prompt fill

He goes through three random duffel bags before he finds what he’s looking for. Just as he’s about to make his move, Katsudon decides it’s the perfect moment to take a break from practicing the fastest step sequence anyone’s probably ever attempted and come off the ice to hang out for a bit before I meet Victor for lunch, it’s been a while since it was just us. And of course he immediately zeroes in on the lighter in Yuri’s hand, because there is a helicopter parent trapped inside Katsudon’s chubby ass that finds every opportunity to come out and make Yuri’s life a waking nightmare. 

“Yurio,” Katsudon gasps, positively breathless with disappointment. He looks like he’s two seconds away from crying, turning himself over to the police for gross negligence, or both. “Have you started smoking?”

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anonymous asked:

prompt: for his birthday the team throws a kegster and dex wears gold short shorts and a crop top that says Birthday Boy and nursey is overwhelmed (and jealous bc people keep hitting on him)

I don’t think i have it in me to do a full on fic for these dex’s brithday prompts so I’m bulletpointing it!! ~1.5k so it’s under a cut!! Warning for non-explicit nsfw

  • Ok first of all? How Dex Gets In This Outfit
    • Part of Shitty’s birthday present to Dex is getting him high and keeping him high because “you need a day to relax brah, it’s your birthday put your feet up and let go”
    • They weren’t even expecting Shitty to show up, but once he heard there was gonna be a kegster he scooted over from Boston
    • But like even high Dex wouldn’t agree to that outfit, if we’re being honest. He’d giggle but resist all the same
    • Enter Ransom and Holster handing Dex beer after beer because “It’s your birthday dude you HAVE to pregame for your party otherwise it doesn’t count”
      • who even fucking knows what they’re talking about honestly
    • So now we have a crossfaded Dex, still lucid enough to still y’know, actually be there, but gone enough to be convinced to wear the outfit
      • Shitty almost got him in his red shorts that say “ARE YOU NASTY?” on the ass but Ransom and Holster vetoed it for the gold because “Shitty think of how well it will go with his skin and hair. The red will clash. God Shitty I thought you got some fashion sense when you went to harvard” “you take that back this instant”
  • SO NOW DEX IS IN THE OUTFIT

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anonymous asked:

Could you write adrienette (or some variation of the love square) with number 75?

~I’m weak for Marichat, so that’s the love square corner we get.~Tay

“Don’t you dare bite me, I’m mad at you!” 899 words

If you asked either Marinette or Chat Noir how it even started, neither would know what to tell you.

Neither would be able to tell when Chat’s occasional visits turned into frequent ones, or when the jokes about him being a stray cat turned into him acting like one when he was around Marinette, but soon, late night cookies and conversation turned into scratches behind Chat’s ears and him nuzzling beneath Marinette’s chin.

“Are you always this touchy—like tactile?” She’s asked one night. They were sitting on the floor of her bedroom, the light of her lamp turning the room orange. “I mean, even when you aren’t Chat Noir?” He thought for a long while before answering.

“No, but I don’t know if the difference has to do with me outside the mask, or with Chat, or if it’s some combination of the two. It’s not that I don’t like touch when I’m not Chat, it’s just… different, I guess? I mean, there’s not many people to get touch from.  Home is… I mean, I have my friends at school, but even that is pretty minimal. I think it’s why I like being around you so much. You fit my level of tactile.” He threw her a smile and she contemplated him for a moment before reaching out and scratching his ears.

“Silly kitty, just looking for scratches.”

“Especially if they come from you, Princess.” He leaned into her hand, and soon, they were both laying on the floor, Chat’s head on Marinette’s stomach and her fingers gently combing through his hair. They whispered about school and tv and the ladyblog until it was late at night and Chat’s miraculous began to beep. Chat groaned and Marinette giggled.

“Sounds like it’s time for a certain stray cat to make its way home.” Chat groaned, pressing his head into Marinette’s stomach. It startled a laugh out of her. “Chat, that tickles,” she hissed, pushing at his head with one hand. He slung a hand over her hip and refused to move. “Chat,”  she whined. She felt him smile into her belly.

“Yes, Princess?” he purred smugly. She suppressed a giggle.

“Move, you stupid cat, or I’ll have to get you with a water bottle.” He gasped, scandalized.

“You would insult me so? Punishing me like some hand-biting stray?” Marinette snorted around a laugh, and, despite his tone, she could feel Chat’s grin against her pajama shirt.

“Chat, you are some hand biting stray.” He suddenly sat up, and looked down at Marinette, who leaned up on her elbows.

“Princess, you wound me with your words.” He took one of her hands and pulled it to him. He kissed her knuckles gently. “But, if you are to see me as some hand biting stray,” he looked up from her hand to meet her eyes.

“You wouldn’t—"

“I should at least earn the title.” And with that, he bit the back of her hand. Marinette jerked her hand back with a snort of laughter, but pulled it too far, slamming her elbow into the hardwood floor. She groaned, clutching her elbow and rolling onto her side. Chat slapped a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter while Marinette swore at the floor, rubbing her elbow while trying to keep from laughing. Chat swallowed back his giggles, and reached out to Marinette, tugging her up into a seated position.

“Are you okay, Princess?” He asked. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Stupid cat,” she muttered. He smiled.

“Want me to kiss it better?” She laughed.

“I don’t trust your mouth,” she said with a smirk.

“Too clever?”

“Too many teeth.” Chat laughed and pulled her to him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to make you hurt yourself.”

“I really will get you with a spray bottle.”

“I could bite you again, you know,” he threatened. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you dare bite me, I’m mad at you!” He leaned down and nuzzled under her chin.

“Not too mad, I hope.”

“I don’t know; you bit the hand that feeds you cookies. They specifically say not to do that.” Chat fell backwards in a dramatic swoon.

“Had I known that my chocolate chip cookies would be in danger I never would have bit you!” he cried. Marinette laughed and leaned over him.

“Serves you right, using me for free pats and cookies. And this is the thanks I get.”

“Marinette, you do know I appreciate you, right?” He asked, suddenly earnest.

“Oh, Chat of course. I was just joking, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, I know. I just wanted to make sure. I really do love spending time with you.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. They looked at each other in the lamplight for a long minute before—

Beep!

Chat sighed.

“You should get going, Chaton,” Marinette said as she got to her feet, dusting off her pajama pants and offering Chat a hand.

“Why are you always right,” he asked, allowing her to pull him up. They both went out onto the terrace and Chat perched on the railing.

“Good night, Chat Noir.” Marinette said with a small smile.

“Good night, Marinette,” He responded, smiling in kind. He stood up on the railing and gave her a two-fingered salute, before pulling out his staff and bounding away across the city.

@the-queen-of-thedas submitted this: “ A Titan from Greek mythology in our modern day/ era.” Which I thought was pretty swell!

I thought I’d fill it (though I’m not entirely sure it was a prompt, haha)


The world is filled with untold stories, Rhea knows. She’s one of them, walking through downtown Chicago like a human, winter coat barely able to stave off the chilling breeze. If she is a story, untold or not, she would be a closed one. She has pressed her covers together, hiding her contents, and welded her spine shut.

Some of the humans think that they’ve lost Gaea to asphalt and concrete, steel and iron, industry and pillaging. They’re not wrong, but they’re not right either. Rhea can feel her mother thrumming under her feet just fine, just as her father still shines bright and silent above. 

Magic is not gone, it has evolved, it has become elusive to the ways of Titans. Rhea is fine with that. She’d lost the right to the world a long time ago.

———————————–

Her name is Rhea in this new age, Rhea again, Rhea always. They don’t know the stories anymore (hers is untold even in the divine) and there’s no risk.

So her name is Rhea and she is as human as someone like her can be.

She works in a coffee shop.

