#they're both idiots your honor

[solarmorrigan]

“Get your ass off my counter.”

“Nah.”

Steve huffs. “I literally just wiped that down. Now you’ve got whatever the hell you’ve been sitting in all over it.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been sitting in?” Eddie asks, one brow raised.

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Steve grumbles. “Why do you even need to be up there?”

“I like feeling taller,” Eddie says, sitting up straight to emphasize the few inches of height that sitting on the kitchen island has given him over Steve. “I am king of all I survey.”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning away to finish wiping down the rest of the counters. “King of the assholes, maybe.”

“Aw, baby, you’re giving me your old title?” Eddie asks, voice gone saccharine sweet.

“Oh, fuck off.” Steve turns and whips his sponge at Eddie, who fends it off with his hands, laughing.

“Look, I just think there are much more interesting things you could be doing than cleaning the kitchen,” Eddie says, and Steve can feel his eyes burning on him as he bends to pick up the sponge.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asks drily. “Enlighten me. What could I be doing that’s oh-so-interesting?”

“I mean,” Eddie leans back on his hands, giving Steve his best roguish grin (he actually calls it that; he uses it when he’s acting out what he thinks of as particularly dashing characters while DMing), “I’ve been told that I’m pretty interesting.”

“That’s one word for it,” Steve says.

Eddie shrugs. “Just giving you the facts, sweetheart.”

“Uh huh. So the interesting thing you think I should be doing is you?” Steve drawls.

“That was the implication, yes.” Eddie nods, smirking down at Steve.

Steve can’t quite help the smile he answers with; sue him, Eddie’s cute when he’s being obvious. “Alright, sure.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Wait, really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” Steve asks, crossing back over to the kitchen island.

“No, no! I just figured I’d have to drop at least one more terrible innuendo before you gave in,” Eddie says.

“Maybe I’m just feeling easy tonight,” Steve says, stepping right up to the island so that he’s standing between Eddie’s legs.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, looking down at him from his perch.

“Mm.”

Steve reaches up and cups one hand around the back of Eddie’s neck before lifting up onto his toes to close the distance between them, meeting Eddie’s lips in a kiss that he immediately opens up to, making it deep and slick.

He drops back onto his heels when his calves start to burn, and Eddie tries to follow his mouth with a little whine. Steve smiles.

“We can go upstairs and do whatever you want,” he murmurs, looking up at Eddie through his lashes, “just as soon as you clean the counter for me.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, his mind jerked suddenly from the hazy space Steve’s kiss had put it in, all the more startled when Steve shoves the sponge into his hands.

“You can’t be serious,” he says flatly.

Leaning up against the opposite counter, Steve crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing, watching expectantly.

“You are serious,” Eddie concludes.

“The faster you get your ass print off my counter, the faster we can go upstairs,” Steve says.

Eddie slides off the counter with the world’s most petulant sigh and reaches for the cleaner when Steve holds the bottle out to him.

“…show you an ass print,” he’s grumbling as he wipes the kitchen island down again.

“Sounds hot. Save it for the bedroom, babe,” Steve says, laughing when it’s Eddie who turns to throw the sponge at him this time.

[Prompt: Standing on your tip toes to reach your partner's lips]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #they're both idiots your honor #solar wrote

[chaoscheebs]

Seriously, tho', I really want Yugi and Seto to have a "but they were both tops" moment. Like, it's not strictly true they're both tops--they are probably more flexible than that--but they absolutely both have some expectations about who's taking the lead the first time and I just think it'd be pretty funny.

#yugioh #rivalshipping #chibi rambles #seto's expectation: i am tall and imposing of course it's going to be me #yugi's expectation: i actually have some idea of what i'm fucking doing (through either experience or reading) so it's going to be ME #they're both idiots your honor

[humanityinahandbag]

I was talking to @samthefrank about this and we decided that there is no fucking way Eddie Munson is a top.

He's a gay dude living in 1980s Indiana who reads Lord of the Rings and plays D&D for fun. This boy would burst into tears if someone handed him a goddamed bouquet of weeds.

Because of this, we came to the very obvious conclusion;

Eddie Munson doesn't realize what his own bandana stands for.

Oh he'll learn of course. But it's not going to be because of a book or a movie or god forbid an experienced gay mentor.

He's going to learn when Steve sidles up to him and says, "I'm usually the one who likes to take charge but I think I could let you do it if you really wanted to."

Eddie would have zero clue what this dude is talking about.

"Your bandana," Nancy would finally explain, because of course she's well versed in gay subtext and secret codes. "You're flagging, right?"

"Right." says Eddie.

"You're using your bandana to tell people what you like."

"Right," says Eddie.

"And what you like is to be in charge and take control."

"What!?" Eddie will shake his head, curls flying everywhere. "Who told you that?"

"You did!" And poor Nancy looks moments away from tearing her hair out. "You told us you were a top when you shoved your bandana into your pocket!"

"Oh!" Eddie will smile brightly. "Yeah! I'm a top! Because I like people on top of me!"

"That's... No."

"Yes! I'm a top!"

"No, Eddie."

"It's not like I want someone else to be on the bottom, that's too much work!"

"Oh my God you beautiful idiot."

And thus begins The Fruity Four's greatest adventure. Hosting Gay Sex Ed for a 20 year old high school graduate slash dungeon master who wants very badly to be sweetly and wildy railed until the entire fucking bed breaks by one Steve Harrington.

#Steve Harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #nancy wheeler #flagging #they're both idiots your honor

[superbattrash]

Bruclark Week Day 2: Only One Bed

Alternative title: “How NOT to confess your undying love” by Bruce Wayne

There’s a little tiny moment of undercover in here too, because I couldn’t help myself, teehee. 

Clark smiles at the clerk and gives her a little wave before the elevator doors close. He relaxes his shoulders and is about to release the hold he has on Bruce’s waist, when Bruce steps even closer, cubbing his neck. He leans so close that even without his super senses Clark would be able to smell his aftershave. If Bruce even wears aftershave. He does, doesn’t he? At least when he’s out as Bruce Wayne. When he’s out as Batman he smells of nothing but leather, metal and some earthy notes of his sweat. It’s all together a really pleasant smell that Clark has gotten used to over the years. It smells of safely and strength, of friendship and dry humor. It smells like home, despite Bruce living in another city.

Bruce leans close enough that his lips graze Clark’s ear. He tries not to breathe too loudly. Everything feels very small all of a sudden. Was the elevator always this tiny? It feels like there’s barely enough room for the both of them to stand, let alone breathe.

Why did he agree to this again?

Because Bruce asked, that’s why. He’ll always indulge Bruce, even in the oddest of cases. This isn’t League related but Bruce actually asked for his help. Out loud. While looking at his face. That counts as a minor miracle in Clark’s book, and he agreed before even hearing Bruce out. Which is why he’s currently wrapped around Gotham’s prince, suppressing a shiver as Bruce’s breath hits his ear.

“There might be cameras,” he says.

“Oh,” is Clark’s very eloquent answer, but he does wrap his arm more securely around Bruce’s waist. He pointedly doesn’t notice how perfectly it fits there; how natural it feels. How Bruce’s body seems to be made to stand next to his. How warm Bruce is; how his hands feel against Clark’s skin. His fingers a calloused but soft, like he remembers to use the moisturizer Clark got him for Christmas.

He’d had to ask Dick and Jason for help. He went with Dick’s suggestion, mostly because he wasn’t sure Bruce would enjoy “a thorough ass kicking” or for Clark to “French his fucking face off”. Jason is a very imaginative young man. With issues. Clark has to admit there must be some issues. He likes him all the same either way, but Dick’s suggestion had seemed like the safer choice.

Bruce keeps a close proximity to him the entire ride to the top floor. He’s fiddling with Clark’s collar and Clark has to remind himself that this is Bruce Wayne, the playboy, who’s taking him to a fancy suite and not Bruce Wayne, his friend and coworker. It’s hard to make the distinction when it’s Bruce’s cologne and Bruce’s eyes looking at him with all the heat of the sun in them. Clark swallows and does his best to play along.

He can’t remember what he’s supposed to do, if he’s even supposed to do anything in particular. He’s pretty sure Bruce explained a plan to him but the warm, strong hands grabbing at him and dragging him through the hallway has his brain short circuit. He clings to Bruce, lets him whisper sweet words in his ear and otherwise just follows along like a lost puppy until they get to their room.

