supeson

[supeson]

If you have a ao3 account could you please tell me?!?😊😊😊

I do! the username is bliztoise, but I'm afraid the DC selection over there is the same as here (maybe even more scant).

[supeson]

sobbing & crying bc you finished the Bruce fic I’ve been following since it started on AO3. a full circle moment occurred rn and I’m so glad we got a snippet of Selena

thank you so much! that's insane!

[supeson]

...did you mean "je ne sais quoi"?

nobody look while I correct it. I took 3 years of French in high school

[supeson]

je ne sais quoi

hey guys, girls, and gays. thanks.

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine , part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen , part fifteen, part sixteen, part seventeen, part eighteen, part nineteen

"Fuckin' stupid, putting it this high up, this is an accident waiting to happen," You mutter under your breath, fingers just grazing the bag of cat food on the top shelf. You step up on your tip toes, the shelf gets no closer. Stepping up onto the shelf helps, giving you another 3 inches, and you grab a corner of the bag, letting out a triumphant noise.

"Gotcha!" 3 inches too many, it seems, as it all gives way and you crash back to the floor, eighteen pound bag of cat food clutched tightly to your chest. You're staring into the fluorescent lights when a sharply manicured hand pops into view.

"Need a hand? I saw your valiant struggle against that dastardly-placed food."

You lift your head and look up. An extremely attractive woman with looks down at you and smiles, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. You shift the food to the floor beside you and take her hand. "Uh yea, thanks. God, that's embarrassing that you saw that. I would've preferred to have been crushed under the food, actually."

She laughs. She laughs? Your brain short-circuits. "Well, you recover nicely, I'll give you that. What's the name that would've been on the obituary?" You giver her your name as you stare at her with wide eyes. Damn, she's good. She nods as though thinking about it. "Selina Kyle. And here, if you ever find yourself trapped under some cat food, and you can move your arms, give a ring, and I'll come over to dig you out. And hey, if you're not too beat-up after that, maybe we could grab dinner."

She hands you a slip of paper with her name and phone number, gives you a wink, and waltzes down the aisle. You stand there for three uninterrupted minutes before you haul the bag of food off of the floor and start calling Alfred's name.

*

"-and then she gave me her number, unprompted, isn't that fucking crazy?" you ask, shoving the piece of paper in Bruce's face. You'd put away your pet store findings once you'd gotten home and had gone to find him, finding all of this very funny, if baffling. You'd found him reading in the library, book now closed on the arm of his chair.

Bruce takes it, and turns it over carefully. You immediately backpedal. "I mean, I wasn't gonna call her, obviously, what we have is too important to me, and it's going so well, but this has never happened to me before, and I-"

"Selina Kyle is one if my exes. And she knows I'm Batman."

You deflate. "Oh."

Bruce catches the spiral you're going on. "That's not to say she didn't truly find you attractive, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that it brings up memories for me. Particularly painful ones. Selina and I, we have an incredibly complicated history, one that almost ended in marriage, if only-"

You kneel in front of him and cup his face with your hands. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Or, even if you want to, but can't right now. I'm in it for the long haul, remember?"

Bruce simply nods and rubs your hand with his own, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Another time, then."

*

Batman stands on a ledge, surveying the city. The night is quiet, surprisingly, given how warm the weather's been. So quiet, that she couldn't hide the taps of her heels if she wanted to.

"Going silent for a bit," Bruce says into his ear piece, then switches it off and turns around. "What do you want, Selina?"

"Oh, can't a girl just enjoy a night out on the town, Batman? Not all of us have such fulfilling careers," she replies, slinking into view from around the door to the roof. "Or relationships, for that matter."

"Did you know from the beginning?" His eye twitches underneath the mask.

"Honest to god, I didn't. I genuinely thought I was just playing the field, until I saw Alfred as I was leaving. That and Harley showed me some tabloids that weren't afraid of getting sued. I gotta say, this is pretty underwhelming, for you. Not a cape, not a villain, hell, not even somebody remotely famous. I'm impressed, I-"

"Don't talk about them like that. This is different. This is-" His hands are tightening under the cape. A master of his own mind and emotions it seems, until it comes to you.

Selina holds up her hands in surrender and smiles coyly. "Relax, B. I'm just here to tell you I'm not stepping into your territory. I'm not stupid enough to try and take something that's yours again." She pulls out a grappling gun and shoots it off into the night. "Just let me know when you're done, 'kay? I wanna take a turn."

She's gone before Bruce can formulate a reply. He switches his comm back on, and starts making plans.

*

You've been out at the pool entirely too long, Bruce thinks. Like a cat laying in their favorite window, as soon as it had become warm enough, you were out in the gardens, at the pool. You always told him that given the opportunity, you would stay out there all day, but he hadn't quite believed it until it became an inconvenience to his plans. You've been out there for seven hours now, and likely for longer, now that Dick, Steph, Duke, and Jason have joined you.

"Sir, if I may suggest going to them, instead of waiting for them to come to you?" Alfred asks, hands perfectly poised behind his back.

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Alfred."

He simply nods. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Depends on how this goes. I'll let you know."

"Quite good, sir."

Bruce makes his way down to the pool, and walks up just in time to see you break the surface in the deep end, much like a polar bear in their enclosure at the zoo. Jason, Steph, Duke, and Dick have a volleyball game going in the shallow end, while Titus lays in the pavement and watches. His heart clenches when you catch his eye.

"Babe, hey! Are you finally gonna join us? The water's great! Steph says it's too cold, but here she is, right? Of course, Tim told us to drop dead when we invited him, but I think that's just because he's too skinny to appreciate how refreshing this cool water is." You swim up to the edge, smiling wide. His other children snicker.

Bruce kneels down by the edge. "Actually, I came to ask you something, would you mind coming up for a second?"

You note the way his smile falters for a millisecond, and how he tightens his hands. He's nervous. Anything that can make the Bat nervous warrants your full attention, you suppose. "Oh, uh, sure, one sec."

You climb up out of the water, and Bruce thinks you look radiant with the late afternoon sun behind you. You join him on the lounge chairs, toweling yourself off carefully. Bruce has never felt anxious until this moment right here. "Okay, big man, shoot."

