#shit like that and it takes forever to figure out how to decipher it all into actual vision

[ask-acht]

What's it like being fully sanitized?

...its strange, to say the least. you see but not through your eyes. listen but without sound... it took getting used to.

[alliskit]

BG3 Headcanons Nobody Asked For.

Part 1: Sleep.

Staring up at my ceiling waiting to sleep made me ask, "How do the companions realistically sleep?" Thank you insomnia for the inspiration.

Gale:

He has to be comfy. He's particular about his pillows and will be very angry if someone "borrows" HIS pillow. (Karlach and Astarion thinks his reaction is funny and will steal it, likely giving it to Lae'zel who has no idea how it got in her tent and insists AGAIN it wasn't her)

It takes him a while to fall asleep, he's a canon overthinker and what better time than alone, pent up, in a tent.

Speaking of pent up, he is likely to wank off to help sleep. It's science. (Is thinking of tav)

Tosses slightly in REM or at the beginning, eventually stays pretty much in the same position all night.

On particularly stressful days/nights, he sleep talks. You could have full conversations with him, even if they are whacko and hilarious (Shadowheart loves to mess with this). He also says funny gimmicks in his sleep like his "By Algeron's nose!" quite loudly. It does wake camp and will start with others messing with him.

He has a tendency to early to sleep, early to rise, UNLESS he has found himself caught up in a recent hyperfixation where he will be up all night and crash at daybreak. His sleep will be much different and he crashes on his stomach, drooling a lot.

Most common position is one leg straight, the other slightly bent (almost making the 4 pose), hand on either side of his chest, unintentionally touching the orb.

Has a magical alarm set the to same time every morning. He gets up promptly and is a bit peeved by those who seem to "Dilly Dally" (because he says shit like that unironically) in the mornings.

Karlach:

Almost complete opposite of Gale. The girl's got ADHD as canon so IYKYK. If you don't *Let me describe it to you*:

She crashes. Girl can be asleep in under 20 minutes and can do it in almost any conditions. Had to learn to sleep wherever chasing devils in the hells. She rocks out and goes down hard.

Tosses and turns all night. Full on starfish queen. Always starts the morning with "Gods I was so cold last night". Likely because she kicked off all her covers at hour 2.

Sleeps hard. Doesn't wake up for anything. Zariel's entire entourage could show up at 2AM and she would have to be woken up.

She has 2 modes: #1) falls asleep before dinner because she just wanted a "nap", wakes at 4am for a snack and falls back to sleep. #2) She stays up talking until everyone is going to bed, even staying up to talk with whoever is on first watch and finally crashing when the second shift gets up.

It takes her forever to get out of bed. Everyone could be up and nearly ready to go and it takes the smell of food or someone nudging her to get her to start. Even if she does wake up, she takes forever to get ready or even off her bedroll. If the group wants to leave in a timely manner, someone has to get her up early (usually Gale because being late makes him angyyy. Also Lae'zel is very punctual but refuses to wake Karlach because "she needs to learn to do it on her own")

She is super groggy when she gets up. Will not talk to anyone.

Has to hug something: Tav, Clive, a pillow, extra bedroll, Scratch, etc.

Talks in her sleep as well, but hers are unintelligible. Some words like "Heya" or small phrases can be deciphered, but usually its just loud mumbles. (Cannot hold full on conversation like with Gale)

Vivid dreams. Likes to recount them on travels and tries to figure out if they mean something. They are usually very odd and funny. Though, she does have nightmares of the hells more often than she will admit. Has only admitted such to Astarion, who can relate.

Lae'zel:

Irish exits to bed. Tells no one. If everyone is drinking and she just decides she's tired, she goes to bed. Most don't even realize she's gone for a while.

She sleeps like the dead, but will wake up wide awake. She can be woken up by sound in the middle of the night, but she easily goes back to sleep.

Doesn't move an inch after sleeping. Sleeps on her back hands on her stomach like the dead. Sometimes a leg will shift an inch or so.

She has the perfect internal clock. Has to go to bed around the same time and wakes around the same time naturally. Soldier's hours. She was trained at her creche to sleep and wake at exact times - no exceptions.

The first time she ever slept in was after a night of drinking where she went to bed after her internal clock was ignored. She had a full on panic attack and got very angry that no one woke her, despite everyone being hung over and not waking up early too.

Dreams are vivid, but she doesn't talk about them like Karlach.

Stretches before bed in her tent, trains before breakfast every morning.

If it was her way, everyone would be on her schedule. Hates the differentiation between habits. Used to the organization and tries to repeatedly convince the group that it's the only way they should be doing it. They oblige her for two days, then stop. Karlach is the first to quit. Shadowheart secretly likes the idea of organized wake and sleep times, but will never admit it to Lae'zel.

Shadowheart:

Has to have tea before bed. Convinced herself she won't sleep well without it and now she doesn't. When the group has to make quick camp and she has no time to make it, she is annoyed, but won't say anything about it.

Light sleeper. She will sleep a full night, but wakes up several times. Likes to tell the one on watch it's because she wants to check on them, but in reality, she woke up having to pee. Like every night. And because they were likely too loud doing something to keep themselves awake and it woke her up.

She sleeps like a normal person would (is anyone normal? I guess I mean what statically people have a tendency to do...). She tosses a little in REM and then stills. Side sleeper. She also snores when she is really tired, and it can wake herself up. Once Astarion called her out for snoring and she vehemently denied it, but she knew it was likely true. She's really self conscious about it.

Though she loves Tav, she doesn't love sharing a tent. She grew up sharing everything with initiates and having her own space for once is nice. She will snuggle for a few minutes then tell Tav they're a little hot and scoot away. Not even a foot touch. Girl needs her space.

Despite needing space the exceptions to this are Scratch and the Owlbear. She has to have them in her tent. She will bribe then away from other companions because she won't sleep without them. (HC is in her playthrough she romances Halsin and will sleep next to him as a bear, when she can change into her lycanthropic wolf form, she might sleep that way next to him too.)

Wakes up as soon as she hears people about, usually right after Gale and Lae'zel. Hates that Lae'zel likes to be the group alarm clock by using her sharpening stone to wake everyone up. She did try to call Lae'zel out on it, but Lae'zel just shrugged and told her everyone should be up by sunrise anyway. She is secretly thankful even if it's the most annoying noise ever because she would just sleep in if Lae'zel didn't.

Wyll:

He likes to stay up late and wakes up only when breakfast is ready. Not as bad as Karlach.

He is usually the one to take first watch, so he can stay up and read his erotica, take a private bath (he's got a routine), dance alone, train, have a drink, etc. Have "me" time.

He sleeps flipping from back to side several times. If he's really tired, he ends up on his stomach. Heavy mouth breather. Knows he is because he will wake up with dry mouth or drool crust. Very insecure about it. Half of avoiding sex with someone is the sleeping over. He thinks he's a bad sleeper. He's not that bad. One time someone called him out on it, has been embarrassed ever since.

Dreams of falling asleep snuggling with Tav, but in practice, it kind of annoys him and they keep him awake. Used to his own routines.

Has to have water nearby. Will wake up with dry mouth and chug it.

Has dreams, but rarely remembers them.

Won't really talk to anyone until he's had tea, coffee, or food. Gale makes him super annoyed in the mornings because he wants to talk immediately.

Halsin:

Can stay up late and rise early. Will often be found talking to Karlach well into the night.

Has a tent, rarely uses it. Can fall asleep by the fire with people talking nearby or even someone up on watch. Will move his sleep spot to places just outside of camp to get more of a "falls asleep under the stars" feel. Can sleep without a bedroll if he wanted.

Naturally warm (werebear HC all the way), he doesn't often need a blanket, let alone clothes. Will skip clothes when he's outside of camp or in his tent. Wishes the companions were more "open minded" about the benefits of sleeping nude.

When not asleep in camp where he can be seen, will definitely, almost every time, wank off to sleep. It's natural! If he's got Tav, he will respect their no, but will always ask for a romp before bed.

He reveries peacefully, even if he's having "nightmares". No one would know if they looked at him that he was reliving the day his archdruid mentor died. He won't burden anyone with it either.

Big cuddler. Likes cuddling before reverie if Tav is willing. Or even if on of the companions are. Doesn't have to lead to anything, a cuddle is a cuddle.

Wakes with the sun everyday. Stretches and takes a walk within minutes of waking. Sun in the first 10 minutes kind of guy. (He would love Andrew Huberman)

Will want to talk as soon as he wakes up too, to Wyll's chagrin.

Minthara:

Has shit reverie. Super light sleeper most nights, where she can't say she got much sleep. Then once or twice a month she will crash. Will sleep like Karlach and not wake for anything.

DO NOT WAKE HER UP SHE WILL HURT YOU (only verbally if you're lucky, there is a literal knife under her pillow).

Even if she has sleep issues, she insists on an image of "early to sleep, early to rise". She sees herself in a secret camaraderie with Lae'zel. She won't admit she wants Lae'zel to give her approval, but she smiles and nods at her every morning.

Eternal eye bags, but pretends they aren't there. She is gorgeous and she knows it.

Nightmares about her life in Menzoberranzan or memories of the love of her life alive are the regulars on the menu, though after a few months with the companions, she starts having reveries about Karlach in battle... a lot.

Knows she should take a shift of watch and would be the best candidate for it, but won't do it unless someone asks.

Doesn't move in her sleep and if she wakes up, she moves as fast as a spider when you try to catch it. So, once again: DO NOT WAKE HER UP.

Doesn't talk to anyone until everyone has eaten, even if she is wide awake. She hates talking to people in the morning, unless you're Tav... or Karlach (but as previously mentioned, Karlach doesn't wake until breakfast and doesn't talk until breakfast, so it's her dreams come true.)

Astarion:

Left him for last becasue talking about the causes of CPTSD on sleep can be heartbreaking and complicated. I'm thankful I don't often relive memories in my dreams, but I know many who do. And he sure does.

He has broken reverie, not just shit reverie like Minthara. Minthy still reveries. He dreams/reveries together. He can't tell what is a memory and what is a dream anymore. His memories have been so rewritten, he doesn't believe he actually remembers anything properly, let alone his life before Cazador. He considers anything that comes up from back then to be a fantasy his mind made up.

It takes him forever to fall asleep and he wakes up easily. He is getting only a few hours each night. Spends a lot of time staring up at the tent ceiling or secretly watching the first watch until his turn at second. Is very often on either first or second watch.

Knows a lot about how the rest of the companions sleep. You can just assume he took these notes that I'm now recording for you.

He has no real sleep routine because he thinks they don't work and is frustrated by them even though Gale insists he keep trying.

Even when he's tired, exhausted, body ready to pass out, his mind is awake. He will still just lay there. Chronic insomnia.

When he has Tav's blood for the first time, it is the first time he has a full night reverie in centuries. It's not even scary memories, but rather sad mundane ones (would be sad and traumatic to anyone else, but traumatic for him is much more intense obvs).

By canon will have severe nightmares when too hungry.

Usually has to hunt before bed if Tav (or another companion) doesn't give him blood (HC is that Halsin is one of the only other willing to share). Gets excess anxiety out, but also feeding helps him get at least to sleep, eventually. Nights he doesn't he pulls all nighters or ends up having very short, nightmare induced reveries.

If Tav sleeps next to him, he sleeps a tad bit better, but is extremely nervous his insomnia will keep them up. First few times lies there just listening to them sleep.

Will pretend to "wake up" after others have gotten up, but has been up for hours already. Is the actual first one up even if no one else knows. Often takes a walk in the early light (Has seen Halsin sleeping butt naked and has considered waking the bear with a special "treat"). But usually uses the time to feel the sun on his skin and wade in the river alone.

Thank you for enjoying my very detailed mindless imaginings.

[positive-aro-ace-space]

i suddenly feel huge impostorism about not being bi enough. i've known i was ace since forever and realised i was bi+ while in the monog relationship i'm still in today, not by actually being romantically attracted to people but because i realised i could technically picture myself with a partner of any gender (i know the potential for attraction to more than one gender is a definition of bi). once i admitted that to myself i actually started feeling physical attraction to people, thinking i wasn't ace after all for a bit. everything fell apart when i learned about other kinds of attraction and realised the physical attraction wasn't sexual but sensual, more in a "i'd make out with this person" way than a hugging and cuddling way because the last 2 are romantic to me. that's also when i realised i'm on the aromantic spectrum because i only ever experienced romantic attraction to one person who ended up being my partner to this day. and now here's the thing. my bi attraction has become less defined kinda? it's less about kissing now and more just feeling drawn to someone based on appearance but it feels like more than what people describe as aesthetic attraction? the attraction i feel is also not really anything i feel an urge to act on, it's just there. idk maybe that's because i'm in a monog relationship so my brain shut itself off from that. when i feel that attraction it does feel decidedly queer/bi though idk. i'd also feel like a liar calling myself biromantic because despite the potential for attraction definition i've only ever felt romantic attraction once towards one gender. i feel like i'm not bi enough and like i'm just holding on to this identity even though it doesn't actually belong to me, like i'm just making it into more than it is because what if it's always been nothing more but aesthetic attraction, not actually me being bi, what if the queer feelings about this attraction are just me trying to convince myself i'm bi when i'm not.

Hi there anon! I can see you're having a lot of trouble figuring out how to define your attractions. It's a big thing to try and decipher, especially for those of us on the aro and ace spectrums. Feelings and attractions are never simple, and yours are clearly causing you strife.

If I can put my two cents in, I'd actually suggest not putting a label on it for now! Labels are for defining what you're sure you feel, and while they can be helpful, they aren't necessary in the 'figuring shit out' step. Take a breather, take some time to figure out how you feel, and then decide what to call it.

It's also more than okay to let go of labels that you feel may not fit you anymore! I've gone through a few different labels myself over the years. No matter how long it takes to find your answer, I promise that it will be alright.

Best of luck to you on your journey! 😊💜💚

[chesters-ocs]

bitches these days be making a soulmate au outta anything. its me, im bitches. pspsps @the-whispers-of-death

wc: 1.6k

The sound of bed sheets rustling wasn't unusual. Sylvester stirred in bed, staring at the figure of his boyfriend. In his half asleep mind, he realized the man was probably just getting up to smoke.

"Labrīt," he murmured, causing the figure to still. No reply came.

Must be one of those days, Sylvester thought, rolling over in bed, going back to snoozing.

The man standing by window, slowly opened it, fumbling with the mechanism slightly. He was already ready to jump out, and ducked instinctively to compensate for the height he thought he had. The second floor. Wouldn't be a pleasant jump, but he'd live. Briefly, he noted the way the occasional car drove. Shit, he's out of the states!

Only to then realize the top of the window was ways his head, and the instinctual duck was unnecessary. Quickly pulling back and closing the window with a gulp, he looked around as much as he could in the dark room. The windowsill was empty, save for the pack of cigarettes and lighter.

Waving the thought of his soulmate being a smoker, he stumbled his way into the bathroom. Fuck, why is everything so dark, he thought bitterly.

After a few failed attempts to find the bathroom, he finally located it, and flipped the switch, forgetting to lock or even close the door fully.

With a step or two more than it usually would take due to his shortened legs, he reached the mirror.

