#basically boiling at that point because its the only way you feel comfort

[webvampzz]

this song feels like the aftermath of the heaviest rainstorm ever but the wind is still around and its foggy outside and you cant even see a single house around you and the lights are flickering outside while the windows shake because of the strong wind

[fudgechocolatepuff]

his headphones *+:｡.｡

౨ৎ keigos headphones were something that youve been focused on lately…

౨ৎ his new ones spark a warm feeling in your heart. but why? they’re just headphones..

it had been some time since you and keigo started dating, perhaps a month or two, when you had suddenly began a strange fixation on keigo’s headphones. 

whenever he came and crashed at your place for the night, you’d see him stumble through your balcony door with a pair of headphones that you’d never really see him with during the daytime; black sony headphones…

you had first started to notice this because—and you’d never admit it to him but—you thought that the headphones originally paired with keigo’s hero outfit were HIDEOUS! i mean, seriously! yellow for the colour?? he looked liked a goofball with bananas for ears whenever he zoomed around the city patrolling. you never understood how he didn’t care that he was being captured in public with those putrid yellow looking mounds on his ears.

other than your hatred for how they looked, you had also been wondering how they worked. well, obviously you knew that he needed them to fly so that his ears wouldn’t explode going 370 km per hour in the air, but you always had one main question that always came to mind; could he listen to music with them? it would be more than disappointing to you if you found out that he couldn’t. ‘what would even be the point then?’ you’d ask yourself. personally, you couldn’t live a day without music, like, your ears NEEDED that constant ring of melodies and tunes throughout your day, a necessity really.  

so, one night, when keigo tapped at your balcony door and stepped inside with those same black sonys he’d been wearing for the past several weeks, you had asked him from the couch, 

“so.. what’s with those headphones that you’ve been coming in with lately?” 

you tried to make the question sound as normal as possible, but there was no way to mask how specific it was. keigo was in the kitchen in the middle of making some buldak ramen for dinner, you weren’t even sure if he had heard you with those headphones still attached to his head as he stirred the boiling pot, but he turned his head toward you and gave you a bit of a confused-but-also-blank expression, registering the bizarre question. 

an intrigued smile crept its way onto his face as his inital blank expression turned into one of a lazy smile but also curious as his eyes glanced back at the pot as he continued stirring the noodles.

“why do you ask? they’re jus’ headphones.” he asked slyly, playing along with your little investigation, flustering you a bit as you huffed softly, looking away from him and reaching for the remote and turning on the tv in search of a random show that would serve as background noise.

“it’s just that i dont really see you with those ones. do your other ones not work for listening to music?” 

he swiftly popped the seasoning packets open as the noodles absorbed the flavor. “yeah, basically. i figured that these would function better for me since its just more popular. i also got these because of my fans, y’know! have ‘ta keep up with the trends these days.” he flashed you a playful smile while he divided the ramen into two bowls for the both of you , like the multitasker he is.

the two of you remained in a comfortable silence eating the spicy ramen- well, keigo was more devouring it, but who could blame him? he’s had a long day at work and all he would want right now was have his stomach full and take a fat nap with you in his embrace. you chuckled softly to yourself as you watched him slurp his ramen furiously, to which he squinted his eyes at you in a ‘dont judge me,’ type of look. too bad it only made you laugh a bit louder. 

as you picked at your food, you couldnt help but look back at the silly question you asked him. like, seriously- your cheeks even warmed up thinking about it, what was wrong with you? you thought it was so cute though. you thought keigo was cute, with his cute little headphones that actually matched with his cute little style, thank GOD he wasn’t walking around your apartment with those horrid headphones, so yellow and ugly. 

you were brought out of your little hate bubble from a nudge to your arm. you turned to your right to see keigo with a giddy little mischievous smile. oh no.

“also, did i ever mention how well these headphones worked?” 

it was like he KNEW you were thinking about his damn headphones.

“uhh…. i guess not??” your eyes looked up at his grinning face, your brows knitted upwards in confusion. ‘ohmygoodnesswhywonthejustdropitomgomg-‘

he slipped his black sonys off from his neck where they had been resting since they started eating, and put them over your head to cover your ears. he then snatched his phone from his pocket, typing and tapping away when your ears were suddenly filled with the best, most crunchiest, crispiest, heart-filling quality music that you’ve heard. ‘damn. those headphones do sound good.” you thought as the catchy jams of mac demarco poured into your ears. you gave keigo a silly cheery smile, cheeks warmer as ever with your eyes smiling and all as he returned the same sappy grin, his lips a bit crooked in the cutest way as you listened to ‘no other heart’.

soon enough, the two of your infectious smiles broke out into endless giggles as you both thought about the initial stupid topic of headphones. yeah, those disgusting lemon-y headphones could never compare to the euphoric sound of keigo’s new black sonys. 

maybe you’d get a pair for yourself. 

omg this short drabble took seconds to think about in my head but hours to execute 💔 ill get better i promise

[zuko-always-lies]

Have you considered that Zuko is just a bad friend?[This will not be a Zuko friendly post]

While this title is a bit of a joke, the point remains: there is a very strong argument to be made that canon Zuko is just not a very good friend, that he’s someone who doesn’t treat his friends very well. Obviously there are many events in Zuko’s life which negatively affected his interpersonal relationships, so I don’t intend this to be an exercise in blame. I’m merely noting a pattern that I think Zuko will need to work on in the future:

Ty Lee: Zuko is extremely vicious in what he says to Ty Lee in “The Beach,” which stands out because it’s about the only substantive thing he ever says to her, and because Ty Lee is extremely kind to him that episode. He never apologizes for it. He also deliberately tries to provoke a fight between Ty Lee and Mai.

Mai: Let’s us just say that Zuko treats Mai very poorly in “The Beach,” and never really apologizes for it or recognizes what about his behavior was wrong. This includes getting into fits of violent jealousy the moment Mai even lays eyes on another boy.

Now let’s turn to the Gaang. In all cases, Zuko starts off eager to please and gain their approval. However, once he passes this initial hurtle, his behavior doesn’t necessarily measure up.

Toph basically approves of Zuko from the start, and he has to do little to win her friendship. As a result, he largely although not entirely ignores her. He feels comfortable dumping his emotional issues on her, but when she tries to do the same to him, he’s dismissive of it. All things considered, Zuko isn’t a terrible friend to Toph, but I wouldn’t say he’s a great one, either.

Aang rapidly warms up to Zuko, particularly through their field trip in “The Firebending Masters.” However, we see some questionable treatment of Aang later on. Zuko twice mocks the culture of Aang, a genocide survivor whose culture was murdered by Zuko’s ancestors, in “The Southern Raiders.” Worse, Zuko, in the series finale, decided it was a great idea to try to light Aang on fire in order to terrify him into submission, because said best friend didn’t want to train and Zuko didn’t feel like reasoning with him.

Sokka is an interesting case. Zuko tries hard to win his friendship in the “Boiling Rock” episodes. However, once this is accomplished, Zuko starts behaving differently. In “The Southern Raiders,” Zuko uses Sokka to find out about Kya’s death. However, although Zuko emphasizes the importance of revenge, it doesn’t occur to him to offer the opportunity to Sokka. Zuko doesn’t directly tell Sokka what he found, nor does he give Sokka the chance to join on the little “vengeance expedition.” The fact that Sokka already forgave Zuko means that Zuko has no reason to care about giving him an opportunity for closure.  And of course, when Sokka, who also lost Kya, says that he thinks killing Yon Rha is a bad idea, Zuko ignores him.

Zuko’s treatment of Katara is a whole mess of its own, although it’s largely confined to one episode:

1. Zuko feels entitled to Katara’s forgiveness.

2. Zuko ignores Katara’s very clear and reasonable explanation about why she doesn’t like or trust him to instead decide it must be all about her mom.

3. Zuko decides to manipulate Katara into liking him by giving her the opportunity to murder someone she hates. That someone is a bad person who did something truly awful, but whose actions are not necessarily much worse than what Zuko himself did, much less what Zuko’s believed uncle Iroh did. Zuko claims this is all about “justice,” but the fact that he had no interest in giving Sokka an opportunity to come along and participate shows the real character of Zuko’s actions here.

Zuko is mostly nice to Katara after “The Southern Raiders,” but his treatment of her in the episode always feels terrible to me.

Zuko and Suki don’t seem to have any significant friendship, so there’s nothing to say here, one way or the other.

[probablynanobots]

Is was isn't wasn't ever never now

One of my favorite things to do in life is break down problems into small pieces to try to make them manageable and explainable by and to anyone. Electrons are the smallest piece of anything we are able to see, and atoms have a bunch of them. As far as we can tell right now, electrons are the BIT, the 1 and the -1 to the eternal 0 of space. Anything we can sense, we can sense because it did something to or with an electron.

In the reading I have done so far regarding particles and electrons and all that jazz, I saw one thing that suck in my mind. It made me laugh, because it seemed both simple and complex, which is also a favorite thing of mind.

Whatever article I was reading included a bit about talking to a scientist particularly familiar with electrons and their interactions. The scientist was asked "what are electrons made of?"

Now, as I understand it, sometimes the answer can be translated as "energy" or "charge", like negative or positive polarity of a battery, or the pull of a compass needle to the north. Other times, like in some super solid electrons I read about, the answer is other electrons.

The scientist from the article answered something along the lines of: An electron isn't made of anything. It just is. If it isn't an electron, then it just isn't. I think he talked about the + and - charge aspect after that, but to be honest, I don't grok details as well as I do overviews.

With that concept stuck in my mind, I learned the concepts regarding action and reaction, physical movement, and the various simple machines that the late great Archimedes was all over. The ways that particles themself move, but particles are at a scale and angle invisible to us. At least with a rope and pulley, you can see what you are talking about.

What my understanding of particle physics boils down to at its core is:

Particles move in very specific and limited ways.

The simplest of particles only move because they are being influenced by other particles.

There is no way to get a proper perspective on particle physics without using metaphor and some creative thinking. Everything we want to talk about or test is much too far away or much too small. Some of the stuff we want to study isn't even detectable by the instruments and senses we currently have.

Physics needs Philosophy, Art, and Literature to work. I feel like Physics has already kind of eaten Math and the Bio Sciences, might as well toss in some liberal arts for better flavor.

The ways this understanding is helping me currently are directly in line with my desire to help others. I finally have something that I think I can give people. If I can make folks that aren't into the hard side of science understand the basic motion of the world, then people have a chance of being a little happier.

Another way that it helps is knowing now that no matter what impact I might make on the visible world, the particles will forever be changed because I was here.

And because I have a ton of anxiety about my negative impact on the earth, I am also comforted by the fact that even though I am changing particles by just existing, they do not care at all.

They are forever changed by me, but they will never remember the moment when I changed them. The tempo of physics is action and reaction, call and echo, light and refraction, image and reflection. This endless relationship becomes a point of metaphysical debate as well as scientific inquiry. Everyone keeps trying to find the thing that came first. To figure out what happened at the start of everything, or to prove that there was never a start nor an end.

But as I have tried to say before, the observer is the primary influencer of any particle reaction. We start and end what exists around us, as it exists TO us. Which boils down to having the ultimate state of minding your own business, but can blind you to all the particle interactions occurring outside of your observation.

We, as humans, are forever changed by every particle we encounter, whether we remember the moment or not. If we zoom out from the electrons that science focuses on, the particles in our view become the people around us. People particles being pulled and pushed in so many directions by so many influences that are invisible to us.

My particle can interact with yours in person or online. I prefer online. My particle can be remembered by you, or not. I have mixed feelings on this part.

My particle can exchange energy with you that leaves you better off, or that depletes you. Personally, I would like to be sure every particle I interact with is better off afterwards.

[minthe-lover]

Chapter 212 analysis

So I have... very mixed feelings about this chapter, I'm so happy that we are actually seeing minthe but I don't really like the backstory that much. I'm going to try lighter and them move onto the heavier stuff later. So one thing that really annoyed me is the inconsistent black background, when I started the chapter I liked the black background as a way to show minthe thinking in plant form is different then reality.. but then you get these weird random white spots that the background fades to. That just don't have any reason to be there. That along with how for some reason the flashback with hades has an all white background for no reason?

Like the only reason I can think of is this panel.. but even then you can have the smoke fade to black.

Also like, this chapter really hit me with how much the art has changed for the worse. We get to see Persephone in one of her earliest outfits.

The original art basically draw the coat like fluffy pink clouds around Persephone, and while it doesn't look that super real it look fluffy and comfortable plus it gives a really striking and interesting look to it. The one shown in this chapter looks so flat and boring, yeah it looks fluffy but not as soft and warm as the original one does.

Next is the train station, which just confuses me a bit. I do like the idea that you gotta take a train between realms, but given that is just seems open to anyone I'm confused cause its been told that it's illegal to have "modern" objects in the mortal realm. Really it would take an extra panel or line to explain how this works... I'm just asking for the most basic world building to avoid confusion. Like have her explain how there is no guards, or have the outside look like a classic Greek temple.

Though I have to say the moment with minthe and the human did make me laugh and is a great scene and holy shit I love minthe so much.

Now to talk about the biggest point of the chapter, which is learning about minthes mother. It's a plot point that I've very conflicted on cause on one hand yes abuse is a cycle but also rs is trying to have complex characters but they are so often surrounded by characters that have no complexity to them. Minthe mother is just neglectful.. and that's all there is to here.

Like imagine if rs tried to write Minthes mother similar to how Beatrice is in bojack horseman. Have minthes mother be written to explore how women are often forced into motherhood and thus can not handle the stress of it. Or even write it to be about how women in poverty can struggle to find a support system when they need it.. and thus can't support their children in the way they need.

Though I gotta say, this following the chapter that is supposed to be showing Demeter as a horrible mother really show how great Demeter is. Demeters "abuse" at the worse is trying to protect her child and being worried about her being abused. from the little we see of Minthe's mother her neglect is far worse and I'm really not looking forward to how they may try and compare the two later in the story.

Now the Hades part of her flash back is.... annoys me because it because it seems more like trying to place the blame mainly on Minthe. It's Minthe fault that she didn't want a romantic relationship nor a relationship that continues to marriage. Plus Hades emotionally cheating on Minthe being boiled down to.. basically nothing annoys me.

It worsens as this chapter reiterates how minthe struggle with horrible self doubt and mental illness.. but literally there is never a suggestion that she need therapy or some sort of support... all that is said is that she need to "be better" and stop being friends with thetis. There is very little about her lacking any support system or struggling with poverty... It just fails through in the trying to make Minthe seem like a complex character when all the responses to how she can grow and change are out souly on her and are so simple.

This really suck cause minthe is such an interesting character, she's literally been in the comic since the first episode but I know she gonna get explored alot less then alot of the characters. Persephone vague self doubt about her beauty really lack anything interest but is explored far more then Minthe's self doubt.

Also about Persephone in this chapter... she is just an rude to minthe. Like Minthe is right, what Persephone did was terrible and instead of listening to Minthe and how she's upset she just ignores that and tries to play it off like minthe problems are less important then Persephones problems.

Minthe is rightfully angry, and Persephone after turning her back from a plant basically just telling her to fuck off and leave her alone. It's a shitty thing to do.. and having it be a moment where it's supposed to be Persephone standing up for herself and not just her being rude sucks. Especially after we just had a huge flashback to make us sympathize with minthe more.

Also want to draw attention to this one line.

It's presented like some sort of angry thing without much weight.. but it's completely true. Persephone is the heiress to one of the biggest companies and the daughter of a powerful goddess. She smart, beautiful, and grew up with every single need met. Persephone was completely born into privilege, like she got a payed internship and she wasn't qualified for because of her personal connections.

Whenever character try to point that Persephone privilege it's treated like a huge overreaction and not a big deal.. but it is.

Now I don't mind that child, I think it could be dealt with well and there isn't much to say... tho I will admit I'm a bit worried how it may turn out.

Now my last point is more on the fandom side.. which is something Is that really annoys me. It happens whenever there is more background on Minthe, there is these large groups of fans that go on about how they sympathize with Minthe now.. but the moment she does like the even slightly thing against the main character they immediately change their tone.

There is so many people saying that now they sympathize with minthe.. but where was that sympathy when she was struggling with poverty.. or mental illness.. or literally any other problem. What's with this fandom and thinking mother being bad is the worst thing possible??

[artist-issues]

I get what your trying to say with changing tastes, and I agree with you. It just sometimes feels hard for me because while I'm trying my hand at enjoying some tragic things, in the past its because fandoms pressured me into doing so or else I got labeled or got some passive aggressive comments which basically boiled down to "its okay, but not really. and you should kinda feel bad"

now I'm not blaming you for that nor I am I saying everyone who's trying to help me is a bully but what want me to try was a friend I met

for example, I had hated RWBY's story as much as I loved the characters, and certain concepts and ships I wanted but dropped it due to V3 and onward with Pyrrha Nikos being tragic and put a bitter taste in my mouth for tragic things onward, my friend although fine with it, made sure I was aware my reasons were subjective which I agreed, but he didn't demonize subjective feelings and in fact related to me with a similar scenario in his personal life and how he'd learned to deal with it and tried to help me understand.

He gave me judgement whatsoever and gave me support with what I did like as much as he didn't like it. So while I no longer like RWBY, I get the point of those stories and try my luck elsewhere. But it was when someone treated me like a person and didn't wag the finger at me was what allowed me to give these sorts of things another chance.

But my experience with fandoms, at least The RWBY fandom, is that there's very little of that and mostly a superiority contest. And I don't understand why its so hard for certain people on the internet be the same as my friend.

Sorry to rant, and you don't need to answer, I just want to give my opinion on this

I'm going to answer because I appreciate your thoughts! I think the problem you're pointing out is valid: even if someone has something constructive to say, they don't always say it in a constructive way, or out of selfless motives.

Modern fandoms (which is the same thing as "modern audiences") are, in large majority, the kind of people who are watching something to be entertained, not watching it to be edified.

When you stop thinking of a story as "just entertainment" and start thinking of it as "a lesson someone is trying to teach me," then things take a different turn. Audiences can suddenly try to change their tastes based on that, like I said. They say to themselves "this is a lesson someone's trying to teach me; I might not be used to or comfortable with how they're saying it, but the lesson might be worth it, so I'll GET used to how they're saying it."

OR, audiences can stop finding their "sense of self" in a story, and therefore get wayyy less offended when someone doesn't like the same thing they like, or worse, when someone claims to like it more than they do! 😱

I think you're right about that. The point I'm making is, modern fandom doesn't even really like the stories they claim to like--they just like themselves, and the things that make them feel entertained, distracted, uplifted, knowledgeable, or cool. That's why you get fanfiction where authors write their "favorite" character completely out-of-character from the original material--because they never really liked that character for what it was, they just liked the tiny pieces of themselves that they could associate with that character, and re-wrote that character to only be those things.

That's why "comfort characters" are a thing. That's why "ship wars" are a thing. It's all self-focused. And there's a place for some of that. It's okay to go to a movie because you know it'll make you feel hopeful or happy. But you'll get even more benefit out of analyzing those feelings and why the movie makes you feel that way. Is it because you were beginning to think about the world in a dark, wrong way and the movie gently corrected you with its message? (Like Mary Poppins Returns does for me!)

Or do you simply feel hopeful because...maybe a character in the movie does something wrong, but the movie rewards them for it instead of punishing them, and you want to be able to relate to that? Or are you just distracted? After all, Rome invented panem et circus for entertain the people...so they could mistreat the people while they were "distracted."

Anyway. I wanted to keep it brief but I'm not that disciplined in my own style of communication yet! 😅 I think your friend did you a good turn! I've only seen a bit of RWBY, but if it helped you to think more clearly about a part of life that you maybe weren't thinking clearly about before, awesome--it did what stories are meant to do.

P.S. People like me can fall into the same trap that I just accused "fandom" people of doing. We can feel so good about ourselves for having the "correct" analysis or view of a story that we mistreat other people. Which basically hamstrings our goal of "changing people's minds about stories." Because we accidentally let "make people think we're smart and right" become the goal. So this is a good reminder for me, too!

[racingtoaredlight]

Transcription

If I had to boil down my entire practice regimen to two things, it would be improvising with a metronome and transcription.  If you only practiced an instrument...any instrument, any genre...using a metronome and transcription, you would become a quality musician faster than any other course or music school could.

The problem is, both these things require an incredible amount of discipline and have a pretty significant barrier for entry.  What I mean by that is...practicing with a metronome and transcribing isn’t exactly fun.  And I’m not talking about getting bored here...your successful note rate plummets, you sound like shit, and worse...it makes you feel like shit.