Bruce clears his throat. "Right. Yes. So, I've been thinking. About our relationship, specifically, and how much it has changed me. Changed us, for the better. I never thought that something like this, given my line of work, would ever be possible, but you seem to have proven me wrong, and gone against every calculation I could have had for our relationship to play out. And it has been the greatest thing to behold, really. I want to deepen our commitment. I want us to commit to each other, despite our problems." Bruce pulls a small box out of his pocket, and flips it open. Sitting in the center are two rings, both with a silver band, but one with a ring of some crushed blue stone inlaid, and another with your favorite color instead of blue. He says your name like it's the first time he's ever said it before. "I love you, will you marry me?"

You immediately stand up, going, "Are you fucking sure?"

His children stare at him in shock, while Alfred simply walks down the pathway, champagne and sparkling grape juice in hand. Bruce's eyebrows start to draw in, and you speak quickly. "Shut up, shut up! I know you're sure, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that, yes! I meant to say yes, sure, whatever! I just, I don't, I've never-"

Bruce shoots up and kisses you. There are stars behind your eyes as you comprehend what's just happened to you, what's going to happen to you, and all you can think about is that you're soaking the front of his shirt right now. Bruce must not realize he's losing himself a little bit, because just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, Dick whistles. The two of you spring apart, Bruce combing a hand through his hair in embarrassment, and you burying your face in your towel. Alfred is already passing flutes of champagne around, and Tim and Damian are tearing down the pathway.

"Father, how could you!" "Bruce, holy fuck!"

Bruce just smiles wider than you've ever seen in your life as he pries your left hand away from the towel, and slips the blue ring onto your finger. Looks just like his eyes, you think as you stare in awe.

The sun starts to dip beneath the horizon as you kiss him again, then slip his ring onto his hand. The thought of announcing it to the press, and having to go out into public with him officially makes you nauseous, but that's a freakout for another time. For now, you kiss your fiancé, then throw down to towel and jump back into the pool to cool your heated face. Everybody yells their indignation, but you just hug yourself at the bottom of the pool, incredulous.

[supeson]

timid trust, still displaced

part one, part two, part three

You quit your job. Or more accurately, you get a better offer for the same job you're currently doing at another place in the city. It's also closer to The Daily Planet, so Clark uses it as an excuse to check on you more often. You start making a real effort to eat real food. You're still working on actually cooking and making fresh meals, but for now the frozen ready made ones you eat are enough. At least you're eating. It takes you a while, but you finally fall into a rhythm.

*

You decide to stop your antidepressants. You spend a whole session speaking to your therapist about it, weighing the pros and cons. Pro: you haven't really felt like they've been doing anything for you lately with how well you've been doing. Con: what if you stop them and everything goes to shit? Pro: you have an actual support system now to help you. Con: you feel bad making people care about you.

"I wouldn't say you're forcing anybody to care about you," your therapist says. "People choose to care."

"Fair, I guess. I just hate making people worry. I can take care of myself; I'm an adult." She looks at you pointedly at that. "Alright I don't have the best track record but I've made it this far in life and that's gotta count for something."

She taps something into her laptop. "Well, if you do decide to, just know that there is a washout period, so don't be surprised if it takes you a while to feel normal."

*

You go out more. You find that while staying at home is nice and definitely what you prefer, going out for small things can help improve your mood. Even if it's just to the corner store for some chips.

Then Clark gets stuck in deep space for three weeks right before your birthday, and you spiral. It starts small, with minor annoyances making you angry. Then, your new friends at work seem to back off (through nobody's fault, really, but you can't help but feel like it's entirely your fault, and that they don't like you anymore). Your days off become days full of nothing but sitting on your couch trying to occupy your time with multiple hobbies, only to abandon them out of boredom or frustration when things don't go like they're supposed to. You want nothing more than to reach out to Clark, but he's indisposed.

You find yourself bottling up emotionally, unable to cry or articulate your frustrations. You feel stupid for feeling like this, for being unable to reach out to anybody for help. The loneliness is eating you alive, and you're content to sit there and let it swallow you whole.

*

You wake up from another nap to the sound of keys in the door. You heart leaps at the sound, but you roll over anyway, pulling the blankets more tightly around your neck. You feel achy and gritty from laying in bed since yesterday, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

Clark notices the groceries first. There are empty boxes of ramen noodles stacked up beside the garbage, and there are half eaten bags of chips stacked on top of your fridge. The inside of the fridge is almost barren, except for a gallon of milk and one shelf in the door full of condiments. He exhales heavily, having expected the sight, but disappointed nonetheless.

He makes his way to your bedroom, slips on your light, and puts down his bag. He knows you're awake, he can hear your heartbeat pick up when he sits down on the bed. Clark puts a hand on the lump he deduces is you, and you shift, rolling towards him and squinting up at him. You uncover your mouth enough to speak to him.

"Hey, babe." You voice is nothing more than a croak, from sleep and disuse.

"Do you want to talk about it now, or later?" Is all he asks in response.

You bristle, ready to go on the offense, then close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Not really."

He nods. "How can I best help you right now?"

You think. You gut response is to get angry, tell him to leave. But he loves you, you remind yourself. It's not fair to take my terrible mood out on him. "I have a headache."

"Okay, when was the last time you ate and drank anything?"

You silence speaks volumes.

Clark peels back the blankets, untangling you for the first time in a while, from what he can tell. "Okay, let's head to the kitchen and see what we can find, okay sweetheart?"

You're embarrassed by the backslide, but Clark is nothing more than helpful, willing to wait until you're ready to sit down and have a discussion with him. It makes your eyes water knowing you have somebody that cares about you in all aspects, and not just what you can do for them. You blink back tears as you clutch him, stumbling down the hallway together.

[supeson]

i should be pullin' you close to me, and not explainin' why

this is my ode to a fic i read YEARS ago! it was also about a fat reader being clueless as hell, which i found to be very personally real lmao

You're lonely, you'll fully admit that. You have your friends and your family, for sure, but it's not quite the same as romantic entanglement. You've been on the apps, started and stopped chats with people who seemed interested until you refused to give them whatever disgusting thing they wanted. You can honestly say you've tried, but it's not like people meet each other in real life anymore, so you've resigned yourself to being alone. It also doesn't help that you're fat.