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Catch Me If I Fall

Destiel ficlet
2.8k, PG
Prompt by @unforth-ninawaters: destiel meet cute at the gym


Dean was going to make Sam pay for this.

He would kidnap him, break into the gym at night, and then strap him to the treadmill and make him beg for mercy.

The thought of vengeance brought a small smile to his face and distracted him momentarily from the painful stitch in his side. A moment later, he felt Sam come up next to him.

“I know that smile. You’re plotting your revenge against me, aren’t you,” Sam said, sounding – to Dean’s immense satisfaction – a bit apprehensive.

Good, he should be scared. Even if Dean didn’t quite go as far as kidnapping him, there was always the classic move of switching his hair products or toothpaste out for something else. Though of course since Sam moved in with Jess, his girlfriend of five years, that would be far more tricky to pull off than it was when they were still living together.

But he’d find a way. He was motivated.

“You don’t get to talk to me,” Dean said grumpily, pointing at Sam in an accusatory way. His words had a lot less bite than he would’ve wished seeing as he basically had to gasp for breath between each word. Sam – the little shit – looked less than impressed.

“Dean,” he started, his calm and placating tone making Dean want to punch him in the face, “I know this is hard right now but that’s because you’re so out of shape – I mean, you’ve only been running for, what, fifteen minutes? But if you come with me a couple of times, you’ll be on the same level as me before you know it.”

“Forget it Sammy,” Dean said, panting every few words, “I only came here today because mom guilt-tripped me into it.” There was a slight pause as he got his breathing under control. “Mark my words, I will never come back here.”

Sam shrugged, already turning away. “Okay Dean, I can’t make you do this. I know you were probably planning on spending the weekend watching tv, but think about it – with all that crap you eat every week, I kinda not want to have to say goodbye to my big brother prematurely.” He then walked away around the corner to the section of the gym that had all the weights, no doubt to work on his already impressive biceps and triceps.

The stitch came back in full force and Dean had to lower the speed of the treadmill so he could walk it off. Damn, now Dean felt guilty. Because truth be told, he had been planning to spend the weekend once again sitting at home in his underwear, marathoning the latest season of Doctor Sexy and eating takeout. He had become a little bit of a hermit lately, only going out when Charlie or Benny invited him, and then usually they ended up just doing something at their place, like watching movies or playing games. Often accompanied by copious amounts of junk food. As a result, his stomach had started to become a little more pudgy than before…

The thought revitalized Dean. Sam had a point, loath as he was to admit it. It definitely wouldn’t hurt to get some exercise in. Sure, his upper body strength was great - courtesy of his day job as a mechanic - but his lower body left something to be desired. Damn it, he could do this! His finger moved to press the button that would increase the pace to running speed once more.

“Excuse me, but is this treadmill taken?”

Dean sighed internally, dropping his hand. Just as he’d found his second wind, some douchebag had to interrupt him and break his concentration. Also, what kind of a question was that? It wasn’t like these treadmills had people’s names written on it, or that you could reserve one or something. If it’s free, it’s free. How hard could it be to figure that out?

He was about to deliver a sarcastic retort when he locked eyes with the guy who’d come up next to him. Blue eyes, strong jaw, messy dark-brown hair that made Dean’s fingers itch with the desire to run them through it, and – he realized belatedly as his brain caught up – a voice that was somehow simultaneously rough as gravel and smooth as bourbon. Dean’s ideal type in every single way.

Dean couldn’t help it – he stumbled. At walking speed.

He recovered quickly, pausing the treadmill and bending down with a mumbled “damn, sorry, my shoelaces got untied”. He made a show of retying them quickly, before standing up again and facing the stranger, refusing to even acknowledge the amused sparkle in his eyes and upturned corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, of course it’s free, go ahead man,” Dean said, shrugging lightly. Stay cool, you got this.

“Oh, good, it’s just that there’s a water bottle here so I thought it was already occupied,” the guy responded, gesturing towards – damn! He’d somehow put his bottle in the wrong holder.

Dean managed to keep a straight face as he took the water bottle and placed it in his treadmill’s holder. “Oh yea, that’s mine. Sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention when I put it down,” he said casually. Ok, this was good, his dignity remained intact.

The guy smiled at him and Dean couldn’t help returning it. They both turned back towards their respective treadmills, with Dean sneaking glances at the guy out of the corner of his eye.

A minute later, both men had started a new program and were jogging at a mild pace (the guy probably still needed to warm up). Really, Dean had only intended to run for maybe five or ten minutes more, but he suddenly found himself doubly motivated to keep going for at least 30 minutes. For the sake of his health, of course. No ulterior motives there.

They must’ve been the only two people in the entire gym who weren’t listening to music on their phones or mp3 players. This meant there was a clear opportunity for conversation. And despite the less than ideal start, Dean was definitely interested in getting better acquainted with this man, who was obviously a seasoned runner because those legs and thighs were just to die for and he wasn’t even breaking a sweat yet.

Dean spent the next few minutes thinking of the best way to approach this conversation, all the while matching the guy’s steady increase in pace.

But before he could break out his opening line – which would’ve been amazing because he can charm the pants off anyone and has awesome game, thank-you-very-much – the guy beat him to it with a question of his own.

“Are you okay? Your breath sounds very irregular. You should take it easy. Don’t want to overdo it, right?” His facial expression was neutral and friendly, but Dean could hear the challenge in the guy’s voice. And yeah, maybe he had noticed that he was sweating and panting yet again, but who was that guy to comment on it?

What Dean did next was a bad, bad idea. But he couldn’t help it. Never let it be said that Dean Winchester ever backed away from a challenge.

“Dude, I’m fine,” Dean managed to get out without having to pause for breath. “I’m just not at my ideal speed yet and it’s putting me off.” He increased the pace of the treadmill even more, moving from a quick jogging speed to a medium running speed. The sudden increase was brutal, and he had to grit his teeth and focus on his breathing to keep up.

Next to him, the guy matched his increase in speed with a shrug and a “suit yourself”. Smug bastard wasn’t even breathing all that quick. Where was he hiding that extra lung because Dean sure could use one right now.

Five minutes later, Dean was dying. Because he was concentrating on his breathing so much, he managed to keep himself from hyperventilating, but the stitch was back with a vengeance and the pain was almost unbearable. His leg muscles were also starting to ache. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.  Blue eyes was gonna beat him, and he was gonna have to go off with his tail between his legs. It wasn’t fair, anyway. Dean had been running for fifteen minutes already before the guy had even shown up!

Distracted by his thoughts, Dean didn’t noticed the oncoming leg cramp until it was too late. With a cry, he lost his balance, falling off the treadmill onto the gym floor with a hard thump.

Luckily, the floor was slightly padded, and while he’d banged his knee and elbow quite hard against the treadmill, his head had been spared from any injury. It hurt a lot, though, what with the cramp still raging, and Dean was curled in on himself moaning softly in pain and cradling his leg when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked up to see the guy looking at him in concern.

“Are you okay, Dean? Let me see,” he said, gently pulling Dean’s arms away from his leg and checking to see the damage. He wasn’t bleeding, thank god, but a big bruise was slowly blossoming on his kneecap and upper leg.

“We need to stretch your leg to get rid of the cramp,” the guy said, moving Dean into a different position that would allow him to do just that. “Here, let me.” He carefully stretched Dean’s leg, and the relief was almost immediate, though it was tempered with the pain his new bruise was causing.

Dean inspected his elbow, and found no blood there, either. All in all, he was damned lucky. That fall could’ve been a lot uglier.

Through the haze of pain he registered an almost pleasant feeling. It was coming from his leg, the one with the cramp that had now passed. It felt like…

The guy was softly stroking and squeezing his leg. Running his warm hands up and down his calf almost reverently, still looking at him in deep concern. Dean’s cheeks warmed slightly. He was pretty sure that this wasn’t strictly necessary to help get rid of a cramp, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Dean, are you alright?” The guy asked again.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the help.” He waved away a nervous gym employee that had been hovering nearby, assuring him that he wasn’t seriously injured.