The man staring back was not him, and he was unable to stop the strained gasp from escaping his throat, sounding halfway there to a sob.

Not only has he got a beard, but he's fully certain those crimson eyes will haunt him forever. In his shock, his mouth opens, revealing teeth stained from tobacco. The hair looked oily, like a right old mess, and like it was way overdue for a haircut. The black tanktop was wrinkled, the sweatpants in no better shape.

His eyes get drawn to the scars. The crooked nose, no doubt fucked up from being broken, the scar accompanying it gnarled.

Inspecting himself closer in the mirror, he was soon to realize how familiar most of them looked. The bullet holes on his shoulder, the slashes decorating his forearms. The thing that disturbed the doctor the most was probably how clearly infected they had been, how whoever, this guy is, had not cleaned them. They were the textbook definition of how bad, permanent scars will look.

Ghosting a finger over what must have been one of dozen bullet scars, he realized he could not feel the touch. The nerves were messed up beyond belief. And with all the scars in similar condition, he would not be surprised if half the feeling in the body was just gone.

He would've continued his inspection of the stranger, were it not for the door creaking open, before it quickly shut again. A high pitched voice rang out hastily, accompanied with an embarrassed laugh. Clearly coming from a kid. A little girl.

"Uj! Piedod!"

What little he caught from the person was the toothy smile and the faded, pink hair.

Fuck, he thought, there's children around?!

He figured he might as well use his time in the bathroom well, and wash his face with cold water. With hands that are not his own. Was it even his own face then? Whatever.

Only then, did it dawn on him. Was he swapped? Was today the day he got swapped with his soulmate's body? Shit, he was not ready for this! Nobody is!

Steeling himself, he took a breath. No use in panicking. No matter how much he wanted to.

Slowly creeping out of the room into the hallway, he hoped that no one else would see him. Two distinct voices came from an illuminated room, accompanied with the sound of silverware scratching. The same childlike voice from before, accompanied by another, all speaking words he could not understand. Words he couldn't begin to try and decipher.

A third voice came directly from behind him. He had been too wrapped up in listening to the kids talk and forgot to listen to the other surroundings.

"Viss labi?"

The punch that was thrown almost landed. Almost. The man he was about to hit managed to duck out of the way just in time. The same one who he had woken up next to.

"Oi! Ādam, kas notika?" he asked with a softened voice and a furrowed brow.

He was met with silence.

Deciding to try again, the stranger with the blue eyes spoke, a hint of a smile on his lips: "Viss būs kārtībā. Ej atpakaļ gulēt, es ar visu tikšu galā. Atpūties."

The honeyed words did little to soothe him, and the man flinched away when his hand was gently grasped. Though that did not seem to put off the shorter one, who was clad in an oversized T-shirt and barely visible shorts. Did they belong to him, or were the clothes borrowed from his soulmate's closet? Questions plagued his mind as he was frozen in place.

The man in front was waiting for a response. There's no other reason he was staring at him so intently. So ridiculously patiently, that smile never leaving.

Gulping, he spoke, cringing at how wrong the voice sounded when coming from his soulmate's lips, taking a second to get used to the voice himself.

"I don't... I don't know what you're saying. I'm not... I'm not who you think I am."

The fear in his voice is clear, and the man in front blinked, straightening up.

A new fear had managed to already gnaw at his brain. Was there a language barrier? Did he understand him? Could they even communicate?

Tough none of it mattered when the stranger spoke. The words were accented, but clear. Finally, in a language he could understand. But he was clearly thrown off guard, as indicated by the stutters.

"A-ah, uhm, I... I see... You got swapped..." there's a beat of silence as he tries to figure out what to do, before ushering him back into the room he woke up in, a clear order following it.

"Stay there, I'll be back in a moment!"

The door clicks behind him. He once again finds himself by the window, looking down on the people walking past. Busying himself with looking for a hint of familiarity, despite everything being so, so different.

Time passes slowly. Slower than it should, until the door opens and he's approached once more by the stranger in the large shirt.

"Sorry, had to make sure kids left on time for school. I'm Sylvester!" he introduced himself cheerily, holding out a hand to shake.

"... Stone," is all he was greeted with. The hesitancy of revealing his name was clear. And even clearer was his reluctance for skin-to-skin contact, as the offer for a handshake went ignored.

Lowering his hand, Sylvester nodded, sitting down on the unmade bed. The patient look unwavering.

"It's nice to meet you, Stone!"

Slowly coming to the understanding that he, maybe, will not be hurt here, Stone asked a question that was burning in his mind.

"Where are we?"

"Hm? Oh, London."

Sylvester chuckled as the man occupying his boyfriend's body sagged: "Not a good answer?"

"Fuck no."

"And what would've been the good answer then, hm?"

"Shit, I... I don't know. The states? Somewhere not so far away?"

"Ah. Well, nothing we can do about it now. We just moved."

The questioning glance sent his way prompted Sylvester to keep talking: "We as in me, Mary, Sam and Adam."

"And... I'm currently who?"

Stifling a laugh at the annoyed tone, Sylvester answered: "Adam. You're currently Adam. Sound good?"

He was met with a low, non-committal grunt.

"And, uh, just so you know, I've got work in a few-"

"I'm coming with."

Surprise is evident on the shorter man's face. Not at the fact he was cut off mid-sentence, but at the insistence in the words. Stone left him with no other options, so he shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

"... Uh. Where do you work, exactly?"

"Nothing fancy, I just help with broken computers and the like," Stone is about to groan again that, oh, just his luck! He'll need to sit around that junk all day, until perking up at the next words, "It's at some military base or another, not that far of a drive."

"Military base?"

"Yeah. What, why the sudden interest?"

"I'm well... acquainted with them, you could say," Stone's gaze flickers to the scarred arms, reminding him much of his own, "Was Adam..?"

The question goes unfinished, but Sylvester answers anyways.

"Oh, no, no. He can't stand being around soldiers. No offense. Tell you what, meet him yourself, and maybe he'll tell you all about the scars. Ain't my place to speak for him."

Nodding, Stone found a new point of interest in the room, voicing his thoughts more freely now: "Looks like he went outta his way to get infections."

"Hah, that's not far from the truth."

"... How reassuring."

Standing up from the bed and stretching, Sylvester hobbled over to the closet, speaking over his shoulder as he pulled out a dress shirt: "Well, I'll be getting ready. Adam's clothes are all in the chest drawer."

Unable to help himself, Stone voiced another of his observations out loud: "You're limping."

"Yes, yes, I know," Sylvester waves him off, and points to a cane in the corner of the room, "I've got that for a reason."

"Yet you do not use it? Do you know that-"

"Oh shush, what are you, a doctor?" It's now Sylvester's turn to cut him off, but to Stone's chagrin.

"... Yes. I am."

[harryssweatcreaturee]

OMG please do cheating harry

The one where Harry cheated

a/n: this has been sitting in my inbox for FOREVER. here it is. i feel like i didn't do too good so im sorry if this wasn't up to par with the rest of my work ):

word count: 1.2k

warnings: cheating, bad words, heavy tension

--

Harry was being insufferable.

(Y/N) loved him so much and understood that running his own company was exhausting but she was fed up with his short responses and unnecessary attitude.

Worst of all, it was inexplicable. Harry has had terrible days before, weeks even, and he’d never take it out on (Y/N). She just didn’t understand what was so bad that made Harry become cold towards her.

Their date nights were no longer happening since he was coming home so late almost every night. They’ve barely spoken more than a sentence sine about a month ago. They haven’t had sex since God knows when… Needless to say, (Y/N) wanted to find out what the hell was going on with her boyfriend, and most importantly why he hadn’t sought out to tell her.

Yet another night of waiting up for Harry.

It was 10 PM, (Y/N) waiting on their bed with a wine glass in her hand.

She had this whole script in her head that she’s been reiterating to herself for the past couple of hours, but she knew the moment she saw Harry, that was going to fly out the window. Nonetheless, she tried her best to keep it all in her mind, hoping he was about to arrive any minute now.

And he did.

As the new norm, Harry came into their room quietly, a small frown evident on the pillows of his lips. He barely even looked at (Y/N), fingers working to untie his tie and unbuttoning his blazer. “Hi, Harry.” She called out quietly as he finally brought his eyes to her, humming in response before his attention was fixed back on to removing his clothes.

“Do you ever plan on telling me what’s going on with you? Why you’re so repulsed by me all of a sudden?”

Harry sighed, looking at her as if she were insane.

“What are y’on about? You know I’ve just been having a rough time at work.”

“No, Harry. That has happened before, and you’ve never treated me this way. Something’s going on and I’ve given you space and time to figure it out before you come talk to me, but you haven’t. I’m here trying to pry it out of you.” Her voice was soft and mellow, not trying to sound like she’s accusing him of anything insane. (Y/N) got up, placing her glass of wine on the nightstand before standing in front of Harry, forcing him to look at her, her hand on the dresser, the other one resting on her hip.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry that I’ve been a little distant but there’s nothing happening other than work. Drop it.”

“I’m not dropping shit until you tell me what’s going on. I know you too well. There’s something you’re not telling me so I suggest you tell me now before I pack my bags and leave. I don’t deserve this. I’m way too good to you for you to keep secrets from me and lie to me. Absolutely not, Styles.”

This look came over Harry’s face. One she couldn’t really decipher. She’d never seen it before. It was guilt, pain, and relief, even.

And the thought crossed her mind at the same time that she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. It was like she almost didn’t even need the confirmation.

“Harry…”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know how to tell you and I just- I don’t know how it even started but I couldn’t help it.” The frown on his face seemed permanent now, his eyes filling up with tears that (Y/N) would never believe they were real. It was only because she made him say something, otherwise he would never tell her.

Anger and pain washed over (Y/N)’s body, the worst feeling her soul has ever endured. Why her? Why her when she’s been nothing but perfect to the man she loved the most?

“You’re fucking full of it, Harry. You’re fucking unbelievable!” (Y/N) yelled as tears streamed down her cheeks, hands fisted and shoving at Harry’s chest.

“I gave you everything! I stayed here every day, catering to your every need because I thought you deserved it! I have been nothing but good to you, Harry! What the fuck did I ever do to you to deserve this?! Huh?! You piece of shit!” Her hands kept shoving him, Harry allowing her to let out her anger with a guilty expression on his face.

Harry’s hand came up to grab (Y/N)’s wrists in attempt to stop her, “(Y/N), please… Let’s just talk about it. I’ll explain.”

“No! Don’t fucking touch me! I gave you more than enough time to talk to me! Too fucking late now!”

If there was one thing about (Y/N) that was hard to break, it was her pride. She loved Harry so much, but he ruined everything. Nothing could ever fix his disloyalty to her. not when she gave him everything. Not when she would run to be the perfect trophy girlfriend just to make him happy.

“I’m leaving. Forget I ever existed Harry. We’re fucking done.” (Y/N) sighed, wiping the hot tears from her face as she walked into their closet to start packing her clothes.

“What? No, baby. No, come on. We can talk about this, yeah?”

A spiteful laugh left her lips, looking at him as if he just said the craziest thing. “Baby? Now you want to be sweet and talk? You’re delusional.” Her hands were quick to shove her clothes into her luggage messily, doing her best to keep her walls up and strong.

It was like her heart was ripped from her chest. 7 years of their relationship down the drain. Like if Harry paid no mind to the fact that they planned the rest of their lives together. All for what? It was all over, and she didn’t want to break down about it right now. Her main goal was to pick up and get the fuck out of his sight.

She could hear Harry spitting nonsense behind her, his hand trying to come to stop her but she flinched away, drowning out his words and quickly closing her bag as she walked past him and out of their – his room.

“I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. Please, m’angel. I love you.” Harry ran a stressed hand through his hair, his feet hot behind (Y/N) as she approached closer and closer to the front door.

“We’re done. If you really love me like you claim you do, I suggest you forget I exist. Don’t even try to reach out to me, Harry. I swear I’ll make your life hell.” Her bitter words were followed by tears, her bag in hand as she rushed into her car, quickly pulling out of the driveway to finally sob and scream like she wanted to so bad.

Harry was left in disbelief, standing at the front door like he’d just been shot. Like his life was sucked out of his body and it might as well be because he ruined the one good thing he had in his life. (Y/N). All for some temporary pussy when he had his beautiful girlfriend at home, waiting for him eagerly. This was all his fault. His stupid mistake and that irreparable.

His (Y/N), now gone and taking a big part of his heart with her.

--

taglist: @mouthfulloftoothpastehs @imavirginhoe @camflowervol6 @evanjh @peaceandloverry @sunflowervolume66 @majasophieanna @msolbesg @julietteand-romeo @handsomerry

[lacharcutiere]

ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you’ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your’re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

[forever-rogue]

Omg Congrats my beautiful baby!!! So happy for you and its well deserved!!!!

I am going to request with Frankie: prompt list 1, #11 “be my wife” and prompt list 2, #163 “fuck me”

ILY! 💋❤️💋💋

I think its time Frankie got some love 🥺💕🥰

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader ; warnings: mentions of pregnancy

Frankie Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as Frankie walked into the small house you had made into a home, he was hit by the smell of delicious cooking. A smile tugged on his lips as he pulled off his work boots and set them in the small rack you'd placed by the door when you'd moved in. He'd never thought about such a thing before, but once you'd brought it in, he realized how much he liked it. It was just one of the many touches you introduced that made him feel truly at all home. 

As he hung his jacket on the coat rack, he heard you singing softly to Isabella, as much played in the background and you shuffled around the kitchen. He slowly walked in, making sure to make as little noise as possible so he wouldn't interrupt your sweet moment.

His heart instantly melted at the sight, and he could feel a flush of warmth was over him. You had her in the high chair, turned towards you as you worked on dinner and sang to her. She was giggling and cooing at you, waving her little fists around. As you cut a piece of carrot up, you handed one to her before taking another piece and eating it. She followed suit as you praised her, "see, you're so good with your vegetables! You're going to grow up so big and strong, my little love!" 

Frankie's heart melted at the sight of you with his daughter. She might not have been biologically yours, but she was yours in every other sense. You'd met Frankie when she was only a few months old and he had just finalized his divorce. His ex wife wanted nothing to do with him or her and had been more than happy to hand over sole physical and legal custody, even choosing to dispel her visitation rights. Not that Frankie minded; sure, being a single father was hard, but it was better than having her around a parent that couldn't care less.

You'd quickly come into his life, and had fallen in love with him and her like it was nothing. And now she was almost two, and you weren't planning on going anywhere. Frankie and Isabella were your forever. As far as you were both concerned you were her mother - one day he even hoped to make it legal. There was just one little thing he needed to do first, that'd he been dying to do for some time. He just...never could, often getting too lost in the moment.

"Yes, of course," you promised her, almost as if you decipher her question through her mouthful, "we'll tell Daddy tonight! How does that sound?"

Frankie's brows knitted together in question as he wondered what you were possibly talking about. Before he could get too lost in his line of thought, Isabella looked around and spotted him. Her face lit up with excitement as she leaned towards him. Frankie couldn't help himself as he came in and picked her, snuggling her tightly to his chest, "hi Izzy! I've missed you, baby girl!"

