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roanofarcc · 4 months ago

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SUNDAY DINNER

pairing: sam wilson x reader || requested

summary: you invite your friend sam over for sunday dinner.

warnings: lots and lots of fluff!! nervous!sam

word count. 2k || masterlist

You had rearranged the pillows on the couch three times and you were in the middle of contemplating a fourth time until your friend approached you, sipping a glass of wine curiously.

“Does this look right?” you asked, tilting your head as if they would help make the pillows look different.

Your friend, Max, shook her head with a light laugh. “It’s a dinner party. No one is going to be judging your pillow arrangements.”

“I know,” you said, abandoning the couch and fixing the display of magazines on the coffee table. “But I want everything to look nice.”

Amusement took over Max’s face. “Any particular reason you’re extra stressed about your monthly dinner party?”

Sunday dinners were a tradition you had established with your friends. You had the most space in your apartment and no roommates, so you hosted while everyone brought dishes, wine, and the latest life updates. It was a surefire way for you to visit with your friends, at the very least, once a month with everyone’s busy schedules. You loved it. As the tradition grew, spouses, partners, and new friends were added, crowding your apartment with delicious food and love.

“What? No,” you answered quickly, too quickly.

“Oh? So your current rampage has nothing to do with you inviting Captain America to dinner?”

You froze, in the middle of moving around some kick-knacks on your shelf. Heat rose to your face, but you ignored it in favor of checking over your plants by the window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.

Your friend laughed. “Sure you don’t. But if you were totally freaking out, I wouldn’t.”

Turning around, you faced Max with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Why?”

“Because he was on the news last night in California having busted up some crime ring with alien tech or some shit. And he hasn’t texted or called you to take a rain check. Which means he flew all the way across the county just to come here to see you. I’d say that’s a pretty big gesture.”

You were hesitant to believe that. Not because Max had ever lied to you, but because it sounded ridiculous. If you had to take a flight cross country, without having taken down criminals the night before, you’d cancel any plans and opt to sleep off your travels. You were simply hosting a silly little dinner with some friends, not anything groundbreaking.

Yet, at seven-thirty, Sam arrived at your apartment.

You opened the door with a smile and the same flutter in your chest that always showed up when you were around him.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said before you could even greet him. Holding out his hand, he presented you with a bouquet of different flowers. “The lady was lecturing me at the flower stand for not knowing your favorite flower, which is definitely my bad.”

“You’re not late,” you said, taking the flowers. They were a beautiful arrangement, matching the quiet chaos of your apartment. “And you didn’t need to get me flowers, but thank you. They’re perfect.”

You stepped aside and let Sam in. He kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat along with the others. “My grandma said to never go anywhere empty-handed. If I do, I’m afraid she’ll find out and there’ll be hell to pay,” he joked.

You led him into the kitchen, where some of your friends and friends of friends lingered, snaking on appetizers and chit-chatting. They paused their conversations as you introduced Sam, though most of them already knew who he was.

You stood back in slight awe by how quickly he took to your friends, easy conversation flowing like he had been at the dinners since the beginning. You weren’t nervous that Sam or your friends would make a bad impression on one another, but you couldn’t help but worry that the meshing of two different parts of your life wouldn’t go well. But you were quickly proven wrong.

After everyone ate, the conversations continued. Max sat down beside you on the couch, a smirk on her lips. “Well, still worried about ‘Cap fitting in with your non-superhero friends?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you didn’t deny her words. “No.”

“Good because Aaron already invited him to the next one and to catch some pretentious film with him next weekend. Sam agreed but I could sense the dread in his answer. You may have to same him before Aaron books Captain America’s itinerary for the next year.”

You looked over your shoulder to where Sam stood in the kitchen with Aaron. He must’ve felt you looking because he met your gaze and smiled. You couldn’t help but smile too, which your friend clocked with a light groan and a punch to your shoulder.

“What was that for?”

Max sat down her wine glass and leaned in close with a seriousness in her gaze. “What is keeping you from pouncing on that man?”

“Oh, my god! What are you talking about?”

“If he showed up at my door with flowers and that smile, I’d be down on one knee with a ring. Are you kidding me? What is wrong with you?”

“Sam and I are just friends,” you said. Sam seemed miles out of your reach. He was a big shot, Captain America himself. It wasn’t even something you let yourself entertain for the sake of keeping yourself sane.

Max threw herself against the back of the couch with a dramatic groan. “You’re killing me.”