You've always been fat with big hips and arms, a stomach that rolls over itself. You've always been realistic about the way you look, and you try to treat your body well, despite how many people have told you you're abusing it. Of course, this came with childhood teasing and bullying. You could count on two hands the amount of times people tried to insist someone liked you, only to have the person in question shaking their head vehemently, horrified that you might think they consider you romanceable.

So, in short, you've closed yourself off to romance, finding fulfillment in your friends and family. Until you're at the library and you meet him.

*

The library is running a trade in event where people can bring their old books in and put them into a pool for equal exchange. It's a hot September afternoon, and you've come to the library with a stack almost as high as your head. You're almost all the way up the frankly stupid amount of stairs that lead up to the main branch's doors when your flip flop doesn't quite make it all the way to the top of the next stair and you trip.

"Oh fuck me," you say, clinging to the books in your hands, fully expecting to meet the pavement. You hear some of the books hit the concrete in front of you and brace yourself. You open your eyes a full 20 seconds later when the impact doesn't come, and feel hands on your shoulders.

"I'm not trying to be in your business or anything, but why are you carrying so many books at once?" A voice behind you asks.

You let out a long breath and set down what you have left, and turn. "Because I forgot my little red wagon at ho....me," you trail off, staring upwards. A man, about 6'1'' if you were to hazard a guess, stands there in tight black jeans and a red tank top, the small patch of white at the front of his otherwise black head of hair shaking as he snorts, his blue eyes looking at you appraisingly.

"Well then, let me at least help you inside," he says, moving past you to pick up whatever you had dropped.

"Alright," you say dumbly, unsure of how to refuse his help. The two of you make quick work, collecting everything and getting it safely inside. You start perusing the other books, deciding if any were worthy of your time. The man watches you with his hands in his back pockets.

"So why did you bring so many? Books, I mean," he asks, taking a look at the titles you've brought in.

"I was finally cleaning out my apartment and these were the ones I didn't find to be too memorable, or I've had them since high school and I like to think I've grown as a reader since then. Had to get 'em out today or I never would've. I get that from my mother." As soon as you say that, your cheeks start to burn. Why would I say that to a stranger?

The man pulls a deep purple book from the stack and reads the inside of the jacket sleeve. "Aidan Gray was a strange enigma, to be sure..."

You whip around and snatch it from his hands. "Look, this was right after the Twilight boom, okay? I can't be held accountable for 15 year old me's tastes. It was a difficult time for the YA industry."

He holds his hands up. "Alright, that's fair."

He looks through the stack again and pulls out a small chunky book, about 400 pages, but with a beautiful cover of a sundial in a garden, dyed by the sunset behind it. You pipe up. "Oh, that one kicks ass. It's about two sisters that inherit this huge mansion right before the stock market crash in the 30's, so the older sister steps up and does what she has to do to protect her family home, becoming the mistress to one of her father's old business associates, but then she eventually-"

"Whoa, whoa, as you gonna let me read it for myself, or explain the whole plot?" He asks, turning it over in his hands. It's clearly well loved, for sure. "Why are you turning it in, then?"

You rub the back of you neck. "I, uh, didn't actually mean to. I must've been cleaning off my bookshelf and forgot to put it back."

The man adopts an easy smile. "Tell you what, let me borrow it, since you love it so much. I'll return it when I'm done, scout's honor," he says, raising his hand.

It's your turn to snort. You shove your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. "How can I be sure of that when I don't even know your name?"

He nods, acquiescing. "Touché. I'm Jason. Here, gimme your phone and I'll put in my number, so that you can pester me until I finish it and give it back."

You give him a suspicious look, but finally dig your phone out of your basketball shorts and hand it to him. You put in your info, adding the melting smile emoji next to your name. "If you don't respond to me, I swear to god I'll take legal action."

"Duly noted. I have a feeling this is the start of something beautiful."

*

You fully expect to never see Jason, or your book for that matter, ever again, but lo and behold he texts you two days later at an ungodly time, to tell you that he's enjoying it so far. You reply at a much more sensible 7AM, after you've been awake for a little bit, and are surprised when he asks to meet you for coffee. You're even more surprised when you find yourself agreeing. You throw on a t-shirt and jeans, and meet him half an hour later at some hole in the wall place he insists has the best coffee on earth. You dash his hopes to be praised when you order a smoothie, citing a sensitivity to caffeine. The two of you chat for what feels like forever, and you're hesitant to, but eventually you break it off, telling him you have to go to work. He lets you go with a two finger salute.

You leave the interaction smiling to yourself. You've finally made a new friend.

*

Convinced that he's strictly there for friendship only, you let yourself get comfortable with Jason pretty quickly. You invite him over to your house for pizza and movie nights, he takes you out to all of the seediest restaurants in the city, where the people seem to know him and the food is incredible. He's seen you in your rattiest pajamas, unshowered, apartment on just the wrong side of needing a cleaning. There are a couple of times you think you see him staring at you with less than friendly intentions, but dismiss the notions immediately. This isn't a rom-com, get a grip, you always tell yourself.

But the longer your friendship goes on, the more your resolve starts to crumble. Over the months he's gotten more comfortable touching you, which has always been one of your biggest insecurities. Not that you hate to be touched, but you've gotten so used to going months without a friendly one that every time Jason puts his hands on you, you resist the urge to flinch. It started with simple hands on your shoulders to guide you somewhere, or a hip bump if he took a turn too sharply while walking somewhere with you. One time, he pulled you by the hand across the street and you immediately wrenched it from him as soon as you were safely across, citing a smashed bug on your palm. You were too busy trying to calm yourself to notice the look of hurt that flashed across his face.

The culmination of it all is his hand on the small of your back as he grabs something you're reaching for in your kitchen cabinets. "Let me," he says, flashing you a smile. You just nod dumbly and stand down. He pats you again as he retrieves the microwave popcorn bags for you.

*

You mentally gather the evidence in your mind, trying to look at it from all possible angles. I'm putting too much stock into it, he can't mean anything romantically. I mean, look at me, you reason. Maybe he's this affectionate with all of his friends. He mentioned that he has a big family, right? Maybe they're just like that? Besides, he probably has people throwing themselves at him all the time. It's fine. I can do this. I can be his friend. You start to cry, trying to wipe away your tears before they can fall, failing when they come too quickly. This is fucking stupid. I caught feelings and I know he'll never want me. God.