He turned back to the guy, meeting his gaze. And this time, now that the pain was receding into a dull, manageable ache, Dean realized what was wrong with the guy’s words.

“How do you know my name?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

The guy’s reaction was immediate. His face turned completely red, easily beating out Dean’s earlier discrete blush, and he averted his eyes.

“I am a friend of Sam’s actually,” he mumbled. “He talks about you a lot.”

Dean sat up a little straighter. “What? How?”

“I‘m head of accounting for the law firm he just started working at. We meet regularly for lunch and during staff meetings,” he explained, recovering calm composure. “He may have mentioned me before? My name is Castiel Novak.”

Oh. Oh! Sam had indeed mentioned him before, once. Said he was this weird but cool guy, that he thought he was just Dean’s type and that he was happy to introduce the two of them. Dean had brushed Sam off with some kind of bullshit excuse that he was too busy to date, and it hadn’t come up again. He hadn’t truly believed that Sam even knew what his type was.

He was wrong. Sam evidently knew him better than he’d thought.

“Uh, yeah, actually he did. It’s good to meet you, though I’ll be honest here, you haven’t really seen me at my best.” Dean smiled self-deprecatingly. He stood up, then, holding out a hand to Castiel who took it gratefully.

Castiel smiled back. “I believe you. Don’t feel bad about cramping up – it can happen to anyone, especially when they’re not frequent runners. Although,” he paused, throwing Dean a mock stern look, “in your case I believe it happened because you pushed yourself too hard.”

“Hey,” Dean exclaimed, feeling the need to defending himself, “you kinda goaded me there man, admit it! What was I supposed to do, back down?”

Castiel coughed, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I will admit to trying to motivate you to keep running, as Sam had mentioned to me that you could do with the exercise. I just didn’t think you’d take to the challenge with quite such vigour and try to match my pace. Your brother failed to mention just how strong your competitive spirit was.

Hah! If Sam played down Dean’s competitiveness he must’ve really been serious about presenting a good image of Dean to Castiel. He must really want them to work out. Come to think of it…

“So…” Dean raised his eyebrows, “is it a total coincidence that you’re here on the same day I decide to come in for the very first time, or did a certain someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to a sasquatch tip you off?”

Castiel’s deer-in-the-headlights look gave him the answer.

“I see. I bet he pointed me out to you too, didn’t he? So you could come and run on the treadmill next to me?”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry Dean,” he said contritely. “I just…really wanted to meet you and when Sam said that you weren’t interested in a formal date, I thought that meeting you in a more casual way might be better.”

That was one hell of a confession. It took guts for Castiel to admit it, thereby leaving him vulnerable and open to rejection should Dean wish to turn him away. However, rather than thinking about rejection, Dean chose to focus on feeling incredibly flattered that Castiel had wanted to meet him so badly he’d conspired with his little brother. Sure, it was a bit weird, but he trusted Sam not to set him up with a creepy stalker.

“Oh wow, that, uh, actually makes sense.” Okay, this was the part where Dean was supposed to segue into asking Castiel out, because – let’s face it – despite everything that had happened so far, he was definitely still interested in getting to know Castiel better and finding out if those smooth, warm hands were good at other things besides calf massages…

Completely oblivious to the fact he’d obviously let the silence stretch on for a tad too long, Dean was startled by a soft cough from Castiel. “I’m sorry,” he said, his body language shutting down, “I’ll just go, this was a bad idea anyway and look how it turned out. I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Dean. Goodbye.”

As he turned away, Dean moved on instinct, lunging forward and grabbing Castiel’s t-shirt with a cry of “wait!”

If only he hadn’t missed the sports bag on the ground between them.

Oh crap, not again, Dean thought as he went down, taking Castiel with him.

Dean landed rather softly on top of Castiel, who’d taken the brunt of the fall. Luckily, due to the padding and the fact that they were far enough away from any exercise machines, no real harm was done.

This meant that both men - after exchanging assurances that they were fine – realized at the same time that their entire bodies were now in contact with each other. For what felt like the hundred time today, they both flushed faintly and couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdness of the situation.

“So,” Dean smirked, finally feeling like he had the upper hand, “You caused me to fall off my treadmill, I accidentally drag you down with me. I think that makes us even now.”

“No,” Castiel replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I don’t think we are. It was not my fault your leg cramped and you fell, whereas in this scenario you clearly are the culprit, unintentional or not.”

“So what do you suggest then?”

“I must insist you let me take you out to dinner.”

Dean pretended to consider it. “Okay, but…” He moved his mouth closer to Castiel’s, until they were only an inch or two apart. “Only if I get to give you the best post-first date kiss you’ve ever had.”

The joy that lit up Castiel’s face was a wonder to behold, and Dean hoped he’d get to see it many times from now on.

“I don’t know Dean, I’ve had some pretty great post-date kisses. Not sure you can make good on that promise,” Castiel answered teasingly, stroking his fingers lightly over Dean’s arms.

“What can I say? I like a challenge.”

(Tag list under the cut)

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Red Lipstick in the Kitchen

Prompt fill for @jilljennings10. Sorry it took so long!!

21. 3:28am
85. Red lipstick

Not betaed. Read at your own risk :-)

********************

Kara awoke with a start. The sound of loud knocking echoed in her alien ears. Rolling over, she checked the clock. 3:28 am. She rushed out of bed, fumbling to get her glasses on as she came out into the living area.

The knocking continued as Kara threw open the door. Her eyes went wide at the sight before her. Cat Grant. Cat Grant in a black dress, slit up to her thigh. Cat Grant in a black dress, slit up to her thigh, wearing impeccably applied red lipstick. She was leaning against the door frame, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Kara realized she was gawking and snapped her mouth shut. “Uh, uh, Ms. Grant,” she stuttered, “I, uh, I thought you had the gala tonight.”

Cat pushed off the doorframe and stepped into Kara’s space. Kara quickly stepped back, intimidated. Once she was inside the apartment, Cat closed the door and reclined against it, holding the knob.

“I did,” Cat responded. “But the gala’s over and I don’t want to go home.”

Kara’s sensitive olfactory nerves picked up the faint scent of bourbon and she quickly asked, “Have you been drinking, Ms. Grant?”

“Of course I’ve been drinking.”

Cat stood up straight and Kara stiffened. Slowly walking an imaginary tight rope, Cat began stalking toward Kara. The young superhero swore she felt all the strength drain from her body at the seductive look in Cat’s eyes. Cat was always beautiful, but right now all Kara could think was that she looked so, so sexy.

The closer Cat came, the more Kara tried to back up. She felt the small of her back hit the kitchen counter and she knew she was out of places to run. She’d never been more captivated and more afraid in her whole life.

A second later, Cat’s body was brushing against hers and Kara’s head started swimming as Cat’s breath puffed lightly against her face. Slight arms came to Kara’s sides, slipping around to grasp the counter behind Kara, pinning her in place.

They were so close together and their gazes locked. Despite the alcohol, Cat’s eyes were bright and clear and completely focused on Kara. If either one of them moved only a few inches, their lips would surely touch.

“Ms. Grant,” Kara whispered, “what are you doing?” Kara’s eyes closed and all she could feel was Cat, all she could smell was Cat, and all she could hear was Cat.

While her eyes were still closed, the softest lips ghosted across her jaw line. Kara inhaled sharply at the gentle contact. Then Cat’s nose nuzzled the shell of her ear and Kara unconsciously leaned into the touch.

“Cat…” Kara tried to get more words out, but the tingles pulsing through her prevented her from talking.