You laughed it off, but Max’s words hung in your head for the rest of the night. Every time you found yourself in a group conversation with Sam, your attention lingered on him a little longer, wondering what it would be like if the two of you became more than friends. Sam was one of the best people you knew, there was no doubt he’d be a great boyfriend too. But you hated crushes, getting your hopes up only for them to fall flat when reality didn’t mirror your imagination.

Slowly, people faded from your apartment until it was just you, Max, and Sam left. She had entertained him with a plethora of embarrassing stories of you before she, not so subtly, left with a plate of leftovers and a wink.

You thought Sam would leave as well, but he insisted on helping you clean up. He stood at your sink with his sleeves rolled up, washing dishes before passing them off to you to dry and put away. The soft hum of your playlist filled the comfortable silence for a while.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” Sam said.

“Thanks for coming. I would invite you back, but I heard Aaron’s already extended that invite.”

Sam chuckled. “He did.” He paused, handing you a clean cup. Your hand brushed against his as you grabbed it and his gaze caught yours. “But I’d like to do this again if you’ll have me.”

A smile graced your lips. “Are you kidding? You’re always welcome here.”

With a raise of his brow, he said, “Careful, I might take you up on the offer. You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I’d be okay with that.” The words fell out of your mouth with a light-hearted intent, but they hit the air with more weight. You meant it, of course, but you hadn’t expected it to sound so vulnerable, borderline flirtatious.

And Sam being Sam, clocked it as he finished up the last plate. He handed it off before turning off the water and facing you. “Yeah?”

You adverted your gaze downward, taking a little extra time to dry the plate before crossing the kitchen to put it away. “I mean, I like having you around. I like having all my friends around. That’s why I host this dinner.”

Your back was to Sam so you didn’t see his reaction to your words, but you heard a short intake of breath before he spoke. “Right.” You thought maybe it was your brain misinterpreting his tone, but to you, it did sound disappointed.

The flowers he had brought you were in a vase on your counter and Max’s words were still circling your mind.

“Were you in California yesterday?” you blurted out, spinning around to face him once more. Confused, Sam nodded slowly. “You flew in, today?” He nodded again. “But you still showed up. Here. I mean you, could have rain-checked but you didn’t.”

“Of course not. I told you I’d be here. I’m a man of my word.” He was so sincere, so serious. It was just dinner, not saving the world. “Hey, is everything all right?”

You tried to shake yourself out of the weird feeling you were sinking in to. You didn’t want to make Sam feel weird too. It was late and you were tired and your mind was being an asshole, thinking too much.

“Yeah,” you quickly replied. “Sorry. Max just said something earlier and got it my head.”

You thought it would be left there, but Sam crossed the kitchen to stand in front of you, concern in his pretty eyes. Sam was the kind of person who was almost too easy to talk to. Just looking at him made you want to spill your guts.

“What’d she say?”

You hesitated, an awkward laugh forcing itself out. “She, uh, just said that if she were me and you showed up being so…so you she would’ve proposed already.”

Sam’s eyes widened for a moment before he chuckled almost nervously, tugging at the neckline of his sweater. “So...me?”

“The flowers and still showing up despite saving the world the night before. She thinks that’s some kind of gesture, like a…a romantic one. But I told her we’re friends and you’re just that wonderful, you know?” There was a beat of silence that passed between you in which Sam seemed to digest the words you rushed out. You felt hot panic rise within you. “Sorry,” you said before he could say anything. “That was a lot, and probably weird. I just-”

“How would you feel if she was right?” Sam said, tilting his head to the side in question.

You felt a wave of confusion spill across you, cold and unnerving. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

He gazed at you with a soft hesitation in his gaze, stepping a little closer but not invading your space. “Come on,” he said with a hint of humor somewhere in there too. “I like my friends, but I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. I was kind of hoping the flower would be enough to tell you that.”

“To tell me…” you trailed off, your hopes starting to rise with each pounding beat of your heart.

“That I’d like to be a little more than friends.” Sam’s voice was quiet almost like he was nervous. It all sounded too good to be true, you thought you were hallucinating the whole conversation. He mistook your silence for rejection and started to shrink into himself, dejected but still his kind, charming self. With a shake of his head, he said, “But if that’s not something you want I-”

“What?” you cut him off, bewildered. “You want to be more than friends with me?” As self-deprecating as it was, it was just a crazy thing to hear from the man you’d grown so fond of but thought nothing more than a friendship would ever bloom from.