"Hello, my love," you grinned at Frankie, pleasantly surprised by his sudden arrival. Everything already felt so much better and livelier now that he was home for the weekend, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I didn't want to interrupt," he put his free arm around your waist as he pulled you close. You grinned before leaning in and kissing him softly. He made a small, contented sound as he beamed at the two of you, "I missed you, Honey Bee. And Baby Bee."

"We missed you too," you promised as Izzy laughed before wrapping her chubby little arms around his neck as best as she could, "little missy has been excited for you to come home all day. Well...so have I. We made your favorites for dinner and dessert!"

"Tell me what I ever did to deserve this," he touched Izzy's cheek gently before giving you another kiss. This was… everything and more than he could have ever dreamed of or believed he deserved. But you constantly reminded him how much you loved him, how good of a man he really was. And for the first time in his life, since you'd been by his side, loving him, supporting him, he believed it.

"Hmm," you mused thoughtfully, "a lot of things. But I have a big favor to ask of you now…"

"Anything."

"Take the Baby Bee here and get yourselves cleaned up for dinner," you gave both your loves a kiss as a flush of pink tinged his cheeks, "it'll be ready soon."

"I can handle that," he agreed as he tickled Izzy's side and she giggled with joy, "alright baby, time to get clean before Mama yells at us both!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

As Frankie cleaned himself and Izzy up, your stomach was in knots as you worked up the courage to tell him your news. You could hear the two of them laughing and giggling upstairs, and you instantly felt better. You were excited about this - and you knew he would be too, but still...it was going to be a huge change.

You plated up the food, making sure to cut Izzy's into smaller pieces before setting the dining room table. Every second that passed had you growing more nervous.

Shit - how were you going to tell him? There were a ton of different ways, and right now none of them seemed quite right. Maybe after dinner, after you'd put her to bed you could tell him.

"Here we are," Frankie exclaimed as he made his reappearance, clean and changed, right along with your daughter. You smiled at them, still finding it hard to believe just how much alike they were. She had his gentle eyes, with those wild, dark curls, and that singular dimple that appeared when she smiled. She was almost a carbon copy of him - especially right now as she supported matching little flannel pajamas to his, "we decided to get comfy already! Do you want to go and change, Honey Bee?"

"I'm okay," you promised as he sat her down in her high chair before pulling out your own chair, "what a gentleman."

"Anything for my girls," he said with a wink as he sat across from you. You nudged his leg gently with your own, offering him that smile that never ceased to make him melt, "how was your day, honey?"

"Nothing too exciting," you swallowed the lump in your throat as you pushed your bite down. You'd been to the doctor that morning, having made an appointment to confirm your suspicions and make sure everything was okay. Naturally, you'd brought Izzy with you as it was your day off and you always spent those days with her. Afterwards you'd taken her for ice cream and a trip to the park to feed the birds before tending to stuff around the house. The whole day was spent trying to figure out how to tell Frankie your news, the grainy black and white photos tucked in with the mail serving as a constant reminder, "just the usual stuff. We went to the park and Izzy fed the birds, huh baby?"

"So many duckies and their babies!" she agreed excitedly as Frankie listened to her try and recount her adventures. Your heart melted as she rambled on, but then… "the babies were so little and yellow. Like Mama's baby! Its like a...kumq...kum.."

Your eyes widened in surprise as she easily spilled the beans without even thinking about it. Of course she had no idea that this was a big secret or she shouldn't say anything...you just hadn't expected her to actually say anything. Frankie laughed lightly at her struggle to name the fruit, watching her little brows furrow in struggle, "kumquat? Is that the one?"

"Yeah," she grinned before scooping up another bite and shoving it into her mouth. Frankie affectionately ruffled her hair before chuckling. You were frozen in horror as he didn't seem to put two and two together, but soon enough it seemed that the gears in his head were grinding away.

"Wait...what do you mean Mama's baby?" he looked between the two of you as Izzy nodded and pointed to your still non-existent bump. A look of confusion crossed Frankie's features as he turned to you, his eyes soft and the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, "Honey Bee...what is she talking about...what's going on?"

"Surprise," you said nervously as you set your fork down, trying to keep your hand from trembling with nerves, "you're going to be a daddy again, Francisco."

"What?" his voice was soft as his chest rose and fell deeply, trying to comprehend the news you had just dropped on him. Your eyes stung with tears, both of joy and nerves, as you molded with a gentle smile, "Bee, are you serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, "we're having a baby, Frankie!"

"Fuck me," his own eyes were glossy as you laughed in amusement before pointing at Izzy who was busy playing with her food, "we're having a baby!"

"Yeah," you stood up and quickly rushed to the mail stack, pulling out the sonograms you had gotten earlier and racing back over to him, eagerly holding them out to him, "I wasn't sure...I thought so and went to the doctor to confirm today. That's our baby, Frankie."

He delicately took the sheet from you and examined them, looking at the small bean that was your baby. His eyes grew misty as he traced over one before looking back at you, "holy shit...we're having a baby."

"I know...its all so surreal," you whispered as he stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck, "I love you, Frankie. I know it wasn't planned or anything...but I'm so happy."

"Me too," he agreed softly, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder, "you have made me the happiest man...you are everything. You, Baby Bee, and now Baby Baby Bee. I couldn't ask for more."

"Frankie, the two of you...well the three of you, are everything I could ever want," you promised as you pulled back and pressed a kiss to his lips, "nothing could be better than our family."

"I love you so much," he beamed at you, "I...I have-"

"Ask Mama! Daddy ask Mama!" Izzy was excitedly grinning at the two of you before making grabby arms. You raised a brow at him before going over to pick her up and bouncing her gently on your hip.

"What was Daddy going to ask?" you asked excitedly as his cheeks flushed a bright red. You reached over and touched his cheek, brushing your thumb over his skin.

"I...umm...I was going to…" he paused for a moment, swallowing nervously before blurting it out, "be my wife? I umm...Honey Bee, will you marry me? Finally...I mean, I know we're basically married already, but I want to make it official."

"You want to marry me?" you looked at him with wide eyes as he nodded fervently, as if saying of course, "yes, a million times yes. Of course I want to marry you. Nothing would make me happier."

"I-I-I have a ring," he stammered as he looked around, quickly dashing to the living room. Izzy giggled as you made a silly face at her, before he returned with a small velvet box. He opened it and displayed the gorgeous ring to you, "will you marry me, Bee?"

"Say yes, Mama!"

"Yes," you grinned at him, "nothing will make me happier than to officially be your wife."

He pulled the ring out and slipped it onto your finger, "perfection. Just like it was meant to be…"

"That's because it was, my love," you kissed him softly, "I love you - our whole little family so much. You are all my everything."

"Yes," he agreed with a gentle sigh, "my always and forever. My Honey Bee, and our Baby Bees. I love you all more than anything."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[toastedside]

For Better and For Worse

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: angst, fluff in the end

Note: The last chapter for the miniseries! It was fun writing this, and I know it's been too long since I actually posted the first chapter. But it was fun. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

Batman landed on his foot silently. His eyes scanned through the warehouse, before him was a gigantic machine with empty compartment that would fit one person. He quickly typed on the small computer on his wrist, sighing silently to himself as he waited for his scanning result to come.

“Batman,” come Superman’s voice through the comm. “Are you in?”

“I’m in,” Batman confirmed. “There’s a machine inside. It looks like somebody deactivated it before we come. I’m trying to transfer their data into my computer to get some information.”

“So Red Robin and Superboy were right,” Superman said again. There was a slight quiet sound of the wind behind him. Batman assumed he was flying as he answered through the comm. “The warehouse is empty as well. I think they had abandoned it.”

“We can’t be really sure about that,” Batman’s let out a huff as his computer displayed the transfer data has been finished. “I’m going to decipher some codes. Keep an eye on possible threat.”

Batman grunted softly as he squatted down to take a better look of the main controller device. It looked unassuming and tame while it was deactivated, but one better look alone could tell him that it would be deadly. He typed an override code on the main controller, his lips pressed firmly together as the machine slowly coming back to life.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of movement that he had known too well. “I already told you to let the League take care of this.”

“Yeah, but it was me and Conner who found it,” Red Robin came into the light. He quickly approached the main controller and eyed it silently. “I have just successfully deciphered few codes that might help. If there’s anyone that could help, it would be me.”

Batman stared at him for a few moments. He weighed his options before let out a tired sigh. Figured there’s no way Red Robin would back out now. “Only to decipher the code. After that you leave the rest to the League.”

Red Robin nodded before he dove in right away into his work. Batman lingered for a few moments to watch, but as the machine starting to wake up more and more from its slumber, he left Red Robin with the controller device as he investigated. He studied the empty compartment silently, taking notes in how the machine was built.

“B, what did you type to activate the machine?” Red Robin called. There’s a slight confusion in his voice that robbed Batman’s attention.

“The code that have been transferred to my computer.”

“That’s not possible,” Red Robin whispered. Now he sounded so alarmingly surprised. “It’s different from what I decipher earlier. B, I think– I think there’s an error in this.”

Batman was about to open his mouth when the machine whirling dangerously. Red Robin quickly tried to type in an override code, but the more he tried, the more the machine whirling dangerously and begun to rattle. He lifted his eyes briefly and saw Batman tried to tame the machine, his shoulder pressed against the empty compartment as he grunted loudly. Suddenly, the whole room was too bright from him to see as a bright, white light coming from the core of the machine shone brightly. Red Robin called for Batman a few times before the machine whirled for the last time and exploded, sent Red Robin flying across the room and the machine crushed underneath the rubbles into oblivion.

=======================================

The footage cut off right away after the explosion, leaving you heaved for a sharp breath as the camera went blank. You could see the reflection of you own face on the screen, how horror seeped right through your skin and welled in your eyes. You were unaware with tears that streamed down your face until you saw your reflection. Behind you was your children, all wide eye from witnessing the footage.

“So that was the explanation for your dislocated shoulders months ago?” Dick asked, his tone was demanding and worried.

“Yeah. I am sorry I didn’t tell any of you sooner,” Tim said bashfully. Cass silently approached him and pulled him into a half-hug. Tim smiled in appreciation. “But did you see the light zapped from that machine briefly before it blows up?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that light was what took Bruce away,” Tim said firmly. He had spent so many nights watching the footage over and over again, he practically could recite it in his sleep. “That would explain the lack evidence of his dead body. Besides, if you notice,” Tim pressed play on the footage again, and paused right few seconds before the explosion. “He was already gone when the machine blows up.”

“Are you trying to say that machine was a transfer device?” Damian asked, his eyes watched the paused footage before shifted into his brother.

“Could be. I tried to work with all sources that I have, but I can’t possibly decipher all the codes since the machine blow up before I could transfer everything,” Tim rolled his chair in front of the Batcomputer, his fingers swiftly typed few codes that he had known by heart. The monitor showed a half-finished string of codes. “See. It’s all half-baked. My strongest theory that I can come up with it was the machine use the same technology used for Zeta Beams. More or less.”

“So… B isn’t dead from the explosion, he was transferred into another place before the machine blows up?” Jason asked slowly.

“Another place, another timeline, or dimension.”

“Shit,” Dick cursed. His fingers ran through his hair as he stared into the footage again. “If you were right, then Bruce is trapped and possibly having no idea on how to go back.”

“Call the League,” you finally found your voice back. You were surprised you could muster a coherent sentence with a firm voice. “I know what you’re all thinking. But this is dangerous. Call the League.”

“We have all the sources we could possibly need!” Damian argued. “From what I know, they abandoned the warehouse. The machine could still be there. We just need to salvage some data and move in motion after that.”

“I know that all of you are more than capable, but I am your mother. I have my limit. I have lost my husband; I am not going to lose my children too.” The firmness on your voice left no room to argue. You stared into your children one by one to emphasize your argument. “This is their mission after all. You all will work side by side with them. And none of you will work without them. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, let’s go upstairs and eat some dinner. I’ll call Clark first thing in the morning, for now let’s just take some rest.” you ushered your children towards the staircase leading into the house.

Dinner was normal to say the least. But there was a growing tension that everyone had tried so hard not to talk about for their mother’s sake. You practically could see all of your children twitched in impatience and anticipation, all minds already long gone into a battle that still yet to happen.

“We’ll find him, Mom,” Dick said with a kiss on your temple at night before bed. You mustered your best reassuring smile, cradled your son in your arms. For the first time in a long time, you were scared for your children’s life.

Sleep seemingly unwilling to come that night. You spent the night tossed around relentlessly; mind wandered far into all possible scenarios that you could come up with. Was Bruce really out there, trapped in a place he didn’t belong? It had been three months without him, you didn’t want to get too hopeful. But a tiny part in your heart longed to be with him once more and wished to hold him in your arms again.

====================================

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” Diana beamed as soon as her eyes caught your presence. It made her smile, as you walked towards her and quickly accepted her invitation for a hug. “I miss our girl’s night.”

You chuckled at the mention of your sacred night. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you sooner.”

“No, no. No apology. I understand what you’ve been through was hard and hurtful,” Diana was quick to squish your apology. “Besides, looks like somebody’s a little jealous that she isn’t invited into our small reunion.”

You followed Diana’s gaze, and a smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight of Dinah lurked in the corner. You laughed, gestured for her to come. Dinah came right away, a frown formed on her lips as she crashed you into a bone-crushing hug.

“My God, you have no idea how relieved and happy I am when you called!” Dinah breathed. She patted your back gently.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called sooner.”

“I am glad either way,” Dinah said as she released you from her hug, but her hand lingered on your wrist before she let out a sigh. “We are here for you, all of us. We always will. And we’ll find him.”

“I don’t want to be too hopeful,” you said sullenly. “But whatever happen, I hope it helps the League to find the trail of whoever responsible behind this.”

The League had been called first thing in the morning, and now you had all of the superhero cramped together inside your house. You watched from the back of the room the briefing that Tim gave to the League upon the lead and dots he had connected in past three months. Your heart sank into your stomach like a sandbag upon watching the footage again where your husband presumed died three months ago.

Alfred came few moments later with a tray full of refreshment. He decided to stay at the back of the room with you, watching all of your children had meeting with the League.

“Even though I have witnessed this thousand time over, it’s never getting any easier,” you sighed as you broke the silence. “It feels like I am sending my children into a suicide mission with no precaution. To save their father. We don’t know the threat that might wait for them out there.”

“We never could shelter our children forever even if we wanted to. They ought to spread their wings out there one way or another. It’s their thing after all, they would never sleep before they find the answer,” Alfred offered a consolidation. “The best we can do is to make it as safe as possible. You have done that.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

==================================

It had been three weeks since the last time you witnessed all of the Justice League member cramped together inside your house for a meeting. Your children had been sent on a mission alongside the League. You couldn’t say you like it, but you saw the childish excitement Damian tried so hard to hide from the thought of fighting alongside the League, and opted to at least look approving. You were proud nonetheless.

The house was a little empty without most of your children’s presence as they’re out for a mission. Spared for Damian who was constantly sent home to attend school. Alfred had helped you to take care of Wayne Enterprise in Tim’s absence as you tore yourself in half between your work in hospital and taking the lead for the company, but it was still manageable at least.