“Oh, that’s just great,” is the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth. He sounds oddly nervous and there’s a slight uptick to his heartbeat.

“What is?” Clark asks. He doesn’t like it when Bruce’s heartrate changes. It’s one of the few near constants he has in his life; ever present in the back of his mind, even if he doesn’t mean to listen for it.

“There’s only one bed,” Bruce says as he gestures towards the bed in question. It looks soft and comfortable. “And it’s queen sized.”

“Well, we are supposed to be a couple.” Clark can’t help but snicker a little at Bruce’s frown; he does hate it when his plans change. It actually surprises Clark that he hasn’t researched the rooms before booking one. It’s not like him to overlook a detail like that.

“Still,” Bruce grumbles and kicks the bed’s leg grumpily. He looks so young when he wrinkles his nose like that and Clark looks around the room quickly to distract himself, lest he accidentally do something stupid. Like tell Bruce what he’s thinking.

“Well, there’s a couch as well,” he says as he spots the luxurious sofa. “I’ll take that.”

“No, no, I’ll-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, B. My body is much more equipped for sleeping on such a hard surface.” It doesn’t even look too bad if Clark ignores the way the springs are very clearly meant for sitting with a cup of tea and not for sleeping on. Luxury isn’t always comfortable.

“You calling me old?” Bruce asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, of course not,” Clark is quick to reassure. There’s a pause where Bruce looks a little less offended and then Clark continues: “I’m calling you human. And bruised.”

“Hn.” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest with a little huff. How very Batman of him. It’s almost like they’re out working on a normal case or mission for the League. Clark is reminded how much he enjoys working with Bruce.

“A bruised human who happen to also be old,” he says with a grin, because he can’t help it. It’s so easy to tease Bruce like this; like they’ve never done anything else. Like they’re close enough to be allowed. It took Clark a while to get close to Bruce but now that he is, he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.

“You know what, boy scout?” Bruce says, looking almost ready to throw himself at Clark. Another look that suits him so incredibly well; relaxed and ready to get Clark into a headlock he won’t be able to get out of without breaking any of Bruce’s bones. Which, Bruce knows, Clark would never do.

“What, old man?” he challenges. This is usually where the threat of kryptonite comes in, which in turn ends with Clark telling Bruce he’d have him on the floor before he even moved an inch, to which Bruce would say there’s no way and they’d keep going back and forth for a bit. It’s their usual dance, a dance they both enjoy greatly. Instead, Bruce just sort of… deflates.

“Shut up,” he says and there’s none of the conviction he displays when they’re teasing each other.

“You usually have so much more to say,” Clark tries. It’s no secret that he’s the talker of the two of them when they’re in uniform; but when they’re out and about in their normal daily routines, Bruce is supposed to be the smooth talker who won’t shut up.

“There’s no reason to be condescending, Clark,” Bruce says, but it’s with a tilt of his lips that makes Clark know that he’s both in trouble and forgiven. It’s an odd mix with Bruce; trouble and forgiveness usually goes hand-in-hand with him.

“I’m not, I’m just saying.” Clark shrugs. “It’s usually so hard to get a word in with you.”

“Alright, are you quite done?”

“Yeah, I’m done.” Because Bruce is back to doing that not-smiling smile. The “I’m Batman so I don’t smile but I’m also happy, so I’ll settle on pouting a little while my cheek twitches” smile. The bat-smile, if you will. Okay, so perhaps Clark spends a little too long analyzing Bruce’s facial expressions, he’ll admit to that. It’s hard not to with a face like Bruce’s.

***

“We’re just supposed to stay here until you can gather the intel you need,” Clark says after a little while. They’ve still not agreed on who sleeps where, but Bruce will make sure he gets his way. He always does. “Right?”

Intel. Right.

It’s not like he’s planned this entire thing from start to finish to be able to actually have a moment alone with Clark, seeing as he’s been in love with him for more than a year now and his kids are driving him nuts about confessing. Alright the year-thing isn’t true, it’s just been a year since he finally admitted it to himself. There’s always been excuses, missions, other partners, emergencies. Reasons to postpone, to push it to the back of his head. Obviously, he can’t keep doing that, so now he’s come up with a plan. The plan being to lure Clark to this hotel to “gather intel” and end up telling him how he feels. Bruce knows he’s stealing a page out of Dick’s “Get Bruce and Clark together” playbook, but he’s running out of ideas and it’s driving him crazy.

Best case scenario he walks out of the hotel with a boyfriend, making both himself, his kids and his butler happy. Bonus points for Clark being happy as well. Worst case scenario is that Clark rejects him gently and Bruce will have to move to the other side of the universe and become a space-farmer. Or a bat breeder. Whichever comes more naturally to him. He hasn’t decided yet.

Bruce glances at Clark, who’s looking expectantly at him. Oh, right. He asked a question.

“Yes,” Bruce says casually. He picks up a pillow, so he doesn’t have to keep looking at Clark. It feels itchy underneath his fingertips but that could be his nerves talking. “Why? Are you already itching to go home?”

“What?” Clark looks offended and a little hurt at the accusation. “No, I’m just wondering if we should order room service.”

“This place has room service?” Bruce frowns. He would actually be surprised if they even have a kitchen at this place. It’s so much smaller than the hotels he usually stays at; not as small as the places Matches stay at when he’s in town, but still. Not the most luxurious place; it’s what he could get on such short notice without having to spend thousands upon thousands of dollars. Besides, he wanted a hotel nowhere near his usual hangouts. In case Clark rejects him, he doesn’t want any memories being tainted. He’s a soft man, what can he say. There’s also the fact that Alfred threatened to tell Clark about the plan if he didn’t make sure neither of them would leave “because you suddenly hear some emergency call, sir. No excuses to get out of this.”

“This is a fancy hotel, B,” Clark says.

“Really.” Bruce supposes it could be worse. He didn’t have proper time to do research and that was purposefully planned that way. He made sure he couldn’t back out of the plan, which is why he made a last-minute booking the second he decided tonight was the night. He actually had Jason help him pick a random location, which… might not have been the brightest of ideas. He should’ve probably stuck to his original plan: keep planning until eventually one of them dies and it’s too late. Spare himself the humiliation.

“Really,” Clark assures him. “It might not be up to your billionaire standards-”

“Alright, okay,” Bruce interrupts because hey. “Don’t mistake me for someone who can’t sleep in cotton sheets, Kent.”

“Can you though?” Clark teases.

“What?”

“Sleep without your Egyptian silk sheets?”

“I’m not even going to ask why you know what sheets I have.” Because it’s not going to be any of the reasons Bruce wishes it was. He’s got these navy-blue sheets that would compliment Clark’s skin so well, if only he was somehow on top of them. Or under, Bruce isn’t picky.

“You’re kidding,” Clark says, mouth agape.

“Yes, obviously,” Bruce says, rolling his eyes. There’s a brief pause, then: “They’re Italian.”

Clark laughs that head-thrown-back-holding-his-stomach laugh that he does when he’s bursting with happy energy. He’s doing is more around Bruce these days. It’s one of the reasons Bruce realized he’s in love with Clark; he can’t get enough of that loud, booming laugh. Another reason is Clark’s never-ending willingness to help and make sure Bruce is okay.

Getting Clark to say yes to helping him out tonight hadn’t been hard. Clark is always willing to lend a helping hand to his friends and this is no exception. Bruce has been planning this for weeks and he’s got explanations and excuses ready at the tip of his tongue. Clark never asked for any, of course, because why would he? He trusts Bruce.

It doesn’t stop Bruce from overexplaining everything to Clark. There’s a reason Clark has to help him out, you see. Bruce Wayne can’t be seen going to a strange hotel by himself. He can however be seen going to a strange hotel if there’s someone on his arm. It isn’t out of the question that Bruce Wayne spends a night or two with a stranger before going back to whatever else the public thinks he does. Count clouds or smile for front pages. Either way, Clark is Bruce’s ticket to a quiet space where he can “gather the intel he needs”.

Clark, on his end, nods along with everything Bruce says like he’s not sounding like a maniac. It’s quite endearing. Another one of the reasons he likes Clark so much in the first place is how much Clark cares.