It’s because you have a governor now.  Anyone can sound good on their own, creating a world with their own rules and its own flow.  That’s easy.  But when you have a metronome punishing every rhymic mistake...or completely fall flat on your face playing along with someone else’s solo...your failure is obvious and evident to everyone in the room.

And you’re the only one in the room.

***

Matteo Mancuso is probably the best guitarist on the planet under 30 years old right now.  He might be the best regardless of age, but it’s impossible to tell because he’s such a young pup still and already so far beyond everyone else, he’s in unknown territory.

Bob Mintzer is a saxophonist that you can’t escape at basically any jazz program in the country.  He’s clearly academic even when he’s free wheeling, which is perfect for students straddling the line between playing by instinct and playing with their brain.  Technique, vocabulary, incredibly well organized and communicated ideas...Mintzer is a really fucking good saxophone player.

“Giant Steps” is one of jazz’s Mount Everest test pieces.  If you can improvize over it, you can improvize over anything.

The example at the top is as good of a transcription as you could possibly get.  It’s clear he knows the solo inside and out, knows the song inside and out, and has practiced it to the point where it’s second nature.  It’s incredible to watch and listen to.

And the best part of all this is when he goes into the chords at the end.  My god, the walking bassline.  Man what a fucking guitarist!  This kid is seriously, seriously fucking incredible.

***

So this is an example of a good transcription.  How can we tell?  By looking at an example of a bad one.

Again, I’m not going to shit on this kid...it’s an admirable attempt at a fucking ridiculously difficult solo.  But this attempt probably could have used another day or two or rehearsal before putting it to record.

When looking at the quality of a transcription, it’s really as simple as listening first to how closely the notes are in unity.  With Mancuso’s transcription, he is step for step with Mintzer.  Think of it as Mintzer running across a beach and Mancuso following...Mancuso’s footsteps would be so close in unity with Mintzer’s, you’d think there’d be only one set of footsteps.

Yes, Mancuso is Jesus, but that’s besides the point.  There is zero separation.

***

There is lots of separation here.

Guitarists follow saxophone solos a lot because they have similar sound waves, and guitarists need a guide to learn how to phrase like a horn player since the guitar doesn’t naturally set up that way.  The sound wave thing is important because when you’re transcribing, and you hear this weird wobbly chorus-like effect, it’s because the notes are too far from unity and the waves are clashing against each other.

There is that chorus effect almost the entire solo here.  Again, it’s as difficult as it gets but...

...keep it in the shed til its ready.

***

So why is this important?

Yesterday I talked about technique, and mentioned breakdowns in technique when things aren’t comfortable.  The 2nd vid is a great example of that...limp wrist, extraneous movements...it’s all because he’s not comfortable enough with the piece yet.  It’s very quick and very subtle, but multiple times in the video he juggles his pick during line breaks...he’s searching for that comfortable spot and just not finding it.

Transcribing and really getting into it is the best dress rehearsal for what you’ll experience in the wild.  Because it’s not just training your fingers to work better, your ear to hear things better and in greater detail, your mind to expand its vocabulary, or holding yourself accountable...it’s all of those things at once.

And the more you do it, the more this work compounds and the easier it gets.  Pretty soon you absorb things instantaneously because...it’s not that you’re now a savant or anything...but because you’ve put in so much work, transcribed so many lines similar to whatever it is you heard, you can logically fill in the gaps and figure it out on the fly.  There’s no practice method that can replicate this.

It’s not just jazz either.  Classical music pedagogy had a massive history of this type of musicianship being taught in conservatories.  Blues has almost been entirely orally/sonically passed down thru generations.  Whatever genre we’re talking about, the ultimate point is streamlining that connection from the ears to the brain through the fingers.  And transcribing is history’s undefeated champion for getting musicians to that point.

***

So check out Mancuso’s example first...then compare it to the kid’s example...and then give Mancuso’s another quick listen.  It’s incredible just how well done his transcription of a brutally hard solo was executed.  And after hearing a pedestrian version, it’s even more remarkable.

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙄 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 | E. Kirishima/ Reader/ K. Bakugo

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 1

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: after weeks of Bakugo distancing himself from you and Kirishima you finally get the chance to talk out what happened the other day, one thing leads to another and...

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, thr*esome, oral (f! and m! receiving), double penetration, fingering, p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, all characters portrayed are over the age of 20

𝘼/𝙉: I'm so sorry this took me so long. I know this is 6.5k with little to no plot but I hope you enjoy this, hehe, thanks for all of the notes and amazing comments on the last one. I'll be reblogging in a few minutes with the tags in those who asked. Also. This is top Kirishima. Top top top top Kirishima.

It's been two weeks now that you and Bakugo exist in different timelines.

He's never home, lost in patrol after patrol, leaving a hot mess behind him in his room, belts, gear, his back up costume messily sprawled across his room -you guess he doesn't have enough time to clean everything up. Still, the rest of the apartment always looks inhabitable, save for the little mess you make in the kitchen when you cook; he never cleans what's supposed to be your task.

You feel yourself growing sadder every day. It's something Kirishima notices and informs you he feels as well, rooted deep in how Bakugo is treating the two of you ever since that night. And the worst part is you can't do anything about it. He doesn't return his phone calls nor does he ever pick up, and by now you've accepted that he purposely avoids being in the house with you. It hurts even more knowing that he and Kirishima see each other at work every day; at least he knows Katsuki is doing okay, though as he reports, he rarely ever talks more than patrol and business.

You only wonder why he acts the way he does, thinking you don't deserve to get ghosted over for what happened. He's your roommate and one of your best friends, whatever made him feel like he has the right to ghost you with such each is not going to go by so easily and you're not willing to wait it out anymore either.

Thus, this Thursday night you call in sick for work and emerge yourself in the bathtub after checking the clock. 7.25pm. It's still an hour until Katsuki is off his shift, which means you have plenty of time to do some self care. Shave your legs, scrub your whole body with your coconut scrub- anything to calm down that put of anxiety that's starting to boil in the pit of your stomach.

You fear for the worst. That Katsuki doesn't want to be your friend anymore, and losing him doesn't sit right with you. Not over just catching him masturbating once.

There's a ton of things you want to say, or ask him. The lingering thought of him liking Kirishima or you digs deep enough into your brain and plants itself there, getting comfortable right next to the thought of him being jealous of your relationship. Could this be it? Could he just be lonely? He never talks about meeting anyone or having sex -that must be it, he's lonely, that's all.

Your bath doesn't last for long because you're nervous and the water runs cold before you have the chance to enjoy yourself. Maybe it's time to start turning the heating on in the apartment and you curse yourself because you have to talk this out with Bakugo as well -fuck its hard to not live on your own when you have to make shared decisions with someone. To your stomach's turbulence dismay you can't get out of talking to Katsuki.

"No, I literally won't tell you where she is Bakugo"

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of the door unlocking and closing again, followed by your boyfriend's familiar voice. You don't make a single movement to exit the bathroom yet- you're frozen, opting to rest on top of the toilet cap until you hear Bakugo's reply, your gut falling into a muddy pit of panic.

"I swear to fucking god if you two are trapping me to talk about it"

Typically of him, he shouts, barking and chewing a few sounds of what he's saying. Kirishima knows he's all bark and no bite though, you're eager to figure out how he'll oppose him.

"She wants to talk to you, you can't just ghost her like that when you live with her" There's a long pause next "and you should have told me that you're in fucking love with her"

"What?" Katsuki exclaims

What?

"You think I'm an idiot? Or that I can't comprehend basic human behavior? I know how people who feel the way you do act"

"What are you even saying Kirishima? That I'm jealous?"

You blink feverously, trying to take in what you're listening to unfold in the other room. You know a part of you has been wishing that this scenario wasn't true.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. You should have told me you liked her in the beginning. I would have never made a move"

They bicker back and forth for a few minutes; Katsuki accusing and Eijiro defending, then switching back and forth before going silent. It's then that you think you should emerge from the bathroom. It feels wrong to not be part of this conversation when you're the reason for their bickering, but at this point the guilt in your stomach is rotting and polluting your insides.

With a sigh, you turn the doorknob and inhale deeply. You tell yourself you can do this. You have to do this, yet your eyes are filled with hot and salty tears as you approach the living room.

Both of them eye you simultaneously, pursed lips and hands crossed over their chests; the only relieving thing about this is that they're sitting next to each other on the couch, their calves slightly touching. You know they'll make up again, they always will, but you're scared you won't be able to be part of that make up. Not with the information that's been poured onto you.

"Hi" You whisper and despite being sure both of them heard you, they make no effort to open their mouths and talk back "I uhm" You clear your throat "I heard what you were ah saying"

"Course ya did" Katsuki growls "course ya fucking did"

"Baku- I-"

"Save it! I'm gonna-" He snaps and makes a move to get off the couch, though Eijiro has other plans; he slams him back down with just a push of his hand

The same hand that's extended to you, overlapping Katsuki's chest, wordlessly asking you to join them on the couch. Your heart warms up slightly. Kirishima always does his best to make you feel included, it's no surprise he's smiling at you when you take a seat next to the blond.

"You're not going anywhere Bakugo. And babe, you can speak now"

Though you smile nervously with your lips, your first word falls silent, in awe of a lung filling sigh. Then by the time you gather some thoughts together your chest is shivering and the tears that you managed to drown before are now threatening to spill from your eyes again.

Kirishima is watching you religiously, pouting as you throw your head to the opposite direction of his to let out a small sob. He tightens the grip of his hand around yours and barely notices Bakugo batting his eyes to that direction.

"Hey, no, don't cry"

"I just don't want to lose Bakugo because of this" you sob and Kirishima shoots a killer gaze at the blond, biting the inside of his lip.

"You're not losing anyone idiot" Bakugo says, clearing his throat, giving Kirishima a strained look as well

"Babe, don't worry, Bakugo and I will be fine, you and Bakugo will be fine"

You sob again, wiping a stream of tears that's falling from your eyes and Kirishima wastes no time on cupping your cheek after bullying Bakugo to do the same. A nice change, you think, two hands reaching out for your face, you could almost get used to this.

"Yeah, you're not losing me" Bakugo tries to soothe, though by Kirishima's demand he adds to his words "I- uhh, I might want you but this has nothing to do with us not being friends"

"Yeah?" You sniffle, looking up

"Yeah"

It's too soft how you're cuddled into their arms instantly, pulled on top of them to sit on both of their laps, held tightly in both of their embraces. You coo into their arms for a while, content when Kirishima kisses your cheek and sobbing faintly when Bakugo rubs your back in circles.

"Do you want a beer baby?" Kirishima asks, softly patting your back and kissing your nape as he leaves you clinging onto Bakugo. You nod into the crook of Bakugo's neck in reply and Kirishima smiles from the other side of the couch.

The sound of the fridge opening is timelines away from what's entering your mind. Is it wrong that you like that cuddle too much? And is it even more wrong that you want more? Bakugo feels nice when you're curling up onto his lap and Kirishima adds warmth and love into everything he's touching, you almost feel your thighs clench at the idea of where your mind's traveling to.

"What if we had a threesome?"

It's so faint when it comes out of your mouth that you're convinced there shouldn't be any loud reaction to it, though you hear the can of beer that's presumably in Kirishima's hand hit the floor, you feel Katsuki's hand freeze on your back. Both of them wonder if they've heard correctly, but never asking you to repeat it.

"A uhm.. Threesome?" Kirishima asks "you'd like that?"

"Yes"

You try to hide your face deeper into Bakugo's neck, but he doesn't seem to approve of it- he pushes you back softly, with a thick hand on your stomach and another still on your back. You feel your face burning as you're forced to face him

"You'd really want a threesome?" You nod and Bakugo gulps "Right now?"

"Mhm" You gulp too, your nose almost nuzzling against his "if- if you want to"

The way you're swamped with attention is overwhelming. From the way Kirishima jumps to the edge of the couch towards you, to the way Bakugo lifts you up and stands on his feet, urging you to do the same as your feet land one by one on the carpet underneath you.

"Fuck okay uh, are you fine with it Bakugo?" The redhead asks, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I am."

Kirishima gulps when he sees Bakugo latch onto you, placing his hand on your shoulder and coughing up slightly "Should we set some rules?"

"Yes" Bakugo coughs as well, though you can feel him getting hard to where your thoughts are meeting his "wanna suggest anything?"

"Great uh, maybe no kissing between the two of you, since she's my girlfriend? And Katsuki you're wearing a condom too. Are these fine?"

Both of you gulp and nod. It's natural for Kirishima to ask this. Sharing you out of the blue can't completely sit right with him; it almost flicks a switch on inside your gut, making you gulp again when you feel him hugging you from behind.

"Safeword?" Bakugo asks

"Red" You reply cooing when your back finally hits your boyfriend's chest.

You don't even have enough time to count down seconds before you're pounded and squished between the two of them. It's a miracle that you somehow manage to convince them to move it to the bedroom.

Even if making a small stop at the hall wasn't in your original plan

Kirishima's hands are everlastingly on your waist pulling your back into his chest. He's nibbling on the nape of your neck, his fingers light as feathers as they're peeling your T-shirt off of you. He almost grunts at your exposed back, leaning down just to place a kiss on each of your shoulders before latching onto your ear

"It's fine baby, it's fine if you're embarrassed okay?" He blows into you then takes a bite of your ear lobe to which you shiver as you snap your head to his face. “what? Are you that excited?"

You gulp, nodding with your eyes shutting, an expression on your face that looks almost painful -Bakugo can't help but palm himself, searching Kirishima's carmine eyes with his, waiting for a sign that he should make a move or retreat. Anything that doesn't involve him getting a front row seat to how your chest bounces as Kirishima runs his hands on your torso from behind.

"Fuck, I-" He says, swallowijg his tongue in the process, just when Kirishima's hands change paths, now wiggling underneath your sweatpants.

"Enjoying the show Bakugo?" Kirishima's smiles and fuck- when did he adopt such an attitude? "Come 'ere"

Bakugo does as he's commanded, guided by Kirishima, as he trails your torso with his hands intertwined with his, squeezing your upper hips, trailing your belly button, eyeing you with doe eyes before launching a kiss to your navel. You writhe and wiggle in Kirishima's embrace- the feeling of another man too new, too strange to take in in less than a few moments, but Eijiro's got you, kissing your nape, your cheek, softly playing with your breasts above your bralette. Whispering his praises with his hands across your body.

"Good girl" You're sure he whispers in your ear "I got you" But all you can feel is Katsuki's breath as he's placing open mouthed kisses across your tummy, over the valley of your chest, your cheek.

Kirishima is overly alert by this, jumping in between the little scene, capturing your lips with his, using a hand to push Bakugo into the kiss as well, pulling him in as lips as smeared against lips, your saliva trailing out of your mouth. You instinctively rub your thighs together to relieve some of the burning sensation between your legs

Soon enough, Bakugo is taking off your pants, rhen his shirt, Kirishima's taking his off too, managing not to let you go all while pushing the three of you into the bedroom. There's nothing but a trail of clothing in the hallway that could suggest what's happening inside the room once the door closes shut; three pairs of sweats, three different t-shirts and maybe the white ghost of hot and heavy breathing.

On the bed, it's way more comfortable. Your arching back is finally resting against the pillowy mattress, Kirishima's smile from upside down soothing and forgiving, you almost melt away while he cups your face and bumps his nose to yours, giggling slightly, before glaring at Bakugo. He guides your head into his lap, still holding your cheeks, still rubbing circles onto your soft face, pouting hard before facing your friend.

"You good babe?" He asks you and you nod again, humming a small reply to him "you too Katsuki?"

"Yeah, fuck yeah, I am" He gulps, pumping himself twice.

"You're not getting in without prep by the way"

You writhe in Kirishima's lap, gooey eyes and mouth open wide as he leans to pry your legs open, trailing his middle finger across your clothes slit. Your chest jumps when you hear him chuckle. You know he's struck the gold vein he's searching for, your panties swimming in a puddle, completely damp from getting your neck attacked only a few minutes ago.

Katsuki marvels a finger across your slit as well, avoiding your clit purposely or flicking it occasionally, moaning every time his finger touches the chilly dampness of your underwear.

Kirishima pries your legs open wider, hooking his middle finger under your panties and pulling them over and slightly to the side, flashing the blond with a glimpse of you -you swear you see him gulp. Hard.

"Want a taste?" Kirishima asks, chuckling, as if Bakugo isn't frothing at the mouth at the mention of the action, as if he isn't diving in between your thighs like a starved man.

He almost rips your panties by pulling them to the side. Your hands link through his platinum hair and you almost whine at how soft it feels, or, about the moaning sounds he makes as he's digging his fingers in the plush skin of your thigh, swinging your leg wider. You slide a little further along, laid completely flat on the bed -head still on Kirishima's lap.

Sweetly, Kirishima captures your inner lips with his fingers and circles them around before making you hump on him, his knuckles bumping with Bakugo's nose when he chuckles again. You almost tear up by the over stimulating pressure Kirishima's fingers provide for you, but you decide to hold it in; not sure hitched breath leaves your mouth until Bakugo takes an experimental lick across your slit.

With a thumb presses to your clit he retreats for a second, just to watch as he sinks his middle finger inside of you and -"oh my fucking god Katsuki"- he's back at it again, licking at you religiously. Softly, like Kirishima always does, patiently. Just like you love it.

It has your back arching, chest bouncing for Kirishima's eyes to enjoy. He decides he won't have you hanging, bouncing and thrashing. With two huge palms he cups your breasts, flicking your nipples, massaging you for just enough time to make your heart burn, then he wiggles a finger to the hood of your clit, applying throbbing pressure.

The knot in your stomach is tight, your vision blurry, you're sure what you think is silent moaning is probably full-on screaming, mewling or pleas of pleasure that you can't comprehend.

Kirishima is smiling at you from above, still wiggling his finger on you left and right in Bakugo's business and you can't help it- you yelp, pushing Bakugo's face deeper into you. It feels good- too good, like your legs are nothing but jello, your stomach and thighs feeling like they've transformed into liquid smooth. You mewl in Kirishima's arms, coiling, desperately eyeing him in hopes that he and Katsuki won't stop what they're doing.

"M so close" You slur when Kirishima takes a hand of yours away from Bakugo's hair, softly turning it upside down, until your palm is met with the wetness of his foreskin, the pulsing slit of his that leaks precum into your hand.

He whines -"ohh"- when you wrap your fingers around him, instantly pumping your hand up and down, your grip firm and steady as you twist your wrist with every bob of your hand.

"Suck me off baby" Kirishima softly commands, rubbing an experimental circle with his tip on your lips, smearing some of his precum around your mouth. You gulp at how carelessly he pumps his base, until he pries your lips open.

You take him eagerly into your mouth, feeling your stomach churn and your thighs freezing in place by Bakugos movements; so long as you're steadily sucking Kirishima's cock into your mouth, he scissors his fingers inside of you.

"You like that?" He moans into you, eyeing Kirishima "you twitched- fuck you're twitching"

"Show me how wet she is"

Kirishima commands and Bakugo complies by taking his fingers away from your heat and shining them into Kirishima's face. You whimper but how good it feels when he moans against you, blinking as you watch your boyfriend take your friend's fingers in his mouth, sucking in eagerly, before popping the digits out of his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva fall faintly onto the valley of your breasts

"Your pussy's s'wet baby, you're dripping all over over Katsuki's hands" Kirishima thrusts in your mouth "you taste so good" then turns his attention to Bakugo "tell 'er, how fucking good she tastes"

Bulky fingers rub on your clit once more and Bakugos hand secures your tummy in place while pinning you down; you feel it then, the inevitable end of what has been building up in your stomach for such a long while and you can't help but scream at the feeling of coming undone. Shaking, struggling to take a breath without popping Kirishima out of your mouth.

"Fucking perfect"

Your vision is white, your head is buzzing and your legs are frozen. You can feel Kirishima fucking into your mouth once, twice and ever so slightly, depending in how relaxed your jaw is as he's moaning. You don't choke when he hits your throat, you simply moan onto him, too blinded by the afterglow of your orgasm to even react to what's about to unfold.

"Fuck- take 'em off- Fuuck" Kirishima says, you notice. Bakugo probably does as he's told; you hear shuffling and grunting, the soft pop of his dick to his stomach. You want to see-

Bakugo, hazed and drenched in you, cups your womanhood with his hand, landing his thumb on your clit and you yelp again, thrassing onto the bed, finally popping Kirishima out of your mouth. He tugs and drags his fingers away- he's opening you up, of course, that's it- and you can't help but roam your eyes all over him. Searching for his cock, wanting to see it dive inevitably into you.