“Pretty damn badly if I’m being honest,” Sam admitted.

There were so many things you wanted to say but you didn’t feel like any would amply explain just how bad you wanted to be more than friends with him too. Instead of trying to string anything together, you pushed yourself off the counter you’d been leaning against and wrapped your arms around him in a sudden, tight hug.

He was warm and smelled like fresh cologne. That wasn’t the first time you’d hugged him, but it was different that time, an admission of your hidden feelings and affection. It took Sam a moment to recover from his surprise before he hugged you back, letting out a breathy laugh in your ear.

“Me too,” you whispered.

He pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your head in the nightly glow of your kitchen, empty of your friends but still buzzing with love and laughter, coating it in a warmness only made greater by Sam.

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #captain america

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gothamgabber · 5 days ago

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Excitement! Relief! Interaction!

42 is truly the answer to All Things!

42 names went into a hat! Let's see who gets paired with who and what their circumstances are! Please remember to be responsible roleplayers and communicate however you like! The prompts are optional, too, if you come up with something else, that's awesome! If you've been matched with yourself or you can't play with your partner, let me know, no explanations needed. I'll see if anyone wants to double up!

@izakk-tiberius-kyle & @belladonna-ismyfavoritecriminal : you've both been following leads to a small new crime group and they've landed you in an abandoned garden center.

@cutelover76 (Bast or Kidcanine) & @jules-the-vampire : I'm excited for this! Some people talk to bartenders, some talk to baristas, some people even talk to therapists! This one talks to the vampire on the McDonald's graveyard shift.

@cecilistired & @taught-by-the-alley : A Perfect Pairing! I wish I could take credit, but the random generator decided this was fate! A case of mistaken identity leads the Zoology major to be brought to a mob boss...who looks weirdly like their English Lit professor.

@sleep-deprived-tim & @belladear (find blog through @cecilistired if needed!) : let's face it, you're both fans of Spoiler and Nightwing. You've been chatting about how cool they are on the same message board for years. You know each other's first names. Today's the day you're meeting up with your Internet friend.

@eleanor-wayne & @junior-super-lord : This pairing made @flyingprodigy's mun laugh when he read it out to me! To quote him, "Steal the child! Steal the child, Eleanor! Become your father's daughter!" So, let's go with that. Welcome to the Wayne family, Jon. This one has therapy!

@xxapollo & @obsession-withthenight : a child mercenary meets a vigilante fresh out of her origin story! Is this an accidental sidekick acquisition or the start of a dark comedy duo? This rooftop feels a little crowded!

@rowanvitale & @did-i-ghost-you : Another genuinely hilarious random pairing! The necromancer and the ghost kid, like peanut butter and honey! Or will you be like olive oil and peat moss? Either way, you two do need to find where Constantine left that book of summoning rituals unless you want a certain sarcophagus opening back up.

@raven-thewaygate & @damian-demonspawn : I chose the best classroom organizer tool, clearly. A finicky magical problem in Gotham has Raven visiting for a week. (It's not dangerous, just time consuming) Damian is interested in stories and what Nightwing and Red Hood were like as kid heroes, and maybe how he compares. Maybe a cross generational friendship is in the works. Or maybe Raven's had enough demons in her life.

@json-todd & @drake-wayne-enterprise : This Jason Todd has adopted a million kids. This Timothy Drake Wayne is pulling CEO double duty. Sometimes they meet up at a secret location to do something that relaxes them (sparring? Spa days? Floor time?) and commiserate.

@babsggordon & @ivy-rose-walker : Magic and tech don't always see eye to eye, and Barbara is curious why cameras around this one tattoo artist sometimes pick up weird effects. Maybe some personal investigating will end with new friends and extra protection for both of them, magical and technological!

@grantagonist & @caspianova : sometimes being a baby gang member means trying to sneak out of the ER before the CPP get there. Or any of the people you've met who would care when you get knocked unconscious. Good luck!

@flyingprodigy & @seam-queen : This one's tricky! Luckily, I can look Brad's mun in the eye as I tell him that Brad's looking for a therapist unconnected to Arkham, the Batclan, or the Wilsons. He doesn't want to worry his people or get them more tangled up in his recovery, so maybe a certain info dealer can help? Unless she decides this could be great info gathering and encourages the guy with no danger sense to share things with a masked stranger. He's weirdly well connected for a civilian.