“So,” Clark says, the smile on his face an echo of his laughter. “Room service?”

Bruce orders something light “because I shouldn’t be weighed down if anything happens with the mission” (it’s definitively not nerves), while Clark orders a steak. Bruce did say he was paying and while Clark would never spend Bruce’s money just for the heck of it, he does enjoy a fancy meal every now and again.

“It’s been weeks since we’ve last shared a meal,” Clark says when Bruce eyes his food with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve been busy,” Bruce says with a shrug. Figuring out how to tell you that I’m in love with you and I think we should give us a try, damn the consequences. There’s no way he can say that so he leaves it at busy and Clark nods.

“I know,” he says solemnly. “I just missed you.”

I missed you too.

“You missed eating proper food,” Bruce says instead.

“Shut up,” Clark laughs even with his mouth full. He somehow manages not to spit half his bite out of his mouth when he sticks his tongue out at Bruce. “You missed me too, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.

You’re half-right.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bruce pokes at his pasta with his fork. This might be a good time; as good as any, at least. He looks up only to find Clark already looking back. “Clark,” he says, voice quiet.

A loud thud sounds on the other side of the wall – the wall Bruce insisted he set up surveillance near, so that he would be able to ‘get the intel he needs’. Clark turns his head and looks through the wall. His eyes have a certain set about them when he uses x-ray vision.

“They’re fighting,” he mutters, and he looks like he’s a second away from bursting through the wall.

If their neighbors are indeed fighting Bruce’s excuse may be revealed as a lie earlier than he’s planned. Bruce doesn’t even know who they are, except that it’s a man and woman under the name Mr. and Mrs. Shelling which… doesn’t tell him much. Shelling is a rather common name, and he really was more focused on making sure Clark said yes to joining him.

“Is it bad?” Bruce finds himself asking. He might be desperate to confess but not desperate enough to let innocent people suffer. He’s not fallen that far.

“No,” Clark says and returns his attention to Bruce. “She threw a lamp though.”

“That’s going to cost her. Hotels always charge too much for their interior.”

“Speaking from experience there, Mr. Wayne?” Clark asks as he wrinkles his nose adorably. Bruce takes half a second longer to answer than he usually would.

“You should see the bill from some of my stays, Mr. Kent,” he smirks. “It’s impossible to get blood out of satin; but even worse if you disguise it with wine after.”

Despite the dark picture Bruce is painting, Clark laughs. The crinkles around his eyes make butterflies flutter around in Bruce’s stomach. He should just come out and say it. Just spit it out, easy peasy.

I’m in love with you.

“Clark,” he says. “I’m-”

There’s a knock on the door. Bruce wants to bang his head against the table. Instead, he tugs his shirt from his pants, pulls his collar askew and opens the door with his best Brucie smile. He makes sure to lean against the frame, giggling like they’d been interrupted doing something much more sinful than eating dinner. He’s obscuring Clark from view, seeing as he’s probably still fully dressed, shoving steak into his mouth.

“Hi,” he says, sounding breathless.

“Are you all done with your meal, sir?” the boy asks through a burning blush. So he knows who Bruce is, great.

“I’m not quite sure,” Bruce says with a pout and then turns his head to call over his shoulder: “Are ya done eating, baby? The food, I mean.”

He half expects Clark to choke on a mouthful or even blush to match the poor boy on the other side of the door, but once again Clark surprises him. He’s not at the table anymore and his shirt is halfway off his shoulders. Even his pants are undone. Bruce swallows but quickly schools his features.

“I’m done with the food, but not quite with you, daddy,” Clark purrs in his ear as he slides his hands under Bruce’s shirt.

Bruce, to his credit, does not choke on his own spit. Or tongue. Or air. He just leans back into Clark’s touch, thoroughly enjoying the warm hands on his stomach. Inside though, inside his entire brain just bluescreened.

Needless to say, the boy leaves in a hurry not long after. He nearly misses half the utensils in his haste to get out of their room. Bruce almost follows him out just to avoid looking Clark in the eye. There is no reasonable explanation for the swoop that went through his stomach at that single word, and he will not be examining it any further. Ever.

“Was that too much?” Clark asks as he puts his clothes properly back on.

“What? Oh no, that was-” eye-opening. “Just fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh good. It just looks so fun when you get to play your Brucie role, I wanted to try it.”

“You have a natural talent,” Bruce mutters.

“Thank you,” Clark says and he’s smiling that brighter-than-the-sun smile of his, the one that somehow pulls Bruce’s own smile forward no matter how hard he tries to resist.

There’s no way he can start a serious conversation after that interaction and when Clark starts talking about how his work has been at work, Bruce listens carefully and lets the conversation flow. Maybe later will be better anyway.

The problem with later is that Bruce keeps postponing when later is. Every time he opens his mouth to say the words, his throat closes up and he feels all of fourteen again; like he’s confessing to his first love. It’s ridiculous and he’s getting frustrated at himself. Luckily Clark doesn’t seem to notice, but he does look at Bruce a little funny when he starts yet another sentence with “Clark…” and then doesn’t say anything meaningful. Bruce is pretty sure he hasn’t said Clark’s name this many times combined since meeting him.

Clark does ask if he should keep watch (or listen in) during the night but at this point Bruce is nearly sure he’ll never get to confess. He needs a moment’s quiet to think and since it’s already nearing midnight, he figures a good night’s sleep might be all that he needs. Maybe he’ll say it over breakfast. He’ll make sure to order waffles – because Clark insists they’re better than pancakes, despite them being virtually the same thing – and maybe take Clark’s hand. Look into his eyes. Tell him that he loves him. He can do that. Romantic, simple, perfect.

Before that though there’s the sleeping arrangement. Bruce has slept in smaller beds; he’s shared smaller beds as well and the more he looks at the couch the worse he feels. No matter how invulnerable Clark is there’s no way he’ll get a good night’s rest on that thing. Which is where the hard part comes in – how does he ask Clark if he wants to share the bed? It’s not like they’ve never slept near each other before on other missions but seeing as Bruce is a lying liar who lies (he’s feeling a little guilty at this point, especially after Clark offered to check out the couple next door; make sure they were who they said they were and such) he feels odd asking to share a sleeping space. It feels like it’s just an excuse to have Clark closer. Which it might be. It’s mostly about the couch looking uncomfortable though. No, really.

There’s no way Clark is a mind-reader, Bruce knows this. He knows all of Clark’s powers intimately, has them all categorized both in a physical file (shut up, he likes paper) and on the batcomputer. And yet there’s a very small moment of panic when Clark speaks and it’s like he’s looking straight into Bruce’s brain.

“Listen, I know I said I’d take the couch, but, um.” Clark gestures towards the sofa. “It looks like the springs have never been sat on in their entire existence. And the bed is a queen size, it’s not like we’ll be on top of each other.”

I wish.

“You’re right. It would be silly for either of us to sleep elsewhere when there’s a perfectly suitable bed,” Bruce agrees and is pleasantly surprised that he doesn’t sound different from how he usually speaks. At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if he started giggling that Clark once again exceeds his expectations. Perhaps he already knows how Bruce feels? No, that can’t be it. Clark would have said something. Right?

He does seem visibly relieved that Bruce hasn’t rejected them sharing a bed, but he doesn’t say much else other than the expected “going to brush my teeth” and “do you have to drink coffee this close to bedtime?” to which, of course, Bruce teases him mercilessly for using the phrase bedtime about two grown men.

They lay down on the bed side by side, close enough to feel each other’s warmth but not touching. If Bruce stretches out his arm just an inch, he’ll be touching Clark’s. He doesn’t move. You would think he’d have trouble falling asleep, lying next to Clark, but it takes Bruce less than half an hour to fall asleep. There’s something comforting about sharing a space with the world’s strongest man. Even if Bruce somehow misses anyone coming at them, there’s no way Clark will.

***

Bruce yawns and turns over, throwing his arm over the waist next to him. He snuzzles into the soft skin of a shoulder and sighs happily. Then instantly freezes because that isn’t just any waist and shoulder; those are Clark’s waist and shoulder. He wants to pull back immediately but there’s no way Clark won’t wake up if he makes any sudden moves.