It's unfair that Kirishima has a better view than you do, but at least, you hope he enjoys the view. You buck your hips forward when you feel Katsukis thighs grace against your own. His skin is unbelievably cold, making the hair on your legs and tummy raise; a tear rolls down your cheek then the moment the tip of his cock touches your clit.

"We've got- ah- condoms in the first drawer. On your left" Kirishima says cheerfully, bucking his hips away from your face, kneeling just to place a kiss on your forehead- your nose- your lips, finally bumping the tip of his nose to yours when he sucks your inner lip into his mouth

"You liked that baby?" Kirishima breathes "You liked Bakugo eating you out?"

"Mhm" You nod, not wanting to break away from the kiss, unlike Kirishima

You can hear Katsuki cursing, slamming the drawer shut as he fidgets with the condom. Everything seems slow, from the way his thick fingers can't grasp the tiny edges of the wrapper, to him finding out what's the right side to put it on -he grunts, inevitably- stealing giggles from both you and Kirishima

"Ah man, you're struggling, come 'ere let me help"

Bakugo grunts once again, although this time it's not out of frustration. Kirishima playfully pulls him close, places a kiss on his navel and extends his hand underneath Bakugo's, politely asking for the condom -you know his lips are pressed into a goofy smiley line right now just by the way his body moves.

Kirishima lets your cheek rest on his thigh when he moves to grab Katsuki's cock, to roll the condom on him while twisting his fist on him no more than twice -unfair- before playfully slapping the blond's ass, urging him to climb onto the bed again.

It's then that your hips are jerked and raised towards the blond, huge palms on your hips, pulling you towards him. Nervous touches, unspoken apologies for potentially harsh movements, his eyes are flickering into yours and his lips are all pouty, scrunched, his cheeks plump with embarrassment. He doesn't know if you notice, nor does he think he ever will, but it's killing him -that he's only allowed to line himself up with you under this circumstance.

Whether you notice the hurt in his eyes or not, you don't comment on it, nor do you spare him any worried look. He doesn't even know if he wants you to take pity on this state of his.

No.

No, he doesn't.

He only hopes Kirishima won't get mad when he cups your face tenderly, nor when he traps your face with his other hand caging you away from the redhead thigh -it's for better leverage he'll say if he's asked to- but you melt into his touch.

And his chest burns.

It's worse when he finally pushes into you. His heart won't stop beating hard and fast and he's scared he's going to have a fall. No-no- he shouldn't think about it, if he does think about it, he'll definitely have a fall.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh," You murmur, feeling the voice come from the depths of your chest.

That's the only confirmation he needs to ignite his ego and light it on fire. You feel good, you're sucking him in deeper and your cheek is still melting into his palm. It's more than enough; he ignores Kirishima's gaze and whatever it may carry behind it. It's for his own sanity he reminds himself.

"You're doing so good babe,'' Kirishima asks you, cupping your other cheek. He's smiling- no need to worry about him not having a positive reaction to Bakugo caressing you

(The rules that had been presented to him were simple- wear a condom and no kissing)

"You're taking it so well, isn't she Katsuki?"

"Fuck yeah" He grunts, thrusting harder

"So, so well baby, we'll make sure you get to come first okay?" You ogle your eyes at Kirishima, teary and soft by his words, clapping your lips together and pouting, begging him silently for a kiss. Only to feel the void when his soft lips don't come in contact with yours

"Oh no, no kiss for baby. You're so naughty, wanting me to kiss you when you're getting fucked by our friend"

"What?" You whine, popping on to your left elbow "Eiji- i want my kiss"

"None can do" He smiles and Bakugo snaps his hips into you "unless you earn it"

Your stomach is tied in a knot again, gummy walls tightening around Bakugo, back arching. It's almost painful to watch you sprawled like this underneath him, reacting in peak with the rhythm of his hips, begging him to go faster, harder. At one point, he's losing himself in the speed he's fucking you with, feeling like he's about to combust from inside out is not helping either

-He thinks, he'll be spent for days after this-

It's guttural, the way you feel as Bakugo thrusts inside of you, the way you mewl and twitch and feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. You feel full, so much that you mutter it, slurred and incomprehensibly at Kirishima. It's more than enough for him to rub your chin with his thumb and buck his hips on your face again. You take him eagerly, smiling with your lips when he lands on your tongue. You swirl it around, pump him deeper into your mouth, suck on his tip until he moans in sync with you.

"Bakugoo" He hisses, biting his lip as he's eyeing you "don't chase your own satisfaction! Go slower and rub her clit too" He takes Bakugos hand away from your face, tracing it down your body before landing on your heat, pinching your clit softly making you moan "ah so responsive"

For a while he doesn't move his hand away, focused on guiding Bakugo's fingers on you, teaching him how to make you feel good while he's fucking and you're on fire, gut churning and chest tight, ovestimulated by how good it all feels. You can't even take a proper breath as Kirishima humps deeper into your mouth. He groans too loud when his tip hits your cheek.

You know this is too much for him, you know he can't hold back any longer, but you grab onto his shaft and twirl your grin on his base, bobbing it into your cheek and popping it out before swallowing it again.

And while Bakugo's thrusts are becoming desperate, Kirishima bursts into your mouth, holding your hair softly, pulling you closer to you- closer, closer, until your nose hits his navel, biting on his cheeks and squinting his eyes so he won't shut them, drunk on the view of you overflowing with his come. He only grubs your chin, swiping his thumb on the white trail that's spilling from the corner of your lips, trying his best to smirk at you without taking a breath.

"Swallow it sweetheart -ah- that's right, you're so -fuck- perfect for me"

Your lower stomach is protesting, bursting slowly as Bakugo is thrusting faster into you. His speed, him hitting that spot in your gut repeatedly, creating the perfect feeling of numbness, it's all too much and not enough all at once, you want to cry out- you gush and you writhe as your legs hook around Bakugo's waist.

Your boyfriend retreats from his previous position, smiling as ever, petting Bakugo's blonde hair, massaging your breast, kissing your nipple, then attacking your upper chest, trapping supple skin in between his tongue and teeth, dragging Bakugo along with him. It's what ultimately leads Bakugo over the edge, his tip feeling numb, blood rushing all over his body, he thrusts a few more times before he pulls out, spilling his own satisfaction into the condom, feeling his heart race faster than ever before.

"Your doing sooo good" Kirishima says once more, pecking your lips repeatedly. "Wanna ride me? Or are you tired? "

"Fuck no, lay down"

"That's my girl" He smiles "Katsuki, come here"

Kirishima rubs your wetness up and down, grunting when he finds your clit, grazing it with the back of his hand, whispering about how wet you are, to which you respond by hugging your arms around his neck, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. You only pull back when he lets you coo into him by petting your hair softly.

You're instantly met with Bakugo's eyes blazing into yours from above- it's not intimidating, rather, it's lustful, but you still need some time to pull yourself back, despite the eagerness in his eyes. You must have missed the point where he discarded his condom, or just how thick he actually is, because he's standing hard and proud before you, nervously searching for Kirishima's approval.

Your boyfriend's approval comes with gripping on him and easing him close to you. You take him in both of your hands, relying on Kirishima to keep your torso lifted, focusing on twisting your hand around him in the same way you did for Eijiro. Too bad you almost lose grip when He snaps his hips into you.

You can feel Katsuki's dick twitch into your hands as you pull him down lower, getting your tongue out of your mouth to place kitten lips all over his length. Eijiro mimics you, licking the tip when you're not licking the base, letting you take control when he ceases his movements for a bit, to lift both of you a little higher, so you don't have to bend your neck as much. He strokes some sweaty strands of hair away from your face, he kisses your cheek and Bakugo is already thrusting into your mouth feverously.

"Fuck"

"You're so wet baby, you feel like you could take us both" You yelp, wide eyes as you freeze on the spot "want to take us both?"

"I do" You yelp with tears in your eyes "I do I do, I do I do"

"Oh, look at you being so desperate, want to get -ah- wrecked, don't you?"

"I do Eiji- you cry out

"Then ask Katsuki to take you too, ask him to shove his cock into you while I'm fucking you too, like the greedy little thing you are"

At this point, you think poor Bakugo isn't going to make it to the end of this.

"Katsu" You plead, watery eyes staring into desperate carmine ones "Katsu fuck me while Eiji fucking me too-"

"Say please" Kirishima interrupts, pinching your nipple "or I'm not going to let him"

"Please, pleaseplease, please"

"Fuck yeah" Katsuki replies "ill fucking wreck you" The sounds he's making are supposed to be words, though they're far from being clear and understandable, his veins are pulsing into your mouth. He's too excited for this, so excited that you know he'll never make it to the drawer to reach for a new condom. So Kirishima is doing it for him, hooking the little rubber between his fingers as he's opening the drawer.

"Come on baby, pull back" He taps on your shoulder and places a kiss on your collar bone, thrusting deeper into you this time. The reaction is immediate, you're throwing your head back in seconds and Bakugo whines at the sudden departure of your warm mouth.

Kirishima allows you to kiss his thighs, his tip, his navel, to squeeze the small of his back and his ass before letting you wear the condom onto him.

You lose track of Bakugo until you feel wet kisses being planted on your thighs and ass, the back of your knees. You feel his hand being placed on your thigh, the warmth of his palm as he's soothingly rubbing it up and down your skin, to prepare you, raising his thumb to graze at your crotch occasionally. You whine every time he thumbs your clit, or flicks it when it meets with Kirishima's navel.

"You good? I'll start with my fingers" You choke on the sound of his words and nod frantically. If only you could actually watch him when he delves his middle finger in you along with Eijiro's cock. Still you whine loudly, when another finger joins the first one, slowly scissoring inside of you "fuck you're gonna take it so well aren't you? Kirishima's right. You love this"

"Answer him," Kirishima whispers, teeth biting down in your lobe. He grabs your face, trapping your cheeks between his fingers, turning you in Katsuki's direction, pushing your cheeks together. You swallow when you see the blind focused on watching you stretch.

"I love it

But Eijiro isn't satisfied with how you're trying to make your words get past from your lips

"Say it like you mean it doll, or I won't let your friend put it in"

You eye him dangerously, putting your lips even further before muttering a soft 'fine' -your redhead doesn't make a comment on your little attitude, probably because he's gotten what he's wanted from you- and Katsuki hisses, fisting his cock faster.

"I love it so much Katsuh"

"And Eiji- you mean. It's not only him that's here" Kirishima smirks and this time he pulls out of you, flipping your body so that your back is facing him. One hand comes to your wetness, spreading your lips apart, stretching you wide open "Try again" He lets go just for a moment, to slap your clit loosely. Once. Twice. Never ceasing when you whine. Your hips buck up towards Katsuki.

"Look at how nice I am, I even gave you a full view. Am I not?"

"You are Eiji. You're the best, the best. And I love this so much, I'm going to combust"

"Oh you will?" Katsuki interrupts, grunting when Kirishima pulls his dick closer to you, rubbing the head on your clit until Katsuki gets the hint. You let out a guttural groan at the feeling, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes from being too overstimulated for so long

"Yes baby, I will, just please"

"M going in-" Katsuki announces, earning a nod from Kirishima "If he won't let you come, then we don't listen to him 'kay?"

Kirishima chuckles at the one and bites the top of your ears dragging his tongue to the base of it- a warning- to not try and agree with what Katsuki's offering. And being obedient definitely pays off when you feel your boyfriend's head poke against your entrance.

It feels splitting and painful all at once; the tears in your eyes are pouring, and none of the caresses you're receiving is helping. You need time to adjust and both men provide that for you. Minutes pass spent with soft kisses. Kirishima sucking your neck and Bakugo kissing your breasts, the three of you making out- anything until you feel like you can get used to them.

And when you do, they go slow, each at their own pace, simultaneously hitting spots that you don't know could or should ever be hit at the same time.

"You good?" Both men ask and you have to gulp that frog that sits at the top of your mouth if you want to talk, but you can't. Your throat is too tight, your eyes are too watery

"Babe"

"Better than I thought I'd be actually"

You get lost in the haze of their hips, their thrusts and you can already feel Katsuki collapsing onto you, chasing his own pit of pleasure when it hits you. Your gut coming undone for the last time has your heart leaping and skipping beats; you hook your arm around Katsuki's neck, jumping up and down from how fast both men are thrusting into you and you bring your face to his, cooling your mouths together.

When he feels you clamp down on him -and Kirishima- he pulls out, rolls the condom off and strokes himself slightly. You whine at the sudden departure of him inside of you but you quickly clamp down on just your boyfriend, before feeling him shifting from underneath you, finally pushing down the small of your back. You take Katsuki into your mouth while Kirishima slaps your ass, thrusting fast and hard into you.

There's no sweet talk right now, authority and intimidation hiding away as satisfaction is being chased. Sloppily and not carefully at all. It's evident in how you're sucking Katsuki off. There's no consistency in your rhythm, you're squirming as Kirishima is slowing down before picking up his pace again, running his hands through your hair affectionately. When he comes, he coats your insides in white ropes of pleasure, riding off his orgasm softly, until he feels himself stop twitching.

By the time he pulls out you've made Katsuki come as well, hearing his high pitched grunts as he lets it all out in your mouth. Although this time you're not overwhelmed with the amount; it's his second round nonetheless.

Katsuki's hands don't cease to take this chance, even if they're awkward and shaking he's grabbing your cheeks squishing them just like Kirishima did a while ago and kisses you, poking his tongue in your mouth, moaning at his own taste, pulling your lips under his teeth.

You know your lips will be bruised by this. And you don't care. Because when he pulls back, Kirishima is kissing you as well, pulling you into his arms, caging you into his chest.

You even smile as tiny, peppery kisses are pressed onto your skin.

"You did so well" Kirishima smiles "you too Katsu, you both were amazing"

Katsuki smiles, popping onto the bed as well, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling himself onto you and Kirishima. He nuzzles his nose at the crook of your neck and for the first time in a while he feels warm, content, calm and collected. Or so you think by the kiss that's planted onto your back by him.

It's tender and soft, mimicking Kirishima's but feeling nothing like your boyfriend's kisses at the same time. You collapse further into Kirishima's chest and he kisses the top of your hair and your cheek, mellowy.

"Wanna take a bath?" He suggests under his breath and both you and Katsuki nod, sinking further in the sheets with heavy eyes. Maybe when your feet won't feel like they'll betray you, you'll get up and have a warm bath, sandwiched between Katsuki and Eijiro, smothered in kisses, lathered in lavender soap, maybe you'll make a cup of chamomile for the three of of you and cuddle between them before you go to sleep.

Until then…

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Okay its my favorite episode but anyone else feel like Luz is way too upset about finding out Beloz = Phillip? Like who cares you already knew he was evil, and yet she’s crying and can’t even say it.

Oh yeah, I’ve seen this critique circulating for Hollow Mind and to a degree, it does make sense. They didn’t really have Luz openly admiring Phillip outside of the first half of Elsewhere and Elsewhen. Her initial, parasocial connection to him didn’t seem that personal until she actually met him, and then it was only a matter of time before he showed his true colors. So not only did Luz not really build much of a connection to Phillip...that connection was severed after she met him. To realize retroactively that Phillip and Belos are one and the same…yeah, it’s probably disturbing, but it’s not like she didn’t already know he was evil. However, I can think of two reasons why Luz breaks down. 

1) Because she helped him. Unknowingly, unwittingly perhaps, but she did assist Phillip on his adventures. Luz was frustrated, wondering how anyone could fall for Belos’ lies…but she did, too. She taught him how to use a glyph, she and Lillith provided a “distraction” for the stonesleeper while he procured The Collector’s mirror. (And I’ve said this before but Luz, for whatever reason, does not take the mirror back later, when she easily could have. Lilith just punches him and then they move on…) Luz isn’t horrified that Phillip is Belos, she’s horrified because she got played just like everyone else and is now probably feeling a degree of guilt for how powerful Belos is now. 

2) Because whatever else Phillip might have been, he was also human. The one other human who came to the Boiling Isles. His diary was Luz’s only hope of ever getting home. But if Phillip is actually Belos…that means he never made it home. In hundreds of years, he still hasn’t managed it, despite wanting to. Luz’s one hope, her one lifeline, just went up in smoke. That has to be soul-crushing for her. The discovery of Phillip’s existence gave her a chance at potentially finding a way back to the human realm. But now she knows that this story has no happy ending.

3) A third reason just occurred to me. I think it’s symbolic. Finding out Belos is actually Phillip isn’t about either of them being evil…it’s about Belos being a human. That alone would be a pretty hard gut punch. One of Luz’s own kind, bringing the Boiling Isles to kneel as Belos has done. A human, not a monster or demon or someone that Luz can comfortably place in the role of “fantasy villain.” Because this is real life, where the good guys don’t always win. “Belos” is such a demonic name, but for his real name to be the unquestionably human name “Phillip” is a symbolic reminder that this isn’t a storybook and Luz is not the good witch Azura. (It’s no accident that her pseudonym in the past was a play on that.) Belos is a human in the Boiling Isles, just like she is…and he might win.

Oh, and one final bit of food for thought. I wonder if this moment, where Luz finds out who Belos really is, feels somewhat undermined because of Elsewhere and Elsewhen. Like, the ending of that episode made it very clear that Phillip was Belos, but they didn't technically say it. I'm not sure if the scene in Hollow Mind was meant to be the official reveal to the audience or just the reveal to Luz...but either way, the point is that basically everyone understood the twist after the "I just need to live long enough..." scene. Luz is reacting the way she is because it's new information for her.

Knowing that "Phillip was actually a scheming asshole," while not fun, is still a far cry from "Phillip is the evil dictator I've been fighting this whole time." He's not just a person from history anymore. He's still alive, and Luz's adventure in the past has given him a unique advantage over her. Like, Belos knew Luz before she knew him, and this is news to her. I can only imagine how terrifying and invasive that must feel. But Belos has been waiting for Luz to crop up. "In the grand scheme of things, the Owl Lady's life is inconsequential...but then you turned up."

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

Only For You - h.s.

Summary: H is usually pretty in tune with his body, but he’s apparently not very good at picking up when he’s getting sick. 

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of covid, plus me taking a guess at how covid testing in the US and at events works so sorry for any potential inaccuracies, I mostly used my knowledge of Aus but honestly its described all very generally

A/N: this took longer than I thought it was going to because I started and then got sick a couple days in :/ I’m still sick but she is done! If you have any requests pls send them my way!

Masterlist  ///  Send me an ask!

Harry is never sick.

He was so strict in his fitness and health, his immune system was better than almost anyone’s you knew. You were pretty sure someone could cough directly into his mouth and it would somehow boost his immune system by giving it a chance to exercise. There had to be fifty times over the course of your relationship so far you were sure you were going to pass on whatever illness you had acquired at the time. You always waited patiently for the other shoe to drop, for him to exhibit your exact symptoms and to be awash with guilt at his sickly state, but it never did.

It is such a rare occurrence, in fact, that he can tell you exactly the last time he came down with something. It was August 2019, he was in LA, and he had ended up missing two Fine Line album release related meetings. He remembered it because you had been in New York, tied up in projects of your own. You had pushed your flight up as a surprise to get home and take care of him, but by the time you touched down he had already been on the mend, and was sat in a rescheduled meeting when you opened the door to your shared home.

He could not recall, however, the earliest warning signs of a flu coming on, having experienced them so infrequently.

He dismissed the heavy tired feeling that had settled upon him, certain it was simply the aftereffects of intensive Grammy rehearsals. True to his perfectionist tendencies, he had been tireless in his efforts to make this one of his best performances and had been spending hours practicing a song you were pretty sure he could nail in his sleep. You said nothing of the fact that you thought he perhaps was spending more time than strictly necessary on this, of course, never wanting to undermine his process or invalidate his feelings of being under intense pressure. You just assured him you thought he was amazing and provided opinions and input whenever he asked it of you. He was overworking himself, but he was not deterred until the lights went down after his extremely successful (and extremely sexy, if you did say so yourself) performance.

Two days later, he was sure his hangover had extended over into a second day as he become aware of a dull ache in his head while awaking from his slumber. He groaned, rubbing his face as he rolled towards you, pulling you against his chest. He breathed deeply, cursing himself for drinking so much and sleeping so little only momentarily before thinking, hey, how many times do you win a Grammy? You stirred at his movement, eyes fluttering open only slightly before you shut them again and snuggled deeper into his chest. You sighed in contentment, loving nothing more than the comfortable feeling you can only get waking up in the morning, still on the edge of sleep. It had always been one of your favourite things, and it was only ever made better by waking up in Harry’s arms.