You suddenly remember that you're supposed to have plans with him that night and dive for your phone, texting him a flimsy excuse for why you need to cancel. He just sends you back a thumbs-up emoji, and you start to cry harder. You have a lot to sort out before you can see him again.

Roughly two hours later you hear a knock at your door. You look out of the peephole to see Jason standing there, scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding a huge takeout bag in the other.

"Jason, I'm sick," you yell through the door.

"Yea, I know," he retorts, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. "And I brought you some of your favorite ramen, so let me in."

You try to wipe away the salt trails on your cheeks as best as you can, take a deep breath, and undo the locks on your door. You walk away as he swings open the door and immediately toes his shoes off, settling back down on your couch, legs crossed as you hold a pillow. He sets down the bag in your kitchen and starts taking out spoons and bowls. "So what is it today? Your stomach again?"

"No," you squeak. "Why did you still come?"

"Because you feel bad, and it's my job to help you feel better." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and it wrenches your heart in two.

"You're too good to me. Way past your job description as friend," you try to joke. Jason drops the container full of vegetables he had been spooning into the broth and looks at you as if he's been struck.

"What?"

"It's too much, Jason. It's above and beyond the call of duty for a friend. Even a best friend, I would say." You squeeze the pillow tighter, preparing yourself for you next words. "You don't have to do all of this just for me. I understand my position."

Jason comes and sits down across from you, concern evident in his eyes. "What are you talking about? What position? Since when are we friends?"

"What do you mean?" You ask brokenly. "I thought that's what you wanted from me. Friendship."

Jason says your name incredulously. "What are you talking about? We've been dating for 7 months. Ever since I first asked you to the coffee shop three days after we met.""

"What?" Fat tears starts to roll down your cheeks again. "I thought...all this time...we were just becoming close friends."

Jason clutches at his hair. "I met you mother!"

You wave dismissively. "All my friends meet my mom. She's the most important person in my life."

Jason stares at you, dumbfounded, before he starts to laugh. He laughs for a full two minutes before he wipes a tear away, and finally looks at you. He inches closer to you on the couch and pulls your pillow away, leaning in. "Can I kiss you?"

You tentatively nod. You take one look at his lips before they're on yours, and then you're looking at his face, eyes latching onto the small scar on his right cheek as you turn your head for him. He pulls back for just a second to breathe in before he comes back, and you've exploded mentally. He starts feathering your face in kisses, and you can't believe that this is happening to you. This never happens to fat people like you. You don't realize that you've said that last part out loud before he pulls back and looks at you strangely.

"Babe?" You heart clenches to hear him call you that. "Is that really what you think of yourself? You can't be loved because you're fat?"

Your face feels hot as you nod.

Jason shakes his head slowly, taking both of your hands in his. "Then it makes sense why you flinched every time I touched you." As if on reflex, you flinch hearing him say that. "I've found you attractive ever since I saw you at the library that day, I swear. That's why I gave you my number. I wasn't trying to initiate a friendship. Sweetheart, I was trying to initiate a relationship."

You throw your arms around him, essentially trying to make him melt into you. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sob. You feel like you're going through the whole human spectrum of emotion at once. Elation, grief, mortification.

Jason gently peels you from him. "It's okay, really. Now that we've got that sorted out, can I finally finish making your ramen? The noodles are still good, I haven't put them in the broth yet."

You laugh and nod as you try to wipe away your tears again.

[supeson]

🧚🏼‍♂️ hi! Was curious if there will be a final part of stylish?

there will be and I'm getting to it, but also a new pokemon game just dropped, so

[supeson]

the night won't wait

part one

He finds himself on the roof. Leaning over the edge, contemplating how much dexterity it would take him to get across the street sans gadgets.

"Hey." He immediately starts trying to climb over the edge. His own arms wrap around him. "C'mon man, don't be like that. I just want to talk," Dick says, bringing his double back down.

"And I really think I would prefer hitchhiking back to the Tower than have this conversation," Red responds, leaning against back against the very brick he was about to vault over.

"I'm not mad, first of all." Dick clarifies. "And based on that display back there, I have a proposition for you."

Red's ear twitches. "Oh?"

Dick takes a deep breath. "We've been talking, and," He rubs the back of his neck. "God, there is no good way to ask this, but. Would you want to join us? One night before you leave?"

Red looks at him as if he's grown another head. Dick starts to backtrack, hands up in a placating gesture. "I mean, you don't have to. I certainly wouldn't like, pressure you or anything. We just thought- and with what we all witnessed downstairs- I didn't think-"

"They really thought you were the best one to proposition me, huh?" Red interrupts.

Dick laughs, but it sounds pained. "Remember that time Steph asked you if you would fuck your own clone? And you said yes? Kinda thought you would think of it like that. But with another person thrown in."

"And if I say yes?" Cautious as ever, in case the rug is pulled out from under him.

Dick grins. "One night is all you'll need. Promise."

*

It's been all set up. They send Red out on an errand while they prepare, and when he gets back, the apartment is dark. He sets the keys he's been given (your keys) on the table by the door. One of your cats runs up to him and rubs up against him, meowing. He leans down and gives her a quick pet, then quickly hangs his jacket up. He can instinctively tell what's going on, and a thrill runs up his spine as his mind goes into overdrive. Will it be good? Will he be good? What if-

He's drawn from his thoughts by a small moan coming from your room. Red hesitates for only a moment before heading past the kitchen, and down the hallway. The door at the end of it, just off to the right, is slightly ajar. A warm yellow light comes from it, taunting him. Beckoning him.

He stills just outside, hand on the doorknob, nervous. He feels like he's going to throw up from excitement. The thought of finally getting to touch you, taste you, sends him reeling like no other. He doesn't realize he's got a white-knuckled grip on the doorknob until it almost breaks. He lets go and accidentally pushes it inwards. He freezes.

The both of you look at him. You're on the bed in a red lingerie set, straps and all, with your hand between your legs. His double sits across from the bed in your armchair, in nothing but his boxers, hands clenched tightly together across his abdomen.

"Shit, sorry. We were supposed to wait for you, but Dick here can be very persuasive when he wants to be," You say, wrenching your hand out of the lace thong. Red says nothing, just stares at the scene before him. You open your mouth again to say something, but he darts forward, ripping his shirt off over his head with one hand, then dropping to his knees in front of you.

"May I? Please?"

You look to Dick, who nods eagerly. "Yea, go for it."