The other woman spoke in a voice low with seduction. “Tell me you haven’t wanted this and I’ll walk back out that door.” Her lips pressed to the spot just under the hinge of Kara’s jaw and Kara adjusted to give her free access.

“You know I can’t say that,” Kara whispered, unable to open her eyes.

Then Cat’s hands left the counter top and lifted to rest on either side of Kara’s ribcage and she placed agonizingly slow kisses at Kara’s neck.

Cat’s breath was on Kara’s mouth. “No more lies.” She reached up and easily pulled Kara’s glasses from her face. At that, Kara forced her eyes open in time to watch Cat toss the glasses aside and they slid across the counter. Their eyes met and Cat said, “No more games.”

Before Kara had a chance to respond, Cat pressed a passionate and wanting kiss to her mouth. Kara had always imagined their first kiss as slow and soft, but this was better than anything she had fantasized about. She wrapped her arms around Cat’s waist and pulled her close until not even the air separated them.

They kissed with open mouths and pushing tongues, quickly getting lost. Kara’s hands moved over the skin exposed by the backless dress Cat was wearing. Cat fanned her fingers over Kara’s torso under her shirt and the closeness was intoxicating.

Kara tore her mouth from Cat’s and moved to suck lightly at her neck. Pressing her tongue to Cat’s pulse point, Kara felt how hard the woman’s heart was beating.

A soft, “Kara,” escaped Cat’s lips and she shifted her hands from under Kara’s clothes to around her strong shoulders.

Kara came to bring their mouths back together. They kissed hard and deep, months, even years of suppressed desire coming to the surface.

The roughness soon gave way to tenderness as the two women began peppering one another with sweet kisses. Foreheads touching together, Cat brought her fingers to splay over Kara’s cheeks. Kara’s hands stayed on Cat’s hips.

Kara pulled back to look at her. She was gorgeous with swollen lips and smudged lipstick. Kara reached up to run her thumb just under Cat’s bottom lip, removing part of the smudging. She smiled slowly at Cat, who smiled slowly back.

Kara quietly asked her, “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I told you, I don’t wanna go home.” Cat kissed Kara’s mouth again, lingering there. They stood in Kara’s kitchen, holding one another close.

“You’ve been drinking,” Kara reminded her. “I don’t want you to wake up here and regret it.” Even the thought of Cat wishing she could take this back was heart wrenching to Kara. She’d waited so long for this.

“I’ve been drinking,” Cat drawled. “I’m not drunk.” Another kiss on Kara’s mouth. “And I won’t regret it.” She met Kara’s eyes, her gaze boring into them. “I could never regret it.”

Kara slowly nodded. “Okay.” Holding up a finger, she playfully said, “But we’re sleeping.”

“Hmm,” Cat hummed her agreement. “I may be a little unsteady on my feet.”

“I can help with that.” Kara bent down to easily scoop Cat into her arms, cradling her close.

Cat nestled into Kara. “We can kiss some more.” It wasn’t a question and Kara smiled at the playful tone.

Kara took her time walking back to her bedroom. She loved the feeling of holding Cat like this.

As she used her foot to close the door behind her, she laughed as Cat quietly jested, “My hero.”

onlysilentawe  asked:

“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.“ Nursey/Dex, please!

Full Body Blush

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Dex said desperately. He reached for the pillow behind him; his fingers sank into something soft and he grabbed it, hastily pulling it into his lap.

“That’s funny, because it looks like you’re sitting naked on my bed,” Bitty said. “And I’ll thank you to set Senor Bun back where you found him.” His tone was icy and his hands were on his hips. He looked as angry as Dex had ever seen him look – Bitty didn’t do angry, he was the king of ‘bless your heart, kill you with kindness, bury your body out in a field in the dead of night’ passive aggressive. This wasn’t good.

Dex looked down and saw he hadn’t grabbed Bitty’s pillow, but a rabbit. A well-worn stuffed rabbit, apparently named Senor Bun, that Bitty loved enough to bring along to college and keep in his bed. It would be chirp-worthy, if that beloved stuffed rabbit wasn’t currently covering Dex’s junk. Slowly, Dex replaced Senor Bun in his place of honor on Bitty’s pillow and folded his hands over his crotch.

“Bitty…”

“I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.” Bitty tapped his foot while Dex looked around helplessly. His underwear was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of his other clothes.

“Aww, does he have to?” And there was Nursey, right on cue. He was standing in Bitty’s doorway, a big grin on his face. “I didn’t know people could blush with their whole bodies.” He held up a hand where Bitty wouldn’t notice, Dex’s underwear dangling from his fingers.

But Bitty did notice. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on here,” he said sternly. Dex froze, his eyes on Nursey’s face. “Prank wars are for the dorms, not my bedroom, you hear?”

Dex nodded frantically while Nursey pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Now, Nursey, you give Dex his clothes back. I don’t even want to know what you two were planning. I’m going downstairs. I’ll be back up in five minutes, and I better not see anything in here that I would politely ignore in the locker room.”

With that, Bitty turned and left, edging past Nursey who stood back to let him out. Dex was relieved to see Nursey had the rest of his clothes under one arm.

“Get in here,” Dex hissed.

Nursey’s laugh finally broke free as he walked in and threw Dex’s clothes at his head. He closed the door and leaned against it. “Do you think he’d politely ignore us making out in the locker room?”

“We are not going to find out.” Dex thrust both feet into his underwear and yanked them up, then pulled on his shirt.

“We could just tell him the truth.” Nursey had his chill face on now. “Bitty wouldn’t care. The opposite, probably. And it’s not like we have to keep our relationship a secret.”

Dex paused in the middle of putting on his pants. “No.” Nursey did that stone-faced thing that Dex hated and he quickly added, “He’ll think we were going to have sex in his room. We’ll tell him - and everyone else - later, once he’s had a chance to forget about this.”

Nursey relaxed again. “Why did you even come in here? Chowder’s room is right across the hall, and he wouldn’t have cared if he found the whole team naked in there. He’d probably ask if it was some team bonding thing and if he should get naked too.”

“I panicked, all right?” Dex zipped and buttoned his pants. “Where are my socks and shoes?”

“Still in the living room. I was in a hurry when I saw Bitty go up the stairs.” Nursey pushed away from the door and moved closer to Dex, stopping mere inches away. He put his hands on Dex’s shoulders. “We should just tell Bitty. He’ll freak out because of what we were about to do on the couch, not that you ran into his room to hide.”

Dex’s face went hot again. “I am never doing a strip tease for you in the Haus again.”

Nursey leaned in and kissed him. “That’s okay. I’ll do one for you next time.”

It’s Not That Bad

@cherrybaby143 asked: Can you write about Adrien/Nino with number 15 please?

15 – Is there any part of you that isn’t bruised?

(Yes I can!  Here we go! Featuring Drunk!Adrien, who was fun to write.  Hope you enjoy!)

AO3

In all honesty, Nino should be used to this by now.  It had been six years since he found out his best friend was Chat Noir, five since he found out Marinette was Ladybug.  Logically, he should be used to this.

But Nino didn’t think he’d ever be used to watching Adrien get beat up by a half dozen criminals on television.

The feed was being broadcast live from a civilian who had been watching, and the police hadn’t arrived on scene yet.  So it was just Chat Noir, just Adrien, against six criminals.

Nino felt his heart stop as one pulled out a gun, his screams for Adrien to just turn around bouncing uselessly off the TV.  The shot went off, and he stopped breathing, unable to look away as it pierced his shoulder. The yowl that Adrien let out was as close to that of his namesake as Nino had ever heard, and his distraction was enough to get taken down by the remaining criminals.

The police showed up a few moments later, taking down the criminals as Adrien rose shakily to his feet.

That’s where the broadcast ended.