Damian would tell you about the mission progress all the time, which sadly wasn’t much. But they still had baby steps progress nonetheless, and progress is still a progress. They have managed to salvage some valuable parts from the machine, but it wasn’t much of a lead to give them answer.

You get off from your car after you gather some courage to walk into an empty house again. The day had been long and tedious, you had just chewed out marketing department this morning and had to tended some patients in the afternoon. All of your muscles are sore and you wanted nothing but a long hot bath.

The house was empty just as you suspected. But you found a surprise as you stepped into the study room to grab some book to read. The grandfather’s clock was opened ajar, meaning somebody must have went downstairs into the Batcave. It could be Alfred cleaning up, but you found herself going downstairs.

Your eyes widened as soon as the sound of murmured conversations come into your ears. You descended down further; head perked up at the familiar sound you had missed so much. “Guys!” you practically shouted as you ran towards your children. “Oh my God, you’re all here.”

It was Jason who caught you first and welcomed you into his embrace. Your other children soon followed and trapped you in the middle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. All of your fatigue and stress suddenly lifted from your shoulders now that all of your children are home safe and sound.

“How was your mission? All good? Are you guys safe?” come the string of questions you couldn’t help but to ask. You quickly check all of your children for any obvious injury, and you found yourself let out a long, relieved breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“We are, Mama,” Jason gently placed his hands on your shoulder to ground you. “We figure we might come home for a little while. It’s been a long time after all.”

“Yeah. I miss your beef stew,” Tim chimed in. “Can we have it for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said as you gently cradled Cass in your arms. Cass clung into you like a baby koala for dear life, her nose nuzzled into your collarbone seeking for comfort. It made your heart soared and dropped at the same time, knowing that she found comfort in your presence and the fact that she must’ve had deprived for comfort that she actively seeks for it.

All of you shared blissful moment together, all shared some jokes and recite few relaxed and funny moments happened during mission. You were glad nonetheless, with Cass laid her head on your lap, Damian pressed against your side, and all of your children are here laughing and reciting some stories, you couldn’t ask for a better way to end the day.

The Batcomputer suddenly beeped, alerted everyone that somebody is coming. Dick quickly rose from his seat and take a solemn look to the computer screen. “It’s Uncle Supes and Wonder Woman,” he announced, a little confused at their arrival.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. Does it mean all of your children had to go for a mission again?

The door to the Batcave opened not so long after, revealed two hero came into the light. All of your children were already on their feet and geared up, ready to dive back into the battle once they’re needed. But a strange expression coming from Diana and Clark somehow told you that it was not a mission.

“Clark? Diana? Is everything alright?” you were concerned. You found yourself pulled Damian into your side and firmly held him, afraid of letting your son go once more.

“Y/N, you might want to sit down,” Clark gently said.

Diana gently took you into her arms and led you into the nearest chair. You were still a little puzzled, your heart racing against your chest. Diana then gently placed her hand on your shoulders, her eyes solemnly staring into yours with an unreadable expression. It frustrated you greatly.

“Diana, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Hold on for a little while. But I need you to sit down.”

“What–” you opened your mouth to protest, but was cut off abruptly at the sight appeared in front of you.

You blinked rapidly, afraid that it was some mind trick that you weren't aware about. You found yourself awestruck, unable to move, but at the same time unable to believe your own eyes. You heaved few heavy breaths that sounded like you were half laughing and half crying, your mouth went agape at the sight alone.

“Holy shit,” you could hear Jason cursed loudly. “Holy shit. It works.”

So it was real, then.

There he was. Your husband. The one and only Bruce Wayne. Completely alive albeit looked a little gruff and exhausted. He had some rough stubble all over his chin, and the usual light in his eyes had dimmed. You could only stare and stare, your mouth let out few incoherent noises that was only above whisper.

Bruce slowly approached you. As if he was afraid, but the corner of his eyes lifted up happily at the sight of you stared at him like a deer caught in the headlight. From this close distance, you could see his eyes glossed from tears that started to well in his eyes. You watched him kneeled in front of you.

“Honey,” Bruce said as he gently took your hand into his. “I am so sorry.”

“Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, sounded as if you were strangled. Your unoccupied hand shakily covered your trembling lips, eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this… is this really you? Are you real?”

Bruce gently took your hand and placed it on his rough cheek. There was a growing eye bag underneath his eyes. He looked so much older and tired than the last time you had remembered him. “It’s me. It’s me. As real as I could be.”

There are few beats of silence before you let out a strangled cry. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb gently stroking his cheeks. The stubble on his chin felt rough underneath your skin, but you found yourself loving the way it felt. “Bruce Wayne, you little shit! You promised that we will die together when we’re grey and old in our nineties!”

Bruce let out a surprised chuckle. It was warm and familiar, and you had missed it so much. It had been way too long since the last time you heard his laughter. “Therefore, here I am. Coming back to you to fulfil my promise.”

You smiled shakily as you laughed through the tears that stubbornly streamed down you face. You leaned closer to rest your forehead against his. “Don’t pull that stunt on me again.”

“I promised you I will always come back to you. And I do.”

“What happened?”

“The machine that I investigated had sent me into far past. I was trapped there unable to come back home, but I managed to survive. Until I met Barry, he said that he able to finished and decipher all the code gathered and redesigned the machine to bring me back. And therefore, here I am,” Bruce explained. “The warehouse was a trap set up to harm me. But Tim managed to inserted some codes before it exploded, so it sent me into different time instead of kill me in explosion. We figure it was a part of Injustice League’s scheme.”

“All I could think about was you. I worried about you and the kids. Sometimes the only thing that could get me through the day was the thought of that one day I will finally able to come back home to you.” Bruce placed a tender kiss on your knuckles. “You have managed to save me over and over again. Thank you.”

You couldn’t muster up any single words, so instead, you threw yourself into his embrace. Soon all of her kids would join and trapped you in the middle. Although Jason acted as if he hated it, you knew that deep inside his heart he was relieved to have his father back. Dick didn’t even bother to hide his excitement; he was just happy his family was whole once more.

That night, for the first time in forever, the night didn’t feel long and tedious. Or torturous. But neither of you and Bruce could able to sleep in a wink, you and him just hold each other close and greedily craved for each other’s presence. No words exchanged between you and him, however. But you were relieved. You were reunited with your love once more, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[your-eternal-muse]

You Gave Her Your Sweater

Heather Series Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Bonus!:Readers Card Confession Bonus!:To Hold On, To Let Go, Spencers take Bonus!:Series Playlist

Summery: Reader runs into Heather while wearing Spencer’s sweater, solidifying the difference in their relationships.