@gothamizhome & @best-detective-since-sherlock : One of you is a supervillain. One of you is a detective. Both of you are trying to hide this from each other at this wedding. Too bad you've been assigned to work together to make sure things go right for the next three days. Your friends the Bride and Bride really are gonna owe you for this...

@bstandsforbabydaddy & @lexcorp-luthor : This one is tricky, too! Again, either of you are uncomfortable with this random pairing, let me know! If you're up for it? A fight with yet more alien invaders sent Luthor's office to the End of Time and it's taking up space. Time for Peter B to take his weirdest rescue road trip yet! And maybe he can give a little advice out to this villain who doesn't realize he's crushing hard on his hero.

@le4ves-1n-the-w1nd & @jean-paul-azrael : This could be so interesting! Azrael had heard rumors of a Saint. Honestly, it sounds fake, but if there truly is a Saint popping into this sinful dimension, it could be that the title "Saint of Overseeing Bullshit" is correct. And if not... One less heretic! Look out, Leaf!

@marthajo & @alfred-worth-every-penny : I swear it was a random generator, I put you all in a big Internet hat and shuffled three times. A chance encounter; one of Martha's fun little plots is about to go down until she recognizes a long lost friend among the potential casualties.

@that1greendude & @gothambarista : Gar swings by one of the many late-night cafes that Gotham boasts. He's in town to help/get helped by Nightwing with a villain connected to both Jump City and Gotham and he needs his vegan snacks! He was not expecting every animal instinct in him to hone in on the person behind the counter.

@akatarantula & @circus-champion : I STG it was random. This is fate. This could be interesting! Do the timelines align at all?! Tarantula's been in Gotham long enough to be noticed. Maybe Dick needs to kick her out. Maybe Dick needs to confront her. Maybe Dick's never met her before and this is about to get weird. Who knows what's going to happen when they discover each other while breaking into a mobster's business office.

@candy-corn-requested-by-shadows & @gothidaii : It's another unexpectedly perfect match! It's entirely possible that an insect themed vigilante would stalk and/or "gently kidnap" the guy working for Beau the big bug villain. Finding out that Dai has physical insect wings? That's wild. Now Reaper really wants to talk about bugs!

@onyxdayy ( @mydayinthebuilding )& @damietheprideprince ( @yippiescorneroftheinternet ) : Oh dear! The villain of the day actually managed it this time! They actually completed the summoning despite the Young Justice team doing their best to stop it! Even the. Summoner looks surprised! The demonic being that trips out of the portal looks the most surprised of all, though! Lucifer's great grandson is from a world barely related to the Young Justice one. They'll have to keep him (and the world) safe until they find a way to send him home. In the meantime, Damien is taking notes on his to improve his evilness. Or is he making friends?

@ravonna-lexus-renslayer & @bearspiracies : honestly, this might be the best thing. A former Time Variance Authority Judge from another, very removed dimension, and a gay teenage conspiracy theorist. Is the weird pull of this dimension a result of the timelines breaking down with nothing like the TVA or Loki to prevent them? Sitting in Gotham's City Park, Ravonna has some theories and Bernard is there to walk his duck broadcast them!

AND THAT'S IT! That took hours! Special thanks to @donkoogrr for following everyone and helping me stalk. And for letting me make a murderboard before talking me out of my perfectionist spiral <3

This is not a dating app, this is a goofy little thing that I hope people enjoy!

Look! Look at all the cool people who want to RP! Let this encourage you in the future to reach out even if you can't think of a reason to interact - maybe they can imagine one! You, yes you, might be the person they've been too shy to talk to!

Good Luck! I'm going to relax now!

#dc rp blog #dc roleplay #dc rp #dc oc blog #dc open rp #dc oc rp #dc oc roleplay #social mixer #gotham civilian #nobody important #ohoho what fun

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erimeows · 1 year ago

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Knowing (NSFW)

The night that Vogler gets voted off the board, Wilson drives back up to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in the pouring rain to go celebrate with Chase, Foreman, and House in the latter’s office. Wilson, whose position was conveniently reinstated by Cuddy and the rest of the board, brings a bottle of whiskey in for the four of them to split between the shot glasses he knows House keeps in his desk drawer.

They stay there, making fun of Vogler and chatting away until half past midnight. Chase and Foreman excuse themselves around the same time.

“And then there were two,” Wilson chimes with a half smile as he screws the lid back onto the glass whiskey bottle and slides it under House’s desk. He doesn’t drink much- hardly drank any of it tonight- so he figures House will get more use out of it than he ever will. “How are you feeling?”