This was the worst part, if you asked Nino.  Sure, watching him get beat up was pretty bad, but it was the waiting that was the worst, not knowing if he was going to make it back, or if his body was going to be found in an alley somewhere.  If it had been Alya filming, she would have ignored the police telling her to turn off her phone.  She would have kept it going, let them know he was okay.

But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know, not yet.

So he busied himself, opening the balcony doors and lying out a towel like he was an actual cat stuck out in a rainstorm rather than an injured superhero.  He filled a plate with cheese because Plagg liked to complain and Nino didn’t feel like dealing with that tonight.  He gathered the first aid supplies, grimacing at the long-engrained memory of Mari teaching all of them on her own arm how to give stitches because the Cure didn’t always heal everything, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to use that knowledge today.  The vodka came, too, in case he did have to use that knowledge, because Adrien preferred to be slightly drunk when he had to be sewn up.

And then he waited.

It was a few minutes before his husband dragged himself over the balcony railing, one hand clenching his shoulder tightly, and collapsed onto the towel.  His transformation was released before Nino could reach him, and Plagg silently dove into the pile of cheese.

“You’re an idiot,” Nino said, hauling Adrien up to lean against the wall.

The blond grimaced at the movement, then offered him a pained smirk.  “But I’m your idiot.”

“That doesn’t mean you can get yourself shot,” Nino insisted, scanning his husband to assess the damage.  His lip was split, one of his eyes was swelling shut, and any exposed skin was covered in cuts and scratches.  His previously white shirt was more red than white, and the blood spread from his shoulder. Nino grabbed a pair of scissors from the first aid kit, cutting it off.

“Jesus, Adrien,” he muttered, staring at his husband’s chest.  “Is there any part of you that isn’t bruised?”

Adrien’s hand had come back up to grip his shoulder.  “Wouldn’t you like to find out,” he muttered weakly, and Nino rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re flirting right now,” he admonished, digging through the kit.  “You’re bleeding out on our bedroom carpet, and you’re flirting with me.”

“It’s not that bad. The bullet came out.”  Right.  Because they were in a place in their lives where being shot and the bullet coming out constituted as “not that bad”.

Nino turned back, pulling Adrien’s hand away and grimacing.  It may be “not that bad”, but it was still definitely going to need some stitches.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” Nino asked.  He asked because he always asked, because he wasn’t a doctor and could make things worse, even if he’d ended up with the best quality stitching of the group, because there was a chance the answer would be different.

But Adrien shook his head, as he always did.  “How would we explain a bullet wound?”

“You could tell everyone you’re Chat Noir,” Nino pointed out, knowing it was futile and that his husband would never agree.  He cleaned off the bullet wound and Adrien let out a hiss.  “Your dad’s been in jail for years, and there hasn’t been any other supervillains.”

“Mari would kill me.” That was the argument it always came down to.  Marinette was still terrified of people finding out she was Ladybug.

“She’s not even in the country right now.  You could be hidden away before she even finds out.”

Adrien barked out a laugh, which was cut short as his husband accidentally pressed too hard.  “Right,” he agreed.  “Because a honeymoon is going to be enough to keep Alya from knowing Chat Noir’s every move.”

Nino laughed, handing over the bottle of vodka.  “She’s probably going to get exclusives from Ladybug every other day.”  He shook his head.  “I honestly don’t know how they haven’t blown it yet.”

“And yet they think we’re the ones who are going to get discovered first.”  Adrien scowled at his shoulder before downing half the bottle in one go.  He took a deep breath and turned away, chugging the rest of the vodka.  Nino was still amazed at the super-drinking powers Adrien and Marinette had, though they both tended to rack up quite the bill when they went out.

He held out a shirt to Adrien, and his husband stuffed it in his mouth.  “Ready?”  Adrien blew his breath out through his nose and closed his good eye before nodding.

It took a few minutes, and more than a few muffled screams and curses, but eventually Adrien was sewn back together and they both collapsed against the wall.

“There’s some more cuts that could probably use stitches,” Nino pointed out.  “Or we could wrap them up and check on them later.  What do you think?”

Adrien spat out the shirt, head lolling towards his husband.  His good eye drooped—from exhaustion?  Pain? Vodka?  Nino didn’t know—and he offered a lopsided smile.  “Mari will fix it,” he said, his voice hoarse.  “We can just cuddle.”

“We can cuddle later,” Nino said.  “I’ve at least got to bandage you.  And Mari can’t fix you.  She’s not here, remember?”

His husband shrugged his good shoulder.  “She can fix me later.”

Nino rolled his eyes, wiping the blood off Adrien’s body and replacing it with bandages.  By the time he finished, Adrien was all but asleep against the wall.

He prodded his good shoulder, and Adrien blinked up wearily at him.  “I’m gonna move you to bed,” Nino told him.  “You good to stand?”

Adrien nodded, and they slowly pulled him to his feet.  He wobbled a bit before crashing into Nino’s chest with a giggle.  Nino always forgot how pain lowered his husband’s alcohol tolerance, and that bottle of vodka had definitely made him at least tipsy by now.

“I love you,” Adrien whispered, pressing sloppy kisses against Nino’s face.

He smiled, pecking him on the lips and pulling him towards the bed.  “I love you, too.”

“No,” Adrien whined, drawing out the syllable.  “You’re supposed to say ‘I know’, like Han Solo.”

Nino helped lower him into bed, raising an eyebrow.  “You want me to be Han Solo?”

Adrien nodded, not releasing Nino until he’d crawled into bed beside him.  “You’d be a hot Han Solo,” he said.  “Like, hotter than trees.”

“Trees?”

“Yeah, like really hot trees.”

Nino laughed, pulling his husband close.  Adrien curled into his chest.  “Does that make you Princess Leia, then?”

“I could rock that bikini.”

Adrien drifted off not long after that, and Nino wasn’t far from it when his phone rang, Marinette’s picture flashing across the screen.  Adrien groaned and cuddled closer as his husband answered.

“Someone submitted the fight to the Ladyblog,” she said, no pleasantries necessary.  “He’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.”

Adrien pulled himself up Nino’s body so their faces were smashed together.  “No, I’m not!” he whined into the phone.  “Come home and fix me, Mari!”

“He’s fine.”  Nino rolled his eyes, switching ears with the phone so he could reassure Marinette before she cut her honeymoon short to come fix her partner.  “He’s just drunk.”

He could practically hear Marinette’s grimace through the phone.  “Ooo.  Stitches?”

“Yeah, and they hurt.” Adrien lifted off his husband enough so Nino could see his lip jutting out.  “Tell her I’m pouting, Nino.  She’ll come fix me if I’m pouting.”

“Sorry, chaton.  I’ve still got the rest of my honeymoon.”

Adrien collapsed back onto Nino, letting out a slight gasp of pain at the sudden movement.  “Tell Mari to go away,” he muttered.  “We’re supposed to be cuddling.”

Nino eyed his husband, who was wrapped around him like a spider monkey, and his own arm that was holding him back. “We are cuddling,” he pointed out, and Marinette giggled from the other end of the phone.

“Mari’s being mean, so she’s not allowed to cuddle,” Adrien insisted, pulling the phone down to his level. “Go cuddle with Alya, not us.”

Marinette laughed.  “Gladly,” she said, and Adrien, satisfied, released Nino’s arm.  “We’ll talk later.  Let me know if anything really bad happens.  Night, Nino. Night, Adrien.”

“Night, Mari.  Tell Alya I said hi.”  Nino hung up, tossing his phone back onto the unoccupied portion of the bed.  He cuddled back down into Adrien, who had let go enough to pout again.

“I didn’t get to say goodnight.”

“Maybe if you yell loud enough she’ll hear,” Nino suggested, tugging the blankets back up to cover them. Adrien seemed to contemplate it for a few moments before shaking his head.

“Maybe later,” he decided, pressing a sleepy kiss against Nino’s lips.  “I love you.”