Red wastes no time tugging the thong down your legs, letting it dangle off one of them, before hiking your right leg over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around the left and pull it to the side. He spreads your pussy lips with both hands, committing the sight to memory. A small string if your slick webs between them from where you'd already been playing with yourself. Red dives in, licking up the strand for himself, moaning as he does so. After dreaming for years what you would taste like, the real thing is nothing in comparison. He rubs tight circles around your clit with one of his thumbs, using the other to hold you open. One of your hands goes to his head, trying to keep from pulling his hair by almost frenetically running your fingers through the front of it. He spits on your pussy, demanding roughly, "Pull it."

You let out a heavy breath. "Hah, didn't want to assume you'd be into exactly the same things." You do as he bids you and pull on his hair. The sound he makes is unearthly. He goes at it with a hunger you've never seen before, to the point that you yelp when he nips your clit. Red pulls back to assess. You look sufficiently wet enough, he decides. One finger goes in, and you instantly clench around him, the sight taking his breath away. The pace he sets is punishing, adding another finger as soon as he hears you squelch. You on the other hand, are losing your whole mind. Normally when Dick is this rough, it's too fast to notice, quickies after work or before patrol. But Red is taking his time and bringing power behind every thrust. Your hips are trying to pull away, the sensation of it all just on this side of too much, but Red's arms are locked onto you, pulling you closer every time your hips jerk away.

Your boyfriend, in this reality, sits in the chair, his fingers flexing closer to his boxers, eager to touch himself, but he knows he has to wait closer to the main event. The two of you have been looking forward to trying this for a long time; why ruin it by being impatient? His cock flexes at the thought.

The smoldering look Dick is giving you as he watches his double fingerfuck you is enough to drive you over the edge. Despite the grip Red has, your thighs clench together and you let out a breathless whine as you cum, back arching. Red doesn't let up, harshly sucking on your clit through it. You finally have to tap the bed twice to get his attention.

"C'mere, birdie. I need a sec."

Red snaps out of it long enough to finally get up off of his knees, towering over you in just his jeans, his dick about to burst through them. You crook a finger at him and he obediently leans over you, planting one knee on the bed. You pull him in for a kiss, and Red swears he sees fireworks. After years of pining, he finally knows what it's like to kiss you, to taste you. Your mouth tastes sweet, like the cantaloupe lip balm you prefer. Your tongue intertwines with him, and you grab his belt, pulling him closer to undo it. You toss it to the side, and start trying to pop open the button. Red stills your hands, puling away faster than you can blink to take off his pants and underwear in one fell swoop, kicking them towards the door with one foot as he mounts you again. He gives you two kisses before swiping his tongue across your lips again. You eagerly open your mouth for him and he groans. This is what he's been waiting years for.

When you run your hand across his cock, giving a tight squeeze right at the head, he nearly cums, arms buckling for just a second. You let out a light laugh. "I thought so. C'mon, get inside me already."

Red frowns, and quickly taps your thigh. "Condoms?"

Your residual smile turns sad. "I uh, can't have kids. Just a fun fact about me you should know, no big deal, really. You're clean though right? You've been tested lately?"

The little revelation rocks Red. You've always made jokes about never having kids, but he never knew they were true. "Uh, yea."

You turn around, pulling yourself up onto your elbows and knees, presenting yourself to him. "Great! Slide home then, big guy."

Red shakes his head, taking his cock in hand, and slides himself up and down your slit, hitting your clit with every push. You arch your back like a cat, letting out a little huff. He looks back to the chair, where his double sits, and Dick nods, his boxers now completely off, cock standing at attention.

Red pushes in and he immediately has to grip your hips, pulling out a bit to make sure he doesn't cum from overstimulation. You're warm and tight, everything and nothing like he's imagined. He hears the sounds of your joining, your wetness completely covering his cock and pubic hair every time he thrusts a little bit more. It takes a second on his part to finally get it in all the way, becoming overwhelmed by his own feelings combined with the sensations of finally having your pussy all to himself.

He's lost in his own thoughts when you impatiently push back against him, giving him a knowing look. You have the audacity to wink at him. It sets him off, pulling out and slamming back into your pussy so quickly it throws you off, sliding off of your elbows and going sprawlig. The only thing keeping the two of you joined is Red, his hands so tightly clamped to your hips you know you'll have bruises tomorrow. The pace he sets is brutal, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling of having him inside of you before he's gone, and then right back where he started, all in a matter of seconds. You let out curse after curse, knowing that your boyfriend is watching all of this only adding another layer. "Touch yourself," Red demands, eyes focused on all of you all at once, refusing to blink lest he miss a moment.

The minute your fingers his your clit, you're gone. When you cum, he stays inside of you, making minute, small thrusts. It's on the third clench that Red cums himself, letting out the filthiest moan you've ever heard. You feel him fill you up more than Dick usually does. But, to be fair, Dick fucks you regularly.

Red pulls his cock out of you, and immediately drops to the floor again, spreading your lips apart to watch his cum drip from you. You whine, wanting nothing more than to finally drop your stance and roll over, but you stay up for him. You know this means a lot to him.

Finally Red gets back up and joins you on the bed, pulling you into his side as he lays back, panting into the crown of your head. The two of you lay like that for a while, Dick just sitting in the armchair, having finally gone to palming his cock slowly. Watching you get pounded by his double was a heady experience, but he's ready to get to the main even.

"You ready for round two, baby?" Dick pipes up.

You take in a deep breath. "As ready as I'll ever be, Dickie." You roll on top of Red and start grinding against him slowly. You're suprised to find him still hard. "Jesus. Pent up, much?"

Red scoffs, hands coming to drag you faster. "You have no idea."

You lift yourself up on your knees and take his cock in your hand. It's a little sticky from your combined releases, but you don't mind. You know it's going to get worse before it gets better. You sink down slowly, letting out a long exhale as you meet his base. He's just as long as your boyfriend, just barely kissing the tip of your cervix at this angle. You slide up and down a couple of times, letting out small noises from the back of your throat.

Red is in awe, staring up at you. The girl of his dreams, riding his dick. It's an incredibly heady experience, but to be fair, it all has. His hands go over yours where they rest on his chest, squeezing. He's so caught up in it, he doesn't notice his own double coming up behind you until DIck is placing sweet kisses to your shoulder. "Are you ready? Are you sure?"