“Think they’re going home together?” House hums, totally ignoring Wilson’s question. House is shaken due to that day’s happenings and just refuses to admit it to anyone- even himself. It makes sense that he won’t acknowledge it. “I could’ve sworn there was some tension recently.”

“I think that has more to do with the fact that you had them at each other’s throats than it has to do with what you’re implying,” Wilson scoffs and shakes his head.

Wilson looks toward the window. House has the blinds open for once. Finally, even if it’s only for tonight, House isn’t closing off the rest of the world.

Wilson stands from where he’s sat in front of House’s desk so he can go to peer out the window. Rain continuously showers over the building and trickles down the window in big fat drops to shroud their already-foggy view of the city.

“Ah, you’re no fun,” House feigns a pout and lifts himself from his spinning chair so he can slip his big coat over his shoulders. A few awkward seconds pass. Wilson waits for House to inevitably make his exit with a sarcastic farewell, but the exit never comes. Instead, House uses his cane to walk until he’s standing next to Wilson. He leans against the window and stares out at the city rather than at Wilson himself. Meanwhile, all Wilson can stare at is House. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be going home to your wife? She might get lonely without you. Poor thing.”

Wilson rolls his eyes at that. He doesn’t want his wife- he wants House. His marriage has been over since it started and at this point, he’s just waiting for Julie to serve him with papers.

“I’m an oncologist, House, it’s not like she’s used to having me home at this time of night anyways. The only reason I’m not working right now is because I just got hired back.”

“But you could be home with her if you really wanted to,” House points out- ever so excited to correct someone, even if it’s Wilson- no, especially if it’s Wilson. The man is sadistic; always seizing the opportunity to point out somebody else’s flaws if it draws attention away from his own. By pointing out the fact that Wilson should be home with his wife right now, he draws the attention away from how he refused to keep his head down with Vogler and got Wilson fired. “And you could also be pounding that hot nurse you had lunch with if you really wanted to. I bet she’d light some candles at her apartment and put rose petals on the bed to make it real nice- a contrast from the dead bedroom you’re probably suffering from with Julie right now. So, why are you here with me when you could be with either of them? Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“You’re right,” Wilson shrugs. He knows better to engage with House by arguing. That’s exactly what House wants, so he refuses to play into it. He puts his own jacket on and shoots House a sharp glare. “If you’re going to be like this about it, though, I’m going home.”

Wilson goes to leave, only to feel a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to see House standing there with an unreadable expression (because even after all these years, this man is still an enigma).

“But do you want to go home to her?”

Wilson gulps and looks down, avoiding House’s prying gaze.

House reaches up to grab Wilson’s chin- to make Wilson look at him. Wilson does what he knows House wants him to and makes eye contact. Icy blue burns into light brown at the same time that Wilson’s cheeks flush pink.

He’s had feelings for House since… Well, he doesn’t know when. One day, their friendship was just that, and the next, Wilson found himself with a notebook full of the man’s favorite things; found himself stealing glances and dreaming of things that he shouldn’t have been. Casual outings with his best friend turned into him spending his afternoons in preparation, trying on different outfits and mulling over which one would impress House the most. Peaceful nights with his wife- wives, over the years- turned into early mornings with him knelt on the floor of his bathroom, praying to God for House’s health, for House’s happiness, for House’s work, for House. Things changed so fast he couldn’t see it coming, let alone stop it.

Wilson remains lost in thought until House clears his throat, impatient. He recenters himself and meets House’s eyes again. Clearly, House reciprocates. Wilson isn’t oblivious to that. Wilson is the only person House spends time with, the only person House is interested in, the only person House has decided not to shut out. Wilson is the only person House has loved since Stacy.

But, whether or not House actually wants a relationship, Wilson has no idea. House isn’t the kind of man to hesitate. He would’ve made a move by now if he wanted it. Then again, he clearly returns Wilson’s feelings. So, if it’s not a relationship, what does House want? For them to stay in this limbo forever, wanting each other so desperately but never doing anything about it?

Wilson eyes House up and down. Still, his expression remains unreadable, but Wilson can tell that he’s tense with the way he taps his cane against the floor and purses his lips.

“You know Julie and I haven’t been doing well. Why would I want to go home to her right now? And why does it matter to you?”