Adrien curled back against him, and Nino wrapped his arms around his husband.  “I know.”

He felt Adrien grinning against his chest.  “You should be Han Solo for Halloween.”

Nino laughed, running his fingers through Adrien’s hair.  “Only if you wear the bikini.”

It was quiet for a while and Nino thought Adrien had fallen asleep.  He was almost asleep himself when his husband whispered his answer into the darkness.

“Deal.”

archiveofourown.org
Catherine

This is for @brokenvidrio and @ephemeralfangirl. They remembered this head canon from forever ago so here is a little origin/expansion to that. It’s a short 1,170 words and ridiculously sappy. Enjoy!

********************

The first time it happened, it was an accident. They were so consumed in the throes of passion that Kara had stopped thinking clearly. Cat’s hands were driving her to the edge. Kara didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out.

“Catherine.” Kara had whispered it so quietly that Cat almost didn’t hear it with the distraction of Kara’s beautiful body underneath her. But when the soft sound of her name floated to her ears, Cat stopped her movements and stared, wide-eyed, at her lover.

Lust turned to emotion as Kara stared back, breathing heavy. Cat saw the concern on her face, like she was afraid she had done something wrong. Cat wanted to tell her that she hadn’t done a thing wrong, but her voice was stuck in her throat. Instead, she leaned over Kara, face to face, her hands pressed into the mattress on either side of Kara’s shoulders. Sharp green eyes were locked onto deep blue under the dim light from the nightstand lamp.

Kara lifted a hand to tenderly brush her fingers along the soft skin of Cat’s cheek. Then she said it again, even quieter, “Catherine,” as if she were testing what it was like to say the name.

Cat watched as the unsure look vanished from Kara’s face and was replaced with deep affection. If Cat hadn’t known she was in love with Kara before this moment, she certainly knew now.

Leaning down the last few inches, Cat kissed Kara, open mouthed and wanting. No one had called her Catherine in years, decades. She’d forgotten what it sounded like. Hearing it from Kara’s lips awakened something in her, something loving and soft.

********************

At first, Kara only used the name when they were making love. It always came out involuntarily, as if it were a part of how Kara breathed. Every time it stirred something deep inside Cat. It pushed her to love Kara as well as she could.

Then, Kara started saying it at other times.

One night, they were cleaning up the kitchen after dinner and Kara asked, “Catherine, can you pass a towel?”

They froze instantly, eyes on one another. Cat saw the same worried look she had seen the first time Kara said it. She could tell the young woman thought it may have been too much and too casual and Cat would tell her not to say it again. But, after a moment, Cat only handed her a towel to dry the dishes they were cleaning. When Kara took the towel, Cat reached over to press a tender kiss to her lips.

After that, Kara used the name often. She used it while they were getting ready in the morning after Kara spent the night. She used it on the phone the nights that she stayed at her own place.

Kara called her Catherine when they sat down to eat and when they drove to work together. In the slower paced times, Kara would come behind Cat, encircling the small woman in her arms. She would lean forward and rest her cheek against Cat’s and whisper in her ear, “Love you, Catherine.”

So often, Cat would close her eyes and immediately replay the sound of it in her mind. She loved it when Kara called her Catherine. She couldn’t put her finger on what made it so special. Maybe it was that the name was only used between the two of them. No one else was ever there to hear it, and no one else certainly ever said it.

Soon, Kara was using it at work. Late one night Cat was pouring over layouts on the sofa in her office. Kara came into the spacious room and sat down beside her. The CEO was centered on her task and didn’t acknowledge the other woman’s entrance. Kara knew her well enough to know it wasn’t personal, it was Cat’s razor sharp focus.

Eventually, Kara set a hand on Cat’s leg, drawing her attention. Cat glanced over to see a small smile on the beautiful face of the most beautiful woman. Even the smallest smile from Kara was contagious and Cat’s own lips slowly quirked up.

Kara shifted towards her and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. When they were sitting hip to hip, Kara reached up to rub the back of Cat’s neck with one hand and Cat’s shoulders slumped as she relaxed at the touch with a weary groan.

Kara quietly said, “You work too hard, Catherine.”

After another moment of Kara’s fingers massaging her neck, Cat lifted her head. “Did I ever tell you why I go by Cat?”

With a small shake of her head, Kara requested, “Tell me.”

“When I first started in journalism, it was a man’s world. Women were left by the wayside. We didn’t get the good assignments, we didn’t get the same salary, and we certainly didn’t get the respect.” Cat adjusted herself to face Kara, taking her hand.

“You’re one of the people that changed all that,” Kara complimented.

Cat smiled, appreciating the acknowledgement of years of hard work in a relentless industry. “I started going by Cat when I started at the Planet. It had always been Catherine before then.”

“Why the change?” Kara waited for the answer, looking curious.

“Cat is,” Cat paused, searching for the right description, “Cat is sharp, bold. It’s one syllable. Quick and authoritative.” She met Kara’s eyes, using her thumb to stroke the back of the hand she was holding. With a small shrug, she continued. “Catherine is soft. It’s feminine. People hear Catherine and they think of a pretty face. They hear Cat and they think of a go getter.”

Reaching up to brush Cat’s hair from her face, Kara said, “I like your feminine side. And I like it when you’re soft.”

One side of Cat’s lips turned up in a tired but content half smile. “I’m only that person for you and Carter.”

Kara glanced away shyly for a moment and it made Cat grin. She thought Kara was adorable when she blushed, and she always blushed when Cat talked about her like family.

When Kara looked back, she said, “Let me take you home.”

Cat hummed in response. “Okay.”

“Drive or fly?” Kara asked quietly.

Cat knew that Kara already knew the answer. But she still confirmed, “Fly.”

Kara smiled and stood, lightly tugging on Cat’s hand until she also stood. Cat rested her head on Kara’s shoulder while they took slow steps, hand in hand, toward the balcony door. Kara reached out to open the door, moving her hand to gently rest on the small of Cat’s back, guiding her outside.

They wrapped their arms around each other as they prepared to lift into the air. Cat laid her forehead against Kara’s neck, nuzzling into her. She’d never been so content to be so vulnerable. Kara knew her through and through, and there was never any threat in that.

She was Kara’s Catherine and she always would be.

I Didn’t Know That I Was Starving ‘Til I Tasted You.

For @warpedchyld. For reasons. I just had to ;)

Warnings: Dom/sub, sexual content (implied) & breath play (kinda?). NSFW.


Steve discovered 21st century music was far more provocative and sexual than anything he’d ever heard. It wasn’t until things had calmed down and he was back at the Avengers Compound, with a lot of free time, that he really had the ability to catch up on everything he hadn’t already learnt.

And that meant pop music.

According to Clint, anyway. Having more time, also meant he could get back to art and illustration, he loved drawing and painting, he was an artist and his fingers craved those inky sets of watercolours and crisp paper that Bucky had bought for his birthday a couple of months ago, and finally he could get down to work. Letting the radio play, he got to it, when a song he hadn’t heard came on. It was called Starving by Hailee Steinfeld, which Steve thought was a really weird title for a song. Maybe, it was about food or something.

I didn’t know that I was starving ‘til I tasted you

Don’t need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo

By the way, right away you do things to my body

I didn’t know that I was starving 'til I tasted you

It was safe to say it wasn’t. Bright red in the face, Steve almost dropped his paint pallet upon hearing the line ‘I didn’t know that I was staring ‘til I tasted you’ and as songs go, they usually make you feel something. And all Steve could do was gape at nothing in particular at the sheer sexual nature of the song, but also, at how much it reminded him of Bucky. And the first time he’d, quite literally, tasted Bucky. He could never forget that moment. Couldn’t even if he was tortured. It was when they were back home, when the worst thing Steve was worried about was rent and dying of his asthma or another illness he had, they’d been kissing and then one thing led to another…and well.