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, mentions of cheating

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

A/N: Okay guys, the next chapter is the last one! And I promise its gonna be so fucking long, and so fucking cute it’ll give you cavities. I’m gonna give you the good shit. The next couple weeks I might be a little slower at posting because I submitted an application for an apartment me and my sister want, and I’m fairly certain were gonna get it, so I’ll be busy packing and stuff. Thank you for your continued support!

~~~~~

I never liked grocery shopping.

I know it’s essential, but the task itself is so draining, so boring.

Even still, I can’t help but wander around, buying shit that looks good that I absolutely do not need.

I know you’re not supposed to go when you’re hungry, but I can’t help it.

I guess that’s an upside of being married to the man I am.

While one of his hands is situated in the back pocket of my jeans, the other holds a piece of paper that holds our grocery list, and he is a stickler for keeping to it.

He’s subtly leading me down the aisles as I push the cart, which is already half full of what we need.

Grocery shopping with Spencer is different.

It doesn’t feel like a chore when he’s with me.

It also cuts the time by at least half, because he doesn’t let me stray from the list. 

But I’ve had a special circumstance these past few months.

“You know what sounds so good right now?” I ask him, as he begins to lead me down the cereal aisle.

“What’s that baby?”

He removes his hand from my pocket, reaching up to grab a box off the top shelf.

“Shrimp. With cocktail sauce.”

My mouth starts to water just thinking about it.

He laughs, walking back to me, placing it in our cart.

“You hate shrimp.”

I roll my eyes. “I also hate pickles, but last week I couldn’t stop eating them. And besides,” I run my hands over my growing belly. “It’s not my fault.”

He smiles, shaking his head, coming forward to rest his hands on top of mine, leaning down and kissing the tip of my nose.

“I’ll go get you some. While you,” he slips the list into the front pocket of the sweatshirt I’m wearing. “Continue shopping.”

“Thank you, Spence.”

“Anything for my girls.”

His hands come to lift the hood over my head, pulling the string, shrinking it around my face.

“I’m never gonna get my sweatshirt back am I?”

I shake my head. “I’m gonna be buried in this thing.”

He rolls his eyes before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

“It looks better on you anyways. I’ll be right back.”

He turns and walks back down the aisle, only to turn back and say “Don’t stray from the list!”

I raise my hands defensively. “I won’t!”

I watch as he disappears around the corner before reaching into the cart and pulling out the box of cheerios, doing my best to place it back on the shelf.

“How can he like cheerios? Fuckin’ weirdo, Reese's Puffs are where it’s at.”

I grab the orange box, only pausing when I feel a kick against my side. 

“I’m gonna assume you agree with me. Cheerios are nasty. Don’t worry, we’ll make daddy see.”

Another movement, and my hand finds the place against my side, pressing lightly. “Okay, baby girl, mama still has to shop.”

“You’re wearing his sweater.”

I pause my movements, my hand still resting on my stomach.

It can’t be.

I mean it can, you do live in the same area that she does.

I turn, to see Heather standing in the middle of the aisle, her gaze falling down to my stomach, and then back up to the lettering across my chest that says ‘CalTech’.

I shove my hands into the front pocket, not really sure what to say. 

“I was cold, and I forgot mine at my place when he gave it to me.” I take my left hand out to brush some hair out of my face, letting her see the diamond ring that rests on my finger.

“He never offered one to me. Even when I forgot mine.” Her hands are in her front pockets of her jeans, and she doesn’t meet my eye.

I shrug. 

Is that supposed to make me feel bad for you?

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that, Heather.”

It’s quiet for a moment, as much as it can be in the middle of a grocery store. 

She’s the one to break the silence. “How far along are you?”

None of your fucking business bitch.

“6 months.” I cradle my stomach with my hands, smiling down at it. “We’re having a girl.”

She shuffles from side to side, running her hands over her jeans, her arms, through her hair.

I can’t help being proud of the fact that even six months pregnant, I still make her nervous. 

“You know, we talked about having kids. Or well, I talked.” It’s then that she finally meets my eye. “He told me he didn’t want any.”

I let a smirk slide over my face. “Spencer loves kids. Even before we got together he always said he wanted kids.” I look her up and down. “Guess he just didn’t want any with you.”

It’s been three years. It’s been a long time, and I know Spencer’s over her. I know I should throw her a bone, ease up on the sarcasm and poison laced words.

But she hurt him. She broke him. It took months for him to fully admit that he did love her in some way, shape or form, and that the betrayal of that love hurt. 

I would never forgive her for that, no matter what she did. No matter if he does.

The look of hurt passes over her face, but then a crying child is heard behind her and she turns. 

I look over her shoulder, and the man I saw that night at the bar is walking towards her with a spitting image of her in the seat. 

The child is crying over something I couldn’t really decipher, and I see her shoulders tense as his eyes meet mine.

I take in the ring on his finger, the one on hers, and finally look at how old her daughter is.

She knows, and turns back to me, panic slapped across her face.

“How old is she?”

She swallows, and her husband is trying to get her to stop crying. “She’s two and half.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that implies.

It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it?

“You gotta be kidding me. Are you fucking serious right now?” I cross my arms over my chest, cocking an eyebrow. 

She starts to pick at her cuticles. “I didn’t find out until after the divorce was finalized. My doctor said I got pregnant at the end of April.” 

She was pregnant with another man's baby for almost 2 and half months, while being married to him.

Buckle up baby, I’m about to rock this bitches shit for a second time.

“You were going to pass it off as his, weren’t you? You were going to fuck him, and than two weeks later tell him that you were pregnant.”

I take a step forward, anger boiling in my chest. “You know he’s a fucking genius right? He’d do the math in .2 seconds and figure it out? What is with you and thinking you can get away with this shit?”

He must have sensed a disturbance in the force, because not two seconds later he comes around the corner, holding my snack in his hands, only to pause when he takes in the scene. 

His eyes flicker to me, then to Heather, the baby, and finally the man, who is puffing his chest to try and appear like the alpha male he thinks he is.

His hands tighten around the container of shrimp, before walking past all three of them, coming to stand behind me, tossing the container into the cart, one hand back in my back pocket, the other in his front. 

He stares down Heather, his eyes going back to the child every couple of seconds. 

I know he’s doing the math in his head, and he figured it out probably faster than I did.

“Unbelievable.”

She pinches the bridge of her crooked nose, looking up to say something but I cut her off. 

“Don’t. You have nothing to prove to us. You made your choice, now you have to live with it.” I look at the man behind her.

“Not even half the man.”

Spencer turns towards me, his chest moving to contain laughter at the look on her face.

Not giving her a chance to get the last word, I turn, and push the cart down the rest of the aisle, turning it as I hear her start to yell at him and her daughter.

He pulls me into an empty one a few rows down, turning me to face him as he leans down and kisses me. 

I wish I could kiss him forever.

“I love you so much, you don’t even know.”

I grab his hands and place them on my stomach, where our daughter was making herself comfortable. “I think I have an idea.”

He laughs, his eyes not leaving my stomach as he feels her movements. 

After a few moments, he removes his hands, grabbing one of my own as he turns me back around to keep shopping. 

“Really?” He points to the box of Reese's Puffs. 

“What? The list said cereal, Reese's puffs are cereal!”

He shakes his head, kissing the top of my head. 

“Whatever you say, dear.”

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[royalsunshinehotel]

im literally on my knees begging for cousin greg sfw alphabet (no rush, i know shit’s tough rn)(im just down astronomically bad for my beloved tree man)

Greg Hirsch (SFW Alphabet, Succession 2018-)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Greg would love to be affectionate, he would try so hard to hold your hand and say kind things to you.. It’s no secret he’s not the most smooth operator, but he’s trying! He’ll pick stuff up when he’s out during the day, and say it reminded him of you. He got this tiny little pig at the airport, and gave it to you because “it’s a good luck charm for my good luck charm.”

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Greg would kind of suck as a best friend, but he’s just too good of a listener to dump. He’d be so supportive of whatever half-baked hairbrained idea you’d come up with this week. He’s all in with you, and he just wants to help, even now.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Greg would love to cuddle. He would try so hard to cuddle correctly, and end up making it weird. Eventually, you’d have to angle him so his feet don’t hang off your mattress. You’d just have to push him flat and tuck yourself into his side. He’s an expert already.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Greg wants to settle down. He hasn’t planned past next week, but he wants to see you next week. Does that count?? He’s not about to lock you down if he’s got nothing to offer you. Old fashioned? Maybe. But he’s so close to getting everything he’s ever wanted, he can hold off marriage just a little longer.

He’s pretty shit at cooking, but he’s solid with cleaning. His Mom told him to turn over a new leaf, and he’s actually keeping his space nice.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Greg, at his most basic, is a hot mess. He would probably break up with you by accident, and it would take like an hour to decipher what he was actually trying to say. When it comes to break-ups (when you need to be semi-articulate), he’s not king, you’d have to do the heavy lifting.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Your tree man likes commitment! The idea isn’t scary or bad at all! Once he figures out what he’s doing past this today, he can make a game plan.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Greg can barely handle the fact that he has a girlfriend. He has a partner who likes him on purpose. YOu like him on purpose, and he’s going to be gentle with how he treats you, because this has never happened to him before. You want him on purpose!

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Greg isn’t the most familiar with hugging. His tall stature has left this a bit ‘awkward’ to execute with most people. But you’re not most people, so he’ll do whatever you want. You like to take a step up on the steps so you can hug him at eye level. You also keep a footstool around in case you need to hug him when he’s walking around your apartment. His hugs take a minute to warm up to, and you tend to put his hands where you want them. He relaxes after a minute, and he’ll hold you forever.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Greg, as we’ve established, isn’t the most experienced. He sends himself into a bit of a tailspin because Roman had to point out to him that he loves you. “Do you feel a little bit scared, like you might die.” “yES.” “That’s love bitch.” But this is like six months in, you figured he’d catch on to his own feelings eventually.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Your boyfriend gets a fair amount of jealousy. He acts on it a lot but forgets what he’s trying to say halfway through. you simply raise your hand and he defers to you to bail him out or let him sink. You bail him out because you love him, even if he stutters and stumbles, it just means he cares.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are soft and sweet, I stand by the fact that Greg doesn’t feel great grabbing you or ‘handling’ you roughly in any way. Greg likes to kiss your cheek, because it seems so domestic. It’s something he’d seen between his Dad and his Mom when they were still together.

As for Greg, you can kiss him anywhere you want. Anywhere at any time. Do it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

As with most things, he’s awkward. But he tries! That’s what makes Greg good, is that he tries so hard to be good. Greg tends to get bullied by children, but this doesn’t stop him from trying to be patient and figure out what the tiny person wants/needs. He’s an adult damn it!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

You do most of your adult activities with Greg during the day, so mornings are long and lazy. Sometimes you wake up and have breakfast, sometimes you just skip breakfast and go back to bed! You’re his priority, work can wait.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are a bit hectic. He tends to get sent on errands “for the family”, and sometimes you have to bail him out of a bad situation, or go with him to act as bodyguard. It’s always an adventure, and you do it gladly.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Greg would love to be open with you, but he kind of forgot. He nails the first date, listens to you talk about whatever, but when you ask about him, his mind goes blank. He reveals things slowly because being asked about his history directly makes him forget it suddenly. Big mood.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Anger with Greg is rare, and it has a different shade on Greg. He gets quiet. It’s a slow, simmering type of mad that you’d miss if you didn’t know what to look for. Lucky that you do, because he’ll be blunt about it, and you can solve the problem together.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Okay, he knows it’s weird, but when you actually agreed to be his girlfriend, he studied. Greg the Egg put pen to paper and made note cards about you. He knows he can have the memory of a goldfish, but that little blue box of notecards he keeps with him at all times is a comfort. He won’t forget! He’s going to study until it’s written on his brain.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Their favorite moment in your relationship would be the day the two of you met. To this day, it’s unclear what happened, but there were fire breathing carnival people, a singular clown, police, a glitter bralette, an aerial hoop, and acrylic paint. Not in that order, but it’s hard to explain if you weren't there.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Greg’s not too protective. He’s from Canada, and at his core, he thinks people are good. He’s 6’7 so he’s not used to truly being scared while walking. He’s the biggest and tallest, he likes his height!

He’d protect you by having you walk behind him to block the paparazzi cameras, and any riffraff who want to get near his girl. His preferred mode of protection was when TMZ stuck a camera in his face and you simply started barking at the camera man. You didn’t miss a beat and perfectly replicated a mad pomeranian. That’s love.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Greg hasn’t done a relationship before, and it shows. It shows in the sense that he’s made themed notecards to study the things you’ve said about yourself. He writes anniversaries on the calendar in the kitchen, and at any given day, you could come home to Indian Takeout and a bubble bath. Greg hasn’t digested the fact that this is long term, and he’s going to treat you right while he has you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Eats like a bird and a third grade. Unorganized. He needs to write everything down to remember it. Has a blatant nervous tick when he tries to lie to people. And it’s all for YOU. That’s YOUR mess of a man!!! Good for you!!!

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Greg is slowly getting more concerned with his looks, so you’ve been sneaking up behind him and startling him whenever he looks at himself a little too harshly in the mirror.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’s been without you before, he’s certain he could make it through. He just doesn’t want to be without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Greg can crochet. He’s good at it too. When he first starts courting you, his awkward ass gives you all these various yarn goods, and doesn’t say where he got them. It’s not until you go back to his place that you see some pale blue yarn shoved under the couch that you truly put it together. You don’t say anything, you just wear your sweater, hat, and gloves with pride.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I’m not saying you have to be a marshmallow queen. New York is a big bad city, and you have to have an edge to get by. What Greg needs is someone who is perfectly comfortable being soft. An edge is a good thing to have, but if you can’t put it down, he can’t get comfortable.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Greg has typically not slept well. He’s been 6’7 since he was a freshman in high school, and he’d all but resigned himself to the fact that sleep with pillows and good back support was off the table. He’s a light sleeper because of this. He’s an “active” sleeper, and it makes you insane.

But with all this new money he’s making, he surprises you with a new mattress that’s extra long to support his feet. He’s quiet after the change is made.

[odelschwanky]

Change of Heart (Ikkaku Madarame x Reader)

Word Count: 2057

"C'mon! You're not gonna get any better if you keep slacking off like that!"

You slump over, leaning on your sword. You were so sick to your stomach. It was fraying your last nerve, trying not to lose your lunch while you attempt to keep up with your lieutenant. He was as fervent as ever with the training and you were just... struggling.

The tip of your sword screeched against the stone of the training ground as you charged him again. You drug it up and brought the hilt alongside your cheek in a less than eloquent stab. Your style was usually so smooth, delicate, beautiful. Right now, you were floundering. There was hardly anything aesthetically pleasing about your form right now.

You couldn't help it. You weren't getting much sleep these days. Every day seemed to bring more and more challenges whether it was paperwork or meetings with the squad or that mess with the former Captain Aizen. It didn't matter how much you had to do, it never truly healed your unhappiness. Truthfully... you had been awful.

Most days, you'd be in your room at the barracks with the blinds shut for as long as you could muster before duty called you to be somewhere else. Today was one of those days. Exhaustion plagued you due to weeks with no rest and the emptiness was too much to bear. The only thing that could get your mind off things was having the living shit beaten out of you by your lieutenant.

"Sloppy!" 

Ikkaku called this, deflecting your attack with ease. He grabbed the sleeve of your shihakusho with his free arm and used it to toss you to the ground.

You landed hard, the stone scraping your hands. You held back a sniffle. Your hair gathered your sweat and clung to your forehead. You swiped at it, as your lieutenant loomed over you, blocking out the last orange rays of the sun.

The wind in the Seireitei was gentle at this time in the evening, the leaves from the trees scattered about by it. Long shadows were cast by the dying evening light and the taste of autumn carefully kissed your senses. You could hardly concentrate on any of these beautiful things, as your training session with Madarame fuku-taichou proved grueling.  They always were, but today was the worst.

"Fuku-taichou..." you heaved raggedly. You wanted to stop. Your shoulders hunched as you lay there, peering up at him. Tiny droplets of moisture twinkled on his chest in the light and the shine of his skin was brighter than the sun behind. He had taken off his shitagi and kosode when you two had begun. They lay in a heap, leaving your lieutenant with a bare chest rippling with the sinew of muscle. You eyed them as they descended into his hakama, which were soaked in sweat. You figured you were sweating just as much, now covered in dirt as well.

Your sword had been knocked from your hands and skidded over, out of your reach. You resisted the urge to make any type of excuse. He had taught you that "excuses were not what made a good shinigami". You remember his words in full.

"What is it?" He glowered, looking you up and down. He was waiting for you to ask for a break, or to quit. He should know that it wasn't in your nature to give up. You'd show him.

"Nothing."