At that, House’s face falls. Wilson has successfully backed him into a corner and it’s apparent he doesn’t like it.

“No reason.”

House backs away from Wilson like he’s on fire and retreats to his desk to gather his things. Wilson follows, unable to notice how House puts extra effort into facing away from him to hide his reddening cheeks.

“You never ask questions without a reason- you never do anything without a reason,” He argues.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re still here,” House grumbles and points up at the analogue clock on the wall. It’s almost one in the morning now. “You said you were going to leave two minutes ago, so leave.”

“You’re the one who stopped me,” Wilson shrugs. With each of these tense, awkward interactions, he feels as if he and House are getting progressively closer to something big. But then nothing happens, and he’s left disappointed like he is every other time. “You should be getting home, too. It’s late.”

“Ooh, so we can leave together,” House smirks and clacks his cane against the floor again. “I love it.”

Wilson flinches at a crack of thunder that booms through the sky.

“Are you sure you should drive in this?” He asks in reference to the downpour outside.

“What, are you gonna offer to chauffeur me to my place and then make that drive all the way back to yours?”

“No,” Wilson answers with a shake of his head. “I was gonna ask if I could drive us both to your apartment and stay with you tonight.”

“Wow, you’re really trying to get in my pants, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Wilson snaps. House blinks in what Wilson assumes is surprise. “You’re not a genius for figuring that one out; I’ve only been interested for a decade. So what?”

House pauses, standing behind his desk and staring at Wilson with a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. The tension in the room becomes so thick that it’s palpable until House walks towards the door of his office and utters one sentence.

“I don’t sleep with married men.”

Then, he shoots Wilson a wink and a smile before gingerly exiting the office, leaving nothing more than a confused and disappointed oncologist. Wilson sighs and looks at the clock again.

It’s one in the morning. He should be getting home.

A few months pass. Wilson moves out of the apartment he shared with Julie, which she doesn’t question. He also gets together with a lawyer and gets her served with divorce papers. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t question that either, and when he goes back to the apartment for the rest of his things, he’s not shocked by the fact that there’s another car in his parking space and a pair of men’s steel-toed boots by the front door.

As much as Wilson could complain about acquiring a third alimony payment, he’s so relieved that it’s over that he doesn’t think to do so. Instead, he makes copies of all the documents pertaining to the divorce, storms into House’s office, and throws them down onto the diagnostician’s desk.

House, who was sitting in his chair and bouncing his tennis ball on the floor, glances up at Wilson with a half-smile.

“What’s this? STD test results? I knew your panty-peeling ways would catch up to you eventually,” House jokes before picking up the stack of papers and staring down at it. Upon reading the words, his eyes go wide. “You really did it…”

“I’m not a married man anymore,” Wilson smirks. “What now?”

House tilts his head. His small half of a smile morphs into a large, cheshire grin.

“I don’t sleep with people who know me.”

“Really? That’s it? Not ‘I’m not gay’?” Wilson sputters. House must be coming up with excuses to avoid the inevitable at this point- either that or just trying to fuck with him for the fun of it. They love each other, and they both know they love each other, but that was never the problem. It’s always been House and whatever reservations he has back in that complicated head of his. “That’s your reason, that you know me?”

“Yes,” House nods and tosses the copies of Wilson’s divorce papers into the trash can next to his desk. Then, he starts spinning in his chair like a child and tosses his tennis ball in Wilson’s direction. Wilson barely catches it. “And I’ve never confirmed or denied the thing about being gay- I like to keep people on their toes, keep ‘em guessing.”

“You like to keep people on their toes, huh? That’s one hell of an understatement. What about Cuddy? Or Stacy? And I’m pretty sure you’ve at least considered Cameron. You know all of them.”

“Sure I do, but they don’t know me,” House explains and crosses his arms. “You, however, do.”

“And you don’t sleep with people who know you- you won’t risk being with me even though we have these feelings for each other-” Wilson pauses, pointing at himself as he puts it together. “Because you’re afraid of being known.”

“No. I just know better than to mix being known with the terrible thing that is my sex life. Why are you so insistent on making this a me problem?” House demands. While it’s apparent that he’s trying to maintain his composure, Wilson has known the man long enough to tell that he’s frazzled as he looks for his cane. Upon locating it, House grabs it from where it fell onto the floor at some point and gets up from his chair. “Is it because you don’t want to admit that it could be you?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Wilson huffs. He throws his hands up in frustration and furrows his brow in anger. House starts to walk like he’s going to go past Wilson and to the door of his office, so Wilson blocks his way by moving in front of him. House shoots a glare that would work on just about anyone else- that would make Cameron or Chase or Foreman or any of House’s clinic patients turn their backs and walk away- but Wilson hasn’t been friends with House for over a decade by walking away from him. “You just admitted it was you and the weird prerequisites that you have for your sexual partners!”