And Bruce is acutely aware of another… issue.

His dick is very much awake and pressed into Clark’s hip.

Bruce lifts his head slowly off Clark’s shoulder, just to make sure he is in fact still asleep. There’s no way he’ll be able to get through the humiliation of poking Clark with morning wood even if it is a quite natural thing. Bruce doesn’t do natural. He’s always in control. Well, he thinks as he glances down at his dick, still painfully hard, almost always. It’s not like he can really help it. Clark has somehow wiggled his arm underneath Bruce’s neck as they slept and now, they’re cuddling. Them. Two grown men, colleagues, friends. There’s no way Bruce can ignore the persistent butterflies rearing their lovesick heads in his stomach again, but he is certainly going to try.

Bruce dares a glance at Clark’s face, which is entirely relaxed. Still asleep then, thank God. His mouth is slightly open, but he isn’t snoring. Does Clark ever snore? Bruce hasn’t noticed the few times he’s slept near him. Granted, they mostly fall asleep so exhausted that Bruce wouldn’t notice even if Clark snored like a bear.

Realizing that he’s not caught staring, Bruce relaxed a bit and lets himself look. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to Clark without it being a life-or-death situation. He’d like more moments like these. That’s the entire reason he came up with this silly lie in the first place.

The bonus of a full night’s rest isn’t all that bad either.

Bruce’s eyes find their way back to Clark’s lips. They’re so full and pink. He feels a yearning, almost like a need as he bites at his own lip. There’s no way Clark would know. He’s asleep, deeply enough that he hasn’t noticed Bruce clinging to him. He would never know. Or maybe he’ll wake up and reciprocate. Maybe this is the best way for Bruce to tell him; without using the words that keep getting stuck in his throat. All Bruce would have to do is lean a little forward…

“Is something wrong?”

Bruce jerks back so fast he nearly falls off the edge of the bed. At least the shock is enough to put a damper on Bruce’s morning… surprise before Clark notices. He hopes Clark hasn’t noticed.

“No,” he hurries to say as he scrambles to sit upright. He sighs quietly as he realizes this is probably the closest he will ever get to what he wants from Clark. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

It’s not like they have to get dressed or do any actual work, but Bruce does take his time running a hand through his hair, brushing his teeth. This is it. Last chance. He’ll say it over breakfast, and it’ll be like ripping a band aid off. It might be good, it might not. They’ll order breakfast, Clark will keep the conversation flowing like he usually does, and Bruce will tell him he loves him.

He takes one last look in the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath. He can do this. This is Clark, his best friend. There’s no way it’ll end badly. Worst that can happen is that Clark doesn’t feel the same way. Bruce ignores the way that thought makes his chest hurt. He exits the bathroom before he can chicken out. Again.

“So,” he says and tries for a smile. “What do you say we order-”

And that’s how far he gets, before a loud crash sounds on the other side of the wall. There’s a horrifying scream and Clark doesn’t even have to look at him before they’re both running through the door. They can’t very well punch through a wall (not that Clark wouldn’t have tried knocking first; he is from Kansas) so instead they run to the neighboring room and when there’s another scream Bruce kicks the door open.

Turns out the woman from last night was in the room against her will; she’s caught up with drug dealers and when they tried to have her be their mule, she fought back. She’s alright, given the circumstances and thankfully won’t be pressing charges (something about it not being worth the trouble), so they don’t have to make excuses as to how they beat up three guys while also protecting the woman. Even more lucky is the fact that she doesn’t seem to recognize Bruce, so there’s a chance there won’t be a story about Bruce Wayne kicking down doors in tomorrow’s gossip column.

What isn’t so lucky is that when they’ve made sure she’s alright and the bad guys mysteriously get picked up by Superman and dropped at the nearest police station (thank you, super speed), it’s checkout time and Bruce has not even come close to confessing.

If he believed in fate, he would say that it has spoken. He isn’t supposed to tell Clark how he feels. It settles heavily in his stomach as they pack their few items and close the door to their hotel room. They still have to somehow convince the manager that the door handle of the woman’s room exploded by itself…

***

“Did you get what you needed?” Clark asks when they step out of the hotel.

“More or less,” Bruce mumbles. It’s just ‘less’, really, seeing as he’s managed to not only not confess to Clark, but he’s also managed to turn his faux mission into a real one, albeit a much smaller scale than what they usually go for. He’s happy they were there to help the woman out but he’s slightly bitter that he hadn’t foreseen something like that happening. Now he’s wasted both their time; Clark could’ve been out saving people and instead he’s been cooped up with Bruce in a small hotel room. And that’s not even mentioning the awkward bed-situation. Which will, coincidentally, never be mentioned again.

All he managed to do was get a little situation-religious and take it as a sign that he isn’t supposed to tell Clark how he feels. At least he tried, right? He’s pretty sure Dick won’t see it that way. It’s going to be an embarrassing and awkward conversation when he gets home.

Bruce sighs and turns to Clark to say their goodbyes. He doesn’t get far before he feels wind in his hair and the world is a blur around him. Not a second later he finds himself in a nearby alley. He looks at Clark and opens his mouth to ask what the hell that super-speed move was for but all that gets past his lips is a little squeak (that he will deny until the day he dies) as Clark covers them with his own.

It's a gentle kiss, not unlike what Bruce has been imagining their first kiss to be like countless times but it’s somehow a thousand times better than all his dreams put together. Because this is real. This is Clark kissing him, cupping his jaw and wrapping that strong arm around his waist to bring them closer together. It’s not like Bruce hasn’t kissed other men before; he’s kissed plenty, thank you very much, but it has been a while since kissing involved butterflies in his stomach and clutching desperately at someone’s arms to keep from falling over. He hasn’t had a jelly-knees kiss in years, if not an entire decade.

Clark’s lips are soft but firm, pressing against Bruce’s like they belong there. The hand on Bruce’s face is gentle and Clark rubs at his jaw with his thumb in a way that makes tears spring into Bruce’s eyes. He’s happy they’re closed, because he doesn’t think he could take explaining that reaction to Clark right now. He’s being so gentle and sweet and it’s making Bruce’s head spin. He wants to keep on kissing Clark forever, or at the very least the next couple of hours. Eventually though they have to part – if only for Bruce to breathe properly.

Clark takes a tiny step back but keeps his hand on Bruce’s jaw for a full minute (no that Bruce is counting the seconds or anything). He’s just looking at him, soft smile on his face. Bruce isn’t blushing – he isn’t! – but his cheeks feel warm. He doesn’t look away though; let’s Clark look all he wants. If he’s searching for anything in Bruce’s eyes, he doesn’t say if he finds it. He merely drops his hand slowly and takes another small step back, so their bodies aren’t touching anymore. Bruce feels oddly cold.

“Thank you for a lovely time, Bruce,” Clark says with a grin. “I can’t wait for our second date.”

“Second-?” Bruce’s head in spinning. Clark just kissed him. In public. Outside any sort of camera view. There’s no reason for him to do so and yet here they are: Bruce nearly out of breath just from one kiss and Clark looking like he just won the lottery.

“Next time, don’t bother with the excuses, I’ll be okay with dinner and a movie.” Clark winks at him and then he’s off. Bruce is left staring after him like a gaping fish, despite Clark walking away like any other human would.

There’s no such thing as keeping secrets from Superman, huh? Although Bruce suspects this one might go to Clark Kent. He finds he doesn’t mind that at all.

#they're both idiots your honor #superbat fanfiction #Clark Kent/bruce wayne #Superman/Batman #misha writes #bruclarkweek2022

[desertsportshipping]

Wes is a tsundere confirmed.

#leon uses the clark kent effect to his advantage #they're both idiots your honor #desertsportshipping #trainer wes #champion leon #pokemon colosseum #pokemon sword and shield

[windfighter]

Suit up

Takuya stood leaned against the wall holding up the gate to school. His white shirt had been haphazardly tucked into his brown pants in a way that showed as much abs as possible. It made the girls swoon, but Kouji usually just thought it was stupid. He clenched and unclenched his hands, gripped the straps of his backpack. His head pounded. It wasn’t a migraine and it wasn’t bad, just slightly annoying. Probably either too little sleep or not enough water. He walked up to Takuya, was going to start the usual argument about Takuya’s clothing.