You struggled to your feet and walked to retrieve your sword. Gripping it in your hands, you turn back to your lieutenant with a newfound zeal. You charged him again, your blade a little more refined. You swung and slashed and he dodged your attacks fluently, countering in spurts. The clashing of metal and wood echoed throughout the courtyard, and it kept you sharp. Your narrow eyes fixated on Ikkaku's every movement and through your fatigue, you could still predict his movements. He was not getting the better of you.

He smirked, bringing the point of his spear down on your harshly. It took both of your hands to steady your sword against it, one on the blade and the other on the hilt. You gritted your teeth, swearing under your breath. You could see the notch form in your weapon, where Ikkaku's blade cut into the shiny silver metal. You pushed one hard time and flew back, giving yourself time to regroup.

"Giving up?" He barked, stretching himself like a bored dog. This made you shrink in shame. You were giving your all and he seemed like he was just getting started.

You shook your head. Your mouth had gone dry and your vision was fuzzy. Ikkaku's form blurred quickly and suddenly he was...

Sideways? 

Your limbs felt heavy and your head felt light. It didn't even hurt when you hit the ground and the last thing you saw was your lieutenant rushing to your side, his weapon clattering on the ground behind him. You could faintly hear your name before you faded from consciousness.

"(Y/n)! Hey! (Y/n)..."

***

It was cold in the room, and pretty dark now that you opened your eyes. You were on the ground in a simple shikibuton. Your fingers grasped for the blanket that was loosely around your shoulders. A shiver tore through your body and although you fought it, it rattled you through.

A figure sat beside you in the dark and it almost strained your eyes to decipher it. You could see that tell-tale bald head from anywhere. He didn't bother putting his clothes back on from training.

"Fuku-taichou?"

Ikakku was up in a moment, fussing over you in a way that you weren't at all used to. A calloused hand smoothed back the hair from your forehead and the other gently cupped your neck. His touch warmed you up. From your core to your stomach, to your neck and face, you were just one big blushing mess. You thought it was best not to talk. You didn't want to embarrass yourself.

"Hey, there." He chuckled in relief and you could help but notice the nervousness in his voice.

"Hey..." you choked out. Your eyes did a once over of his face, searching for something that might tell you what this was all about. You had never seen your lieutenant so high strung. He was normally a Type B, who loved to fight just like the rest of your squad. He was never too worried about anything... He definitely seemed worried now.

A sharp pain pierced through your consciousness. You couldn’t really tell where it was coming from. This probably meant your spiritual pressure had decreased to almost nothing. You held your head and winced, causing your lieutenant to hold you a little tighter. 

You didn't want to tell him he was squeezing you.

"Hey... take it easy, will ya? You passed out in the middle of training."

That's right. You did. It was so sudden, you didn't even see it coming. It was all those wondrous weeks of sleepless nights and stressful paperwork. And on top of all that, Ikkaku never let you rest your laurels. Always training, always improving, always fighting.

"Oh," you groan, trying to sit up. Ikkaku helped you, using his hand to steady your waist. There were those stupid butterflies again. Why was he being so nice to you? Maybe he felt guilty for running you into the ground.

"Hey... (y/n)?"

You looked at him in his face. His eyes were cast down and he seemed sheepish. This was very unlike him. You grabbed his hand, thinking it would help him speak.

"Unohana said that you were really weak when you came in here. Not just from training... but for the past few weeks. She said you haven't slept... Is she telling the truth?"

His raspy voice got the better of you. You didn't dare lie to your lieutenant.

"Yeah... It's true."

Ikkaku sighed, gently letting go of you and rubbing his head in frustration.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?"

You shrugged. It was just a private thing. You didn't want to make excuses as to why you weren't your best. You didn't think he'd understand anyway. When he was sad or angry or even happy, Ikkaku's only solution to everything was training or fighting. You just weren't that way, not like you used to be.

"I just didn't want to bother anybody with my problems... especially you. You expect a lot out of me... I didn't want to let you down, Madarame."

Ikkau huffed, folding his arms. "Listen. Drop the stinkin' formalities. I'm Ikkaku, alright. We've been knowing each other forever."

You nod slowly. It was true. You two had known each other for as long as you'd been a part of the Gotei 13. All this time... you'd been pushing away feelings for him because, well, his one true love was the heat of battle. You didn't think he had time for you.

"Okay," you relent. He didn't seem satisfied until you repeated his familiar name.

"Ikkaku."

The way it rolled off your lips was... right.

"And second, you'll never let me down. Ever."

He grabs your hand again and squeezes it tight.

You couldn't help but laugh. As abrasive and aggressive as Ikkaku could be, this soft side was kind of adorable. You weren't used to it at all and truth be told, it scared you a little, but you were happy to see he actually cared about you rather than just keeping you around to use for a personal punching bag.

"Now what's this about you, not sleepin'?"

You looked away from him. "I don't really... know." You try to explain your struggles with your emotions and the abuse your sleep schedule puts you through. By the end of it, you're tired of trying to find the words and you're not even sure if it makes sense. All the while Ikkaku sits by your side and listens intently.

"It sounds to me like you're stressed out, and you don't have anybody to listen to you. You need comfort."

You paused. Ikkaku had hit the nail on the head. These past few weeks have been nothing but stress and worry and sadness. You didn't tell anybody how you felt and well... bottling it up had taken its toll on you.

"Am I right?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah. You're right." You were honestly very surprised.

Ikkaku laughs. "Well... I guess this is a good enough time as any."

Ikkaku climbs underneath the covers with you, much to your alarm. A flush fills your face and your heart rate quickens to the point where you think you're going to faint again.

"W-w-what are you doing?!"

Ikkaku shrugs and smirks. "I'm comforting you. And I'm listening."

You couldn't do much as he wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you close to him. The moonlight spilled in from the windows onto the floor of Squad 4's med room. It was empty in here except for the two of you, making you feel a little better. Ikkaku's presence did calm you... when he wasn't trying to kill you.

When you were face to face with him, close enough to feel each other's soft breaths, he spoke again.

"Actually. Can you just listen to me for a second?"

You nod inquisitively. You wondered what he had to say.

"Uh... (y/n). I'm sorry I've been so hard on you. I should've noticed."

You never broke the bond between your eyes. "It's okay." You assure him this, letting him envelop you further.

"No... it's not. I don't ever want to see you this way again. Especially if I'm the one who is hurting you like this."

"You're not hurting me, Ikkaku. You're here right now, holding me and helping me."

He quietly laughs but a small hint of disapproval in the turn of his lips. "Don't comfort me. I'm supposed to be comforting you! The point is, I'm always gonna be here. So I'm gonna start caring for you... like I should have a long time ago."

You were at a loss for words. So Ikkaku beats the living shit out of you, you pass out and you wake up in an alternate reality where he's confessing his feelings for you? At this point, you don't even want to question it. It's a dream come true, so you'll leave it at that.

"How does that sound?"

You inch forward and place a gentle kiss on his lips. They tasted like alcohol, which you weren't surprised by. It was a comforting taste. Ikkaku's hands snake around your shoulders more firmly now as he tightens his hold around you. You laugh a little, touching his chest gingerly.

"It sounds... perfect."

[vampish-glamour]

Ooohh my god... i just read a twitter thread that fried my brain. It was a callout post where op was calling out someone else for claiming that lesbian was a sexuality and that a lesbian could be romantically attracted to men but not sexually attracted to them. Now, I agree with op on that. The brain frying part comes in cause op is a xe/it/he """lesbian""" and basically EVERYONE mentioned in the thread used neos so it made following the story basically impossible... so I might have misunderstood everything tbh...

(And I didn't read it all cause it's unnecessarily long)

Here it is if you're interested in trying to decipher it https://twitter.com/VOREH4N/status/1404980963617222661?s=19

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

So obviously I agree with op that “biromantic lesbian”, “bisexual lesbian”, or any sort of “identity” that implies lesbians can be attracted to men in any way is incredibly harmful. Because “lesbians can be attracted to men” is exactly what sleazy homophobic dudes have been wanting to hear forever, and they’re going to be using this as an excuse to hit on lesbians because “she could be a bisexual lesbian”.

However.

It’s very hypocritical of op to go on about things that are harmful to lesbians… while op is a nonbinary lesbian who uses he/xie/it pronouns.

Because the very notion that lesbians are not women is harmful. It takes away the word that homosexual women use to describe homosexual women, and invites men to call themselves lesbians to try to act like they should be accepted into both the lesbian community and dating pool. If you can understand why it’s harmful to say lesbians can be attracted to people who aren’t women, you should also understand why it’s harmful to say that lesbians don’t have to be women themselves.

But the thread itself is actually a really good example of how neopronouns simply can’t be applied to real life.

Here’s some screenshots for those of you who don’t want to completely fry your brains.

So, does Sol use both buns and fox pronouns? Are we switching pronouns? Is Sol the old name and Fox is the new name? I don’t ono what’s happening.

“Non lesbians”…. Interesting, coming from a “nonbinary lesbian”. Back to pronouns—are fairy and xie both pronouns?? Are we talking about somebody named Fairy and xie is their pronoun? FUCK. (At this point, capitalizing names would help a fuck ton)

Reading this, I figured that Sol and Moon were separate people. As in, “person A lied so person B wouldn’t get cancelled”. But as I later learned…

…Sol uses moonself pronouns.

Insert classic misgendering apology lmfao. Can you really get mad at somebody for “misgendering” you when you’re using all these neopronouns??? I’m 99% sure that fox and moon are Sol’s pronouns, and this person’s just switching them up.

I can’t decipher this shit. No logical human being who isn’t deep into MOGAI circles 24/7 can decipher this shit.

Pronouns are supposed to make language easier, not make me feel like I’m trying to decode Egyptian hieroglyphics.

[catwatcha]

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst/smut/fluff

Word count: 1277

Warnings: 18+ smut & cursing

Authors note: I wrote this forever ago but decided to rewrite it for Chan because it fits so much better and i love it.

Pt.1

Remember the words you told me

When I woke up the next morning I try to recall every piece of information from my dream, his face, his clothes, his walk, his demeanor. Everything about him. When I was younger, I used to get ecstatic when I could remember my dreams, always wanting to explain the crazy stories to my parents and get a laugh out of them. They were rare occasions, because like everyone else, when I woke up my dreams were long gone. But these were somehow different. It’s like I could remember every detail, like it was my own memories. I don’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the way he talked to me like I was his entire world, or the way I talked to him as if I’d never loved anyone more. But every day, it only became stronger. I didn’t know who he was, which was the strangest part; but I knew everything about him.

“Shit!” I said. I didn’t even realize I was still thinking about it as I managed to run straight into a trash can. I was on campus, again, and I saw a few people looking at me. I ignored it the best I could and walked over to Jasey and I’s normal spot in the courtyard. School was something that came easy to me. I had always been the kind of person who actually enjoyed reading and writing and the concept of learning something completely new. Jasey used to makes jokes about me being her own personal Google, and I always has a new book in my hand. I guess that’s why the dreams were so confusing to me; it was something I couldn’t explain. Something I didn’t have an answer for.

When I walk into my fifth hour class I take my regular seat in front of Jasey. When the teacher starts talking I pull out the class book and sit it on my desk. I open it to the right chapter and my eyes drift to the clock on the wall.

“Chan!” I stumble about in the cold sand, the tiny grains going between my toes and my hand wrapped in his as he pulls me along the ocean line. The waves crashing drowns out the sound of my voice and Chan turns around to face me. “What is it love?” He stops and pulls me close to him looking me in the eyes. I lay my head against his chest and I feel the beat of his heart, I know now and I can’t stop the words as they spill out. “I love you Bang Chan.” His breathing stops and I feel his hand run down the back of my head while he lays a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you too.” I pull away and smile up at him. “You’re the only person I’ll ever love…”

Next thing I know I’m being shaken and all of my classmates are staring at me with confused expressions “Y/n…are you okay?” Jasey says from behind me and I can feel my face getting flushed and I turn back to face her. “I- I’m fine, what happened?” She looks at me dumbfounded and explains what I had just said out loud. I just told my entire class I was in love with Chan. Thankfully, people in college are a lot more mature and no one really bothered me about it. I instantly stood up, and managed to ask to be excused. I ran into the hall in a confused frenzy and tried to control my breathing. What the hell? I thought. I don’t remember ever talking out loud during my daydreams, but now I just feel like they’re getting stronger.

“Y/n are you okay? What just happened?” I looked over to see Jasey slowly walking toward me, full of emotion that I couldn’t decipher. “Where you asleep?” I stayed silent, mainly because I didn’t know either. I didn’t know who he was, at least while I was awake I didn’t. It was almost as if we had known each other our whole lives but we have never met. I looked up to my best friend and told her I was just gonna go home early and that I would call her later. Because before I tried to explain anything to her, I had to figure out a way to explain it to myself. We said our goodbyes, on the condition that I had to promise I was fine, in which I lied and said I was with a smile. I walked outside and started down the street with my mind racing with thoughts of school, Jasey and Chan of course. My house was only a few minutes diving distance, but I didn’t take my car this morning because Jae insisted we stop by that small coffee shop again before school. I didn’t go in. I never do. So I walked, It was only about a half an hour by foot but it gave me a chance to clear my head.

“Mom,” I called out. I knew that my parents would be confused as to why I was home but I was just gonna tell them I had a migraine, which was starting to become true with each step I took. Why was my head hurting so much? “In here hon,” I heard from the kitchen. “Why are you home? It’s only noon.” Just like I had expected. “I just don’t feel good,” is all I said before popping an aspirin in my mouth and walking upstairs to my room. My mom and dad never ask me very many questions, mainly because they know I’m not getting myself into trouble and I’m an adult, they have to worry about their own careers anyway. So most of the time I’m left alone, not that I mind, its not like they don’t make time for me. My mom is a lawyer at some big firm in the city, and my dad is a traveling businessman. He doesn’t say a lot about it, and I don’t ask. I’ve never had those kinds of interests, though. Throughout high school, I’ve managed to accomplish a lot on my own. I have A’s and B’s in school, I taught myself how to play guitar, and I write poetry, although that’s mainly just for me. I’ve learned a couple different languages and have my own job. Coming home early from school without a reason doesn’t even phase them. I decided for the rest of the day that I was going to start reading the new book I bought a few days ago, and that if I fell asleep, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Allie come on, we’re gonna be late!” I looked back to Chan who had a mischievous grin on his face. “But I don’t even know where we’re going” I exclaimed. We were now standing at a dead stop on the sidewalk, oblivious to the crowds around us. But we were like that, as if we were the only two people in the world when we were together. “You just have to trust me love,” he giggled. I looked him in the eyes and I knew that I did; I trusted him with everything in me. And with that we set off on a new adventure, as if our time was endless.

[bloomyn]

satin robes & city smoke

pairing:  chrollo lucilfer x reader

tags: smut

warnings: badly written smut!!

unedited as of june 6th

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

you didn’t know how, but the packages always managed to find you. it didn’t matter if you were wrapped in a thick acres of trees or warped city skylines, nothing could stop the delicate bundles of lace from finding your arms. they were wrapped in the same shell every time, two fish emblazoned on the corner and a cross stamped on the inside flap. 

really, how discreet of the sender. 

-

there was a beautiful sort of despair that surrounded yorknew city. you never get used to the smell or the people but there’s a comfort in knowing that absolutely no one can rock your shit, that the foundation of the city rests idly in your hands and in just a wink you can send the city crumbling. the power in it all keeps you going, it gets you going.

you own this city.

the spider tattooed on your back decrees it.

-

a conversation from five years ago

“ since when are the legs more important than the head?” 

besides you chrollo laughed.

“i’m serious!” you sat up, jabbing a finger into his chest, “if you really want to make this happen you can’t hold yourself to a lower regard. you can’t be the most useless one.”

the man beside you sighed, “tell me, my love. would you die for me if it meant the safety of the group. could you sacrifice yourself if it meant the rest of us live.”

the smell of burnt metal wafts over the two of you and you scowl.

“that’s the dumbest question i’ve ever heard and you’ve said some pretty stupid shit to me.”

“hm. and i’d like to think that i’m the smarter one of the two of us.”

 you scoff, “would i die for the safety of the group?”

he nodded.

“we live in meteor city, i don’t even consider myself alive right now.”

-

but you do know something about the packages; besides the contents and what they’re meant to be used for. the packages are markers, date setters, they keep track of how long you’ve been away. the bigger the bouquet the longer you’ve been gone and the larger the reward for your return. sometimes the packages are nothing more than palm sized bundles, delicate lace decorating the inside and outside. 

the theme of the contents sitting inside stay the same.

the one sitting at your feet is different though. instead, the trademark fish and cross are gone, a twelve legged spider in it’s stead. the classic lace wrapping is painted red and you almost wish that the king could see the smirk decorating you’re face.

it seems you’ve been away from the city too long.

-

the black dress fits nicely, oh who are you kidding, chrollo was the one who sent it to you, of course it fits exactly. as you make your way towards the hotel you bask in the warmth of the city; the heat of street food, the smell of middle-aged men who’ve been left wifeless after losing their money in gambling schemes, it almost brings a smile to your face. 

and of course, the thought of chrollo waiting for you at the top floor of a highrise hotel has your thighs tensing in anticipation. the face you’re making right now must be a little much because when you arrive at the front desk the heart rate of the poor attendant spikes and her fingers quiver on the keyboard.

“h-here you go. please-please enjoy your stay.”

you tilt your head a little and flash a smile, “i’m sure i will.”