You nod, eyes shut tightly. "Yep, go ahead babe."

Red is confused and opens his mouth to voice his concern when he feels it. Another cock lightly prodding at your entrance. His double's cock prodding at your cunt. Red lets out another groan, head slamming back into the mattress. He never expected you to be into double penetration. It opens a whole slew of dirty scenarios for him to jerk off to, this memory being chief among them. Dick slowly works his way into you as you continue to ride Red. He takes it slow, just like the two of you practiced, one hand practically glued to your clit, tracing tight circles. You breathe heavily through your nose, one hand coming to grip Dick's arm where it runs down your body to your cunt, the other turns into a fist on Red's chest. The scratch marks stand out beautifully against his tanned skin.

When Dick's finally in, Red's vision explodes with sensation. The way you clench around the two of them drives him crazy; he wants nothing more than to start slamming into you again. You're too tight, and he needs to explore. You on the other hand smile tightly. "How do I look?" You ask breathlessly.

"Gorgeous." The two men say in unison. The dam breaks at that, your hand on Dick's arm digging in tightly as you cum. Dick instantly stops rubbing your clit, letting you ride out the orgasm with no added stimulation. You bite back a scream, the feeling of cumming while so stretched out has you reeling.

When you finally come back down to earth, Dick kisses your neck tenderly. "Can we move, baby?"

"Please," You plead. There are tears in your eyes, and Red marvels at how pretty you look as they fall, splattering against his abdomen.

The two men move slowly, taking care to monitor your every microexpression. Any time you show any inkling of discomfort, they slow down and switch it up, giving you ample time to adjust. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you tell them to move. The two of them smile devilishly to one another and start strong, steady thrusts. You start to gneuinely cry and whine, trying to keep yourself together even though you're being split apart at your core. Red thinks this is the most beautiful you've ever looked. He nearly cums at the sight of two cocks thrusting into you.

They pick up the pace, losing the rhythm they had started with. You never get the chance to be empty as they both piston into you. You're genuinely surprised when you cum again, letting out a a loud, clear, "FUCK!"

It throws the men off too, as Red cums with a yelp, and Dick isn't too far behind, their seed filling you up prompting a few more tired aftershocks.

Dick is the first one to slip out of you, gently puling out and starting to set you on your side. Red snaps out of his haze and helps, settling in beside you, your combined body heat finally becoming susceptible to the cool air of the room. His mind is fuzzy and full, and he can barely keep his hands off of you; one hand caressing your thigh, the other wiping at your sweaty forehead. It isn't until his double comes back in the room to get you that he realizes he's being too touchy.

Dick gently peels you up off of the mattress. "C'mon babe, into the bathroom. Don't want you getting any infection."

You whine, but get up with a yawn, trudging across the hall into the bathroom. The door clicks shut when they finally speak to each other.

"Thank you." Red hesitates. "For tonight, if it wasn't obvious."

Dick waves him away, an easy smile on his face. "It's no problem man. I've been where you are. Besides, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

Before anything else can be said, you come back out of the bathroom, and lay down against Red again, pulling Dick down with you. Sandwiched between the two men you pull up your comforter, pulling the blankets into yourself and promptly start drifting off.

"Oh yea, hot tip: they're a blanket hoarder, so maybe upgrade from the just the one quilt and comforter combo," Dick says, folding his arms behind his head.

*

They've finally found a way to send them all home. They're to gather at the Tower so that they can go to the Watchtower, and from there it'll be homeward bound. Dick and Red go to leave his apartment at the ass crack of dawn, and Red thinks he's content not to say goodbye until you come stumbling out of the bedroom.

"I fuckin' tol' you to wake me up!" You slur, hitting Dick in the chest. He just sighs and hangs his head. You turn to Red, taking his head in your hands. "Look. Look! I dunno what I'm like in that other universe, but I know one thing: Dick Grayson is the best thing to ever happen to me. So you gotta go get me, alright? You gotta go get me, okay? Promise me."

Red looks back at you, eyes shimmering. "I will. I promise."

You lightly smack his cheeks. "Great! And maybe pick up from unfrosted strawberry pop-tarts to sweeten the deal. You know I'm always down for those."

With that, you lean in and kiss him, leaving him one last lingering taste of yourself before he has to wait who knows how long again.

Red swears to himself it won't be long.

[supeson]

omg shattered face, scattered hands is so good, I need to know what happens!

thanks! I'm just going at the pace that I can rn

[supeson]

Is there a part 4 after “shattered face, scattered hands”

ahh, no there isn't. another one of those I keep meaning to finish

[supeson]

Can you do a part two of what i wanted, it took so long. If you do t want to you don’t have to.

THERE IS A PART TWO IN THE WORKS!!! part one was just so long I had to chop it in half.....BUT PART TWO SOON

[supeson]

what i wanted, it took so long

part two

"Well, we defeated the big bad, but unfortunately, you guys are stuck here until we figure out how to get you home again," Dick says, scratching the back of his neck. He'd gone on a small mission with the Titans where a rift in space time had opened up, same old, same old, and lo behold, versions of themselves from an alternate reality had popped out. They'd worked together to bring down their shared enemy, but now their doubles were stuck here. "I'll talk with Batman and the Justice League tomorrow to figure out how to get you guys home. For now, let's get back to the Tower, and we'll have you guys lay low there."

"Sounds good to me, but then again, I would've said the same thing," Dick's double says, causing the whole group to groan.

Back at the tower, Dick realizes he hasn't done his laundry there in about three weeks, meaning there's nothing for himself or his double to wear. "Hm. I guess you'll just have to come back to my apartment in Bludhaven. Sorry about that."

"Totally fine. If anything this is just a cautionary tale for me to do mine when I get back, lest this happen to me," Red, Dick had taken to calling him (due to the color of his Nightwing outfit), responded.

*

You come whirling into your apartment, dropping your keys into the bowl by the door and kicking off your shoes, taking note of Dick's there as well. The same identical pair sitting next to them go unnoticed by you. You immediately head in to the kitchen off to the left of the door. "Today was absolute shit. If my car doesn't fucking pass inspection tomorrow, I'm gonna lose my whole mind. I don't even know why it isn't passing. It's too damn old to still be emissions inspected, but it's under miles, so apparently it has to be! And if that bitch receptionist at work doesn't get off of her high horse and just do her fucking job, I swear to Christ-" You cut yourself off with a small scream, head firmly in the freezer, looking for something. "Richard fucking Grayson! Did you eat my last fucking fudge bar? Today's not the fucking day!" You whip around to find him, no two of him? sitting on the couch.