”Mff”, he said instead and leaned his head against Takuya’s shoulder.

Pressed his face as hard as he could into it. Closed his eyes. His head felt better. He could stay there the whole day. The tie felt tight around his neck.

”Kouji?”

He could hear someone snicker as they walked past and he sighed.

”Who does he think he is, doing that to Kanbara-san?” someone else sneered and Kouji’s stomach hurt.

”You okay?” Takuya asked.

Kouji thought he was okay, but… he really wanted a hug. Why was Takuya too stupid to see that?

”Mff”, he said again.

Takuya laughed. It sounded tense to Kouji’s ear. If from uncertainty or frustration he couldn’t tell.

”I hate school uniforms”, he muttered.

He let go of the straps, loosened the tie. He could breathe a little easier.

”You look pretty great in it though”, Takuya said.

Kouji’s brain bluescreened. He pulled away from Takuya’s shoulder, stared at him. Turned around and started heading home again.

”I’m clearly still sleeping”, he said. ”I’m going back to bed.”

”Hey”, Takuya grabbed Kouji’s arm. ”No homo. Just bros complimenting each other. The suit suits you.”

Kouji wanted to scream. He didn’t know why. He pulled free from Takuya’s hand.

”Well, you look stupid”, he said.

He grabbed Takuya’s shirt, started tucking it correctly into his pants. Takuya felt stiff.

”You really don’t understand suits at all”, Kouji continued. ”Really, two months in this school and you still dress like that.”

He took a step back. Takuya’s cheeks were red and suddenly Kouji’s felt hot as well. Woops?

”Just… just bros being bros”, he said.

He swallowed. The world moved in slow-motion around him.

”Y-yeah”, Takuya’s voice trembled. ”Just a bro helping a bro. Nothing bromantic going on.”

Kouji stared at Takuya again. A laughter threatened to boil up. Takuya sounded so fantastically stupid. He put a hand against his face and shook his head.

”You’re an idiot. I’m heading to class.”

He turned around. Listened for Takuya’s steps. But Takuya stayed behind. Maybe it was for the best. Kouji’s cheeks still felt hot, people were staring at him. Glaring. Kouji’s head hurt and he massaged his forehead. Well, great start to the day. This would not start any rumours at all. Just what he needed. He sighed, tightened the tie and gripped his backpack again. Whatever. As long as Takuya didn’t think it meant something.

Kouji’s stomach cramped. He never got that hug. He glanced back over his shoulder. Takuya was leaning against the wall again, the shirt had somehow already gotten free and girls were gathering around him. Kouji looked away again. His shoulders felt tense and he walked faster towards the building.

#windy writes #digimon frontier #takuya kanbara #kouji minamoto #no-sided takouji #they're both idiots your honor #pre-relationship #just something quick because I got the image of Kouji leaning against Takuya's shoulder into my head #and I had to do something with it #hope you enjoyed!

[jheselbraum]

"Zelda loves Link and is stressing about it because surely Link, hero of Hyrule, her favored knight, appointed for her protection, and her closest companion and confidante, doesn't actually harbor romantic feelings for her. Meanwhile, Link is running around in the background devoting 110% of his being to her and would do anything for her and has actually already confessed, like, five times Zelda just didn't pick up on it because she was overthinking it" and "Link loves Zelda and is stressing about it because surely Zelda, Sage of Time, princess of Hyrule, who must marry royal blood, who lives with Link in his fucking house, who has 10,000 years worth of faith and trust in him, who even as a dragon after she lost her self protected Link, his closest companion and confidante, doesn't actually harbor romantic feelings for him. Meanwhile, Zelda is running around in the background toppling the monarchy and reforging the societal fabric of Hyrule so they can be together. She's also confessed like, five times but Link hasn't picked up on it because he's overthinking it" are two concepts that can coexist

#totk spoilers #kind of #zelink #they're idiots your honor #she's a goddess incarnate with parental issues #he's so anxious he's nonverbal 90% of the time #they both eat rocks #they're idiots #they're awkward #they have no idea what they're doing #I fully believe that after botw link's solution to having feelings for both zelda and sidon was to try and set them up #they put the slow in slow burn #one hundred years wasn't slow enough for these motherfuckers they had to make it 10000

[merakiui]

"You don't have to leave you know" with jade please? Love your writing

:D this is connected to tmdg. I couldn't resist writing another snippet with my favorite pair of fools: one who is lovesick and the other who is lovestruck. <3 (implied fem reader + pregnancy)

(fwb dialogues)

When Jade sets a bowl of porridge topped with bananas and blueberries in front of you, you eye him suspiciously.

"What's this?"

"Breakfast. Specifically the overnight oats we prepared yesterday."

You deadpan, peering at the smiling face he managed to arrange with the fruit. "I know that. But why?"

He turns away to continue cutting an apple into rabbit-shaped slices. "Isn't breakfast the most important meal out of the three? You can't start your day on an empty stomach."

It's the weekend; you don't particularly care. Strangely, when he places the plate in front of you, there isn't a portion for himself. Everything's fixed for one person. You've known Jade and his monstrous appetite long enough to suspect something's amiss. More importantly, this is the third time this week he's insisted on spending the night to prepare, what he calls, "safe make-ahead meals." Why he felt the need to call them safe is beyond you... Even more strange is the fact that all of these meals have looked flowery and cute. Almost like something you'd find in a themed café. Either he's having way too much fun, or there's some deeper, underlying meaning behind the adorable image.

"I'm not really a breakfast person."

He pouts at you. It isn't very effective. "You're missing the joys of a good meal in the morning."

"I'm missing good sleep. I'm not even that hungry." But even as you say that, your stomach produces a betraying rumble.

Jade's lips split in an easy grin. He almost looks like Floyd. "You were saying?"

"Shut up." With a weak scowl, you swipe the spoon from the table and scoop a bite for yourself.

He chuckles and rolls his sleeves down, buttons his jacket up, and heads for the hall. You blink, even more confused.

"Where're you going?"

"Octavinelle."

"What? But you... Jade, you haven't even eaten either. Kinda makes your point meaningless if you're gonna skip breakfast after you just told me not to."

He peeks around the corner. "What are you implying?"

You open your mouth to say, Just get back in here and eat, you asshole. But that's only part of the truth. He knows this, which is precisely why he's now refusing to move from his spot in the doorway until you've admitted it.

"Nothing. I'm just saying..."

"Yes?" he offers, smiling placidly.

Your patience has grown especially thin as of late. The smallest of things set you off. Just yesterday you started openly bawling when Jade arrived at your doorstep with a tin of cookies—cookies you'd begged him to get over text after the recommendation from Ace. You think you may be falling apart. Jade thinks you've never looked prettier.

Huffing your defeat, you avert your gaze. "Y-You don't have to leave, you know... Stay a little longer."

You expect him to tease you for it, to really lay it on so thick that you'll have no choice but to get up and drag him over to the table by the ear. But instead he's lowering into the chair beside you. You'd chased him out the past few times he attempted to overstay his welcome, which he'd accepted without complaint. Now he just looks happy to be here. You'll never understand him.

You scoop a spoonful of porridge and, grabbing his chin, force it at him. "And eat! You're not getting any taller."

His hand wraps around yours, smoothly guiding it to his mouth. An appreciative hum proves he's proud of the result after he's sampled it. You have to agree. It's delicious.

"And you're not getting any more beautiful."

You stare at him, embarrassment clawing up your spine. While these pleasantries aren't unusual, they still manage to catch you by surprise. Not because of the sweetness, but because he genuinely means every one.

"Actually, I take it back. I hope you starve."

Jade leans in to nudge you. "I'll learn to photosynthesize just for you and then that problem will never come to pass."

"How it only nine and you're already being an ass?"

"It's my specialty."

#twisted chit chat #meraki dialogues #your honor they're falling in love but they're both idiots T_T

[unlawfulchaos]

Ice: Honey bun?

Mav: Yes?

Ice, blushing: I meant, would you like one?

Mav: Oh. Yeah, thanks. Sugar?

Ice: Yes?

Mav, also blushing: I was just asking if you want sugar in your coffee.

Ice, flustered: Oh, yes please.

*Both flustered and avoiding eye contact*

Goose, at the table, head in hands: This is painful to watch.