the elevator is empty when you step on and press for the top floor. you’re sure he can sense you by now if the shift in the air is anything but a dead giveaway. 

the lust enveloping your figure sparks at your fingertips and makes its way up until its rattling at your jaw. your toes curl inwards as the aura around you grows stronger, and your tongue goes numb at the sight of the doors sliding open. 

in front of you is a sight worthy of the most expensive canvases, delicate enough to view but almost too dangerous to touch.

and its all yours.

his back is broad and worn, his scapula protruding like wings, and your eyes can’t help but follow the way his lower back dips harshly into the waistband of his pants. when you look back up your eyes are caught by his own. his hair falls loosely around his face and internally you sigh.

“took you long enough.”

you hum, stepping into the hotel room, penthouse actually, and you can’t help the wash of pride when his eyes rake over your figure taking in every inch from the bottom of you calves to ‘those sweet sugary lips’ of yours. 

“miss me?” you tease, accepting his outstretched hand. he pulls you closer, his hands wandering to the down curve of your spine, while yours loop around his neck, resting on his shoulders. tracing your lips with his thumb he smirks, 

“i take it you got my presents.”

“you can see can’t you?” 

softly, chrollo unzips your dress, exposing the titillating lingerie beneath it. his gift to you.

it’s horrible how weak you make him, just the sight of you has his guard down for the count. he’s known you for years but he’s caught off guard everytime the two of you meet like this.

“i knew you’d look good in this,” he muses, “-look good in everything but you look even sexier in my gifts.”

“your ability to suck at being subtle is astounding.”

at that he laughs.

“can’t help it.” he sighs against your dewy skin, “gonna eat you up.”

your eyes flutter shut at the words and you let him guide you to the massive four post bed in the middle of the room. quick enough, he maneuvers you onto your back refusing to tear his eyes away from your silky curves. he likes you like this, squirming idly in his palm, right where he wants you. where nothing but time can pass over the two of you and leave you unscathed.

“stop teasing.” you plead, shifting your hips upward to graze against his. he ignores your words, opting to press kisses against your neck and leave you whining instead. swollen pink lips ghost over yours, refusing to meet them. “have you missed me?” his lips trace over yours.

“obviously.” you croon, “you’re the one who took forever to decide a time and place.”

lowering himself between your legs he parts your thighs just a little more, his hands massaging the smooth skin. using his teeth he drags your black panties down, eyes widening at the string of arousal sticking between you and the thin strip of fabric.

“chrollo i swear—”

but he doesn’t waste any time with a retort or tease instead delving his tongue into your core, not even bothering lick you open. you mewl at the feeling of his tongue working itself against your clit, you’re sure he’s mouthing prayers between your legs like your a deity meant to be worshipped.

they weren’t kidding when they said “you’re body is a temple.” it is infact a temple, a place where he could offer up everything to you. usually his body, his mouth...

his tongue moves in and out switching between spreading your pussy lips open and stretching your tight walls so they’re ready to take his cock. he loves this part, watching you squirm on his tongue, fingers holding your hips down because if he lets up for second you’ll snap your legs closed in embarrassment. and he can’t be having that, no, not after he’s waited six months to taste your arousal.

“thinking about something?” he ponders aloud, his face stained with your slick. he grins at the sight in front of him. you’re flushed, sweat dripping down the side your face and your eyes screwed shut. your nipples are pert against the lace.

ah cute, he thinks to himself, so helpless

and then he’s wrapping his mouth against your nipple, soaking in the moan you release, only encouraging him even more. his long fingers are pushing your soiled panties aside entering your pussy so gently, you almost scream at the way he flicks his wrist, pumping two fingers so fast you can’t tell if you’ve just orgasmed or if it’s really been that long since you’ve had something so deep inside you. but just the thought of his cock had you mewling , the idea of him filling you up, marking your walls with his cum while he works his mouth against yours; and decide you’ve had enough of his teasing.

you pull his mouth up to yours, almost regretting it when the cold air hits your bare pussy. you can taste yourself on his tongue, it’s not bad but by the way he eats you out you’d think your arousal would be the sweetest thing the world. your tongues work against each other, trying so hard to make each other submit.

but chrollos known you for years, he knows your endgame when you pull stunts like this, and absolutely revels in the sound of surprise you make when he sucks on your tongue.

“bastard.” you growl.

“behave and you’ll be rewarded.” he murmurs, “you know the rules.”

slowly, he unzips his pants revealing the hard outline of his cock. it takes all your willpower not to just flip him over and ride him till you’re crying.

but that will come later.

you whine impatiently as he slides his cock against your folds. you know he gets off on the idea of edging you, teasing you till your begging for him to fuck you, so you can’t help the nasty moan that spills out of your mouth when he slides his entire length inside you.

“oh f-fuck please,”

you don’t even know what you’re begging for, and you think that you might’ve come just from the feeling of his dick inside you but you have no time to decipher the pleasure running through your veins, not when he’s moving his hips so thoroughly against yours. your fingers knot themselves in his hair, and moans are pulled out of your mouth. incoherent garbles of his name are echoed across the room but all you can here the low grunts and groans up against your ear. he’s not a moaner or screamer, but the noises he does make enough to get you to clench tighter around his length .

“chrollo, baby please.”

he groans low in your ear, “want you to scream, wanna hear my good girl screaming my name.”

it’s not hard for you to comply.

your thighs are trembling when he lifts them over his shoulder, and he pulls you onto his cock. the sight of your legs tossed so easily onto his shoulders and the view of his impeccable abs push you closer to edge you’ve been waiting six goddamn months for. your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he pounds you recklessly, with no hesitation. he knows you can take his cock, he knows how far he can push you, and you forget he’s been waiting for this release too.

“never going to let you out of my sigh again.” he growls, “gonna fuck your pussy so hard it’ll be molded to my cock, never gonna be able to take some other bastards.”

“don’t want anyone else’s,” you pant, “only yours, only ever wanted yours.”

it only takes a few more slams of his cock and your orgasm rips through you so harshly you think you might pass out. you can hardly feel your legs and your hands are numb from gripping his shoulders so tight, but he doesn’t stop. he still hasn’t come and you know he won’t stop until he’s had his way with you, even if it means turning into his own pillow princess. so when he does come, spilling his load deep inside you with your name on his lips, you almost sigh in relief. you love the man you really do, but his stamina is unmatched and you only have an hour tops until he’s mounting you again.

-

nuzzling his face into your neck you bring a hand up to push his hair back.

“don’t leave.” he says childishly against your neck.

“—i know you want another round of course i won’t leave.”

it’s unbearable how adorable he looks like this. he’s just finished fucking your brains out but there he is, a pout sitting on his lips.

“no, that’s not what i meant.” he props the two of you up against the headboard, somehow keeping you stuffed with his dick, “don’t disappear again. stay here.”

“with you?”

“who else.”

you can’t say you love him out loud. it would be like admitting you have a weakness. there’s a reason you don’t stay in one place to long. a reason you act like you’re just another one of the spiders legs.

he makes your heart crescendo. and that’s dangerous.

your souls love each other too much, and maybe that’s more hazardous than keeping yourself away from each other. so when the sunday morning dawn comes over the horizon, you let him keep you in his arms, wrapped in satin sheets and city sunshine.

-

[bitchloveskcbaseball]

Tripping Over Myself

Pairing: Logan x OC (Charlotte Wheeler)

Summary: Charlotte’s not the best at communicating and it gets her in a bit of trouble. (takes place shortly after Drawn to a Flame)

Warnings: Language. Lots and lots of language. Seriously...so many f-words. lol Also, mentions of her previous car accident (it’s not super detailed, but it is brought up a few times) and her resulting injuries.

Word Count: 5525. I swear ... I was certain this was going to be nothing more than maybe 2k words. And then this happened and the thing that I wanted to happen in this fic didn’t even happen so that’s fun lol

Logan belongs to Pixelberry, but the other two lovelies are all mine.

A/N #1:��This was written for @rodappreciationweek​ MC day. And sticking with the theme from the first two pieces in this series, I have pulled the title from the lyrics of Shawn Mendes’s Stitches.

Also... a huge huge thank you to @burnsoslow for reading a piece of this that had me chasing my tail for what seemed like forever and fixing it for me. You are the best!!

“Hey hey hey! The hell you think you’re doin?”

Freezing mid step to turn back around to where Paul was glaring at her from his now-seated position where he'd rolled out from under her car on his creeper, Charlotte scrunched her nose up in confusion. “You were bitchin’ that you didn’t have your 3/8 down there. Figured I’d grab it so you’d stop muttering to yourself.”

“I had one rule for letting you stay after you showed up here today. And I made it explicitly clear.”

“But – “

“No. No buts.”

“C’mon Paul! You can’t seriously expect me to sit on that damn stool the entire time we’re here. I am fully capable of walking to the toolbox and grabbing a goddamn socket!”

“Lottie, sweetheart. You are still healing. You need to take it easy.” Instead of the calming effect she was sure he was shooting for, the soft gentleness of Paul’s voice just reminded her of an adult trying to calm a child who was in the middle of throwing a massive tantrum. And that ratcheted her mild frustration up until she was actually throwing a damn fit.

“For fuck’s sake! I know I’m fucking hurt. But I’m not a complete invalid. I don’t think me taking three fucking steps across this damn storage unit and picking up a tool that weighs a few ounces is going to do me in when a fucking slab of concrete didn’t!” Her hands flew up to steeple across her nose and mouth. “Shit. Paul – “

Gaze firmly locked on his white-knuckled grip on his wrench, Paul cut her off with a slight shake of his head. “Nah. It’s … it’s fine, sweetheart.”

In two shaky steps, Charlotte was across the unit and gingerly kneeling in front of him. Slowly, as if she were approaching a spooked cat, she eased the wrench out of his hold so she could wrap his hand in her own. “No. It’s not ‘fine.’ I … I shouldn’t have said that. I promised I’d stop acting so nonchalant about the accident.” Before he could interject, she nudged his knee with her own. “Shush, lover. I really am so incredibly sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. You’re only trying to look out for me. And I appreciate that more than I could ever say.”

Finally lifting his head from staring at the floor between them, Paul’s teary eyes met hers, twisting her heart even harder. In barely a whisper, he asked, “The hell did you have to go there for?”

Letting out a harsh sigh, Charlotte stood up and whirled around. It was a motion she instantly regretted when every thing went a little off kilter and her vision started to swim. Ugh! Not this shit again. She fought against the urge to lean against the work bench to her right, not wanting Paul to decide that she needed to be taken home: that was the last place she wanted to be at that particular moment.

“Lottie?”

Finally giving up any thoughts she'd had of blowing off his question with the pretense of being fine, she practically exploded, “Ugh. I’m just … I’m so fucking tired of all the hovering!” Her fist closed around one of the lug-nut caps that were lined up on the bench, waiting patiently for the new wheels and tires that had yet to be ordered to be installed. The urge to hurl it at the closed roll-up door was only eclipsed by the desire to not mar its mirror-like finish: finding replacements that matched the original set from L.A. was hard enough the first time and she certainly didn’t want to have to do it again because she'd briefly lost her damn mind. So she forced herself to replace it into its previous spot and let out another, albeit quieter, sigh. “Look … I love Logan, ok? Like all that head over heels, all my heart bullshit? I feel all of it for him. With him. But fuck it all. He has barely given me six inches to breathe since he showed up in my damn living room. I know it's only been a few weeks, but it has felt like years and not in a good way. I mean, I had to sneak out of my own fucking home just to come down here today!”

“Sweetheart – “

“I know. And I get it. I scared the shit out of him. Hell, I scared the shit outta both of you guys. But … “ Finally turning back around – slowly and carefully this time -- to face Paul again, she let her shoulders sag. “I can’t live with someone micromanaging every second of my day. Every move I make. I … I cannot go back to that kinda life.”

Stepping up to stand in front of her, Paul gently rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms. “Have you talked to him? Told him all this?”

She laughed bitterly. “I have tried. So many times over the past few weeks. But every time I try to bring this or anything remotely related to the accident up, he just completely shuts down on me.” Voice breaking with the tears she was fighting to hold back, she muttered, “I can’t lose him again. But I can’t keep doing this either.”

“C’mere.” Careful of her still-casted arm and still-tender ribs, he wrapped his arms around her. Instinctively she tucked her face against his neck, letting his presence soothe her. After several silent moments, he pressed a kiss to her temple and asked, “You want me to talk to him ‘bout it?”

“As much as I would love for you to do that … you can’t. I have to be the one to get through to him if this is really going to work between us.”

Tightening his hug ever-so-slightly, Paul kissed her temple again. “I’m so proud of you, Lottie.”

“For what?”

“The girl I met a lil over a year ago would never.”

Pushing back from him enough to see his face, she narrowed her eyes at him as she tried to decipher his meaning. When she came up empty, she questioned him, point blank, “The hell nonsense are you talkin’ about?”

“When you first started pestering me at the sideshows, trying to bully me into giving you a spot in one of the races. You had everything so locked down, I’m not sure a stick of dynamite would have gotten you to open up. Even after I succumbed to my still-ongoing case of Stockholm Syndrome oof – “ using her cast to knock him in the stomach may not have been her smartest idea, but it was still an effective form of retaliation – “and we started hanging out more, you kept most of your feelings tucked away in that vault. I mean, sure, you eventually let me in, little by little … but, my point is, I’m proud of you for admitting how you are feeling.”

Despite the way her eyes rolled exaggeratedly, she couldn’t keep her lips from twitching with the smile threatening to break out across her face. “Would you shut up already?”

“Only after we circle back to that bit about you sneaking out to come down here. Thought you said Logan drove you?”

“Um … how ‘bout we go back to you singing my praises?” All she got in response was a stare down from Paul, so she relented with a sigh. “Fine. I noticed Logan had dozed off, so I slipped out and called a cab to bring me down.” When his eyes went wide, she held up her free hand and quickly added, “I left him a note. I’m not the one that just vanishes without a trace.” The venom in her words caught even her by surprise.

“Maybe without a trace. But never without a conversation.”

“Ugh.” Charlotte’s head fell forward so that her forehead was resting against his chest, grumbling, “Thought you were ‘posed to be my friend and stick up for me?” He shot her a knowing look, but she continued on before he could launch into the spiel she'd already heard dozens of times before. “Fine. Ok. You win. Save the damn lecture and put the time to better use. Say … running me home?”

Laughing, Paul retorted, “Bout freakin’ time, sweetheart.”

A short time later, Paul was pulling up to the curb in front of her apartment building. Mind already running through the things that she needed to say to Logan as she reached for the door handle, she jumped when Paul’s hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder. “Don’t I even get a ‘goodbye’ or ‘thank you’ first?”

“Shit! I’m sorry! Thank you so much. For letting me hang. For forcing me to talk this shit out. For bringing my ass home.”

Chuckling indulgently, he told her, “You’re welcome. For everything.” She once again started to climb from the car, but stopped when he continued, “But, I need you to promise me that you won’t sneak out like this again.”

Chuckling indulgently, she shrugged her shoulders and opened her door before tossing back, “I would, but I don’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

The glare she got in response was stern, but the effect was all but negated by the warmth in his voice as he threatened, “Fine. Lemme put it to ya this way, sweetheart. If you do it again, I’m dumping your ass. For real.”

She waited until she’d stepped out and up onto the sidewalk before she turned around to say, “It’s so adorable when you act like you could live without me, lover,” before turning to walk through the front door, blowing him a kiss from over her shoulder.

As she crossed the lobby towards the elevator bank, her eyes caught on the Out of Service sign and she let out a groan. Despite her annoyance, Charlotte didn’t blink an eye before heading for the staircase, figuring it was only a minor inconvenience. Especially since, at her last appointment, the first thing she’d asked once her doctor had mentioned that she was good to start easing back into very light physical activity was if she was okay to take the stairs to her apartment, because the ancient elevators were constantly having issues and she knew that having the freedom to move around more meant nothing if she couldn’t get in and out of her damn apartment. While he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect, he assured her that she’d be fine so long as she took it slowly and carefully. Still, she knew even with the green light from her doctor, it was going to feel like a trek after having spent so long doing little more than traversing the path between her bed and her couch.

True to her expectations, by the time she’d gotten to the second floor, she was definitely more winded than she’d usually be and her entire body was beginning to take on that achy feel of being suddenly being forced to work. But neither of those things is what had her slumping against the wall with a white-knuckled grip on the handrail. No, that was brought on by the way the world had seemingly begun to spin around her, setting her completely off balance.

What could have been five minutes or five hours later, she chanced peeking an eye open, but the vibrant mosaic tile pattern of the stairs was still swirling and swimming about in front of her, causing her to slam it back closed and drop her head back – gently – against the wall. Frustrated that the only change in how she felt was the deep churning and roiling in her gut, she finally acknowledged that she wasn’t going to be making it up the rest of the way on her own and pulled her phone from her pocket to call Logan.

Without opening her eyes, she placed her finger over the fingerprint reader, waiting for the digital clicking sound that signaled it had been unlocked, but it never came. Steeling herself for the unsettling sensations that were about to wash over her, she once again peeled an eye open and pressed the power button to wake up the screen. A loud groan escaped her when the screen remained dark, reminding her that she had forgotten to charge it the night before.

Faced with the unsettling choice of either continuing on in spite of the vertigo – which seemed risky, even by her standards – or staying in her spot for who knows how long until the episode passed, Charlotte couldn’t hold back the sobs building in the back of her throat or the tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she slid down the wall to sit on the step. All she wanted, with a desperation she hadn’t felt since those first few weeks after he'd walked away the last time in L.A., was for Logan to wrap her in his arms. To whisper all of his sweet reassurances in her ear. To be the calm and steady force that centered her through the storm.