“Well, you’ve had three failed marriages and you’re the only common denominator, so are we going to sit here and pretend that I’m the problem in this relationship?”

“I know I’m not perfect, you idiot- we’re both the problem!”

“Listen, Wilson, we’re at work and I’m sure you’ve got a ton of dying bald little freaks to save,” House says with a harsh tap of his cane to the floor for emphasis.

“You’re fucked up.”

“I know. We both are,” House says and leans down to Wilson’s ear, daring to nip on the lobe. A flash of heat tears through Wilson’s spine. He can’t remember the last time he was so enthralled with someone; was it during his marriages? No, he would’ve remembered. Before House? Or was it always House? He’s so close that Wilson can smell past the cologne he wears and the shampoo he puts in his hair to get the scent of him, just him. Wilson knows his eyes are wide as House whispers in his ear. “Now get back to work. Or, if you’re just going to spend the rest of your shift thinking about me anyway, go home where you can fantasize about what I’m like in bed without getting interrupted.”

House, thinking he’s won this, side-steps as smoothly as he can given his infarction and goes to take another step forward so he can briskly escape this tense situation. Wilson, however, doesn’t intend on letting House escape. He’s always been good at surprising House, which he does yet again when he entangles his fingers in the loose ends of House’s hair and moves closer until they’re chest to chest. He waits for House to push him away, to say something, to tell Wilson that he doesn’t want this for some other stupid reason he’s come up with to push Wilson away for the millionth time.

Silence ensues. House doesn’t speak, just remains perfectly still with his back pin straight and his icy blue eyes trained on Wilson. He’s just holding his breath, watching, waiting for the oncologist to make the next move. Wilson enjoys the moment for what it is; being this close to House and being able to touch him isn’t something he’s ever gotten to partake in.

House’s hair is peppery in color and a little coarse, and the ends are grown out so he has a couple small curls at the base of his neck. He’s long overdue for a hair cut. Wilson runs his fingers through it and revels in the sensation of his chest against House’s.

He wonders what it would be like if they were at House’s apartment and not surrounded by the staff of the hospital walking by. He thinks about what this would feel like without the layers of clothes between them. He imagines what House would sound like if they weren’t standing here at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital staring each other down- if they were in House’s queen-sized bed, mouths on each other’s, hands roaming bodies and sweat staining House’s dark blue bed sheets.

“Tell me you don’t love me, or that I’m ugly, or that I have too much baggage. Tell me something- anything- about me that’s so bad that you don’t want this,” Wilson commands. “Tell me that I’ve put on too much weight since my second divorce, that my savior-complex is annoying, that I’m a serial cheater, that I always put your empty cereal boxes back in the pantry after I finish off the bag, anything. Please.”

“It’s not-” House starts with a quizzical expression, only for Wilson to quickly interject.

“Not about you or your fears. Give me a good, valid reason you don’t want me, and I’ll stop. I’ll leave, we can go back to being normal friends- hell, you can choose not to talk to me ever again- and that’ll be the end of it. But I’m not going to walk away knowing that you want me just as much as I want you. I can’t do that to us, House.”

“I…”

House looks anywhere but at Wilson now; the clock on the wall, the cane in his hand, the floor, Wilson’s stupid pink tie. He can’t do it and they both know that. Wilson isn’t surprised. What he is surprised by is how House kisses his forehead so tenderly. Wilson almost doesn’t believe it’s him doing it… and then it’s his nose, and his cheek, and finally, House is kissing him on the lips, slow and sweet.

Wilson hesitantly kisses back. It doesn’t seem real, but it is. It must be real if the large hand squeezing his waist and the stubble brushing against his chin are anything to go off of. He pulls away just enough to whisper against House’s lips.

“We’re at work. Shouldn’t you stop now?”