Slider, sighing: I'm embarrassed for them.

#they are both idiots #they are boyfriends your honor #icemav braincells cancel each other out to leave them both stuttering blushing messes #they're just so perfect for each other #goose and slider suffering through these two idiots and their pining #incorrect quotes #top gun #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #nick goose bradshaw

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Blake and or weiss meet yang/rubys parents for the first time. Was thinking something similar to the goodnight kiss story, but do what you want lol. I ain't gonna force you to do anything.

Hey, @chaosbloot! I think I got something for this.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Goodnight Kiss in Vacuo pt. 2

Shade Academy

Blake: (tossing and turning in bed) Can't sleep... (glances at the door to the bedroom and bites her lip as she watches shadows pass underneath the door) No. No. It's too soon for that. We didn't even technically share a bed at Jaune's house in the Ever After.

Yang: (muffled laughter on the other side of the door along with two other voices)

Blake: But it was nice being so close.... (remembers the warm, floaty feeling she got from sleeping within close proximity to Yang)

Blake's Heart: (butterflies and warmth and floaty feeling with warm fuzzies) Go get our girl already!!!

Blake: Okay. Okay. Okay. I'll go ask. (Takes a deep breath and peeks out the door into the little dormatory common room)

Yang: (wheezing with laughter) No way! Qrow, you never told us that you wore the school skirt for a week when you were a student!

Qrow: Your dad told me it was a kilt!

Raven: Don't put all the blame on Tai, Qrow. Summer played along with it.

Qrow: You're just mad that my legs looked better than yours in that skirt.

Raven: Hardly the case now. I don't think those pasty white legs of yours have seen the light of day since then.

Yang: (laughing so hard she's crying silently and goes to wipe a tear when she notices Blake standing in the doorway) Hey, babe! Sorry, are we keeping you up?

Blake: Oh! No. Not at all. I just noticed that it was getting late and you hadn't come- GONE! Hadn't gone... to bed.

Raven & Qrow: (arch an eyebrow with a smirk at the slip and glance at each other)

Yang: (oblivious) I'll go to bed here in a minute. I was catching up with Qrow and hearing how Raven came around to help.

Raven: (gives Qrow a look of: "Can you believe this kid?")

Qrow: (exchanges with a look of: "She has Tai's obliviousness and your romance disasterdom. What do you expect?")

Raven: (rolls her eyes and stares pointedly at Blake) Hey, if you want to sleep with Yang, you're better off asking her directly instead of beating around the bush.

Blake: (blushes and steam billows out of her ears)

Yang: (blushes and sits ramrod straight) U-Uh... Blake?

Blake: Yes!

Yang: Did you... want to share a bed?

Blake: (ears flicker as her eyes flit between everyone in the room) I... wouldn't be opposed....

Qrow: Do you want to sleep with my niece or not?

Blake: Not like that!!! (Balks) Not yet anyway!!! (Gags at her words) I MEAN!!! YES!!! I would like to share a bed with Yang! (Turns to Yang) When are you coming to bed?!

Yang: (a flustered and blushing mess) I'll be there in five minutes!

Blake: Okay!

Yang: Okay!

Blake: I love you!

Yang: I love you too!

Blake: (stomps over to Yang in embarrassment, kisses her cheek, and sprints back into her bedroom)

Yang: (eyes flicking between red and lilac from embarrassment)

Raven: You were right. I do like her. I was a little worried after spying around post fall of Beacon.

Qrow: Told you. (Drinks his decaf coffee) Better get going, Firecracker. Your lady awaits.

Yang: (stammers and sputters) Right! Uh! Goodnight! (Trips over the chair as she rushes to the bedroom)

Raven: (sips her tea after the door slams closed) I give them six months before they're talking about marriage.

Qrow: I'll see your six months and put my money on our little Firecracker asking.

Raven: Please. That little shadow is clearly a woman who knows what she wants. My money is on the Faunus.

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby #rwby crack post #vacuo #raven branwen #qrow branwen #goodnight kiss #shenanigans #lesbian disaster yang xiao long everyone #bisexual biohazard blake belladonna folks #they're both lovestruck idiots your honor

[solarmorrigan]

Consider, though: the demobats only manage to chew on Eddie about as much as they had on Steve before Vecna is defeated and the bats die off. He’s injured, sure, but he’s not in dire straits, just in for an unpleasant recovery

And while Eddie’s waiting for his name to be cleared, Steve offers to let him recover at his house - plenty of room, no one would ever think to look there, and Steve can help him out while he heals

This would be a great idea, except Steve is recovering from pretty much the exact same goddamn injuries, and he is aware now, without the numbness of adrenaline and barely-banked panic, that they are actually kind of painful

He’s not going to admit this, of course, but Eddie is plenty ready to point out that, actually, Steve should let Eddie help him out, because Steve is more injured than he is. In addition to the bites, Steve was partially strangled twice and has road rash all over his back from being dragged across the dry lake bed. Steve argues that Eddie is more injured because his bat bites are bigger

Robin, arriving for the afternoon to check up on them, walks in to find that both Steve and Eddie have discarded their bandages and are attempting to compare how much skin they are missing, respectively

Robin: What- Steve: Robin! Do you have a ruler? Robin: Why would I have a ruler?? Eddie: We can work with a yardstick, if that’s all you’ve got Robin: ???

-

Eddie needs something from the top shelf of a cabinet in the kitchen. He realizes quickly that reaching above his head is both painful and inadvisable. He refuses to ask for help, and so Steve finds him there some time later, just staring up at the shelf. He teases Eddie, asking if El has been giving him lessons in moving things with his brain

Eddie tells him to reach the thing, then, if he’s so fucking great

Steve fully intends to do so, but quickly realizes the same thing as Eddie: reaching above his head pulls on his wounds and is a bad idea. They both stand there, staring at the top shelf

Eddie: How do short people normally reach things? Steve: Dustin sits on the counters to reach higher sometimes? Eddie, staring speculatively at the countertop: That could work

Steve reopens his wounds after boosting himself up onto the counter and trying to reach the top shelf. Eddie nearly reopens his wounds laughing at the lecture Steve gets from Nancy (and quickly earns a lecture of his own for “egging Steve on”)

-

Of course, when Dustin comes to check on them, they’re both entirely too injured to do much of anything for themselves and they make about a million irritating little requests of him while pretending to be dying on the couch

Dustin actually does bring them a lot of what they ask for - snacks and drinks and extra pillows and things to keep them from from getting bored (these things are, admittedly, more to his and Eddie’s taste than to Steve’s, but it’s still nice), and they almost feel bad until he puts in a movie neither of them likes and settles in between them to watch

Dustin tells them they’re stuck watching it because they’re both definitely too injured to get up and put in a new one themselves

(They end up watching the movie)

-

Mornings are the hardest, waking up aching and far from their last dose of painkillers and facing the prospect of a new, long day ahead of them, so they start sharing Steve’s bed. For moral support. (Besides, his bed is softer than the bed in the guest room that Eddie had used for about a night and a half)

Their first kiss is there, soft and easy against the mountain of pillows they’ve built up over their days of recovery, in the dark because they’ve already hit the lights and neither of them wants to get up to turn them back on

It’s wonderful, until they get a little too carried away and Steve pulls at his injuries trying to roll on top of Eddie, and then leans right onto one of the bite marks on Eddie’s side when he loses his balance and tries to roll back off

They agree to settle for holding hands until they’re held together by more than scotch tape and ibuprofen (but that’s nice, too)

#they're both idiots your honor I'll accept nothing less #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddiesteve #solar wrote #long post

[siriuslylovejegulus33]

Star "idiots to lovers" chaser

#theyre idiots your honor #they're so hot and gay #regulus black is the superior character #i would sell both kidneys to see james the sun potter smile #regulus is the star #regulus black is a star #james the sunshine potter #james potter is the sun #sunchaser #sunseeker #starseeker #starchaser #who wouldnt wanna talk abt jegulus their whole lives #jegulus #marauders era #marauders #gay harry potter #hp marauders #the marauders #marauders incorrect quotes #regulus black #james potter #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #marauders headcanon

[ficmashup]

A Date

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: These two are such idiots, I love them. I'm already feeling the itch to make this ten parts and I'm trying to resist (not really) so we'll see! I know what I want to happen next, but we'll see how many chapters it takes to get there. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some SA references if you squint, crass language.