Almost as if her longing thoughts had conjured him, he was suddenly there, hands running gently over her arms and then brushing away her tears as he rattled off question after question, not leaving her space to actually answer one before moving on to the next. It was just as well, however, considering her addled mind couldn’t seem to make any sort of sense out of the words, choosing instead to latch onto the strained breathlessness with which they were uttered.

Wanting, or rather needing, to reassure him that, while she felt awful, she was wasn’t in mortal danger, she blindly reached out until her fingers brushed against the familiar, well-worn softness of his favorite denim shirt. As she ran her fingers across what she recognized as his chest, his free hand came up to tangle gently in her hair and she sank into the touch. A beat later, his forehead was resting against hers and she couldn’t have missed the shudder that ran through his body or the shaky exhale that passed his lips if she’d tried.

Charlotte’s fingers curled around the button-lined edge of shirt and she whispered, “It’s okay baby. I’m okay,” so softly she was surprised when she felt his answering scoff fan across her face, confirming that he had actually heard her.

Instead of a snarky retort or censuring lecture she was expecting to hear, the next words out of Logan’s mouth were simply, “You good if I pick you up?”

Her eyes shot open at the almost frigid indifference in his voice and the sight in front of her knocked the wind out of her like a punch to the gut. His brows were deeply furrowed and his lips were pursed together so tightly that they were barely visible. It was one thing to know that he was worried and upset – she’d felt it in his every tentative touch -- but it was something else entirely to see it.

Wanting nothing more than to ease some of his tension, she trailed her fingers up from his chest along the side of his neck and face, across his forehead until she could smooth them along the deep-set lines running between his eyebrows. It was a left-over habit from when she’d briefly moved into his loft in L.A., one that had never failed to relax him. This time, unfortunately, it didn’t have the same effect and her heart sunk just a little bit deeper into her stomach. Feeling defeated, she let her hand, along with her gaze, drop back down to her lap as she answered his question, “Yeah. I think the dizziness is mostly gone now. So long as we take it slow, I should be fine.”

Without hesitation, Logan pulled back enough to push himself up out of his crouch and it took everything she had not to whine at the loss. Within seconds, he was leaning back down to wrap one arm around her back while the other slid underneath her knees. Instinctively, Charlotte wrapped her free arm around his neck and as soon as she did, he was standing back up and tucking her against his chest, making sure to be mindful of both the strap of the sling across her back and the bulkiness of her cast. He spared her one glance with a raised eyebrow, but immediately averted his eyes when she assured him, “I’m good.”

Despite the way that he was cradling her so carefully in his arms as he carried her up the next two flights of stairs, with what seemed like no effort at all, it felt to her as if there was an entire canyon between them. Not once did he look down at her. Not once did he even twitch as if he was thinking of dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Not once did he open his mouth as if to say something to her. Even when she had to drop her head against his shoulder as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her, the heavy silence remained.

As soon as they were back inside the apartment, Logan settled her gently onto the couch then turned to grab his pillow and a blanket from the pile of bedding he made each morning when he folded the pull-out away. Wordlessly, he tucked the blanket tightly around her – just the way she needs to be able to sleep alone. As he was reaching up to place the pillow beneath her head, she caught his wrist in her hand, whispering his name beneath her breath. Rather than make eye contact with her, he simply shook his head once and slipped away from her grip.

Stung by his rejection, Charlotte didn’t try to stop him again as he left the room. Instead, she curled up into as tight of a ball as she could on her good side, letting the scent of him on the pillow and blanket take over her senses until she was slowly drifting off into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

By the time that she woke up, the living room was cast in complete darkness, save for the bright green LED light letting her know her phone was finished charging. Lotta good that does me now. She blinked a few times in an effort to get her eyes to adjust to the lack of lighting, but still could barely make out the outlines of the rest of the furniture surrounding her. Even still, she knew Logan wasn’t in the room with her: she could always feel his presence when they were in the same space and that feeling was noticeably absent as she slowly pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the couch.

After giving herself a couple of minutes to make sure she wasn’t going to be dizzy again, she got up and headed towards the kitchen, figuring that would be his most likely location. Sure enough, she found him there, perched on one of the oversized chairs that in no way matched the tiny, shitty-ass excuse for a dining table that he currently had his forearms resting on. He was staring at the wall in front of him so intently that he didn’t even seem to hear her enter the room. Or, at least, that's what she was choosing to believe.

With just a couple more steps, she was able to close the distance between them, allowing her the ability to wrap arms around him from behind. She never made it that far, however, because as soon as her palms made contact with his shoulders, he startled and tensed beneath her touch. She opened her mouth to apologize for scaring him, but he cut her off before she had the chance, seething quietly, “Don’t you dare pull that fucking shit again.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t just sneak out without a word and then not answer your damned phone for five hours and expect me to be okay with it!”

“Okay, one? I left you a note telling you where I went. Two? As you clearly have already figured out, my fucking phone was dead. I didn’t even realize it until I was on my way back up here!”

Standing up from the chair so fast that he nearly knocked it – and her – over, Logan whipped around to face her, eyes wild with fury. “So one irresponsibility is just supposed to excuse another?”

Charlotte gave up all pretense of trying to stay calm, throwing her hands up in the air as she shouted, “For fuck’s sake, Logan! You knew where I was! If you were that damned desperate to get ahold of me, why didn’t you just call Paul?”

“I did. He wasn’t answering his goddamn phone either! By the time he finally did pick up, it was over half an hour after he’d dropped you off.” While he’d started off yelling at her in a volume that rivaled her own, Logan had trailed of into little more than a whisper by the time he was done. And that cut her deeper than the loudest insults ever could.

Unsure of how to respond, Charlotte reached up to fiddle with his spark plug necklace. It was something that had become a somewhat-nervous habit for her when he’d given it to her back in L.A. and she’d picked it up again once she’d begun wearing it almost constantly after their reunion. That simple, unthinking motion ended up being the answer to her loss of words, however, when the cool weight of it in her hand, combined with all the emotions running rampant through the room, sparked the memory of how she’d come to possess it in the first place.

“Logan, baby.” She paused, waiting until he looked up from the floor to meet her gaze before continuing gently, “You remember what you told me when you gave this to me?”

He raised an eyebrow at her as if asking her where she was going with this abrupt subject change. When she didn’t give him an answer, he let out a harsh sigh before replying, “Not entirely. I remember it was before the Grapevine job. Something about it keeping you safe like it did for me?”

“Yeah, that was part of it. You also told me how you came to wear it, too. How you'd survived a crash that you probably shouldn’t have.”

Rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in the air, Logan sniped, “Okay … so? What's the point of this random-ass trip down memory lane?”

“You told me that you’d almost died. In a car accident. Right before we were about to go steal four very expensive sport cars. And we were going to steal them off a car hauler on the freeway, no less.” As if he had suddenly figured out where she was going with this, his eyes widened before narrowing on her. He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand to stop him. “I’m not gonna lie. As much as I was so touched that you were giving me something that meant so much to you? The story behind it fucking terrified me. Because if you – who had been driving so long and had so much skill at it – could wreck like that, what chance did I have at holding up my end of the bargain? Not to mention, just the idea of you getting hurt almost sent me into a tailspin. And I’m not so sure that that wasn’t your plan all along.”

“I – “

Walking over to wrap her arm around his neck, she kissed first his cheek and then his lips briefly and tenderly. When he didn’t tense up or pull away from her, she chanced nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. “I know, baby. You were just doing whatever you could think of to keep me safe. I understand that. And I understand that the result of me being a complete dumbass during that race scared the shit out of you. But I’m still here. I’m still alive. And today’s episode notwithstanding, I’ve been feeling really good. So this whole, hovering-over-me thing? The it’s-too-dangerous-out-there-thing you’ve been doing? It’s smothering me and I … I just can’t do it. It took me far too long to escape it with Wheeler. Far too long to find the strength to realize that it was okay – more than okay – to be who I wanted to be regardless of whether the people in my life accepted it. So … as much as I hate worrying you, I cannot go back to that old, boring version of myself, the one that never really felt like me, just because it's safer.”

Logan inhaled sharply and hands tightened ever so slightly where they had been resting on her hips since she'd tucked herself into him. A couple long beats passed before he finally muttered, “You know, you seemed to have skipped over the most important part of that story, though.”

Face scrunched up, she asked, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. That wasn’t just me giving you a good luck token. That was me trying to tell you not only to make sure you’re always in control, but also to make sure you learn from life's lessons.”

“I know.”

“Do you, though?”

Taken aback by Logan’s abrasiveness, Charlotte stumbled back a step, only to be met by narrowed eyes boring into her. “I ... I … I do.”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it from where I’m standing.”

“Logan – “

“Do you even realize how fucking stupid that stunt you pulled today was? What if that episode had hit when you were out there on the streets somewhere? All alone?”

Even though she knew his point was valid, Charlotte couldn’t bite back her derisive scoff. “First of all, I was literally by myself when it happened, so yeah, I have a decent idea.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Continuing on as if she hadn’t heard his outburst, she added heatedly, “Second, the only time I was by myself today was on the elevator ride down to the lobby, the walk from my cab to Paul’s storage unit and back here in the stairwell. It’s not like I was fucking gallivanting around the whole goddamn city.”

“For fuck’s sake! It’s not – you know what? Just forget it.” Throwing his hands up, Logan turned to storm out of the room.

“Sure. Just ru … run away. It’s – “ Tears that she refused to let fall clogged her throat and she pressed her lips together in an attempt to gather her composure. She realized, however, that the damage had been done, her stuttering robbing her words of their intended venom, so she pressed on with a watery whisper, “It’s what you do best.”

Practically freezing mid-step, he pivoted back around to face her, hands scrubbing at his face. “Damn it, Char. I’m not running away.” Shoulders falling when she rolled her eyes at him, he quickly closed the distance between them to lace their fingers together and insisted, “I’m not.”

“Then why – “

Without warning, Logan crushed his lips to hers in a kiss that left her short of breath when he finally pulled back just far enough to murmur, “’Cause you refuse to acknowledge how fucking reckless you’ve been and it is frustrating the ever livin’ shit outta me. And it just felt like it was better to walk away than say something I’d regret. Something just to hurt you. I don’t want … I can’t hurt you like that.”

Charlotte pulled back a little bit further to meet him square in the eye. “Future reference? Words are no big deal. You walking away? That’s the shit I can’t handle.”

Tangling his free hand in the hair at the base of her head, he gently pulled her face back so he could feather another kiss across her lips before replying, “Noted.” Another barely-there kiss. “Thing I can’t handle?” A slight tug of her bottom lip between his teeth that pulled a sharp gasp from her. “You not takin’ this shit seriously.”

This time, instead of leaning in again, Logan pulled pack just a bit further. She tried chasing after him, but he maintained their separation until she dropped her head back with a groan.

“You even listenin’ to me?”

“Um … yes?”

“Charlotte.”

“Hey!” She tried to glare at him, but instead ended up giggling, “You were the one distracting me!” When he leaned back in for another kiss, Charlotte dipped back as far as she could. “See! You’re doin’ it again!”

“Answer the question and I’ll stop.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

Shaking his head at her with a familiar and fond smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward, he chuckled, “Okay … Answer the question or I’ll stop.” As if to emphasize his point, he pulled his hand out of hers and untangled his other from her hair to place them both on her hips to keep her planted to her spot when he took a step backwards.

Making sure to soften her words with a smile, Charlotte grumbled, “Ugh. Fine. If you’re gonna be so cruel about it … “ A light pinch pulled another giggle from her. “Okay. Okay. Yes, I heard you.”

“And?”

“And … I get it.” The incredulous look he gave her almost had her flinching. “Look, I get that I haven’t been the most … appreciative for the way that you’ve been taking care of me. And I get that I can’t go back to ‘normal’ just because I want to.”

“Char – “

“Hold up! I’m not finished!” Stopping to heave a frustrated sigh, she continued, “I’m going to do better from here on out. I’m gonna take it easy until the doctors clear me. I’ll do a better job of listening to my body when it starts telling me to take a break. And I’ll stop fighting you so much about it.”

“Not stop all the way, huh?”

“I think we both know me better than that.”

Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, he snickered, “Okay, that’s fair. That mean we’re done with this sneaking-out shit, then?”

Raising an eyebrow defiantly, she fired back, “Depends.”

“On?”

“Are you done with all your helicopter shit? Because if you are? Then yes. I’m done sneaking out.”

Logan studied her face with an inscrutable expression on his own for what felt like hours before nodding his head once. “Fine. I’ll chill out so long as you behave.”

Wrapping her arm around his neck with a smile, she told him, “I’m so glad we got that settled. I hate fighting with you.”

“God, me too. Are you as exhausted as I am?”

Charlotte snorted as she dropped her head against his chest. “Oh, my god. You have no idea.”

“Why don’t we call it a night, then?”

The hopefulness in Logan’s voice almost made her snicker, but she managed to smother it by placing a kiss to a spot right above his heart. “That sounds like a great idea, so long as we go together tonight.

The words were barely out of her mouth before he was nodding eagerly and answering, “Done.”

A/N #2: Just in case any one is wondering (since I haven’t written about Paul and Charlotte’s friendship nearly as much as I have wanted to) and also because I just really want to share this tidbit behind Charlotte’s nickname for Paul. When the two of them first started to become friends, the way Paul was always calling her “sweetheart” drove her absolutely crazy for reasons I may actually write about at some point? lol so she decided to retaliate by calling him “lover.” Unfortunately for her, however he didn’t mind, so it obviously didn’t have the desired effect. Eventually, it became a habit of affection and each of their nicknames stuck. Thank you for indulging me in this moment of ridiculousness

Perma Tags: @burnsoslow​ @mvalentine​ @anotherbeingsworld​ @adiehardfan​

Logan Tags: @brightpinkpeppercorn

[ad1thi]

set in Age of Ultron; the infamous party scene before everything goes to shit

The couch shifts, dipping under Tony’s weight as he plops down next to Steve; extending the beer bottle in his hand.

“I had Thor top it off with his special juice,” Tony says before Steve can remind him that alcohol has no effect on him, “Figured you deserved to let loose too tonight Cap.”

“Steve,” he says automatically, unable to hold back the bite in his tone. It’s a small thing, almost negligible compared to their other problems; but Tony is the only person in the team who still calls him Cap.

Sometimes, Steve wonders if things would be different if they hadn’t clashed on the Helicarrier that day; if they’d met as comrades and allies the way he met with everyone else on the team - instead of as rivals taking cheap shots at each other.

He knows now that it was the effect of Loki’s spectre; but he can’t help regretting the way he and Tony got off on the wrong foot.

“Okay Steve,” Tony stresses his name, “Bottoms up.” He clinks their bottles together, and then tips his head back. After a second, Steve mimics him; relishing the slight burn from the Asgardian mead.

“How much mead is in this did you say?” he asks around a raspy throat, and Tony just winks at him. 

“Enough.”

“That’s not an answer Shellhead.”

Tony just smiles at him mysteriously, and Steve, in a moment of character growth, decides to let it go. Bucky would be proud of him. That is, if Steve ever catches up to him and Buck remembers who he is, who they were to each other.

“Sure would’ve been nice if we had this back in the War,” Steve says instead, tipping the bottle around, “Can think of a few times when drinking something that actually affected me would’ve gone a long way.”

Tony must sense the change in Steve’s tone, because he reaches out and grips Steve’s shoulder reassuringly. Steve leans into the touch; dipping his head slightly to brush against Tony’s fingers in silent gratitude.

They sit there for a complete of moments in silence, despite the loud roar of the party around them; and it’s in moments like these that Steve feels the closest to Tony. 

It’s weird, because of all of his team; Steve finds it the hardest to get along with Tony. And yet, here he is; opening himself up and letting himself be seen, be vulnerable, in a way that he hasn’t allowed himself to be ever since he woke up from the ice.

There’s a distance between him and Tony that he can’t cross, can’t breach; and yet at his lowest moments - it’s Tony he wants by his side. There’s a name for these feelings, he knows - Natasha made sure that his education of the twenty first century was very thorough; but he isn’t ready to put a label on it yet. 

As if putting a label will shatter it somehow.

“You’re going to find him Steve,” Tony says softly, “He’s not going to run forever. Eventually he’s going to get tired, eventually he’s going to want to come home.”

“And when he does, you’ll be there for him. We’ll be there for him.”

Steve quirks at eyebrow at him, “We?”

Tony spreads his other hand out in a flourish; jostling the beer inside, “Mi casa es su casa Steve. Whenever your buddy’s ready to come home - I’ve got a floor in his house.”

“That’s a very generous offer.”

Tony shrugs, like it isn’t a big deal. For a billionaire, Steve supposes, it probably isn’t. Still; he doesn’t think that’s why Tony’s being so glib about it.

“It’s the least I can do for you,” Tony replies; voice thick with an emotion that Steve can’t decipher - but if he had to guess, he thinks it’s similar to the one growing in his chest.

He lifts up his free hand, and places it over Tony’s fingers; the ones still gripping his shoulder; and squeezes lightly.

Around them, the party hasn’t slowed down in the slightest; but for a couple of seconds; Steve could’ve sworn that they’re the only people in the room.

Fin