Steve couldn’t get enough, let’s put it that way.

So, engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the door to their floor open and the lift chime, indicating that someone was entering their lobby. Pretty soon, Steve felt arms wrapping around his waist and that thick, muscled body, pressing up against him. And that did make him drop his paint pallet, which Bucky, of course, caught.

“Baby, you all right?” he asked, smirking as he mouthed at Steve’s blushing neck, “you’re all flustered.”

Steve let out something close to a whine and blushed even more. If that was possible. “I’m fine,” Steve replied, voice higher than usual.

Bucky grinned and sucked a hickey into Steve’s neck, gripping his hips tighter so that the blond was pressed against the brunette’s beefy body, with no escape. And fuck, Steve melted at the sensation of being held so tightly. His head fell back against Bucky’s shoulder, parted lips, eyes darkening, glazing over.

“You hungry, baby doll?” Bucky chuckled, somewhat teasingly. And at any other time, Steve would have snapped back with some comment but right then, it wasn’t the moment and Steve was too far gone.

A clumsy nod was all Steve could muster, whimpering when Bucky wrapped his metal hand around his throat, lightly, gently, purring in his ear, “you gonna be good for me? Eh, sweetheart?”

Steve moaned and nodded, blushing all over again. “Yes, sir.”

Bucky growled and kissed Steve fiercely. Painting was the last thing on Steve’s mind at that moment, especially when Bucky picked him up effortlessly and carried him over to their bedroom. Yeah, painting could wait.

prompt fill

@zennie-fic and I exchanged prompts, so here is a gift for u, friend!

In response to the prompt: What happened to my clothes?

It’s the beeping that wakes her. She’s warm and comfortable - is comfortable even the word? She feels like she doesn’t have a body to be comfortable in, it’s just her, body-less and floating in the warmth. It’d be perfect, except for that damn beeping.

Maggie opens her eyes to give it a stern talking-to, and a gray ceiling with dim lighting swims into view. She blinks at it, but it doesn’t really get any more focused or any more interesting, so she tries the rest of the room instead, raising her head to look blearily around.

Everything is kind of grim and bare and definitely not her bedroom, even though she’s in a bed, and even though that is her girlfriend asleep in a plastic chair next to her, one hand draped lightly next to Maggie’s shoulder.

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anonymous asked:

So if you wanted some prompts I have some for AvAc Winteriron: 1) Bucky is crushing hard on Tony and is irrationally jealous of Misty, whose arm Tony made her. He also wants an arm spesifically made for him by Tony! Even if the one he has is working perfectly fine already!

2) After arriving at the Academy, Bucky is shown around by Tony, and is really drawn to him. He’s so impressed by everything Tony has done for the academy (not that Tony likes to mention it, he only does so in passing as if it isn’t important), and after staying there for a while he is slightly horrified by how some people treat him/take advantage of him all the time.

3) Every new song Bucky writes has subtle hints about how he is in love with Tony, not that Tony ever notices. Janet, however, does, and confronts Bucky about it to be sure he won’t break Tony’s heart, because she knows how Tony feels about Bucky as well.

These were so cute, I combined all three. This is nearly 6k, so ‘ware the readmore! (I’ll put it up on Ao3 as soon as I get a chance, for easier reading/bookmarking…)

“Hi, welcome to Avengers Academy!”

Bucky turned toward the voice, wary. When someone said “welcome” at Hydra, it usually meant they were planning to humiliate you or get the drop on you with an ambush.

Well, they could try. The Winter Soldier had carved out a niche of respect at Hydra, and he would make one here, if he had to.

“Usually it’s Jan or Pepper doing the welcome tour, but Pep’s off interviewing some potential recruits and Jan’s right in the middle of planning next month’s parties, so I said I’d do it. So hi, welcome – I said that already, didn’t I? – um, I’m Tony Stark, nice to meet you!”

Bucky looked him over. Tony Stark had armored boots and a gauntlet on his extended hand, and was wearing a garish red and yellow jacket over skin-tight jeans. Those jeans did not look practical for combat, but they did an excellent job of showing off Tony’s legs. Tony had artfully fluffy hair that made Bucky want to mess it up, and a scraggly attempt at facial hair that was kind of cute in its utter failure. He’d started off with a bright smile, but it was beginning to fade, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Uh, okay,” Tony said, dropping the extended hand and rubbing it on his other arm uncertainly. “So you’re the Winter Soldier, huh? Is that… what you want us to call you? I mean, most everyone’s got a codename and, you know, a real name, but we’re pretty divided on what we want people to call us. I’m Tony and Jan is Jan and Pepper is Pepper unless she’s really mad at you in which case she’s Ms. Potts. But you should see how mad Enchantress gets if you try to call her Amora, and man, do not call Hulk Bruce, he smashes extra hard if you do that. And ‘Spider-Man’ thinks he’s maintaining a secret identity, so we pretty much humor him and call him that if he’s got his mask on, you know?”

Bucky considered this. “Names are nothing but words / it is the soul within that hurts,” he tried. Not the best meter or rhyme, but there was a theme there worth exploring.

Tony stared at him blankly for a moment. “Um. So you’re… cool with whatever, I guess. Okay. Well, I’m supposed to show you around the campus, so come on, I’ll make sure you know where everything important is!”

Tony led Bucky around the campus in a wide arc. Bucky already knew the campus layout, of course, having studied it in preparation for attack. But it was very different, seeing things with his own eyes, and Tony’s constant stream of chatter was often amusing.

“Two nightclubs, in fact,” Tony was saying proudly. “There’s the Galaxy club there–” He pointed toward a garish neon building. “–and the Guardians put on a mean death metal show, I gotta say. But a lot of us prefer something a little more homey, and that’s Club A. Pool table, jukebox, great dance floor.” He looked sidelong at Bucky, then shrugged. “Cap spends a lot of time in there, so…”

Bucky didn’t let himself wince, but he wanted to. His feelings about Cap – Steve – were… complicated. But Tony was looking at him hopefully, waiting for some sort of reaction, and Bucky was oddly disinclined to disappoint him. “The bartender is a robot,” he observed.

“What? Oh, yeah, I made him.”

“By yourself?” It took – had taken – a team of three Hydra scientists to merely perform maintenance on Bucky’s arm.

“Oh, sure, robots are easy. The challenging bit was upgrading him so it didn’t cause any long-term damage when his head comes off.”

Bucky stared at Tony.

Tony shrugged. “Crossbones keeps ripping his head off, and I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to tell him they don’t like that, but he won’t listen, so it seemed easier to just make it so it wouldn’t hurt them too much, you know?” Bucky had no trouble believing that. Crossbones was… unpleasant. It wasn’t enough for him to accomplish his missions. He made it personal.

Tony was still talking about the robot. “… already had some easy-repair joints for the robots at the blasting range, so I just had to find a way to–”

Now that sounded like something Bucky would enjoy. “Blasting range?” He swung his favorite rifle off his shoulder. “Show me.”

Tony’s smile was all teeth. “This way.”

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anonymous asked:

Bucky coming home from a mission to Steve waiting on the couch, asleep and in one of Bucky's sweaters. Instead of waking him up, Bucky got ready for bed then carried Steve to bed to hold him. Steve making happy noises in his sleep as he's held.

Bucky trudged up the stairs to his and Steve’s floor, the lift was broken again. Tony did tell him what happened, something about leaving Thor’s hammer in there to see if it would go up. It didn’t. 

He was tired and grumpy. The mission had been a hard one, long too. He’d been away from Steve for a week and it was too much. Being away from Steve for a couple of hours was awful, he didn’t know how he’d done it for a week. 

It had been a simple extract and rescue mission, get the hostages and intel from the captors and bring them in. But it still felt like it had been harder than it needed to be. Maybe, he was just tired and missing Steve. 