“I hate getting old,” he mutters into your hair, pressing a kiss where his lips had tickled your forehead.

“What?” You laughed at his unsolicited statement.

“Two-day hangovers are supposed to be reserved for after you hit thirty. But clearly, I’m older than I think I am because they have come for me and I am not enjoying it.”

You wriggled up in his embrace, so that you were face to face, giggling at him as you did say. “Oh god, do you think we should start thinking about retiring?”

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m not old!” He tightened his grip on you as he exclaimed in indignation.

“I mean what can I possibly say, H? Two-day hangover? You’ve basically got a foot in the grave,” you jested, but leaned in to peck his cheek at his faux sour expression.

In response, he released his grip on you and rolled away until he was at the very opposite edge of the bed in a big huff. You only laughed harder at his antics. You followed him to his side of the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind and placing gentle kisses to the side of his neck.

“Darling, have you considered, maybe, just maybe, this two day hangover has nothing to do with the fact that you are getting older and more to do with the fact that you were working yourself to the bone for a month and then partied like the world was ending?” You pressed another lingering kiss to his neck. “Or perhaps like someone who had just won a Grammy?” A smile broke over your face at the memory, a fresh wave of pride washing through you, somehow still managing to leave you buzzing.

“Nope, I refuse to hear that. My youthful body is supposed to be stronger than any party, even an I-just-won-a-Grammy party.” You snorted in his ear, completely unsurprised by his steadfast stubbornness.

“Alright then old man,” you rolled away from him and hopped out of bed.

“Hey,” he called out, both at the jab and your exit from bed.

“Since my big shot Grammy winning, senior citizen boyfriend is still feeling a bit dusty I suppose I’ll bring him a coffee in bed,” you sing out over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen, craving the caffeine yourself.

He knew you were making fun of him to highlight how melodramatic you thought he was being. Each comment about him being old was really made to tell him just how young he was and how little you thought he had to worry about.

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to remain motionless in the warm comfy bed but having no choice to get up and make his way to the bathroom before he could enjoy his coffee in bed. (And maybe some lazy morning sex, he was sure that would help relieve some symptoms). His whole body felt heavy as he rolled out of bed, his limbs and shoulders feeling almost as though they were made of lead.

His brow scrunched as he slowly made his way to the toilet to relieve himself. This really was some day two hangover, he thought. I don’t care what y/n thinks, I’m pretty sure this is one of those moments where you realise your prime is coming to an end.

He flinched as the sunlight pouring in through the frosted glass of the bathroom window hit his face, instantly doubling the force of his headache. He grumbled and scrunched his eyes until they were nearly shut, attempting to minimise the light infiltrating his vision. He did his business as quickly as his protesting body would allow.

By the time he had returned to bed and bundled himself back under the covers the kettle had boiled and you were on your way back to your room. You shuffled along slowly, pausing every two steps to stop your nearly full mugs from spilling over the edge. Harry loved to point out the coffee drips that you left along the floor in your shared home so frequently. They were spread far and wide, and in fairness to you, most of the time you didn’t realise you had done it, else you would have wiped it up immediately.

“H?” you called softly, as you looked up from the mugs to see only a Harry sized lump under the doona as evidence that he was even there.

When you received only an, “Mmm?” in response you continued your slow spillage-avoiding pace up to his bed side table, placing the cup down gently.

“Are you feeling okay baby?” you kneeled down beside him, stroking his hair back from his face.

“Jus’ tired,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

This shocked you somewhat. He’s always been a morning person, and never tended to sleep in two days in a row. The two of you had spent the morning in bed yesterday, having only crawled in in the (not even that) early hours of the morning and spent the rest of the day lazing about the apartment, nursing respective hangovers. Even with complaints of his hangover extending over into a second day, you had expected him to be itching to throw himself back into his routine, not curled up in bed still feeling shitty.

“You can back to sleep,” you assured, even though he seemed to already be halfway there. “Your coffee’s there if you want some.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving him to it, closing the door softly on your way out.

Two hours later, Harry stirs once more from his sleep. His throat is dry as a bone, and his once dull headache is now pounding. He lifts his heavy head off the pillow and his eyes fall to his now cold coffee. He reaches over and takes a gulp, hoping to ease the feeling in his throat. Is not uncommon for him to awaken with a dryness to his throat, he often finds a hot coffee is enough to solve the problem, but alas, he is desperate enough to settle for the cold one before him for now. Instead of the relief he is craving, a burst of pain shoots through his throat each time he swallows a mouthful. He coughs as he places the mug back down, unwilling to have another sip.

And oh Jesus, it finally hits him. He’s sick.

All the signs he had shrugged off now became blaringly obvious to him in retrospect. And oh fuck.

Alarm bells go off in his brain as he registers the risk of what exactly this could be. He scrambles for his phone on his bedside table.

Harry: Don’t come upstairs.

You glance down at your phone as you feel the buzz of the notification. You had spent the morning pottering around the house, catching up on little chores the two of you had neglected over the past few days in the Grammy busy-ness and subsequent hangover. Happy with your efforts, you had settled back into having a lazy morning and were watching television on the couch quietly.

“Harry?” you call out in confusion as you read his text, already pausing the TV and standing up, intending to do the exact opposite of following his advice.

You can’t have made it three steps before he’s calling you. The wave of confusion is soon followed by one of extreme worry as you pick up the phone.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t come up I’m sick,” he spoke hoarsely.

“What do you mean?”

“Darling, it could be covid you can’t come up here,” he was cursing himself on the other end of the line. He should have been paying more attention to what his body was trying to tell him. Shouldn’t have been risking you like this. If he had it, he was sure he had already infected you too and guilt gnawed away at him.

This stops you in your tracks. You hesitate, you do. But ultimately, you know if he has covid, you’re probably already infected. If he does have it, which you are praying he doesn’t because young as he is, healthy as he is, there is always a risk. The worst running through your mind. If the worst were to happen, you would curse yourself until the day you died for not going to him right now.

“It’s not covid,” you tell him firmly.

“Baby-“

“Your tests from before the Grammy’s were negative, and we should be getting more test results back any minute that will be clean too,” you’re on the move again, absolute in your resolution. The both of you, along with all the other attendees of the ceremony, had been tested both before and after. They were meant to text each of you with your results any minute (or call, if they were positive, but that was a possibility you were trying to put aside).

“Even so, we can’t risk it until we get the results.” At the sound of your footsteps on the stairs he spoke your name sternly, halting your steps again.

“Harry,” you countered, matching his tone.

“Please don’t fight me on this. If you’re so sure that the result is going to be negative, and that they’re going to come in any second,” he pauses to cough, lungs and throat protesting with each word he speaks, “then a little while in bed by myself won’t kill me.”

“But-“

“Darling, please. If it is covid, I’ll never forgive myself for not doing everything in my power to try and keep you from getting it too,” the quiet desperation in his voice is the only thing that could break your resolve.

With a long exhale, you turned back down the stairs but kept the phone to your ear.

“Fine,” you huffed, “but only because I was always taught to respect my elders.”

“See that’s the good news,” he half laughed, half coughed at the exhalation of breath, “I’m not an old man with a two-day hangover, just a young man with an unspecified illness.”

“Do you still have your smell and taste?” you asked worriedly.

“I could definitely taste the cold ass coffee I just drank,” he rasped. He paused for a beat, hearing only the rustling of sheets. “And our bed still smells like you,” you heard the smile behind the comment, appreciating his sweet reference to the love he often professes he has for the way you smell.

“Sometimes I feel like it’s nothing you’re putting on, and sometimes I think it’s everything you’re putting on plus just, you. There���s no other smell like it and I wish I could just bottle it up and have it forever. Bloody aphrodisiac,” he had once told you.

“And you’re not running a fever?” You chewed the inside of your lip as you fired questions at him, a bad habit that reared its head when you were worried, stressed or concentrating hard.

On his end of the line, he felt his forehead for warmth. “Umm,” he considered it, “I’m not sure. Probably not.” He was actually pretty sure he had the beginning of one, but he could tell you were freaking out and he didn’t want to worry you any further until he heard for sure.

“I’m going to grab you a thermometer and some cold and flu tablets,” Harry immediately started to protest but you didn’t let him start. “I’ll put a mask on and just leave them outside the door. I’ll grab you some water and something to eat too. I’m not just leaving you sick up there with nothing.”

He sighed into the phone. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

You scoffed. “Of course not, I let you win the last one not more than five minutes ago.”

He sighed once more, and you rolled your eyes at your overdramatic boyfriend. “Fine, but you have to be in and out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you leaned the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you grabbed what you needed for him.

“I’m not joking, y/n. You have to be quick.”

You bit your tongue, refraining from snapping back. Did he seriously think you were stupid? You knew he didn’t, he was just sick and stressed about the situation, but that didn’t stop the flare of annoyance that burst through your chest. You shook it off, knowing it was misplaced.

“Okay I’m going to put the phone down so I can pop a mask on and run up,” luckily, you had a million masks around the house ready to go.

“Kay,” he muttered, eyes feeling droopy all over again.

You pull your mask on, and with arms full of supplies dashed up the stairs. Once you arrived at the door, you placed down the cold medication, water and thermometer as well as the banana you had snatched off the kitchen counter before turning and running back down the stairs.

As soon as you’re back down the stairs, you’re pulling your mask off and putting the phone back to your ear. You faintly hear the close of your bedroom door, deducing Harry had grabbed everything.

“I’m back,” you acknowledged your presence on the phone.

“Thank you for that, my love.”

Your phone dinged in your ear, indicating a new text message. You pulled it away from your ear to examine the contents of the text.

You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“They just texted me my covid test results, they’re negative.” Everyone had been tested upon their exit of the Grammy afterparty.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You silently prayed that pause wasn’t caused by him examining another incoming call, suggesting his results were positive and required an actual conversation.

“Mine are negative too,” he exhaled, you could hear the relief in his voice.

“Oh, thank god,” you said, already turning to go back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I thought you were confident I didn’t have it,” he teased.

“Sorry somebody had to put on a brave face for Mr Worry Wart,” you teased right back. You hung up the phone as you reached the top step. Turning to the left and opening the door to your room.

You stride over to the bed wordlessly and climb in on your side, instantly wrapping both arms around him. He relished the embrace. You loved to poke fun at him, but sometimes the humour was just a way for you to mask how you were really feeling about things and deflect. Harry usually doesn’t point it out but he’s always aware of it.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice still croaky.

“I love you, too,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You stayed like that for a moment longer before you swung into action, full nurturing mother bear mode activated.

“Now, have you taken your temperature? Taken some of the cold and flu tablets?”

At the shake of his head you frowned at him. “Come on then. You do that while I go make you a nice hot tea to soothe your throat. And a box of tissues,” you added at the sight of him sneezing practically hard enough to shake the room.

So back down to the kitchen you went for the third time that day, grabbing him both the tea, the tissues and a nice hearty bowl of porridge, figuring it would be gentle on his throat. “Temperature?” you asked as soon as you crossed the threshold of your doorway.

“No fever,” he punctuated with a cough.

You frowned as you watched it happen, his eyes were rimmed red, his nose beginning to run. He sat up in bed as you handed him the bowl of porridge. You placed the tea down so you could also hand him the box of tissues that had been tucked up under your arm.

“Thank you so much for all this, angel. But you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, I’ve got a cold, I’m not bed bound,” he grabbed my hand and traced the outside of my hand as he spoke.

“I know I don’t have to do it, but I want to do it. My baby’s feeling crappy I just want to do whatever I can to make him feel less so.” Even after all this time of being together, your cheeks flushed slightly at your sappy words. You meant them, of course, but intimacy was still not one of your strong suits. The way you were raised lacked those kinds of affirmations and endearments, and was never modelled practically in your parent’s relationship. It left you both craving it, and feeling uncomfortable when it actually occurred. With both experience and Harry’s help you had gotten better at it, but you still weren’t 100% there yet. He knew one day you would be, though, and he was so proud to see how much progress you had made. Even if you couldn’t always see it.

Hearing those words from you, was just one more indication at how far you’ve come, and it warmed not only his heart, but his whole chest. With his grip on your hand, he gave you a slight tug, encouraging you to lean forward. Just as you had five minutes earlier, he presses a kiss to your cheek, craving your lips but knowing he can’t have them right now.

“You’re too good to me,” he praised as you pulled away reluctantly, giving him space to enjoy his breakfast while it was still warm.

He expected a joking, I know, in response but instead he receives a serious, “There is no such thing as good too to you. You deserve the world.” You don’t break eye contact with him, even as he is too shocked at your response to form one of his own. “But all I got you was this bowl of porridge sorry babe,” you broke the tension, pulling your hand from his.

“Where are you going now?” He pouts at you as you grab the half empty coffee mug and make your way out of the room.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you assure him, already planning how else you are going to fuss over him. He has to be well to go to London to start filming his new movie soon, you reason with yourself. But really, you know he could have nothing coming up and you could be the busiest you’ve ever been, and you would still play nurse for him.

By ‘right back’ he assumed you meant in half an hour, because his mug and bowl are both empty by the time you return, and he is nearly drifting back off to sleep. He is still somewhat upright, but slumped back into his pillow, head lolling to the side slightly, directed towards the door almost as though is watching and waiting for you. While still conscious, his blinks are becoming slower and slower, reminiscent of a baby. You coo at his adorable sleepy state, the moment tugs at your chest so strongly it is almost physically painful. Sometimes, the magnitude of your love for him nearly sweeps you off your feet. You just feel so damn lucky to have these wonderfully domestic moments with him. To see him like this, to be his person that gets to take care of him. While he is a rockstar and you get to do all sorts of crazy things with him that most people dream of (like for instance, watching him perform at and accept a Grammy), you love doing everyday life with him.

“It’s not quite sleep time yet, baby,” you spoke gently, hoping not to startle him too much.

He peeled his eyes open and pouted at you once more. “Why not?”

“Because it’s nice, long, hot, steaming shower time,” his frown deepened, clearly not wanting to move. “I promise you, you’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

“You promise?” He refused to wipe the pout from his face, really stepping into being babied.

“I promise, now up you get,” you offered him both hands to help him up.

“Fine,” he groaned as he took your hands, and you pulled him up.

As soon as he was upright, he wrapped both arms around you and held you tight. He allowed himself a few short seconds before pulling away, not wanting to get you sick too. Even if it wasn’t covid, he still wanted his love well.

You shepherded him into the bathroom, where he winced once more at the brighter lighting. His eyes were always more sensitive to light when he had the flu. You turned the shower on for him while he got undressed, before turning to pull the blinds closed without him breathing a single word of complaint. His heart swelled with love for you for the hundredth time that day. To be loved by you was to be seen. He didn’t need to use his voice to be understood (though that communication obviously had its place).

“Take your time baby, let the steam help get all the bad stuff out,” you gave him a little smile before leaving, closing the door behind you to allow the steam to build up within the space.

Harry let out a sigh as he stepped into the stream of hot steaming water. You were right as ever, the steam helped clear him out somewhat, and even just feeling clean helped him to feel better already. He relished the heat and the soothing feeling of the water, massaging his scalp with shampoo as he began to wash up from head to toe.

He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he reluctantly turned the shower off and stepped into a big fluffy towel. He was much quicker in drying himself than he had been in the rest of his shower routine, eager to rug up in a jumper and some sweats (and some of those thick soft socks you bought him for winter).

He swung the en suite door open, contemplating where he left his comfy winter clothes last when he stops at the sight before him.

You’re putting the last pillowcase on, having changed the sheets completely. His breakfast dishes are cleared, replaced with a hot steaming bowl of vegetable soup and his bottle of water. You’ve dug the humidifier out of the cupboard as well and you’ve got it all set up and running for him. The book he was currently reading was picked up from its previous place on the living room coffee table and waiting for him on your pillow. The exact clothes he was about to grab were sitting at the edge of the bed, laid out ready for him.

“You’re an actual angel, ya know that?” He shakes his head in disbelief. He has no idea what he did in a past life to get so lucky. The success of the music, he can go to bed each night feeling like he has done a lot to earn. He’s worked hard for a long time, and while he accredited a good portion of it all to luck, he knew he wasn’t talentless or undeserving. With you, however, he had simply won the lottery. You weren’t a perfect person, but you were his perfect person. He would spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power to feel deserving of you.

“Only for you,” you say softly.

He strides over to you, holding his towel to keep it from falling as he went. He presses a kiss to your forehead and mutters an, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” you peer up at him. “Now get those on,” you gesture towards his clothes, “before your soup gets cold.”

“Where did the soup come from?” He asks as starts to shrug his towel off and pull his clothes on.

“Where did you think I went earlier?” you referenced your half hour long disappearance, having been downstairs chopping up and preparing vegetables to go into the homemade soup.

“Oh, angel,” he breathed, “you really are the best.”

“Oh stop. Don’t act like all of this is not exactly what you do every time I’m sick. Which is far more often than you are, I might add.” You weren’t wrong, he did baby you just as much if not more.

“You’re still the best,” he refused to relent.

“Yeah, yeah,” you end the conversation, not being able to handle too many compliments.

He lets it slide, knowing he could compliment you further and ask you to really hear what he was saying, because he meant it with his entire being. But you were doing so much for him, and he really was tired so he didn’t bombard you with more praise than you desired.

Once he was dressed, he hopped back under the covers and sat up with his soup. He didn’t have the appetite to finish it, but he knew as much of it as he could handle would do him some good.

You jumped into the shower yourself, wanting to feel as clean as the sheets did when you got into bed with him. By the time you were out of the shower and into your own pair of fresh comfy clothes, Harry had finished most of the bowl of soup and had set the remainder aside.

“Thank you so much, angel,” your cheeks tinted pink at the purposeful repetition of that particular pet name.

“Don’t mention it,” you crawled under the covers with him, picking up his book from your pillow. “Now, where were you up to?”

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“In your book, where were you up to?”

“Why?”

“So, I can read it to you, obviously.”

“Is that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“And why do you think I’m suddenly incapable of reading it myself?” He questioned, even though he was practically preening internally at the thought of your sweet voice reading his novel aloud to him. It was a beautiful novel, filled with rich descriptions and he just knew it would sound lovely rolling off your tongue, but you had already done so much for him today it was hardly for of him to let you offer this without giving you an out.

“I don’t think you’re incapable, I just know your eyes hurt when you’re sick and I can imagine it makes it hard to focus on the words. Plus, I always fancied a career in audiobooks,” you actually really wanted to do this for him, not viewing it as an inconvenience at all. In fact, you would probably find yourself disappointed if he told you he would rather read it himself.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” he looked you in the eyes, gauging your expression.

“I want to,” you promised.

“About page 150, you might have to read the first sentence to check.”

So, you began reading, until his eyes grew heavier and his eyes drooped. Slowly but surely, he drifted off into the realm of peaceful deep sleep.

Not before, of course, he muttered, more than half asleep, “I can’t wait to marry the shit out of you.”

[majesticwren]

The Bat & The Cat (Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle)

A/N: Hello my loves ✨ Here we are with the much awaited Part 4! This is the final chapter for this little story. But there's more to come, I can assure you 😏 if it may interest you, then please stay tuned. If you'd like to be added to the tag-list for any future BrucexSelina content, please let me know. I do hope you'll enjoy and again I thank you all for your support through this journey. P.S.: find me on AO3

Summary: These events take place after The Batman 2022 movie ending. Two scenes packed full with fluff between Bruce and Selina.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Trigger Warnings: Fluff, Shameless Smut, Minor Spoilers, Bruce Is His Own Trigger but never as much as Selina, Minor Mention of Grief.

Words: 9500.

Tags: @haythemspsychopathicgirlfriend @sahsal

Gifs by: tagged. Divider by: @firefly-graphics .

Masterpost Playlist

Part 4 - Dear Icarus.

The house was quiet.

Now they were left just with Alfred, who was taking care of serving them the food. And didn’t miss any opportunity to make him feel uncomfortable. For someone who didn’t trust Selina, he sure didn’t miss a chance to interact with her throwing banter – to use a term Alfred would – of course, Bruce imagined he was only trying to study Selina, and Bruce would have even appreciated the fact that, if anything, she was made to feel at home, if the jokes weren’t aimed to mock him.

Bruce cleaned his mouth with a cotton napkin swallowing his last bite of grilled chicken served with insipid boiled broccoli. Without realising, he eyed Selina’s plate; her chicken was way more appetizing, covered in some kind of sauce and mushrooms, her vegetables seemed to be cooked in oil or butter… At it smelled delicious. She was still going through her food, not because she ate much slower than him, but because the portions served to her were much bigger and saucier than his.

His stomach gurgled, unhappy.