Word Count: 3.1k

Feral Masterlist

My foot taps insistently on the floor as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’ve changed clothes five times and while each outfit has irritated me in some way, nothing makes me more frustrated than the fact that I’ve changed clothes five times. It’s so unlike me. But there’s no protocol for going on a date with your captain. There’s fucking protocol to not date your captain. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I take a deep breath, my gaze dropping to my phone for the dozenth time.

It’s been a couple days since Price stayed here and since we set a date to go out. Like actually go out.

The only people I can call are the people I absolutely do not want to know about this. Simon would either pretend not to care then tail us from my apartment or show up randomly wanting to meet my date. Soap would tease the hell out of me and keep bothering me until I told him who it is so he could do a background check. Gaz…he’s the wildcard. And it’s for that reason alone that I pick up the phone and call him.

The phone rings as I put it on speaker and set it on the dresser in front of me as I stare at the screen. “G? Hey!” His voice comes over and I smile a little at the instant warmth in his tone. The tapping of my foot slows.

“Gaz.” I greet him, then realize I have no clue what I’d like to say. “What are you doing?”

“I’m in the shops getting a few things for this weekend. You’re going to fucking love the dip I’m bringing.” I hear the soft shuffling of bags and more of my nerves ebb at his easygoing tone. We’re all gathering at Price’s to watch the game before we’re heading back to base this weekend. “You’re bringing something too, yeah?”

“You know I’m bringing dessert and I don’t want to hear a fucking word about it.” I bite and smile when I hear him chuckling.

“Thought your idea of dessert was sucking on a spoon of sugar, G. You know the whole point of watching the game is to eat chips and dip in front of a big tv, yeah? We don’t need dessert.”

“You need something sweet to cut the salt all of you are inhaling every second.”

“It’s a dip party.”

“It’s a football party and I’m making a dip.”

“A dessert dip? The fuck is it, a bowl of whipped cream?”

“I’ve seen you and Johnny race to finish containers of whipped cream, so don’t even try pretending you wouldn’t love that.” I’m grinning now and while a ball of nerves still remains heavy in my stomach, I no longer feel weighed down by it.

Gaz grunts over the phone. “Ugh, right. Nearly threw up after that.”

“Mmhmm.” I remember clearly, for some reason, I was suckered into rubbing both Gaz and Soap’s backs while they tried not to puke. “If you don’t want to try what I bring, then you don’t have to.” There’s a beat.

“No, I’ll try it.” He gives in almost instantly and I smirk while I walk into my kitchen, leaning against the counter while I stare at the door. A glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearly time and if there’s anything I can count on, it’s that John will be on schedule. “But did you need something, G? Or have you just missed my sweet voice?” Gaz asks and I hear some plastic crinkling as he no doubt piles chips into his shopping cart.

My lips press together for a moment as I consider what to say. “Just missed your voice, Kyle. Looking forward to trying whatever monstrosity of a dip you end up bringing.”

“Hm, careful, G. All those sweets are starting to rub off on you. That was almost sweet.”

“Fuck off.”

“Yeah, that’s more like it.”

“Bye, Gaz.”

“Later, G.”

I hang up and take a deep breath, feeling steady again before there’s a knock at the door. The zing of nerves flushes through my body and I don’t let myself think about it as I walk over and swing the door open without hesitation. My body instantly softens at the sight of Price in a white button down, pressed slacks, and a bouquet of roses. I’m struck dumb instantly.

My name falls off his lips, sweet as honey, and the way he looks me up and down makes me grateful that I finally chose a black dress. “You’re stunning.” He says it like a fact and I smile, pressing my lips together to keep from grinning like a fool as I welcome him inside. I definitely don’t let my eyes slide over his broad back and see how his pants fit his backside and thighs very nicely. “Wasn’t sure how you felt about flowers, so I figured I’d hedge my bets.” He places the beautiful bouquet on my kitchen counter while I grab a vase and I smile as I turn around to see him placing a small bag of my favored hard candies beside them.

“And you say that you’re not good at diplomacy.” I tease and earn a chuckle while I fill a vase with water.

“Don’t think many would accept flowers and candy in exchange for weapons or tac gear.” He lifts the bouquet and slides the already cut stems into the vase as I set it on the counter next to him.

“You never know. Something to try.” I smirk up at him while he smirks down at me and fuck, it’s been a long time since I’ve so easily had fun with someone. “You look really good.” I say it before I can think too hard about it and luckily, my head is blissfully quiet as his smile sweetens while those pretty blue eyes shine.

“Good thing too. Maybe I won’t look too outta place next to you.” He says and I blink before I lift my hand to flutter over my mouth to hide my wide smile. Fucking smooth talker. “Ready?” Price tilts his head towards the door and I nod, grabbing my small purse and sliding a few candies into it. He offers his arm and I take it with a little smile, feeling…well, like I’m going on an actual date.

The car ride is easy, nothing we haven’t done before, but the nerves creep back as we walk into a nice restaurant. Although it’s terribly sweet how John shifts and his hand slides over mine wrapped around his arm when he confirms the reservation. Maybe he’s as nervous as I am. “Is this your usual haunt for dates?” I ask him softly as we settle down at a table. Thankfully, it has a clear view of the doors.

John heaves a breath and shakes his head. “No. Thought that since we’re both a bit out of practice, going back to basics might be best.” He settles into his chair and there’s a small smile on my face as he looks around a bit, hands smoothing over his thighs. Somehow, him being nervous makes me less nervous. It means he cares as much as I do.

“Bet I can beat you there.” I challenge and he stills, quirking an eyebrow at me. “Two years. And a little longer if we’re talking a date with someone that matters.”

John half-smiles. “A year for me. Year and a half for anyone that mattered.” I hum, claiming my victory while his eyes sparkle with amusement just as the waiter comes by to take our drink orders. I take a small risk just to put him a little more at ease.

“An old-fashioned for him.” I order his favorite with a little smirk at the look he gives me.

He considers a moment while the waiter looks between us with a dubious expression. “Mojito to start, then white wine for dinner. Something sweet.” Price looks at me for approval and I nod, pressing my lips together to keep myself from grinning like a fool. The waiter takes this in and his bemused glance at us nearly makes me laugh as he walks away.

“Think we’re scaring the waiter.” My tone is light as my fingers glide over the silverware laid out on the table with the cloth napkin in my lap. At least I remembered a little about how to act in a place like this.

“He’ll recover.” John says without an ounce of concern and I try not to glow under his steady gaze. It feels surprisingly nice having all of his attention. I don’t mind being seen by him, never have.

My head tilts a little. “Do you enjoy scaring the general public?”

“Occasionally.” He leans forward a little and I copy him, unable to resist. “Although, I’m not the one who nearly knocked out some idiot in a bar.”

I smile at the memory. “He would have deserved it.”

Price nods without hesitation. “I almost regret not letting you. That happen often when you’re home?”

My head shakes as I fiddle with my glass of water, turning it in a slow circle. “I handle things a little differently here. My reaction there was due to being around a crowd of other military men who seem to always understand physical denials better than verbal. Something I’m sure you’re not unfamiliar with.” He sighs, but nods with reluctant acceptance. “I figured it was better to make my stance clear right away. At home, I’m a bit more lenient. More drinks thrown in people’s faces than fists.” The pads of my fingers tap against my glass as a thought occurs to me. “What’s your choice of deterrent?”

My question earns me a warm chuckle and brings the slightest of blushes to his cheeks. “Ah…most are chased off by a stern warning.” My smile widens a bit when he doesn’t deny being chased after. It’s not a surprise. In my clearly biased opinion, Price is a catch. Which makes it all the more puzzling that he’s on a date with me.

We order and conversation is easy as always. We veer away from the topic of work and speak more about our family life, what it was like for us growing up, and how we eventually decided to go into the military. It’s nice hearing him talk about himself for an extended period of time. I’m used to hearing him talk about plans, missions, and all with a firm tone with a goal in mind. Now, he’s relaxed and smiling and his tone is light. Even playful. I could listen to him talk all day.