"Sorry, that was me. I didn't know they were yours," The Dick in the red shirt says, a nervous smile on his face.

"Babe, I can explain," the Dick in the blue shirt says, hands already out in a placating gesture as he gets up.

You come around the counter and lean against it, pinching the bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut. "I'm gonna go take a shower, get changed, and come back. And when I do, you better have your shit straight. I'm talking alibis and reasons why this is happening."

You take off down the hallway to your left, muttering to yourself. Both Dicks let out a deep breath they didn't even know they were holding, then look at each other.

"So," Red says. He says your name strangely, as if it doesn't fit quite right in his mouth. "How'd you two get together?" And will the same technique work for me back home? He doesn't ask. It was true; back in his own universe, he's been pining after you for years, while you remain painfully oblivious.

Dick lets out a small laugh. "Well, do you remember that shitty teacher from that charter school they dated for like six months? The one we couldn't stand because she was so pretentious?" Red nods. "Well, when they finally broke up, I got a text that night detailing the breakup. I could tell how much it was messing with them, so I decided to go over there and comfort them. Two years later, here we are."

Red screams at himself internally. He does remember that night. He had also toyed with the idea of going over there and comforting you, but had ultimately decided against it, knowing how you valued privacy and time to process things. Knowing now that a relationship with you had only been one choice away, is maddening. He puts on what he hopes isn't a strained smile. "Oh. Good for you guys!"

The two men hear you get out of the bathroom, and pad into the bedroom right across from it. Dick turns to his double and runs a hand through his hair. "I think they'll be cool with it, we just have to play our cards right."

Twenty minutes later you're sitting in front of the two of them, sitting backwards on a fold-out chair, gripping the backrest with tight knuckles. "Fifty words or less. Go."

The Dick in the the shirt pipes up first. "So there was this guy, right? Doing some stuff to end the world, as per usual, but he was more powerful than last time, and we couldn't figure out why, we found ourselves from an alternate dimension-"

"Thirteen words left," You interrupt.

"Together we beat him, the world was saved, but I'm stuck here. Happy?" The Dick in the red shirt leans back against the couch, a self satisfied smile on his face, arms crossed.

You give him a small sneer and roll your eyes. "You must feel so satisfied."

"I do, actually, thanks for asking," He snarks back.

Your Dick claps his hands together. "So, can he stay? It's only for a little while, while I talk to the Justice League and see how soon we can get him home. Please?"

He turns on the puppy dog eyes, and his double does the same, sucking in their lips and everything. You look between them for a minute before caving in on yourself and just as quickly straightening yourself out. "Fine. I guess I'll be on the couch while you two take the bed. It would only be proper, I suppose. Now, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

*

You get used to having a copy of your boyfriend around pretty easily. Just to make sure you don't mess the two of them up, you draw a small heart on Red's left thumb every day with a red marker. You send him on errands while Dick is at work, and he apparently helps with the vigilante stuff at night. All in all, you're not as mad as Dick though you would be.

His double, on the other hand, is in hell. Sleeping on the couch in your living room must be his own divine punishment. If he ever gets to go home, this alternate version of Dick Grayson swears he'll change how he acts. He'll eat better, recycle more, hell, even take more shitty cases from Bruce if he needs to. Being in the same proximity as you for this long, watching you with his other self, is torture. It's not like the two of you are overly affectionate with each other; quite the opposite (he's sure that that's for his own sake as well, to be polite). But he can see how in tune the two of you are to each other. He sees the way you put your hand on the small of Dick's back when you watch him cook. It's in the way you always make sure to fold and put away the laundry that Dick washes, or how Dick always reminds you to take your water bottle to work, or how Dick will feed your cats when he comes in during the wee hours of the morning (lest they yell at you to wake up before you need to). It makes Red sick to his stomach with jealousy. He aches, and he doesn't know what to do about it.

To know that you're right there, and could just as easily have been his? It makes him want to punch a wall, but simultaneously hold you tenderly, just for a moment.

*

"C'mon babe."

Red's ears twitch as he lays on your couch. You had called it a night an hour ago, and the both copies of you boyfriend had the night off from Batman. All in all, it was a nice Saturday night in. Until now.

"Dick, no, he's right there in the living room," You insist in a hushed tone.

"But it's been so long! I was on that mission for like a month, and now it's been a whole week since I got home. I'll be quiet, I promise!" He hears his other self pleading.

You snort. "As if. You remember that time at your dad's house? He still won't look me in the eye."

Red shifts on the couch, hoping the squeaking of the springs under the cushion will deter his double any further from trying to get laid. It doesn't apparently, as just a few seconds later, it begins again.

"Pleeeease? I've got worse blue balls than that time Mr. Freeze zapped my zone with his freeze ray."

"Dick Grayson, you're such a baby." Despite that, he can hear you shuffle a bit, then the sound of your knees hitting the rug right beside your bed. Red's breath hitches. He can believe what he's about to hear. The almost whisper quiet sounds of clothes being moved around is almost imperceptible; almost. But for him? He's hypervigilant to every sound coming from your room.

"Fuck babe, you look so good down there."

Red is startled by the feeling of his own hand down his shorts. He traces the outline of his own dick, imagining he was in his double's place. He can only imagine what you look like on your knees, hand wrapped around his own cock. Would you take your time? Tease him a little? Knowing you, you would probably get straight to the blowjob itself, wrapping your tongue around him right away.

He hears his double groan the next room over. Red grips himself a little tighter, starting to pump himself. He relishes in the dryness of it. In his own mind, you're right there speaking words of encouragement into his ear, your own hands wandering his body, playing his sensitive nipples like an instrument you've practiced for years. Then, after watching him get himself off and praising him accordingly, you would take over yourself, spreading his pre with your expert fingers.

Red hisses, holding himself tightly by the head of his cock, the fantasy driving him much closer to the edge faster than he'd anticipated. In the next room over, he can hear a small schlick as you continue to jerk off your boyfriend.