“Are you ok?” Selina asked casually, not at all bothered filling her mouth with a big piece of chicken. She looked at his empty plate and for a second, he saw her hesitate.

He just nodded. No words needed.

Alfred didn’t miss the opportunity to make things clear himself. At the first course that was brought out to them, Selina noticed the differences their plates had and were ready to ask about it… Just to have Alfred proudly but politely pointing out “Master Bruce’s armour doesn’t get any wider, Miss.”

Portion control. He had to explain. Bruce had been on portion control and intense physical training for the past four years. Losing shape wasn’t allowed. Losing strength even less, since he fought in close range combat. Which included eating healthy and regularly – basically a full-time job on its own, for Alfred, to make sure Bruce actually did.

Bruce cleared his voice and pressed his back against the chair, a sigh left his chest. He wasn’t at all relaxed. His legs trembled restlessly under the table; his chest was clutched by anxiety. Why did he ever imagine that could be a good idea?

He was completely out of his comfort zone. Having dinner with Selina wasn’t in his plans and pushing himself to interact not to let the silence surround them just brought him to say stupid things, that he immediately regretted a second late.

They talked during their dinner. But barely. And every time the conversation became more personal, both were more inclined to change the subject or avoid questions.

Which was fair. He wanted to know more about Selina, as much as he imagined she desired to do with him. But both of them weren’t comfortable, that much was clear.

He checked his watch.

Almost half-past six. His gaze travelled to the high windows of the room and through the curtains, he could see that the night was upon them now. Even if it wasn’t that late.

Selina took a big gulp of milk out of her glass, sending him a curious look over the chalice.

He of course didn’t drink anything but water. It would have been pretty stupid to do anything differently since he was going to work right after.

Selina left the silver cutlery on the plate and cleared her voice, sending him another look, that Bruce willingly avoided, playing with his napkin instead.

“How long do you have left?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. An hour? Maybe more. Maybe less.”

She nodded; a shot of resolution crossed her eyes. She pushed her plate away and turned towards him, leaning on the table and pushing her arms closer to him. If she was trying to reach for his hands, then Bruce did the very appropriate thing to hide them under the table, freezing in front of the possibility to be touched.

She didn’t let such a thing discourage her, but she frowned – not hurt, more intrigued by his reaction.

“Why are you so rigid, Bruce? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m not –” He paused to inhale a big breath, just then, he timidly looked up at her. “I don’t know what to say. We are at the end of our dinner. I am afraid I don’t know what’s the custom.”

She chuckled. Her laughter vibrated through him shining some light and warmth into his tightened chest. “But surely, we are not done yet. Desert is what comes next, baby!”

She sent him a wicked look. Besides the soft tone of her words, the fact that she looked at him as if he was desert made him shiver.

Still, his face crumpled in an unhappy look. If he wasn’t allowed to eat some kind of tasty sauce like what flavoured her dish, then he surely wasn’t allowed dessert.

Selina pushed herself closer to him, her hands scooped his jaw, bringing his attention back on her. She caressed his skin, offering him the sweetest of looks to rest upon. “Why the grumpy face, Vengeance?”

“I don’t think I am allowed dessert. My suit doesn’t become any bigger, remember?”

“Not even ice cream?” She wondered dreamingly, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that sent all his thoughts in a confused, frenzy state.

Took him a second to find his focus and shake his head, pulling a very sad face.

He knew for a fact he wasn’t. Besides the fact that he wasn’t much of a sweet tooth anyway – which most of the time helped, Alfred allowed him to have some chocolate, ice cream or cake just during festivities or an important recurring.

But if something like that wouldn’t normally bother him, for some reason, that night did. Maybe it was because he just wanted to throw a tantrum about whatever passing reason he had available, just because overall he wasn’t happy with how the evening went. He felt like Selina wasn’t impressed – not by his lifestyle, that didn’t much matter, but by him.

He was sure she was being nice out of politeness but had the tremendous panic buzzing in the back of his ears, that she wouldn’t have gotten in touch with him, ever again. He wasn’t all that interesting after all, and most of the time struggled to look at her in the eye.

And what if everyone freaking out about having a guest at the Manor gave her the wrong impression that that was the normality around him?

What if she thought he could be just a spoiled rich kid who played dressing up for kicks?

He was spiralling so deep into another anxiety wave to be sure this time he could drown inside his own mind.

The real problem wasn’t even that she could not like him as Bruce Wayne. But the fact that she now knew. What if Alfred was right? What if he had been reckless and selfish?

He couldn’t breathe.

Selina distracted him. He didn’t even notice her moving until he felt her weight pressing on his legs, while she slid on his lap with absolute nonchalance, fluidly and lightly, as her rightful spot was to be as close to him as possible.

Bruce sucked the air into his lungs, automatically pulling his face away from her. Yet, he pushed the chair backwards, to let her have some space.

Selina purred, pushing herself against his chest and gently took his chin between her thumb and index, pulling his eyes in hers.

“Where did you go?” She asked after looking into his eyes for a long second. Keeping eye contact was almost unbearable.

“Nowhere, I am here.”

“No. You weren’t.”

Bruce just looked at her, diving into her black eyes. Her relaxed expression gave him a certain degree of solace. But he was still struggling to breathe.

Selina slid her hand around his neck, holding him softly, but leaving him space to think, in concept, that is, since practically she was sitting as close to him as it was physically possible.

His chest cramped, requiring him to release the breath he was holding in. With that, words flowed out without him even thinking about it.

“What are we doing, Selina?”

“We are having dinner together.”

The look he sent her was self-explanatory. It shot through her in a way that made her look away, even if Bruce didn’t miss the hurt gaze she was trying to hide.

He pushed himself to engage physical contact with her, raising a hand and just ever so lightly brushing his fingers on her cheek, just enough to bring her to look back at him. “Is this what you wanted? I am… Not much more than this, frankly.”

“You?” Selina dropped her head to the side. Her eyes caressed his features, her gaze was so intense he felt it brand his skin as fire would. He couldn’t look away, caged by her, his heart was as trapped as his eyes, there was not much else to say, if not that he was falling for her, violently, dangerously quickly.

He felt like Icarus, flying too close to the Sun he could feel his waxed wings melting.

“Oh, Bruce…” Selina finally exhaled in a sigh that carried her heart.

She quickly got rid of her shoes, letting them fall to the ground with absolutely no care in the world for them, she then folded her legs and made herself in a little ball of flesh and thoughts, nesting against his chest. She tucked her head on his shoulder and pressed her face against his neck. Her hands clutched around the material of his suit, keeping him close.

Bruce automatically surrounded her between his arms, holding her close.

Rocking her, even. He would have killed anyone who came too close to her – ever. She was too precious. No matter what she decided about him, or them, he would have been a shadow in her life, to protect her at all cost.

He pressed his chin on top of her head, his eyelids heavy on his eyes, while for probably the first time in the entire day, he finally relaxed entirely.

His mind was quiet.

“You do not know half of your worth, baby.”

“We come from different universes.”

“No. Our houses are different – that’s all. Underneath we are pretty much the same.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Then we are complementary. You fit into me. I fit into you.”

“That is a very bold assumption, Miss Selina.” The trace of a smile curled his lips.

“Isn’t it the truth?”

He didn’t answer. But in his silence, his thoughts were as clear as day. Of course, she was right. He wouldn’t have dared to let anyone else in as he did with her. To know the Batman and Bruce Wayne? Unthinkable. Before her.

“I cared to know the man who hid under the Bat. Because I respected you. I am even willing to tell you how extremely attached to you and your pointy mask.”

She looked up and as their eyes met, she slid a hand around his jaw. He welcomed her honest look with a relaxed smile. “I am fond of your mask too.” He admitted.

She didn’t allow him to let the tension dissipate through them. “All of this without knowing your name. But I knew your courage, honour, power and strength, intelligence even.”

His features froze back into a serious look. His lips stretched into a thin line. “And what do you think now?”

“That you have the sweetest, most melancholic eyes I ever looked into. Every time you look at me, I need to hug you, I need to be close to you. I’m on my toes waiting for you to say something just to hear your voice. You have the softest tone a girl could want to hear things whispered to her ear with. But your silence is even more devastating. I don’t care that you are Bruce Wayne. I care that you are tangible and real.”

“So, the luxury the Wayne name offers doesn’t interest you?”

“Oh, baby, that’s not what I said.” She slid a finger across his chest. “That is a plus in my already very long list of reasons to date a guy who wears a mask, at night, to fight crime.”

“Date?”

“Do you think you can fit me in your busy schedule, Mr Wayne?”

“It can be arranged.” He smiled at her in the softest way known to men. His features warmed up, but more importantly, his chest did. His heart was fluttering and flickering all over the place in an unusual but appreciated way.

Bruce caressed her jawline and then slowly scooped her cheek into his hand, watching closely how she would melt against his touch. He didn’t miss her eyes falling close for a good second, or the way she rubbed her cheek into his palm, her hand softly wrapped around his wrist. She released a sigh of relief.

“Selina Kyle, a romantic. Who would have thought?” His chest was shaken by a warm rumble of laughter that Selina purred, melting into a smile.

She pressed his hand against her face, turning towards it to kiss softly his palm. “I am a surprising – keep you on your toes, kind of gal.”

Bruce leaned ever so slightly towards her, softly brushing his lips against hers, and immediately she was clutching on his figure, pulling him closer to her, as if she could compress him into her chest, pulling him into a deeper, more passionate kiss.

When their tongues crossed, Bruce’s let out a pleasureful sigh.

That was the moment passion struck them both. Bruce was a step away from pushing all the useless stuff and clutter on the table to the ground, just to make space.

But then a thought struck him back to reality, settling his feet back on the ground. He broke their kiss as gently as he could but kept her close. Even if Selina didn’t appear to be too happy about his choice. And she made it clear.

She climbed on his figure and in a second, she sat straddling his hips, helped by the deep vent on her dress that let her leg roam free. Her uncovered skin was a torture Bruce barely managed to ignore. If the fact that his hand immediately went to hold her thigh could be considered ignoring. Or the fact that his palm immediately burned by their contact and he pushed his hand up, softly gabbing her by the sweet spot of conjunction between her hip and her leg.

A shiver crossed him.

She pushed herself up on his chest and tried to kiss him again. “C’mon baby, we don’t have much time…”

The desperation in her voice made him vibrate. Her desire was melting his every sane thought away. But how much he wanted to let go of everything else and to forget of duty, or his life, even if just for a few hours of bliss between that woman's arms. Especially after they had such a soft moment with cataclysmic proportion consequences on his existence, he knew.

“Wait… Selina, wait.”

She did. She stopped rubbing herself against him and just sent him an unimpressed look. Selina even pouted, while looking at him with her big eyes. Bruce forgot what he needed to say for a moment.

He cleared his voice. “I need to know that you understand the fact that if you are with me, or with Batman, consequences are involved. And trouble. You’ll be in danger.”

“A girl like me? In a city like this? Bound to find trouble. I like danger…” She purred.

But Bruce maintained his serious gaze, to which point she finally nodded. “I know, Bruce. I am not stupid. Nor I am afraid. We can use this.” She pointed between them two. “We can work together as Batman and Catwoman.”

“And date as Bruce and Selina? That is dangerous too.”

“Do you like going out?”

“Not particularly.”

“Are there events around Gotham you want to participate as Bruce?”

“Not unless it's very important. Most of the time I reject the invitations.”

“Are you incredibly sociable, needing to be always in touch with people?”

The more questions she made him, the easier it was for him to get her very ironic tone and especially what she was getting at. He just shook his head as a response, to which point she melted into a smile. “No one has to know, Vengeance.”

“And you are going to be fine with that?”

“I do not care. As soon as I get to be with you.”

She scooped his face between her palms, for once it was her the one that seemed to be lost into his eyes. “I won’t let you slip between my fingers, Bruce. You said you needed help out there, I am help.”

Then she gave him a strong shake, making sure he saw the decision crossing her gaze. “I won’t let you push me away now, because danger lurks in the shadows.”

“I know you won’t. I just know I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you.”

“And what about if something happens to you, uh? We’ll watch each other backs, that’s how it works. Plus, I sort of have been working on a plan.”

“What plan?”

His curiosity was struck, and it was even worse when her lips curled in a grin. “The Penguin and the 44 Below are our key to get what we want.”

“The 44 Below is lost. It was flooded, never recovered.”

“It has been recovered. Recreated actually. It’s in another part of town, the Penguin runs all his business from there.”

He remained silent, just looking at her, clearly expecting some more information, that Selina gladly provided. “We can work with the Penguin, his club is a lair to most of the criminality scene in Gotham. He has the information we need.”

“I am not entirely sure he will want to collaborate with me.”

“Probably not. But if you offer the possibility to take down all his major competition, then he will find you useful.”

“And where do you fall in all of this?”

“Insurance. You bring the law, I steal the money. Win-win.”

“That is still illegal, Selina. I-”

She interrupted him with a hush, pushing her index against his lips. “Hear me out. If we take down the smaller groups in favour of a crime lord, keeping said person always under control and when we want him, it will be easy to take him down in the end. And we will always have a way to track the stolen money if they all end in the Penguin’s pockets.”

“What makes you think he will gladly collaborate with us?”

“Because he is easily distracted by power. And we just need to make him believe he has things under control.”

“That might be the most difficult part.”

“It’s a plan. Doesn’t hurt to try it out.”

“He will know he can use you against me and vice versa Selina. This… Plan, even if it works, even if it’s decent, it’s risky.”

“Let it be risky. You’ll need to trust me on this, I know how to navigate the crime scene and the Penguin already knows me. It’s a hunch to start from, it can give us possible leads. More than what the PD can do.”

Bruce let out a deep, heavy sigh.

She wasn’t wrong, he knew. Actually, it was probably their best shot to start bringing some change around. And he definitely would have never been able to blend and go undercover into Gotham crime scene, which is why Selina’s role could be vital.

Yet, he wasn’t at all convinced. At the same time, he knew her well enough by now to be sure of the fact that she would have probably proceeded with the plan with or without him. And that she wasn’t the kind of person who would stand in the background and watch, and wait.

He would have never asked her to. Even if he wanted. Even if it was a contradiction with all the reasons he sought her out in the beginning. He well knew she was one of the few people in that city he could truly trust – and probably the only one he could have by his side while sinking into the crime-grime rotting Gotham City.

“We can consider it.”

He finally mumbled, not looking at her. Not happy about it – but at the same time his back was pushed into a corner, he didn’t have any other choice.

His eyes shot into Selina’s with incredible determination. His gaze could move mountains and made her gasp in such a sweet way. “But there will be rules.”

“Of course, Vengeance. Whatever will make you rest easy.”

“You will always have to wear your eye-piece. I want to be able to follow you step by step. We’ll need to pick a safe space where to reconvene when things go south. We’ll train together. I need to know you’re strong enough.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to be subjected to portion control too?” She pouted, playing with his hair. Bruce struggled to keep his focus. He shrugged, unsure if she was joking or serious… But he would bet on the first option.

“And, most importantly, no secrets.” He finished.

Selina nodded looking straight into his eyes. The conviction in her eyes was so supreme that he felt like they were signing binding vows.

Her seriousness was wiped off by a wicked smirk. Selina ran a long nail along his square jaw, looking at his features. “As soon as you promise the same. No secrets, we are a team now. And you’ll have to let me take care of you.”

All the menace left him in a soft whimper, while with a nod he definitively let her slide into his life. Into his heart.

Selina kissed his chin, then the corner of his mouth. “Now. We’ve got more important matters at hand and not much time.”

“Such as?”

“That ice-cream problem… Do you think we can smuggle some out of your, I am sure, super restocked of any kind of supplies kitchen?”

A tiny smile curled his lips. “I’m pretty sure Alfred is guarding the door.”

“Can’t you send him away for a while?” She whispered. He felt her soft, warm breath caress his skin and knew there and then that she could have asked him anything and he would give in temptation, saying yes to whatever she desired.

“I can try.”

Selina and Bruce sat on the thick carpet in the middle of one of the lounges. Sofas pushed back; pillows spread everywhere around them.

The TV was on and they were watching some replicas of the older episodes of The Simpsons. And, to Selina’s greatest fulfilment and joy, they were eating ice cream.

And Bruce was laughing. Loudly, heartfeltly, warmingly laughing like he didn’t do for a long time. He kept Selina close, not that she needed much of an official invitation to accept to curl by his side and literally sit as close as possible to him. If on him wasn’t possible, of course.

Selina was a great thief, he already knew that, but after they managed to pull a hit under Alfred’s nose, he thought she must have been the best in the world.

Making Alfred leave the Manor was out of the question – of course. Bruce hoped for it but didn’t have a doubt. And Selina really wanted ice cream.

At that point, Bruce could only hope they had some, if not it would have been a tragedy.

So, while he distracted Alfred, Selina sneaked into the kitchen to steal what was required.

He felt like a teenager all over again. Just not rebellious or angsty, because his chest felt light enough to make him want to giggle like a kid – knowing he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, right under Alfred’s nose, and it was fun. It was a different feeling that he wasn’t used to having – but he liked it. Not entirely sure if it was a good thing or not.

Plus, seeing Selina quietly toddle in the background, carrying two bowls clearly filled to the edge with ice cream, was a vision that made him realise that that was what he wanted. Such a feeling running through his veins… Such lightness into his chest.

At least, Bruce managed to convince Alfred to kill the security systems in the lounge he and Selina would have then nested into.

Bruce didn’t care for the cartoons, not as much as he did for Selina eating her strawberry ice cream, and the soft, pleasureful sights she would release every now and then, between a spoonful and the other.

He didn’t finish his. He tasted it, had about three or four spoons of it and then he left it on the side. Not that he liked to waste food, but he also knew Alfred wasn’t wrong. He might feel like he was a back being a kid again, but he definitely remembered to be mature enough to know that it wasn’t worth eating a kilo of ice cream just as a rebellious act… When he would have been the one paying the price in sweat. A kilo of Italian stuffed olives. Now for that, he would have gladly sweated blood.

Selina cleaned her bowl and then she pushed it on the side table, before jumping right back into her nest curled under Bruce’s arm, against his side.

As soon as she looked back up at him, his gaze was on her. The dreamy eyes she gave him made his mouth wrinkle in a soft smile. “What?”

“I would have never imagined that a girl like me would have found something like this, spending time with a guy like you.” Her words sang to his heart.

“Something like what?” He wondered; his voice was as soft as his gaze.

“I don’t really know how to explain it.” She whispered – fear slowly seeping into her eyes.

“Try it.” Bruce moved just enough to look at her properly. He remained close, knowing by now that she liked it. He leaned his head, his curiosity hooked as the one of a kid. “I want to know… Please?”

She pushed out a sigh. For only a second Bruce wondered if he overstepped and was now asking her to do or say something that could make her feel uncomfortable. But then she moved. A smile crossed her face while she climbed on his figure.

Selina threw a leg over his, comfortably nesting on his hips, and dropped her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him close to her and pressed her forehead against his, rubbing her skin against his, very similar to what a cat would do to show intense affection.

“I’ve been hidden in the shadows too, Bruce. For a very long time. But now, you see me. Not just because I am pretty, like everyone else. You really see me. The only other person I let in this way was Annika.”

If possible, she pulled him in an even tighter hug. Bruce felt her nails puncture his skin through his shirt and didn’t care for it. He would have let her grab him by the bones if that was what she needed.

Selina rubbed her lips on his forehead, then his temple, until she moved enough to look back into his eyes. The pain of a loss burning through hers was still pressing. To the point, it made his own heartache for hers.

“You miss her.”

“All the time.”

He remembered the anger that burned through Selina when they met. Her desperate thirst for vengeance and justice for the woman that was killed and ripped off her life.

He knew that feeling, recognizing it as a reflection of his own, constant agony.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. It’s ok.” She shook off her pain with a quick shrug and a sad smile.

Bruce scooped her face between his palms, ever so gently. “You are not alone anymore.”

He whispered, ever so quietly and softly. Selina was not afraid to meet his eyes, while Bruce had to gather all his strength to look back at her and keep eye contact, but he knew it was important.

Selina nodded. “Most of all, you are making me feel like a normal person. Just now, this. I know we won’t have this for long… I know there’s not space for this in the nights we’ll spend fighting crime…”

Bruce shook his head, throwing an arm around her figure so to pull her closer to himself. “There’s always time at dawn.”

Selina smiled. Again, she pressed herself against him, dunking her face in the socket of his neck. Her embrace was tight and solemn. She buried a hand between his hair, on the back of his head and Bruce let her hold him, cradle him even, into believing he was allowed to find peace, and a place he belonged – besides the night.

