and weird, I just thought that would be nice]. I LOVE TOUCH.

>No but really I starve touch during sex, I like a strong, dominant grip, makes me feel desired. And/or a constant caring touch in all my skin and body: limbs, neck, back, belly, face, hips (omg hips), etc, helps me relax and stay in the mood.

>I think I like to have pressure over me. I would like to try it.

>I zoom out a lot. That’s why I’m so awkward about the place… I get distracted very easily. If I can hear people, there is no chance for me to get confortable. If there is too much decoration, it will distract me. I have to be brutally honest here and confess that I have always wanted to be blindfolded during sex, but was to ashamed to say it. I am very self-conscious and having sight of my surroundings, your body and my body makes me think and zoom out and then feel guilty about it. I can’t just keep my eyes closed all the time consciously.

>Also, I don’t know if music helps me or not. It certainly can help if you don’t have a problem with me moving at it’s rhythm (another thing I feel ashamed for), but the lyrics must not be that good or i’ll get distracted. The television must be off.

>Sometimes I don’t know what to do with my hands. I confess that I have also wanted to be tied, so my hands would know where to be.

>Take the lead, I love it! And I appreciate someone in control who will give me the rules and decide the steps of the intercourse. Give me explicit permission or orders about what to do or what is ok to do, or what is ok to do "in this moment" (including orgasm) or what is ok not to do (including the possibility to stop).

>I would like to have a safe word, because most of the times I ask to stop is because I am at my edge and it's too much to lose control. So I would like to have a separate word to tell my partner I really want to stop, so they don't confuses it with the "it's feels so good I think I'll die keep doing it untill you break my resistance" stop.

>I care a lot about... Clean bodies. I know I shouldn't. I need my partner to tell me they don't feel disgusted by my body. By my body hair, and fat, and colours and smells. And bad angles. And genitals and other body parts all over me. You can told me what you like (it doesn't matter if you say the same thing multiple times). You can also go to the other extreme and tell me something nasty about my body as long as you can handle it and make it clear that you don't mean it/care about it so I'll know you know I'm ugly but still desire me. It's not an easy game, but having this kind of things stated at the moment (every moment/every time a moment repeats itself) helps me [or at least i think it does].

>I have no problem giving you oral sex, but I don't like to receive oral sex. Idk if I haven't met someone skilled at it or what, but I. Don't. Like. It.*

>I don't like fingers inside my vagina. Just don't.*

[*Unless you are very skilled or I am in the mood to give it a try OR I'm very drunk].

>Yeah I like drunk sex, it helps me enjoy it. Maybe we didn't pact it before, but it can happen, in fact, being drunk or high are the best ways for me to have casual sex. Just... No te pongas babosx.

>I don't like kisses. I'm sorry, that's very personal and intimate for me. Piquitos seh, pero con lengua no por favor, me da asco [sólo en circunstancias específicas lo permitiría].

>I don't like the conventional routine walk/cinema/fun - food - sex nor [the better option] food - walk - sex. Please! How do you expect me to make exercise after eating? How do you expect me to feel confortable with my organs being twitched and pressed with food inside of them?? The digestive system goes all over the way, sir. I prepared for this date but this was hours ago, I don't feel comfortable with my nasty body anymore. No. I like the opposite. Sex, then food and then the fun/walk/actualdate.

>I "wet" myself if I reach orgasm and that always stops me from it, or cut it at it’s begining because of the shame. It's just me squirting, but it smells a little like pee and that's a big deal for me. Yes, I go to the bathroom always before intercourse.

>Ice, please.

>I am very verbal. I moan until my mouth is dry and even say some things like yes, like that, it feels good, etc... in spanish usually but I would totally moan in english if I weren’t so self-conscious.

>Don’t expect me to accept as “normal” that I have to do things you don’t have to. We can agree certain things are most confortable for you, but don’t expect me to enjoy anal sex if you can not think of yourself as someone who can "be used" in that way just because “well I’m a man”.

EDIT: 19 XII 2020. For some time I have been wanting to change some thing from this post, but at the end, it’s more useful for me if it stays this way and I write something new that resembles better how I feel about this topic. Explain it better. Change some parts that now I think didn’t convey the idea clearly.