"You're doing such a good job babe. Such a hot mouth for me to fuck. C'mon, swallow me down. I know you can, I've seen you do it before."

The image of you with his cock down your throat, the muscles there bulging as they try to accommodate him, sends Red reeling. He gives up on trying to pace himself and starting jerking his cock more quickly. He can picture you on your knees in front of him, mouth open as he strokes himself right onto your awaiting tongue. You would tease him a bit, he knows, by pressing the tip of your tongue to the underside of his head, pressing it up into your hard palate. The image of you there, eyes wide, as he cums on your tongue, is what does it. With a strangled moan, Red cums in his shorts, savoring your small sounds just a room over. He almost rubs himself raw trying to draw out the orgasm, but winces once he starts to overstimulate himself. He hears a yelp, and knows his double has cum as well.

"Another masterful performance, sweetheart."

*

It's been another tiring day for you, and Red can tell when you come through the door. Dick had gone out to get something from the store, dinner bubbling away on the stove, so it's just him as you dump all of your stuff on the counter space unoccupied by cooking supplies.

"Oh hell yea, are you making that artichoke dish again, babe?"

"I-" Red cuts himself off. "Yea, I am."

He's screaming at himself internally. What am I doing?!

You head to the bedroom and change out of your work clothes quickly, coming back to settle across his thighs. You take his face in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead. "Truly what did I do to deserve such an attentive boyfriend."

"The feeling of you squished up against me helps a lot, honestly," Red says, settling his hands on your thighs. The alarms in his head won't shut up, be he ignores them for being in the moment instead. It might be the only time he gets you like this, ever. You snort, then start pressing kisses around his gorgeous tanned face. Red can feel himself sweating underneath you, and almost jolts right out of his own skin when you kiss him on the lips.

His vision swims as you deepen the kiss, turning your head to the side. His hands go on autopilot, going from your hips to your chest, both of them settled right underneath your breasts. He would be hyperventilating were it not for your tongue swiping through his mouth. Finally he reciprocates, engaging you. He slides his tongue against yours and you let out a small moan, making his dick twitch through his pajama pants.

The two of your are too engrossed in each other to notice the door open.

It isn't until a bag hits the ground that the two of you part.

There stands Dick, grocery bags on the ground, a can rolling away from him, and a strained smile on his face.

"Babe? What are you doing?"

Your eyes pop out of your skull, and you grab Red's left hand. Sure enough, there's an incredibly faded red heart there. You take a gasp of air in, ready to start explaining, when you're unceremoniously dumped to the ground, and Red is blazing past the two of you.

"I have to go," He says brusquely. He's on the elevator when the both of you still in the apartment finally gather half of a mind to go after him. The doors close as he hears two distinct shouts of "Wait!"

[supeson]

Hi, i found you thru ao3 and ive come to say your fics bring me a stupidly large amount of job. Like unreal. Thanks for doing what you do

thank you! i know I post super infrequently (here and ESP on ao3), but to think people still read and enjoy my old stuff makes me happy!

[supeson]

i found your account less than an hour ago but i just sat here & read your entire batman series in one sitting. . i hope you know how amazing your writing is <3 can't wait for the final part !

thank you!! 💖💖

[supeson]

😔😔 while you sit and percolate, a simply commoner request to add Selena drama to the last part; mostly because after re-reading the bat mobile comment made me need it

I see, I see ...🤔🤔

[supeson]

ima need that Bruce Wayne fic’s last part 💥💳💥 pls

i am simply sitting....percolating....

[supeson]

lose yourself, find yourself

YES i saw the batman and YES i'm unbearable about it

It's the ding of the elevator downstairs that wakes you up. You lay in bed, eyes closed, as you listen to him drop stuff off at the kitchen table, likely to speak with Alfred about later. His footsteps are quiet, and you can only tell he's finally made it to the bedroom when the door creaks open. You finally peel your eyes open, and whip the covers back with one hand. He looks unsurprised, to say the least.

"You should go back to sleep," Bruce says softly. If you hadn't seen it yourself, you would've thought this man had no capacity to yell.

"And you should hurry up and take a shower already," You retort, finally puling yourself upright. "We both know who's going to win, so chop-chop."

His mouth sets into a grimace, and he sighs, but goes nonetheless. You hear the shower turn on, with no small degree of satisfaction. Twenty minutes later he's standing in the doorway, dripping wet. "I'm ready."

You get up and toss him a pair of boxers and some pajama pants. He pulls them on, then retreats back into the bathroom. He sits against the sink, head fitting perfectly into the divot there as you follow him in. You slide around him and grab the necessary shampoo and conditioner from the shelf in the shower. You turn back around, setting them down gently, reminding yourself to pick up more from the store tomorrow, lest you have to use your own stuff next time (You personally like the passion fruit and tiger lily smell, but Bruce? Not so much).

Bruce will never tell you, but he always enjoys the first rinse through the most. The water just a touch too hot before you adjust it, your fingers in his hair, rubbing his scalp and feeling through for knots. You feel him melt under your fingers, but you don't say anything. You never do, lest you ruin the illusion of peace the two of you build every time you wash his hair.

You chatter softly about nothing, basking in his occasional snort or the tightening of his lips. "And I was like 'Y'know what? I'm just gonna stop, because I deserve better', y'know?"

You do. You do deserve better, Bruce thinks, but doesn't say. He's grateful for every moment he gets to wring out of you, whether you realize what he's doing or not. The conditioner is a little cold going in, but your hands are as warm as ever.

He's just starting to feel the night catch up to him, eyes closed, when he feels that final rush of water go through his hair. You press a kiss to his forehead. "Alright, time to dry and comb."

Bruce obediently sits up and lets you pull the towel from around his neck. Sometimes, he thinks, you enjoy this part a little too much, You continue to shake the towel into his hair well after it's done dripping. He lets it happen, content to let you do whatever you want to him, until the end of time. All you would have to do is ask.

"Well, would you look at that? There is a person in there!" You say it with faux surprise, combing his hair back completely. He scoffs and pushes your hand aside, getting up and exiting the bathroom to make his way to bed. You rinse out the sink and put everything back as it should be, and walk into the bedroom to find him in your spot, blankets already curled around him. You roll your eyes. "That's fine, I like the colder side of the bed anyway."

Good, he thinks, digging his face deeper into your pillow, because I like your lingering smell the best anyway.