She rubbed her nose on his skin and deeply inhaled his scent. He clearly felt the smile appearing on her lips. “You smell so good, baby.” She purred.

“What miracles a shower can do…”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I adore when you smell of sweat, dirt and leather. But this –” She kissed his neck. “This fills my brain up. Makes my head spin.”

Selina’s lips moved on the column of his neck in a path of kisses that left him gasping, sending shivers all across his back.

“Mine too.” He whispered without even realising, letting a soft moan vibrate through his chest and bending his head to the side, giving her more space.

Intention took over Selina. She seized the opportunity and he understood exactly the moment when affectionate cuddles became something else, when her hold on him became more dominant, she pulled his hair slightly and slowly rubbed her hips against his. More than anything, the deep, famished breath she inhaled, made him tremble.

He even had the impression of feeling her smile printing on his skin, while her kisses became more determined, tempting and hot. Bruce crumbled under her, bending to a point that he found himself forced to push an arm behind himself for support while she sucked and licked his skin.

His lips were slightly departed, his quiet pleasure marked his features, his eyelid extremely heavy on his eyes when he sent a look over one of the windows.

Through the white, thin, see-through curtains he hoped to see just the blackness of a night sky not slashed by the beam of the signal.

The clouds were thick and heavy with rain that night. The sky was black.

Bruce instinctively smiled. Even if he knew he didn't have time. He was supposed to get ready. He was supposed to be already out there. But the signal wasn't lit yet, there was no real emergency yet.

It wasn't like him, to postpone. But then again, he never ever postponed anything in three years. He was always out there, always thinking about duty first.

He gave Selina up once already. He wasn't inclined on doing it again.

In the back of his mind, he felt guilty and selfish, deciding to ignore Gotham to be between a woman's arms? It wasn't acceptable, not for Batman. But at the same time, he knew his only real appointment for the night was the usual meeting with Gordon at eleven. Until the signal was lit.

Though it was very, very easy for Selina to blow off all of his worries, destroying his ability to focus, her intent was clearly to seduce him. And she was succeeding.

To the point he willingly decided it was ok to let go, to forget… Fear of what lurked in the shadows could have acted in his place for a while.

His skin was already over-sensitive, his senses were focused on her while he only desired to receive more of her touches and kisses. And way more than that.

It had been already difficult enough to try and hide his desire the entire day. But it was literally impossible when she was on him, rubbing herself on his solid body in a sensual, fluid way that would make him think just to one thing. And that was the fact that her hips would have rolled in that exact way if he was inside of her and they were naked.

Bruce's body reacted to her following its own will. Already since she straddled him, he felt the familiar tingling of arousal build up in his lower abdomen. But now he was hard for her and there was no point in hiding it, since he was pretty sure she already knew, his suit trousers weren’t made of the best material to hide something like that.

"Selina..." He tried to get her attention. His call sounded more like a plea, that she didn’t seem intentioned in following. Selina snarled, pulling his hair even more. She made him move his head backwards, just to uncover more skin for her, so she could pass her tongue from his collarbone to his chin.

Bruce whimpered, tensing underneath her. His thoughts were scrambled, confused, the only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted her hands on his skin, he wanted to hear her moan in pleasure, he wanted to feel her body clutched around his. He wanted to taste her, smell her arousal…

She pushed herself up on him, now holding his head with both her hands, she pulled him in a kiss, suffocating whatever words he thought he wanted to say.

Selina gently caressed the edge of his lips with her tongue.

Bruce released another whimper. He was almost on the verge of forgetting everything else just to roll over, on top of her, and quickly descend upon her just to bury his face between her thighs. He knew, by now, she really liked it – therefore, he adored to taste her and give her as much pleasure as he could that way.

But before he could completely lose it, he still held a thin grip on himself. Bruce moved the arm he held her with just to slid his hand between them, pushing his palm against her chest.

Selina didn’t oppose to his move, if not with a displeased grunt. He ignored the pout she pulled as soon as their eyes crossed. As much as he brought himself to ignore her humid, swollen lips and the desire that burned through her eyes.

He shook his head. “We don’t have time. I –” He got distracted by the way Selina looked at his figure, from his eyes all the way down; accompanying her look with a sensual movement, she pressed her own hands on her body, releasing a pleasureful sigh. He thought he heard a “please” but he wasn’t sure if it came from her or himself.

“I can’t.” He was begging by then. But Selina had no mercy for him.

Her dark eyes shined of a wicked light. She pulled herself back a bit, just to have enough space to lift the skirt of her dress over her hips. She purred while doing it, moving her hips slowly.

Bruce really wanted to stand his ground, but his eyes fell on the lacey, black underwear she was wearing. He was done for.

“You made me wait enough today.” Her voice was deep, her desire was well exposed between her words.

It was true. And he cursed himself for it.

Selina looked right into his eyes, while she slid a hand between her legs, touching herself. Bruce followed her movement, mesmerized by her, but as soon as he realised what she was doing, he sucked the air into his lungs and immediately looked back up. His cheeks were on fire both because of embarrassment and arousal.

That woman would have been the ruin of him.

She released a soft moan that shot right through him in a shiver of pure, tremendous pleasure that crossed his erection in a painful way.

She gently but with extreme decision, took his hand. Their eyes were locked together, he never held eye contact with more intention before, while she guided his fingers to her core. As called by a chant he was unable to ignore, Bruce cupped his hand on her sex, probing her hot, soft flesh with his fingers. The thin, lacey material of her underwear stood between their skin… Bruce never imagined he could be destabilized by such a thought like trying to decide if he loved that piece of thin material, or despised it more.

She panted, gripping on his wrist, accompanying his curious movement. His touch was careful, but definitely not unsure. Now he wanted to give her pleasure. As much as he could before he would inevitably be torn off her arms.

“Feel how wet I am.” Selina’s exhaled those words between her teeth. Her tone could have been both a question and a statement. And to both, Bruce had nothing to say to contradict her.

She was wet. He could feel it dripping through the soaked material of the underwear, on his fingers… And God if it felt amazing.

A grunt left his chest. Selina wasn’t reserved on what she liked and what she wanted – that much was clear. She was sex essence, she had appeal and charm and she knew it. And she never held back from unleashing it on the Batman. It was one of the things he liked about her. She knew so much what she wanted, always, to destabilize him. And her attitude on grabbing control… He adored that too, it made him feel safe to let go of anything else when he was between her arms.

He knew he didn’t stand a chance. Every other time, during the rest of the day, he managed to maintain his focus and not get lost into blind desire just because she let him, giving him space.

But now she wasn’t. Now she wanted him.

Him. She was blinded by desire too, he had the proof her body was hot and ready, burning for him, chanting to his… And she wanted him. Bruce.

His erection trembled, painfully tensed… He was dying to feel her touch, her embrace. And he desperately wanted to find release and get lost between her arms…

His lips were departed, his eyes captured by her. He gasped, realising he was out of breath.

He knew he didn’t have any willpower; she was controlling him completely and he was done fighting.

“I need you, Bruce.” She pleaded, making it impossible for him to deny her whatever she desired.

He bit his lip, and even if with extreme uncertainty, knowing he was devoured by a selfish desire that muted his better self, he pushed himself closer to her, raising his chin.

“If the signal gets lit, I will need to go.”

“I know…” She purred. She was pinning herself up on her knees, keeping her body pressed against his but not giving up dominance, even in such a thing as her position. She rolled her hips, rubbing her wet core on his fingers.

“Even if I’ll be inside of you.”

“We better make it quick.” Her hunger dimmed through her eyes.

Bruce’s eyes shot at the window once more and when he saw the empty, dark sky his attention shot back to Selina.

His chest was slightly filled with anxiety. He knew the signal could be turned on every second as much as he knew he could have spent precious time worrying about it for no reason. Well, with reason… But to none of the people in that room interest.

Selina threw the skirt of her dress on the side and quickly her hands shot to his belt. Her fingers fiddled with the buckle, quickly freeing him from its constraint.

If a fraction of his being was suddenly cringing for such closeness… Prompted by his ever-lasting anxiety, which made sure to remind him Alfred was around the house, somewhere, Selina was quick to catch him and fish him out of his own thoughts. She dived on his lips in a kiss that tasted of heaven and strawberries.

She was impatient and famished. She released a small whimper in his mouth while she pushed her hips on his fingers again, not that he needed an incentive to deepen his caresses. Though, even if he was torturing her circling his fingers on her sensitive flesh, he still had to get rid of her underwear. On purpose.

He pushed his other hand around her thigh and up, sliding it under her dress, too lost in his desire to feel her hipbone in his palm to think straight about anything else.

Selina, on the other hand, clearly had no patience. She pushed her hand inside his trousers and over his boxers with no prelude, no space or time for any gentle preamble or teasing.

As soon as he felt her hot touch on his most sensitive skin, Bruce jerked, with a gasp, but almost immediately he melted under her hands, letting her do of him whatever she wanted.

She rolled her hands around his erection, and with a welcoming caress of her palm, she released a satisfied sigh.

His hold on her hip clutched around the thin band that assured her panties around her figure. Well knowing that move tightened the hold of her underwear around her core, probably in an uncomfortable way.

“Rip them off.” Selina ordered in a whisper against his lips. A command he was unable and unwilling to refuse.

He did as she asked. The thin material of her underwear tore like paper under his clutch and them both released a sigh of pure pleasure.

As soon as the lacey material came loose, Bruce slid a finger between her wet folds, enjoying the moan she gifted him to a primal level.

As soon as she was free, she pushed his hand off her with a grunt and positioned herself on him. There was no time for foreplay or preliminaries, and Selina clearly had no patience for it, nor him in all honesty.

She slid upon him, taking his entire length inside of her in one, raw move that left them both gasping for air.

“Vengeance…” She called for him, her pleasure danced between her words in a desperate call for more.

Bruce trembled, his body was shaking under her, blessed victim of her tight, wet, hot hold around him. There was no escape, no salvation now. She felt like heaven. He had no willpower, nor strength, his mind was foggy, every thought he had was lost to the sound of her heavy breaths and the warmth of her body and to the feeling of her muscles moving under his palms.

He sent another look to the window. Desperately praying for the sky to remain dark. And some kind of God accepted his prayers.

Bruce closed his eyes, his head fell backwards, right in Selina’s hand, who happily pushed her fingers between his hair and pulled them, making him arch under her. She wrapped solidly her other arm around his broad shoulders, slipping a hand under his shirt collar just to grip ad his bare skin.

The shot of pain of her nails digging through his flesh mixed to his pleasure, scrambling his thoughts and emotions even more wildly. Sending him feral.

She started riding him ferociously. The rhythm of her hips was unforgiving… And he was dying for it. For her. Famished, perched, desperate to have more.

The sound of her wet flesh against his, and of their breaths, filled his ears.

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her tightly against him, while with the other he looked for support, digging his hand in the carpet behind him.

Selina looked at him in the eye so intensely he thought she could dive into his soul and through his mind just with her gaze.

He released a soft moan and vibrated through her. A satisfied grin appeared on her face.

His clothes were bothering him, he wanted to be free from the grip of the material that enveloped him… But he was too lost and too impatient to bother about something like that.

As was Selina.

He wished he had the entire night to make love to her. He wanted to see her naked between his bedsheets, calling his name over and over again. And making him lose his mind.

Even now, he wished he could roll over and encage her underneath him. The sweet thought of bending her legs around his figure made him purr.

But he also was well aware she liked being on top. And he sure liked it too. He knew by now that she reached release way easier and quicker that way and that was enough for him to let her be where she was and take from him everything, she wanted to the rhythm she pleased.

He didn’t care for his own, quickly mounting pleasure. Or better, he did, but his main goal was her pleasure not his own.

Selina shifted. She wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed the air out of his lungs.

He let her keep power, looking into her eyes in absolute adoration.

His stuck breath into his chest made his pleasure rumble through him like thunder, to the point it became very difficult for him to hold back.

She dived on his lips in a famished, ravaging kiss, suffocating a moan against his mouth.

Bruce trembled. His hand was shaking clutching strongly on the nape of her neck.

And then it happened. Selina arched against him and threw her head backwards, looking for air but more than anything finding her release.

He knew her well enough to also predict the loud moan she was going to let out to the rhythm of the violent waves of pleasure shaking her. Which was why he quickly trapped her mouth in his palm, suffocating her voice.

She shot a look at him, at first her eyes were widened and surprised, but then her eyelids fell heavier on them, her suffocated cry vibrated through his palm in a way that sent him straight to another universe.

The orgasm exploding through her, made him whimper. Her muscles tightened around his erection made him weak. He had to gather all his strength and control not to snarl in pure ecstasy to her pleasure.

His gaze caressed her features with the desperate need to remember how bliss signed her.

He let go of her just when the waves trembling through her body started to quiet down. By then she slowed her hits until she stopped – but kept him deeply buried inside of her.

She sighed, catching her breath, a satisfied grin appeared on her lips while she rubbed them against his, and then along his jaw.

“Damn, Vengeance…” She whispered once she reached his ear. “You’re always such a good boy.”

He vibrated under her words. No one else would have had the right to speak to him that way. But when Selina did, he would beg for more.

She kissed his neck, and then looked back into his eyes, rolling her arms around his shoulders. She dug her teeth into her lower lip, sending him a wicked look as if she wanted him to know exactly what she was going to do next.

Bruce was already on the edge of begging for mercy when she moved her hips on his erection in a painfully slow motion.

He hissed, drawing his teeth.

Selina leaned her head, looking at him in a devoted, charming way, but her eyes were glimmering mischievously. She moved her hips again, if possible, even slower this time. “I suppose you would like to come too, uhm?” She purred.

Bruce didn’t answer with words, but nodded, releasing a laboured breath.

Selina grinned. “Tell me, Bruce.”

“I-” His voice died in his throat, while embarrassment took over. He really wanted to look away, but there was something in her eyes that made it impossible for him to do so.

He saw her naked countless times by now. They had a lot of sex since she came back. Enough to know each other bodies and likings. But somehow it did feel different, now that he was only Bruce. And like Bruce, he was more prone to awkwardness.

He wasn’t naïve and he knew how much Selina loved to have control. Sometimes she liked to bind him, commanding him to give her pleasure, and he would never hold back… But most of the time her dominance was more subtle, like in that case. Her request was quite simple, it didn’t require more than a few words… Yet he was blushing, feeling as if he would have said what she wanted to hear would be humiliating. A shiver crossed him.

It didn’t matter how much he also knew that his fear was nonsensical.

Selina tried to encourage him to give her what she wanted with another painfully slow roll of her hips, that made her quiver.

She pushed her index under his chin. The famished, full of desire look that she sent him wiped off all his fears.

He knew he had to give her what she wanted in one way or the other, or he wouldn’t have been rewarded.

“I want to come.” He admitted, his voice was dry, slightly shaken.

And Selina seemed to feast upon his awkwardness. She purred moving her head from one side to the other.

“Oh, Bruce…” She sighed, shaking her head. “That is not acceptable.”

Selina pushed herself against him and slid her hands between his hair once again, pulling his head backwards. She brushed her lips against his without kissing him, just torturing him with her warm breath tingling his tongue.

Then, with no warning, she lifted her hips almost all the way, tremendously torturing him with a quick, extremely hot thrust he didn’t expect.

Bruce gasped, widening his eyes. And Selina offered him a soft, nurturing smile, while her hold on his hair became looser, softer.

“I want to hear you beg, Vengeance.”

He drew his teeth, in a quiet hiss of both deep pleasure and discomfort. He rolled his eyes, to that point, it was very difficult to think about anything straight.

“Please, Selina…” He began, more than willing to beg. Not ashamed. Quite the opposite, because the deep pride his words gave her filled his chest with an equal sentiment. It was the weight of the words she wanted to hear that embarrassed him.

But the idea of giving her what she wanted, wiped his discomfort away. “Make me come.”

He exhaled, receiving a satisfied smile from her. Selina purred, rolling her hips in a circle around him that made him quiver.

She sent a playful look over to the window. “You are lucky we have some extra time.”

Selina pulled away from him, sliding her hips up and freeing his erection from her body embrace. The sudden hit of cold air on his most sensitive skin lashed across him painfully.

Not that she let him feel such discomfort for long.

She moved backwards and slid down on his figure. Her eyes latched to his during the entirety of her descent.

She gave him a soft push, inviting him to lay more comfortably and he followed, laying back, pinning himself up only with his elbows.

She crouched on his lap, her eyes now focusing on his erection. A smile filled with pure satisfaction and a shade of hunger rose on her lips. He gasped when she carefully caressed him and was left breathless when Selina followed his entire length with her tongue, just to then take him into her mouth.

Bruce’s head fell backwards and hissed in pure pleasure, he felt his strength leave his body, entirely enslaved by her, body and soul.

Selina sucked on him, helping herself with her hands. He was lost into the incredible pleasure her tongue caressing his shaft gave him, and the deep, proud satisfaction to hear the sloppy noise of her mouth moving around him.

Moved by a primal need to see her doing it, he looked down just to cross her dark, hungered eyes. Her lips surrounding him, her opened mouth for him, was destabilizing. A powerful shiver crossed him.

Heaven.

Her slow approach didn’t last but a second, just enough to put him at ease. Then, she started to devour him relentlessly, giving him tremendous pleasure.

Bruce let a soft, low moan escape his lips.

He felt his orgasm violently mount inside of him. His body tensed, his muscles contracted, he was unable to get a grip on himself, even less he could assert any kind of control on his own emotions, he was yielding to her, succumbing to her will.

“S-Selina…” He gasped, with no breath left, trying to warn her, but was unable to speak any further once his orgasm hit him, violently waving through him.

His libs went stiff, as his abdomen while the pure bliss of release crossed him. Selina didn’t move, flinch or seemed to have any intention of stopping. She welcomed his pleasure with a moan, her eyes dimmed with determination, while she kept suckling on him.

By then, he was trembling under her. He tried to suggest her to move, but he was wiped off any ability to speak or move while he came into her mouth.

His mind fogged up. He didn’t even remember his name anymore. The only thing he could think of was how celestial it felt to be surrounded by such a warm embrace.

And he seemed to be more scared and shocked by it than Selina ever was. She welcomed him and everything he had to give with a satisfied purr and didn’t stop her motion until his trembling came, bringing him almost to the edge of over-stimulation.

Bruce collapsed on the carpet behind him, catching his breath, surely unable to move or think straight.

Selina was way more relaxed than him. She climbed on his figure and nested on his chest, looking at him with pure satisfaction dimming through her eyes and a grin curling her lips.

“You didn’t have to do that for me.” He whispered tapping his hand on her arm, sending her a devoted look. She didn’t, but he was still grateful.

Selina's smile grew. “Oh, but I did. You taste good, baby.”

A shiver crossed him, while in all response he sent her a shocked look, that soon softened into a mesmerised one.

He jumped at her, trapping her lips in a soft kiss, wrapping her figure tightly between his arms.

She released a soft chuckle against his lips but didn’t need an invitation to relax against him and return the same affection back.

Didn’t last long though. Not as much as he wanted. Selina placed her hands on his chest, pushing him back down on the floor and raising above him.

She sent him a wicked look, grinning. “Now I better stop distracting you, uh?”

He was too in ecstasy to know what she meant. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered about the Batman but chose to ignore it for another second.

Selina leaned on him softly pecking on his lips, and then chin, just a second before she jumped up. She gathered her ripped panties from the floor, giving it a dreamy gaze. She released a sigh and just after she turned towards him, who was still laying on the floor.

“Well? Weren’t you in a hurry?”

“I guess.” He grumbled, knowing she was right and also knowing the last thing he wanted to do now was going in the cold streets of Gotham to fight criminals.

But his sense of duty banged in his chest, pushing him to get up.

Bruce gathered himself, fixing his trousers. And while he did, Selina moved closer to him. She placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him in such a devoted way that made his knees weak.

“Can you take me home? I’ve got to feed the cats.”

A smile crossed his lips. “Should have time for that. But I’ll need five minutes to change. I’ll be quick.”

“Ok.” She pulled closer to his chest, smiling in such a charming way. “I am keeping the dress. And the shoes.”

“Yes.” Anything she wanted.

Bruce looked away and forced himself to take a step back. If he kept being so close and intoxicated by her… He would have never gathered enough control to get to his business.

“And then, if you are up for a real date…” She slid her hands on his shoulders but turned around him without going any closer, leaving him there, suspended, hoping for it. “I can bring you to where the 44 Below is now.”

Bruce just nodded. Silence now fell upon him. It was time for the Batman to come out, to detach himself from romance and think about duty.