“I don’t need dessert, John.” I insist, smiling ear to ear as he hands the dessert menu back to our waiter after already ordering me one. “I’m not going to eat it.”

“You’ll have at least one bite here, then eat it tomorrow.” He states and my head shakes while I swirl my wine around in my glass. It’s actually good. He chose well.

“Only if you have a bite too. You need more sugar in your life.” I say pointedly with laughter in my voice. His smile in return is warm and both of us have our elbows on the table as we lean towards each other.

“Good thing I have you then, sugar.” His eyes sparkle as my head ducks a moment, my face heating.

“Mm, good thing.” I return and fuck, he’s pretty when he smiles like that. All teasing and light and sweet. The dessert comes, the sweetest little thing they had on the menu, and we both take a bite as promised. I might have a few bites more before we finally walk out. The night is brisk and I pull my wrap tight around my shoulders, automatically leaning into Price’s warmth as I wrap my arm around his. He accepts me instantly and it’s easy to feel like a normal couple as we walk down the street towards his car.

“Should we think about what to tell the team or are we putting a pin in that for now?” I ask idly and Price sighs, the warm air from his lungs appearing as an amorphous shape in the cool air.

“As soon as we tell them, we’re going to hear about it for a while.”

“Weeks?”

“Months, if we’re lucky. Years, if we’re unlucky.”

I pull in a deep breath, shaking my head at the thought of the boys nagging us for so long. But it does make me happy to think about years spent with them and Price. “How about we talk about it over breakfast on Friday?” I suggest, my lips pressing together a moment as nerves swirl in my stomach. I can count on one hand the number of times that I’ve asked a man out with varied success. But when I look back at Price, he just has a sweet smile on his face.

“Sounds good to me. Dinner tonight, lunch tomorrow, breakfast on Friday.” We reach the car and I raise a brow at him as he opens the passenger side door for me.

“Lunch tomorrow?” We hadn’t spoken about that yet.

He nods, a teasing glint in his eyes as he helps me up into the passenger seat. “Mmhmm. Sound good?” Good is a severe understatement, but I manage not to grin like an idiot while I nod.

“Sounds good.” I agree and that little glint grows brighter as he closes the door. I allow myself to lean my head back against the headrest as I smile as wide as I want, then compose myself as Price gets into the driver’s seat and takes me home. We both walk very slowly as we head up to my flat and I almost laugh at both of us acting like teenagers not wanting to say goodbye at the end of a date.

He sighs heavily as I unlock the door and I smirk at the sound. At least I don’t have to wonder if he had a good time. I push my door open and turn back around, leaning against the door frame. “Thank you for this.” My hands smooth down my dress as I look up at his handsome face and I’m glad he’s not wearing his usual hat pulled low over his face. I like that I get to see this side of him. “I had a really good time.”

“So did I. Thank you for letting me.” He says with a playful edge in his voice and I give him a look for the insinuation that I don’t often let anyone do anything for me. Despite it being absolutely true.

“And are you going to tell me where I’m letting you take me for lunch tomorrow?” I turn his words around on him and feel immense satisfaction as he smirks and leans against the doorframe opposite me.

“I’m going to show you a few of my favorite places around the city. It’ll be a bit more relaxed and we’ll be walking a bit, so comfortable shoes would be wise. I’ll come to pick you up at noon. Alright?” He tilts his head towards me slightly, waiting for me to agree, and I smile at his thoughtfulness as I nod.

“Alright.” I agree and we stall for another moment. We’ve reached a soft line tonight. Sure, he’s been in my apartment, ate my food, drank tea, slept in my guest room, but that was all while we were friends. He’s not getting invited inside after the first date. I cross my arms and he seems to realize the line a second afterward, smiling as he straightens and takes half a step away from my door.

“I…” He hesitates and my arms fall back to my sides as I wait for whatever he has to say. His pretty blue eyes are locked on mine with his lips parted and I raise a brow, silently telling him to go on. He takes a breath and turns his body back towards mine, but doesn’t move closer. “I’d like to kiss you, but I need you to tell me if that’s alright or not.” His voice is a touch lower and surprise trickles through me, then warmth.

I take a steadying breath before stepping towards him. “It’s okay. Just…slowly.” My eyes stay on his, my words frank and honest, just like we’ve always been with each other. He nods and leans down a bit, the only part of him touching me is a callused finger sliding under my chin to tilt my head for him. The barest touch sends electricity sparking through me.

I taste his breath first and the leftover sweetness from our last bite of dessert mixes with distinct, bitter scent of his cigars. It’s intoxicating and I hum ever so softly while my eyelids flutter. John murmurs my name before brushing his lips against mine for the first time. I stiffen out of instinct and he pulls back an inch before freezing, his eyes scanning my face. It takes a moment for me to relax and this time, I reach up and gingerly slide my hands through his beard as I get myself used to him. He sighs and I’m immediately comforted by the way he leans into my touch.

“Again.” I request, lightly scratching my dull nails over his beard without even thinking about it.

Price’s eyes widen for a moment, but he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me again. I focus on everything that makes Price, Price—the smell of his cigars, his trimmed beard, the way I can feel the tension in his hand as he tilts my chin up, doing everything he can not to touch me more because I haven’t asked for it yet, haven’t said it was okay. His lips are gentle against mine and the kiss is simple. Just a little pressure and the slightest taste of his breath once, twice, a third time before he pulls back and straightens.

Our hands fall away from one another and I rub my fingers together, still feeling the sensation of his beard under my fingertips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says in a low tone that I’ve never heard from him before and all I can do is nod. He smiles and I barely stop myself from reaching for him again as he walks down the hall and into the stairwell.

It’s only when I’m inside my apartment and leaning back against my locked door, fingers on my lips as they tingle, that I realize just how much trouble I’m in.

Taglist (I love all of you sm! <3 If anyone else wants to be tagged, lmk!)

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova

#the best kind of trouble #Price is running out of that building #feeling like G just took a piece of his soul #both of them are trying not to let on #to the other that they're absolutely smitten #both idiots #I love them your honor #captain price #angst #call of duty #cod #fluff #cod mw2 #price #price x reader #gaz #ghost #simon ghost riley #Captain Price #captain john price #john price #price cod #cod mw3 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #mw2 #cod x reader #tf141 #tf 141 #kyle gaz garrick

[sudzie-void]

Skrimm downing his tea like a shot gives off the same vibe of Gricko eating his cigar

#you can't tell me both of those things haven’t happened more than once #legends of avantris #3 am ramblings #icebound #once upon a witchlight #skrimm stabbaskotch #gricko grimgrin #they're idiots your honor #they're idiots and i love them

[bluerose5]

Anders and Gale being the type of couple that is plain insufferable when they get together. The other companions are instantly regretting any encouragement on their end. They get new, matching earrings. Hell, they match their clothes in general. Can't keep their hands off each other, no matter where they are. Always giggling and whispering sweet nothings to each other. Any time the others say something to them about it, they just accuse them of being jealous and continue on. The type of couple that, when they pay each other compliments, they go "No, you are."/"No, you are."/"You're the cuter one."/"You take my breath away." while everyone else in close proximity is gagging and rolling their eyes. Then, in their need to always one up each other, one of them snaps and says something petty or hurtful. Which ends up with them going all silent and pouty the rest of the day before one apologizes, and the other apologizes too for some reason or another because that's what they do. It doesn't matter anyways because, of course they claim that they can't stay mad at each other for long. They kiss and make up, and the whole cycle starts over again.

#dragon age #baldurs gate 3 #da2 #bg3 #anders #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #crossover #gale x anders #anders x gale #bluerose writes #bluerose headcanons #they're both passionate and stubborn #and that's what they both love and hate about each other #change my mind #they're idiots in love your honor

[teatitty]

Consider: WatsHolmes pining because they think the other one is 100% not interested in dudes and even though they regularly go to The Invert Places in Soho and the turkish baths and such they’re always like “clearly my best friend is just doing this as a show of support and solidarity for me. There is definitely no other reason for him to be here”

Meanwhile everyone who works at those restaurants and baths and opera places are like “oh hey it’s Mr Holmes and Dr Watson they’ve been together for over a decade it’s so nice seeing them again”

#watsholmes #they're both fucking idiots your honor #mrs hudson a real one for dealing with their pining for so long honestly