When he reached their floor, he put his finger to the touch pad and the door slid open, taking him to the lobby of their floor, where they had the TV and living room, books upon books on shelves and their small kitchen. He walked into the backroom, past the open plan kitchen, just before the bedrooms and found Steve asleep, curled up on the couch. 

He must’ve been reading because a book was lying on the small table in the room. It was dimly lit and the windows were closed. There was a fire going in the fireplace and the smell of Steve’s soap wafted through the air. The backroom was spacious and was often used to eat dinner or relax, without the overbearing presence of the TV or any other screens. 

Bucky walked around to see Steve’s face. He was sleeping peacefully, the rise and fall of his chest and the soft pink blush dusting his cheeks was enough to calm Bucky down. 

Steve was wearing one of Bucky’s jumpers, it was a little big on the sleeping man, especially around the shoulders, where Bucky was broader and thicker than Steve, despite the serum. 

He was also wearing a pair of Bucky’s jogging bottoms, probably too wide at the waist and baggy on Steve’s thighs, for as much as Steve worked out and had the impressive form to prove it, he was lithe and lean, muscled sure but Bucky was larger, thick where Steve was agile. 

Smiling, Bucky leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead before going to the bedroom. He shed himself of his clothes and weaponry, putting it all away, before going to have a nice, hot shower. Once he was done, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, changing into a pair of clean boxers and sweats. 

When he walked back out into the backroom, Steve was still sleeping peacefully. “Come on, baby,” Bucky said softly, picking Steve up with ease, like a bride and carried him to their bedroom, “let’s go to sleep, eh?”

Steve made a content noise and nuzzled Bucky’s neck, still asleep. Bucky chuckled and kissed Steve’s head again, before laying him down and crawling into bed with him. “Goodnight, baby doll.” 

Steve hummed happily in his sleep, purring like a kitten as he curled up next to Bucky, putting his head on the brunette’s bare chest and digging his fingers into the meat of his lover’s muscles, wrapped up in Bucky’s arms as if someone was going to take him away. 

“I’m here, love,” Bucky whispered, covering them both with the duvet and turned off the bedside table lamp, settling in with Steve tucked against him, underneath Bucky’s chin. 

“I love you, Stevie,” Bucky smiled into Steve’s hair and kissed his soft locks, gently drawing patterns on Steve’s back. 

Steve made another noise, happy and small before pressing his mouth to Bucky’s neck, hands curling around Bucky’s dog tags. Then, he sleepily mumbled, half dreaming, half awake, “love you too, Buck.” 

beginte  asked:

If you're still taking the prompts from the list, I'd love 00Q with 10: “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it.” because it sounds like it could be hilarious and/or adorable :D

Apologies for the delay, lovely! This was an excellent prompt that required some consideration. Please accept this offering of borderline schmoopy domestic fluff. :D (p.s. I heart your face. <3)

(from this list)

“You want to move in together?” Q blinked at the man from behind his glasses, blaming the early hour and lack of tea for the fact that he couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly.

James shrugged a shoulder from where he leaned against the kitchen doorway, dressed in nothing but his sleep pants. “I don’t see why not,” he answered casually. “God knows I’m never at mine. Half my clothes are here already.”

“But, you want to move in?”

“Yes.”

“To this house? With the cats and the neighbors and the half-finished projects and my ungodly working hours?”

“I like it here.”

“You want to move in with me?”

James smirked. “That is rather the point, yes.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Number 8

8. A “Spin the bottle” kiss


Dex had known this was going to be a disaster going into it. 

It was the last Kegster before midterms and everyone was drinking like it was the end of the world, trying to get as shitfaced as possible in preparation for the next two weeks of all-nighters. Jello shots were demolished, red solo cups littered the floor, and tub juice flowed freely through the Haus. Everyone was buzzed, and even though Dex didn’t normally like to drink too much at parties, he was steadily approaching “tipsy.” 

That was the first mistake. The second was letting Nursey rope him into a game of Spin the Bottle. 

He’d always sucked at games of chance, and now he was going to have to kiss Nursey, who would probably never let him live it down.

“I regret this party, I regret this friendship, and I regret this,” Dex scowled.

“Yeah, but you’re going to have to kiss me anyways. Suck it up, Poindexter.”

“You suck it up.” 

Nursey rolled his eyes, “Jesus Christ, why does everything have to be an ordeal with you?”

Dex could feel the nervous tension in his stomach build, souring the shots he’d let Holster talk him into taking. “Well, why did you force me into playing thi-” 

Nursey’s mouth was enough to get Dex from feeling like he was flustered-tipsy to feeling like he was devastatingly-drunk. He couldn’t even care that Nursey had interrupted him, as long as they stayed exactly where they were and Nursey was pressed warm and soft and insistent and-

Okay, He was pretty sure that was a wolf-whistle. 

He broke them apart. Nursey rolled with it good-naturedly, but his hand didn’t move from Dex’s back. 

“You kiss like a fucking exhibitionist,” Dex said, listing into Nursey’s side against his will. 

“Yeah?” Nursey said, spinning the bottle, then turning to face Dex. “Well you kiss like you liked it.” 

Dex snorted, leaning away from Nursey. “You wish.” 

“Chill, dude.” Nursey said as the bottle slowed to a stop in front of a brunette. He smiled like the cat that caught the canary when she started making her way across their group’s loose, lopsided circle towards him.

Dex got up to fill his drink. If he didn’t come back to the game, that had nothing to do with how much he didn’t want to see Nursey kissing other people.  

anonymous asked:

Imagine the Avengers doing an interview, and the lady is ranting about how big Steve's muscles are and how much of a beefcake he is. Steve is uncomfortable and flustered And here comes Bucky. Larger than life. He just wraps his arms around Steve effortlessly making him look small, and spouting all about how cute and tiny his baby is and rather possessively. And the interviewer can't make eye contact with them for the rest, of the interview. And when its over Bucky scoops stevevaway for some fun.

“How do you stay in shape?”

“What sort of diet do you stick to?” 

“It must be hard, being so big. Don’t you feel like you stick out?” 

Steve hated interviews. Somehow, someone would pick on his weight and the shape of his body. It made him uncomfortable, like everyone was staring at him. Like he was an object. 

“I…” he said, looking up at the woman standing amongst the crowd, “I don’t…um…” 

Natasha looked over at him and smiled comfortingly but it did nothing to ease his nerves. He felt like he stuck out all the time, big and bulky. Sure, he didn’t get sick like before and he was healthy, but having everyone’s eyes on him, made him want to disappear. 

Stop,” a voice growled. Bucky had only recently started speaking to the press and for this interview, Pepper had advised he stayed backstage, as last time he nearly got into a fight with some ignorant reporter who kept asking about their sex lives. 

“Mr Barnes - 

Bucky waved off the assistant backstage and stalked on stage. There was an audible gasp that rang through the room. People had seen Bucky. Just not that much lately, or up close. 

And when he waked up to Steve, wrapping his thick, thick arms around the blond’s tiny waist, the woman’s mouth shut. 

“Leave him alone,” Bucky growled at the crowd, clearly dwarfing Steve. Steve was impressive in his own right but Bucky was just…larger. “Stop makin’ him feel like he’s too big. He’s fine.” 

“Buck, it’s okay…” Steve blushed, looking up at him. 

“No, it’s not,” Bucky said rather possessively, and pulled Steve into his arms, kissing him square on the mouth in front of them all. 

“You’re perfect,” Bucky whispered between them, kissing his throat, his jaw, his forehead, “my perfect little boy.” 

Steve blushed again and whined into Bucky’s ear, knees turning to jelly. 

“C’mon baby doll, let’s get outta here,” Bucky murmured and promptly walked Steve off behind the stage, leaving the rest of the Avengers to deal with the stricken crowd.