[mercy-burning]

Nightfall

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After a near-death experience on the job and dark nightmares that follow, Reader and Spencer find comfort in each other. Category: ANGST / FLUFF (hurt/comfort?) / ***OPTIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+)*** Warnings: A nightmare sequence that includes brief mentions of a chainsaw, dismemberment, and blood/gore, heavy crying, basically it’s just very sad and dark, but comforting and soft at the end | SMUT includes: handjob, cum eating, shower sex, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex Word Count: 1.6k | 3.3k

Full Request: “Could you do a spencer fic where the reader wakes up from a night terror due to nearly dying on a recent case, and leaves the bed and Spencer panics because he can’t find them in the bedroom, and it becomes a mutual comfort fic where Spencer’s trying to calm both him and the reader down with just lots of angst and fluff?...” — @willowrose99

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: Y’all, I can’t believe this is the final 1k request!! I’ve had so much fun writing these, so thank you for sending them in, reading, reblogging them, and for celebrating this milestone with me!!

This one’s a little... dark. And extremely sad. I actually, like, sobbed writing this, so I apologize in advance. It also gets a little horror movie-esque during the nightmare sequence, so I apologize if that’s not your thing (I’ve been watching a shit-ton of horror movies lately and I love it lol) ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy this final request! Thank you again for celebrating with me, it means the world ❤

***

It started with flashes of light, faintly resembling fireworks as they shot through the nightfall, albeit silently. They were constant, red and blue and— They were police lights... But he should have heard sirens to accompany them, right? Why weren't there sirens? If he tried hard enough, though, through the loud thumping in his ears, he could faintly make out a high pitched whine. Or... was it a cry?

Crying.

No—sobbing.

Screaming.

It was at this point that Y/N had awaken, screaming almost at the top of her lungs as she startled forward in bed. Though it took a few painstakingly long seconds to realize where she was and that she was safe, at home with Spencer and bathed in the deep sound of silence, she still felt the hum of the chainsaw and it's loud groaning as it descended closer and closer above her neck. It was loud, haunting, and even as she furiously rubbed at her eyes, the images and sounds wouldn't go away.

She stumbled from the bed and trembled the entire way to the bathroom, so enraptured in terror that she was entirely unaware that Spencer had only merely jumped in his sleep at the sound of her screaming.

Meanwhile his dream continued, that high crying sound fading into some sort of tune that resembled a music box... As he made his way through the flashing lights, they also seemed to dissipate, eventually leading him to one single streetlight in the middle of a field. But underneath it stood a large pile of dirt, something glistening on top of it as it... spun?

He approached the dirt, only to notice it was, in fact, a music box that he was hearing. Each note grew louder and louder as he crouched down to get a closer look, and without warning it started to smell like... rotting flesh. It was unmistakable. But... why? There weren't any bodies around, only the music box rotating on a pile of...

It was a grave.

And right as he finally recognized the tune coming from the music box, which served as some type of headstone, Spencer was pushed back, the dirt rumbling until something shot up from the grave, sending the music box shattering in front of him into pieces.

It couldn't be... I saved her, she's not... It can't be her...

The tune was her favorite song. And as the music box sat broken in front of him, he realized it was also a gift to her from her late mother.

But it couldn't have been her...

The streetlight flickered heavily as whatever shot up out of the grave started to come into better view. Arms outstretched, until the left one gave off a glow that pulsed at its ring finger— A glittering diamond ring that he'd picked out years ago and had sat on her hand ever since.

But it couldn't have been her...

The arm fell clean off the figure with a loud thud, and then it dissolved into a pool of crimson, the glittering ring laying right in the middle, untouched and untainted by the gore. The rest of the figure trembled heavily until he heard the tune again— Only now, it was her voice. It lowly hummed the melody as a head came into view, slowly revealing her face.

But... It couldn't have been her...

Spencer trembled as her voice continued to hum, each note becoming more warped and drowned out until suddenly, the streetlight stopped flickering and remained blinding.

There was no mistake anymore.

Under the harsh white light, Y/N's tattered, dirty and bloody body was sitting up in a pile of dirt like it might have once been sand at a beach. Her left arm was a pool of boiling blood next to her, and the ring still laid there, as sparkly and ethereal as ever—the only good thing that remained.

"Why didn't you save me?" she drawled, her voice deep and warped. The terror grew and grew in the pit of his stomach as he watched her head, a thin, red line at her neck getting larger and larger as it tilted... Farther and farther to the left, until finally, she laughed, and it snapped clean off her body and into the pool of blood that once was her left arm.

All he could do was shake violently, his mouth open in a silent scream as the wind nearly knocked him out.

When Spencer woke up, he couldn't breathe.

His eyes shot open and his hand clutched at his chest as he tried to catch his breath. And even as he blinked rapidly, gradually realizing it was all a dream and that he was at home, his breath slowly coming back to him, the shaking he was experiencing was still very real.

The first thing he did was reach for her hand, her body, anything to let him know that she was with him.

And all he found underneath his fingers was a cold sheet.

"Y/N?" he whimpered out, turning frantically to see if he could spot her. His heart beat frantically in his chest to the point where it's all he could hear, panic starting to settle in his bones even as he scrambled out of bed and went searching for her.

On shaky legs, Spencer travelled throughout the house, a purchase they'd made only a year ago. It still hadn't entirely felt like home, but after being married for four years whilst traveling everywhere for work, they'd come to terms with that fact that home was wherever they were together. But right now the Reid house felt more foreign than usual, because things were bad, and Spencer couldn't find his wife anywhere. His home was with her, and without her, without home, he was empty.

When he stumbled into the bathroom, swinging the door open and turning on the light with fumbling, shaky hands, he heard a yelp coming from the direction of the bathtub. And when his eyes landed on his wife, huddled in an empty tub and visibly shaking just as badly as he was, his world corrected just a little bit.

"Baby?" he whispered, silently asking if it was alright to approach her.

All she did was stare blankly at him, her body trembling as tears silently streamed down her face. Her bottom lip was wobbling, and it was then that he knew she wouldn't be able to speak.

"Y—You had a bad dream, too?" he whispered again. She nodded, still shaking, and the tiny sob that cracked through her closed lips gave him permission to move forward.

He was still anxious as he got in the tub with her, cuddling up next to her and letting her fall tirelessly into his open arms. He hugged her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head and feeling tears of his own start to well in his eyes as her breathing labored. This time he could audibly hear her breathing, just as shaky as her body was, and even though she made no sound, it didn't take a genius to understand that she was silently sobbing.

The wetness from her tears soaked through his thin tee shirt, and with every second she hugged him tighter and tighter, her breathing getting heavier until she eventually let out one, huge screaming sob that shattered his heart in two. His own tears fell hot like streams of liquid fire down his face as they cemented into the top of her head and spread throughout her own body, expelling themselves through screeches of emotional pain and a tight grip.

It was a vicious cycle that only slowed when Spencer fell backwards, causing them to fall down and Y/N to choke out a sob-infused fit of uncontrollable laughter. It was chaotic and cathartic, a vessel of release that felt very much like home to them despite the coldness that had infiltrated their dreams and made them feel hopeless and scared.

Just being there together, holding each other as they cried, slowly washed that hopelessness away until their cries became laughs, which then dissolved into a sweet, comfortable silence that further cemented the fact that they'd only been dreams.

This? Right now? This was real.

Spencer's hand gently combing back his wife's hair as it fell in her face and threatened to stick to her mouth? That was real.

Y/N's clutch on her husband's tee shirt that was sure to leave wrinkles and tear stains, the thought of the moment when he'd inevitably joked that she 'leaked' all over him making her laugh? That was real.

It wasn't long before the two of them drifted off into near-unconsciousness, laying down uncomfortably in the porcelain tub but too afraid to move that they'd endure it for the night.

Y/N loosened her clutch on Spencer's shirt, taking to placing each of her hands on his chest instead as she nuzzled her face into his neck. Her cheeks were itchy with dried tears, and the dampness of his shirt from the same thing felt oddly comforting pressed coolly against her palms.

"I love you, Spencer," she whispered.

The gravel in her voice slightly made his heart sink, but it rose again when she pressed the most loving kisses to his neck, conveying all the love and appreciation and warmth that they could. He glanced down at her hands, the glittering ring on the left one looking rather dull compared to his nightmare. But then she twitched her hand, and under the soft blue tint of the bathroom light, it glinted in a quick flash.

He placed one of his hands over hers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before whispering back, "I love you, too."

***OPTIONAL SMUT ENDING***

Waking up in a bathtub was bound to be painful, but after such a deep, dreamless sleep, Spencer and Y/N found it somewhat comforting. It was strange waking up wrapped up in each other in a bathtub after a solid hour and a half of emotional wreckage the night before, sure, but once they realized where they were, the goofy, half-asleep smiles they adorned couldn't be of any greater comfort than a warm, soft bed.

Their wordless greetings began when Y/N ran her thumb gently across the planes of her husband's chest, letting him know she was awake. He did the same, running his thumb along the inside of her other arm. Soon after, it was her whole hand, tracing his entire torso up and down for a few cycles until she reached the hem of his shirt and slipped it underneath. She closed her eyes and sighed, kissing his neck while feeling goosebumps start to rise on his skin.

Her kisses became deeper and more sloppy when he reached out and clutched her other hand, lacing their fingers together and bringing them up to his mouth. He sighed over the back of her hand, and it didn't take very long for Y/N to feel his hips twitch against her, a familiar hardness bringing a cheeky smile to her lips.

Spencer felt it against his neck, and as his whole being went into a state of utter bliss as he wondered how one single being could have this great of an effect on him.

He was hyperaware of her wandering hand as it slipped out from under his shirt in favor of slipping into another fabric. The moment her delicate fingers grazed his dick, he groaned against her hand, giving it open-mouthed kisses that well-mirrored the ones she was currently giving his neck.

After a bit of fumbling around to get him free of his pajama pants and boxers, Y/N's hand was firmly wrapped around her husbands hard, ready cock. She swiped her thumb over the tip and spread around some of the precum there before humming into his neck and starting a quick, dry pace that allowed her to feel every dip and ridge of him. Spencer's head tilted back to give her more access to her neck, causing his forehead to softly thump against the cool porcelain of the tub.

And then she made sure to pay special attention to the underside of his tip, gently rubbing circles into it with her thumb as her tongue did the same to the weak spot on his neck. These two things together, naturally, had him tensing within a matter of seconds, his throat expelling a deep groan as his dick expelled his thick, warm release over her hand.

Y/N only groaned against his throat as he finished,=. And when he did, she brought her hand to her mouth and started to lick it clean as she sat up and straddled him.

"Good morning to you, too," Spencer sighed with a small laugh as he watched her sucking off her fingers. Though her shorts were still on, she started to rock against his thigh, using her other hand on the side of the tub as leverage. "I can help you out, you know," he offered, starting to sit up.

She had other plans, but the scratchiness in his voice—no doubt because he'd just woken up but also due to the crying last night—took those plans and threw them out the window. She'd let him do whatever he wanted, something that was a usual occurrence, but when it came to his morning voice she couldn't resist.

So she waited as he sat up, his hands immediately finding their way to her shirt, which he lifted and threw out of the tub. And then he used his thumbs to gently swipe over the peak of her breasts, leaning forward to kiss her neck ad mumble "I love you," into her skin. She sighed and grinded on his thigh again, each swipe of his thumbs over her hardened nipples giving a new jolt of pleasure with each grind. She gripped his hair softly, combing through it and twirling pieces of it around her fingers, her eyes fluttering closed and her mind going numb so as to completely live in the moment and focus on the way he touched her and loved her unconditionally.

Spencer brought one of his hands down to pull at the waistband of her shorts, and against her leg, Y/N felt him grow hard again. So she lifted her hips and let him slide her shorts and underwear down, and once she got them off her legs she tossed them out with her shirt and worked at his own clothes. Due to the small space in the bathtub, things were most certainly clumsy and impatient, but once the clothing barriers were gone for good, leaving them both completely bare, it was an easy feat to stand and get easy access to each other.

Y/N whined into his mouth as he pushed her against the shower wall, her hands exploring the planes of his hack and his ass while he reached behind her and turned the shower on. Water rained down on them, freezing at first, but it got warmer each second as they made out and let their hands roam.

Soon, though, one of Spencer's hands came down to grab Y/N's thigh, and she wrapped that leg around his waist, pulling him closer as she brought her hand down to line him up.

"You don't want me to use my mouth?" he whispered into her mouth in between kisses as she ran the head of his dick through her pussy.

"Mmm... Later," she sighed back, circling his tip over her clit a few times before deeply kissing him and using her leg to pull him closer. "Right now I need you inside me."

Who was he to deny her anything? So he slowly pushed into her, dropping his head to rest on her shoulder.

The water was arm now, mostly cascading down his back, but it rolled to the front of him, accenting every forward snap of his hips with a loud smack.  His thrusts were quick, but each time he went forward, he stayed there for a moment, not only to make sure he didn't go too fast and end up slipping, but also to gauge his wife's reactions— feeling her nails scratch lightly down his shoulders, the rumble her throat as she groaned at each slow circle of his hips as they connected with hers... His primary goal was to draw out every little noise and reaction from her until she was crying out with pleasure, honestly his favorite sound in the world.

The only thing that came close was when she begged.

"Baby, please," she whined, her hands reaching down to grab his ass. "I need more..."

Spencer groaned into her neck, granting her wish and setting a quicker pace drilling into her. She clenched her whole body around him, not only to draw out more pleasure, but to keep a good grip so they wouldn't fall. In the few times that they'd had sex in the shower prior to this, they'd always taken precautions by bending Y/N over the edge of the tub as he fucked her, though the floor usually ended up almost completely soaked with water by the end of it. Which, of course, was why they'd hardly ever done it.

But when you and your significant other wake up in the bathtub after a rough night, sometimes you just have to take advantage of the opportunity.

Everything seemed to work out, though, because it didn't take any time at all for them to get there. With one orgasm already under Spencer's belt and the constant thrumming of his dick against Y/N's g-spot, the two of them were only seconds away from losing themselves in blinding bliss.

Sure enough, his hips started to stutter, and she held his ass close to her as he stilled and came yet again. She cried out in high whines as her walls fluttered around him, and even as she came down, her grip on him remained, the sudden urge to be as close as possible to her husband outweighing any concern about overstimulation.

Even as he pulled out of her and started to kneel, Y/N kept her hands on him at all times, settling them finally in his wet hair as she sighed. "What are you doing?"

"You said later," is all he offered in response. "It's later."

And then he licked a long line along the inside of her thigh where his cum had started to drip out. The sight below her almost turned her on more than the touch itself, what with the way the water covered him and sprinkled his face as he looked up at her. Eventually though, the water in his eyes was too much, so he stuck to keeping them down as he gently ran his tongue through her pussy and cleaned her up, bringing on another impending orgasm for her in the process.

Y/N brushed his wet curls away from his face as he did it, gently tugging on them and rolling her hips slightly to get more friction. But he held them still, his way of telling her that he was going to take his time with her and that it would be worth it in the end.

And worth it it was. Anything he did would have been worth it, but Y/N couldn't deny the loud cries of intense pleasure as his tongue rapidly flicked over her clit, never slowing or picking up the pace. He kept at it, over and over and over until she was shaking above him, her grip in his hair so tight that it elicited moans of his own.

Once he could tell she was done, her grip becoming a little too tight, Spencer pulled away, pressing wet kisses along her body as he made his way back up to his feet.

"There," he said, kissing her cheek and then nuzzling into her neck once more. "And now we're even."

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around her husband and holding him tight as they stepped further into the water to wash up.

***

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[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

So on the one ask about the yandere marriage. What would happen if the same characters darling escaped and actually tried fighting back? Probably won’t work out but they tried.

You are correct, darling tried. But it didn’t work, and lead to some harsh consequences.

Germany – The sweet and outgoing nature of his kitten made her seem docile. Luther didn’t count on her claws coming out when she was cornered.

Luther’s love for his kitten will cause him to gloss over her rough behavior at first. Every protest would be seen as a concern that could be swept under the rug. Yelling and screaming would be a lover’s quarrel. It wasn’t until her hand hit his face that Luther would realize that harsher methods would be needed.

Luther’s methods would start off simple, leaving Kitten in a sealed room for a day or two. Each time-out session’s length would be based on what the actions of rebellion would be. After trying this for a couple of months, and reaching isolation periods of two weeks, or having a weapon drawn on him, Luther would up the intensity.

Instead of just isolation, it would start to include chains, starvation, and darkness. These restrictions could eventually break Kitten down to the point of submission. If she hadn’t won Luther’s trust through fake affections and obedience first.

She would either escape through an open window or convince Luther to get extremely intoxicated to the point of passing out. At that point, she could walk right out the front door.

Once Luther realizes what happens, Kitten had better pray that she stays ahead. Luther’s methods are reminiscent of a hunting dog. Persistent and willing to use the pack. If Luther couldn’t find her within three days, then he’s calling the other axis members. More than likely, the help of the other members will corner Kitten quickly.

After she is found, Luther doesn’t wait. He swoops in the second she is away from witnesses and knocks her out. All Kitten manages to squeak out is a “Luther!” and then it's dark.

When she awakens, all she can feel is pain. Luther broke her dominant leg, and though it was well wrapped, she noticed a couple of other new things. The chains that once wrapped only around her ankles became a harness. It's not cutting off circulation, but it was tight. The room she’s in is small, stone, and cold. The only light in the room came from the crack in the door.

This would be the punishment for escape. Luther had been worried and at least this way he knows where she is. Maybe on their five-year anniversary, she could come out.

Sweden – Hustru was a ray of sunshine. Beautiful, bright, and also hot. Not just in terms of attractiveness, her warm cherry attitude would easily change to a blistering fury. This was amusing to Bernard, despite being from an area known for chills, this heat was welcoming.

Going the route of a true yandere, Bernard would hide you away, his logic would be that all newlyweds need some time. Though since it was done with approval from both of their bosses, it would not be in one of his unknown places, rather a newer and known spot, one designed just for her. It would be a simple house, out in the foggy Swedish forest. The outside would be reminiscent of a by-gone area, but the inside would be a mix of modern and medieval.

Bernard thought she enjoyed it until she started to fight against his ‘simple’ rules. Things like yelling and screaming would be funny to him. It was showing Bernard a side that he hadn’t yet witnessed, and he enjoyed that. Each action of rebellion would be recorded by him with joy. Until that is, hustru decided to get physical.

Bernard, like Luther, is fine with backtalk. Physical fighting though is a sign of distrust and the breakdown of his bond with his hustru. At this, hustru would be restrained and with his silver tongue, he would talk her out of attacking. His voice would sound joyful, but his eyes would communicate anything but that.

That would be her only warning. If hustru would attempt another attack, Bernard wouldn’t hesitate to break a limb. This should quell her fire for a time, and at that moment Bernard would coo at her. A sweet voice asking how she could be so clumsy, and how she should allow Bernard to take care of it.

Eventually, it would reach the boiling point she would make a break for it. Bernard would have been waiting for this moment. After all, he already takes people to his home, Bernard knows that it's only a matter of time before they run.

He would follow behind slowly, fully understanding what she would be looking for in an escape route. Each turn hustru would make, she could hear Bernard taunting her and making false promises. Whether or not hustru would realize it, Bernard would be herding her like a ewe to the slaughterhouse.

Bernard would end the chase by cornering hustru. It would either be by a cliff or a lake. Her look of panic would thrill Bernard, and he would descend upon her like a wolf. Their struggle would last until Bernard could give either a hard blow to the back of her head, chokehold, or hold her head in the water.

Holding her now unconscious body close, Bernard would take her away. She would not return to the nice home in the Swedish forest but instead would find herself in an unfamiliar place. It was Sweden’s oldest and best-hidden spot.

This one is underground and like a hobbit hole. Though the inside is much bigger and maze-like. Hustru will never find the door, but Bernard will always be there to give her affection.

Russia – Viktor knew marriage was an adjustment for both the husband and the wife. They were living together for the first time, and that meant getting used to each other’s constant presence. Well, at least for родная, since Viktor knew everything about her. Though, he was reaching the end of his patience with her insults.

Viktor would be willing to turn a blind eye to any rebellion for about a week or two. As I said, marriage is an adjustment, and he would be willing to give родная some time. After that period, and if she is still fighting their love, then Viktor sees reason to correct the bad behavior.

As a yandere Viktor is fine with the occasional comment. Should родная do it more often than that, or attempt to lay it on thick Viktor is gonna act. His punishments are always smart and calculating with the purpose of ensuring submission. It starts simple; restricting her time outside the home and the disappearance of specific privileges. Things like entertainment and basic comforts are the first to go. As time goes on, and if she chooses to escalate her acts, then it's only gonna get worse.

Physical attacks lead to periods of isolation, additional housework, and prevention of sleep. These three together would make it easier for Viktor to shape her behaviors and throughout ask her specific questions to see how she is coming along. If родная is smart enough, she will submit quickly to avoid seeing how far he is willing to take this.

If родная should escape, she then there must be an insurance that Viktor is not home. Once out of the home, then she has no choice but to take the alleyways. Viktor’s men are well-rounded and without a doubt one of them is well versed in hacking. Once found, whether it be via a security camera, or through the use of documents, Viktor will bring her home.

It won’t be a pretty moment. One, it would be in public and there would be screaming and begging. Two, no one would help, mainly because Viktor would appear not only her husband but provide papers to make it seem like she had some illness that required guardianship.

In the end, she’s in a basement tied to a chair. From there Viktor would work once again with his previous taming methods, this time though he would make sure it sticks.

England – Oliver was quite pleased on their wedding day. It was beautiful and perfect, but the events since that wonderful day have been troubling to him. His sweet little Dearie appeared to not be adjusting well to married life, but he’s got the tools to help.

Oliver has always had a need for control, and after the American Revolution, it had gotten worse. When Dearie fights, it’s almost like a flashback for him. He doesn’t handle it well, Oliver is willing to give a warning, after all, it is his wife. Though after not only having his warning ignored but receiving back-to-back threats and the claims that he is a monster, Oliver decides that his wife needs lessons on how to be a lady and housewife.

These lessons range from proper posture and basic manners to tea ceremonies and fancy dances. The length and frequency of the lessons depend on the severity of her crimes. Which to Oliver, each is extremely severe and must be taught out of his sweet little dearie.

For each lesson, Oliver has an enchanted device. For posture, a corset with celestial bronze and white silk. Each attempt of slouching or relaxing causes it to tighten like a python with a rabbit in its coils. Dance lessons involve iron shoes, not only do they burn when the dancing stops, but they can only be removed by Oliver. These are just two of many that he has.

Her escape would not be easy. Oliver’s flying bunnies, Chocolate and Strawberry would always be nearby. Waiting and ready to report. Her best chance of escape would be a moment of pure chaos. Whether she caused it or she had been blessed with it, this would be her only chance of escape.

Once he realizes that she had run away, Oliver would open his dreaded spellbook. The magic would flit and fly around him as he reads various spells. Creatures of all kinds would be summoned and with the leadership of his bunnies, they would spread across the land like the shadows that appear with the setting sun.

Eventually, she would be found. Caught and dragged away by the various shadows Dearie thought she had escaped.

Once Oliver had her back in his arms, an enchantment would be placed. Nothing too harmful, just something that would bind their souls together. Forever.

[thefanficmonster]

I’m Right Here

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident (minor), Injuries

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: There is nothing scarier than those moments when every breath you take is shallow; when your heart is racing and your body is drenched in cold sweat. When you are rushing to the aid of a hurt loved one, knowing you can never be fast enough because your mind and fear are at least a mile ahead of you. Corpse has to experience these exact moments after a frightening call that informs him of his girlfriend’s car accident.

Requested by @sugiliteshadow . Hi! Thank you so much for you request, darling. Sorry to be posting it so late and I can’t thank you enough for your patience. I hope the fic itself makes up for the wait. Please enjoy! Stay safe! Love, Vy ❤

It’s been about an hour since I got off the phone with Y/N and my concern is through the roof. She called me from the parking lot of the office building where she works at, telling me she’s be home in less than half an hour and asking if I needed her to pick up anything along the way. I have been trying to brush away the worries, comforting myself with the fact that I did request a specific type of iced tea and knowing Y/N, she’s probably looking for it in multiple stores because she couldn’t find it in the convenience store that’s along her way back home. I should’ve told her not to sweat it considering I don’t need it right away or anything.  I have tried distracting myself with editing just to hinder myself from picking up my phone and debating weather to call her or not. I may be worried but I don’t wanna put her life in danger by calling her while she’s driving.

I keep my hands on my keyboard and mouse, my phone halfway across the room just in case. Another thirty minutes pass by with no sound of the door being unlocked or even a car pulling up. My fingers are beginning to drum over the buttons on my keyboard anxiously. I have had to go back and redo so many things with the video I’m editing because my mind simply isn’t present. It’s wandering around the city, looking for that one familiar car that’s always outside our house, parked in the driveway. That’s currently being driven by my girlfriend of two years Y/N.

My phone’s ringtone snaps me out of the downwards spiral of my thoughts, simultaneously picking up the speed of my heartbeat. I basically launch myself out of my chair and towards the bed where the ringing is coming from. I feel a wave of relief rush over me when I see Y/N’s name on the lit screen.

“Hey babe, where have you been?“ I ask as soon as I answer the call. It feels like my whole body shuts down when I finally pick up on the sound of blaring sirens in the background.

“Sir, I’m sorry to inform you Miss Y/L/N has been in an accident.” The words the female voice on the phone says cut through me like a knife, sending chills of paralyzing fear all over my body, “You were the last person she contacted before the accident which is why we’ve stepped in contact with you. However, if you are not able to come collect Miss Y/L/N, please contact a family member of hers.“

The calmness of her tone is freaking me out of my skin and mind, “Is she ok?! Where is she?!“

“She’s alright, sir. She’s not completely conscious yet, though. But she will be by the time you arrive. Her injuries are not in any way life-threatening. She has a few cuts and bruises and a concussion. A medical team has already taken care of her.“

Before I know it, I’m already out the door, the location the policewoman gave me in my head as I get behind the wheel of my car which I rarely use. Thankfully, the road the accident happened on is less than fifteen minutes away. Due to the late hour there is close to no traffic on the roads so I make it to the scene in no time.  Y/N’s car is surrounded by two cop cars and two ambulances. I barely even notice the black Honda Civic that is almost equally as beat up as Y/N’s Toyota. Speaking of the Toyota, its front bumper is completely obliterated - the headlights, blinkers and windshield in pieces and shards on the pavement. 

In the first ambulance there’s a guy passed out on a gurney with an ivy rip connected to his arm. In the one next to it is Y/N, sitting hunched over with her head hanging low, her hair falling over her face. 

“Y/N?“ I rush over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but withdrawing my arm in case she has a bruise in that spot.

She lifts her head, a look of relief and happiness flashing across her face. She lets out a sigh, a small smile appearing on her lips as her eyes fill with tears. “Corpse...” her hand reaches out for mine which is still hanging in the air. I give her my other hand and she uses me as support to slowly stand up. She lets go of my hands and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug as a quiet sob leaves her chest. “I was so scared when I woke up. I couldn’t remember anything.”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. I’m here, I’m right here.“ I gently smooth her hair while carefully holding her in my embrace. She has a few purple bruises along her arms and cuts on her cheek and neck which are covered in white bandages with small dark red stains. The most major thing I can see is the cut on her left temple which is also covered up. I press a tender kiss to the right one. “Are you in any pain?“ I pull away to get a better look at her.

Thankfully she shakes her head, “No, I’m ok. My elbow hurts a little but that’s it.”

I nod, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead. Just as I’m about to ask her what exactly happened one one of the police officers approaches us.

“A drunk driver. He ran the red light and crashed straight into her car.“ The officer says, judging by her voice it’s the same woman that called me. “You don’t remember that, do you?“

Y/N turns to her, “I just remember hearing a loud crash and then darkness. I didn’t know what had happened until you told me when I woke up.”

The policewoman gives us a sincere smile, lightly touching Y/N’s shoulder “It’s ok, sweetheart. You are alright, that’s what matters. And you have someone here by your side.”

Y/N’s eyes meet mine when she gives me the most loving glance, the one that I often catch in her eyes - the one that always melts me. “He always is.” she says, running her fingers down my arm, interlocking hers with mine when they reach my hand.

The policewoman tells us good night and walks over to the other ambulance. We stick around to see the cars get taken away and Y/N gives her info so they can contact her when the car is repaired. I know how much she loves that car - it’s the first and only car she has ever owned. She has had it for about seven years and calls it her child basically. I never thought I’d be jealous of a car in my life - just kidding. But my point has been made - she’s never been apart from it or driven another car.

Wrapping my arm around her while she watches her car being taken away, I turn her around, leading her towards my car. “Let’s get you home. You’ll be 100% under my care and no complaints will be accepted.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, snuggling up into my side, “Don’t make a big deal about this please. And, for the love of God, don’t baby me too much, ok?”

I grin down at her, “What was that, I didn’t quite catch it?“

“Corpseeee...“ She pouts, a frown on her face, making her look so childish it’s absolutely adorable.

“Save the whining, it ain’t gonna work.“ I open the door to the passenger seat, stepping aside so she can get in the my car.

Surprisingly enough, she actually doesn’t complain the rest of the way home nor when we arrive. Nor when I instruct her to stay in bed and not move unless it’s absolutely necessary. I basically bring all the snacks from the kitchen into our room while she compiles a list of movies we will be watching because no sleep will be had tonight.  “I love you.“ Y/N says through a sigh halfway through the second movie.

“I love you too. But don’t fall asleep.“ I tickle her side, causing her to giggle and squirm in an attempt to get away from me.

“Ok, ok, but you’re gonna have to help me. If I blink, I’ll be a goner.“ She yawns, shuffling back towards me. When she flashes me that hinting wide smile, I know exactly what she’s insinuating.

I sigh, giving in with ease. “When you were here before...“

“Couldn’t look you in the eye...“ she backs me up just as I knew she would

“You’re just like an angel...“

“Your skin makes me cry...“

Needless to say, we end up duetting random songs - rap songs, heavy metal, pop songs, some of my songs, some Christmas songs, Disney songs - making it one of the best movie marathons we’ve ever had, the unfortunate events of the day far behind us and completely gone from our minds.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @symphony-butterfly  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @baby-iyania  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @pinkhairedsapphic  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap  @maybe-im-dead-idk  @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade  @chaoticgayandnerdy  @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @strawberrycheesecakekenzistuff  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @amysingh2512  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @faepetersen  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Transport Van

Sorry for the inactivity recently! I am going to try and get back writing. To start that, here is something whumpy with a bit of comfort (or atleast hope for comfort)

@the-sky-writes

Warnings: painful wound cleaning, borderline torture, beaten, unconsciousness, arrow wound, concussion, broken ribs, implied pursuit

*not edited*

~

Villain laid unconscious in the transport van, his arms bound and strung up above his head that flopped uselessly around. His legs were sprawled out, toes angling outwards. His face, a mess of bruises and grazes, barely flinched when the vehicle ran over bumps in the road.

An arrow pierced his thigh, right above his knee. It ran inwards, half of the metal rod imbedded deep into the muscle. Still wet blood dripped lazily down his leg, pooling at the slightly grated floor below.

Hero breathed heavily as she watched him from the driver's seat. A barred window separated them, though with the limitless way the heroes treated their captives, it was hardly necessary.

The captured man was beaten senseless after being cruelly shot with an arrow. He would need surgery on that- not that he would receive such liberty, and if he did it would be done while he was conscious and alert, fully aware of pain.

Hero leaned her cheek against the bars, noting how the villain struggled to breathe. Ribs were broken, most likely snapped. It brought a feeling of nausea up Hero's throat.

She glanced over at the driver, Superhero. One of his hands aimlessly hung out of the window while the other steered the dark green van. He hummed a song under his breath, barely paying attention to the beaten figure in the back. Hero looked at him, slightly annoyed and very disgusted. Yes, she beat up villains for a living, but something was special about this one.

He was her personal nemesis, so in a feud driven way, she cared for him.

And boy did she hate seeing him in his current state.

"Superhero," Hero murmured, gently nudging her companion. He gave her a sideyed look before mumbling,

"What?"

"This is wrong," she said bluntly before she chickened out. Superhero narrowed his eyes and looked at Hero skeptically.

"What's wrong? We do this on the daily." Superhero gestured towards the knocked out villain. Hero looked backwards too. Gosh was he getting paler...

"He has an arrow up his leg."

"So?"

"So? It will get infected and he will die in the conditions we are planning on putting him in."

"Maybe he should have thought about that before he decided to rob that bank," Superhero retorted in a weak chuckle. Hero sneered and collapsed back into her seat, frowning.

Getting Villain into the prison wasn't hard whatsoever. He didn't even wake, head leaning against Superhero's shoulder as he was carried to an awaiting wheelchair. He was promptly strapped down into it, wrists and ankles bound by leather buckles. He grimaced slightly, face contorting into an expression of discomfort. But Superhero did not care- it infuriated Hero, who was watching the interaction from afar.

Villain was then pushed into the prison. Guards armed with guns watched them with grim faces as they played with the safety of their weapons. Hero hurried past them and followed her captured enemy.

Superhero wheeled him into a secluded cell. It made Hero's blood boil- Villain didn't even get to be around others. He locked the wheels of the chair in place before crouching in front of Villain. He took out a water bottle and spurted some across the bruised face of the villain.

Villain moaned as he blearily blinked his eyes open, revealing the haziness underneath those drooping lids. He struggled to look arounds, breaths quickening, before he slumped forward once again. His eyes drifted shut and-

Superhero slapped Villain hard across the face.

"Stay awake you idiot," he growled, teeth clenched. Hero tentatively took a step forward, ready to protect Villain as best she could.

Though what exactly could she do that wouldn't jeopardize him further? Superhero would overtake her and likely punish Villain for it.

So she stayed still, observing.

Villain groaned, head limply jerking backwards with the momentum of the strike. His eyes opened once again, however, they were rolling back.

He wouldn't stay conscious much longer.

Superhero smirked and walked away from the prisoner. He grabbed a bottle of listerine and a knife. Hero nearly threw up at the connotation. Superhero was going to remove the arrow with that.

She found herself drifting closer and closer to the villain.

"What did I say," Superhero yelled suddenly, grabbing Villain right under the chin. The villain's eyes flew open in shock as he struggled against the larger man's iron grasp.

Superhero's hands went to the sides of Villain's neck and he squeezed. It took only a few seconds for the bloodflow to cease flow into the villain's brain and he went limp.

"Why did you do that!" Hero shrieked, running to Villain's side.

Superhero let go, smiling faintly as the color rushed back into Villain's face. "Punishment, dearest Hero," he cooed, placing his index finger underneath Villain's chin and angling his face up. The villain was just waking up, eyes bloodshot and glazed.

"For what?" Hero asked, though she knew the answer. She caressed Villain's cheek with her hand and drew the practically lifeless head to her. Villain whimpered and leaned into her contact.

"He was passing out again," Superhero replied with a shrug.

"Because you gave him a concussion," Hero seethed, leaning Villain's head against the tall backrest of the wheelchair.

"What's with the sudden morals?" Superhero asked, sounding exasperated. He glared down at Hero. "You have nearly killed men and women before, you know, or have you forgotten?"

Hero let out a curt sigh. Superhero was right and this hypocrisy wasn't that heroic. She wasn't any better than her fellow heroes.

"We should change our ways," Hero tried a different approach. Superhero rolled his eyes, basically saying no, before he grabbed the metal arrow and tugged.

Any leftover grogginess escaped the villain as he screamed. Hero felt a sudden urge to cry, but she held herself together. She grabbed Villain's hand- the one that wasn't bloodied- and held onto it.

Superhero continued to pull until Villain's screams diminished to breathy pleas. His head rested back over his shoulder, face red with tears.

"That's not working," Hero pointed out, but it was morw than clear that Superhero knew exactly that.

"You're right," Superhero agreed innocently, amusement apparent in his tone. He grabbed the knife, a dull one, Hero noticed, and jammed it into Villain's thigh.

The villain tried to pull away, but the unrelenting restraints made that impossible. He gasped for breath instead.

Superhero hummed as he hacked at the wound. Hero nervously bit her lip. The wound was looking much worse than what it had to be...

On impulse, she sporadically grabbed Superhero's wrist and yanked him away. Her colleague stumbled back, face lit up in fury.

Hero quickly shoved the arrow deeper into Villain's thigh. The villain thrashed, beginning to scream again, but Hero continued to inflict the necessary agony.

The arrowhead made its appearance. Hero, with sticky fingers, grabbed it and pulled it out.

He wasn't awake for much longer after that.

[whispsofwind]

You know, I was thinking about Crowley (I know, big shock), and a few exchanges I had about one line specifically.

From the book:

He’d been an angel once. He hadn’t meant to Fall. He’d just hung around with the wrong people.

And from the TV show script book:

I didn’t fall. I didn’t mean to fall. I just hung around the wrong people.

(If I remember correctly, that first "I didn't fall" didn't make it into the show, but it's still echoed in the "I didn't fall, I just sauntered vaguely downwards" dialogue. So the sentiment is there).

On one hand, it's interesting to see the contrast between the book (he'd been an angel once) and the script (I didn't fall).

But what I want to concentrate on is the "I just hung around the wrong people" part, which stays identical.

Because I've seen the argument that we shouldn't take it at face value. The idea there is that Crowley is telling himself he just hung around the wrong people in order to comfort himself. With that sentence, he would be absolving himself of any wrongdoing, and putting a moral wall between himself and the rest of Hell, where he paints himself as better than they are.

The idea here, I think, would be that he's reframing himself as an innocent bystander as a way to cope with the trauma of falling, while in reality he wasn't an innocent bystander at all. It's basically a pretty white lie he's telling himself.

However, I feel pretty confident in taking that sentence at face value, and not just because of my personal headcanons. I think there's a strong argument for Crowley to have been an innocent bystander in the Fall, exactly like he says he was.

My reason for this is the way the TV script reframes the Fall as a workers' revolution kind of deal:

I was just minding my own business one day and then, looky here, it’s Lucifer and the guys, they say, hey, Crowley, my man, we’re just on our way to discuss the whole job conditions and career advancement thing, so, okay, the food hadn’t been that good lately, I’d got nothing on for the rest of that afternoon, next thing I know I’m doing a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur.

The other reason why I feel pretty confident in taking these affirmations at face value is this book section (I apologise if it's a bit long but I need it to make my point);

Aziraphale had tried to explain it to him once. The whole point, he’d said—this was somewhere around 1020, when they’d first reached their little Arrangement—the whole point was that when a human was good or bad it was because they wanted to be. Whereas people like Crowley and, of course, himself, were set in their ways right from the start. People couldn’t become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked.

Crowley had thought about this for some time and, around about 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can’t start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle.

Ah, Aziraphale had said, that’s the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have.

Crowley had said, That’s lunatic.

No, said Aziraphale, it’s ineffable.

Now this is an obviously fascinating bit and a meta analysis gold mine in terms of how free will works, the nature of angels and demons, and how Heaven's machine works (hey fun fact faith in the Church has historically been at its highest when things really, really sucked).

But the important bit I need is the bolded one. Crowley as a character believes that people should be treated equally and fairly. He believes it's not fair to judge people's actions and choices, and the morality thereof, without considering the circumstances they came from. He particularly believes that expecting people to be better, morally, by keeping them miserable is, in his own words, "lunatic".

So there it is, I think. What I get from this passage is that Crowley believes that class/economical differences play a part in making the world in general, and Heaven's system of judgement in particular, unfair.

So if we assume- and I think it's a fair assumption- that he held these ideas before the Fall, then it makes total sense that he would be attracted to the idea of a Revolution.

Heaven is a theocracy with a pretty rigid class system. If Crowley was, as I believe, middle-to-low in the angelic hierarchy, and Lucifer came to promise rights and "job conditions and career advancements", you can see how everything lines up quite nicely, I think. Especially because the Fall happened presumably towards the end of Creation, when angels like Crowley (involved in building the universe) were kind of about to lose their jobs. And with their jobs, their only purpose in life, because what's an angel's purpose if not their job?

Basically, what I am trying to say is, I 100% think that Crowley isn't lying to himself when he says he "just hung around the wrong people". He isn't comforting himself or making excuses for past sins, he's telling exactly what happened: he was looking for a more equal Heaven, and instead he got dragged into a War by a power hungry (or possibly just mistaken?) leader.

Basically, this whole thing is a giant "Crowley did nothing wrong and I stand by that" meme.

From this point onward, I actually think you could go into pretty interesting commentary re: the Cold War allegory, capitalism vs communism, the history of the URSS, and the fact that Crowley's philosophy when performing his job is basically the Industrial Revolution of temptations. I don't feel qualified enough for all that meaty stuff, so I'll stop here. Have fun tearing my reasoning apart (but please be nice about it, I am emotionally fragile and I just love GO very much).