“Yes,” House breathes, even as he goes in for another kiss, and then another, as if he’ll die without; as if he’s drowning and Wilson is his only source of air. Wilson accepts it, craves it, allows himself to be taken in and kissed until he’s out of breath and his lips are bruised. It quickly escalates into something that he knows he’d get fired for at any other hospital. Briefly, he worries about people walking past and seeing this through the glass door of House’s office until he realizes that he wants them to see. He wants them to see that no, his devotion to House isn’t meaningless- that their relationship does mean something, that House can and will feel love for the right person, and that Wilson is the only one worthy of said love. “I should.”

“But you’re not going to?” Wilson laughs.

“No, I’m not,” House says and dips for another peck between sentences. “Fuck, I don’t think I could stop this even if I wanted to.”

“Then shut the blinds, lock your office door, and bend over the desk.”

A couple more weeks pass. Some days, they sleep together. Some days, they don’t. Regardless, things are the same as they always have been minus the sex.

Wilson should be disappointed. He wanted House to open up and he wanted them to connect, to have a real relationship. But right now…

Well, he can’t bring himself to be disappointed when they’re like this, having just finished.

He’d seen House naked many times before; it’s hard not to when you’re friends with someone for so long. He can’t even count the number of times he’s accidentally walked in on House jerking off or pinned to his couch by some random hooker. He can count the number of times the pain has been so bad that House has needed help with things as basic as getting dressed or getting in and out of the shower. It was never like this, though, with House underneath him, back arching off his bed. The older man’s icy blue eyes are shut with his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He’s flushed dark pink from his head to the center of his narrow chest, which rapidly rises and falls with every labored breath he takes.

The mattress they’re on is an old, creaky piece of shit that creaks when Wilson carefully rests his weight on top of House. They’re covered in sweat and cum and god knows what else.

“Look at me,” Wilson pleads. House does just that, forcing his eyes open enough to meet Wilson’s. His pupils are blown wide and though it’s clear he’s drowning in their shared pleasure, Wilson can’t read much else. Is House just as enraptured by Wilson as Wilson is by him? Is House hoping he’ll stay after they clean up? “You’re beautiful… So beautiful.”

“And you’re cringeworthy. We’re in my bed, not The Notebook,” House references with a half-hearted roll of his eyes and a playful smack of one hand against Wilson’s shoulder. “So shut up and get off of me.”

Wilson does as told and rolls off of House, onto the bed. He’s learned where House keeps everything so that House can just lie there and let Wilson clean the both of them up on nights like this. They never have sex at Wilson’s as Wilson is living in a hotel following the divorce and has yet to settle into a new place of his own.

He settles on his side next to House with his head on one of the pillows. There used to be one, but Wilson noticed after the first night he came over to do this, House bought another. Still, he hasn’t asked Wilson to stay the night. Wilson wonders if House even wants him to. Then again, there’s a lot of things he wonders about House.

Wilson stares at House, who is still on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He already has his boxers back on which makes Wilson self conscious enough to grab his from the floor and put them on as well.

Wilson wishes he knew what was running through the man’s mind right now. He’s quiet, contemplative, and serious in a way that’s out of character for him. Usually it’s awkward enough that Wilson leaves, and they pretend this never happened (until the next time it happens), but Wilson is growing weary of this cycle they’ve created over the last few weeks. Instead of quickly dressing himself and leaving, he gets back into the bed and pulls one of House’s large blankets over the two of them. House’s eyes widen. His gaze flickers to Wilson; questioning, cautious.

“There’s more I wish I knew about you,” Wilson softly murmurs. “More I wish you’d tell me. Things I’d ask about if I thought I could actually get an honest answer out of you.”

House furrows his brow.

“Like what?”

“Will you answer me honestly?”

“Depends on what you wanna know,” House answers.

Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Wilson worms his way between one of House’s arms and his body so he can rest his head on the man’s chest. House tenses at first before relaxing his muscles and wrapping his arm around Wilson’s body to return the affection.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this… A few months ago, you lied to me about that transplant patient- Carly Forlano- you lied to all of us.”

“Who was that again?” House questions.

Wilson doesn’t know if he’s serious or not.

“That business woman who came in with a ton of problems and ended up in congestive heart failure despite being perfectly healthy. You lied-”

“I like to call it ‘spinning the truth’.”

“So? What was wrong with the patient that met the exclusion criteria for the transplant list anyway? We both know that Chase figured it out and ratted to Vogler and Cuddy during her surgery.”

“She was taking Ipepac,” House says after a long pause, to which Wilson blinks up at him with confusion written on his face.

“You mean she took it once? There’s no way one use would cause that kind of damage to someone so young unless-”

“She said ‘maybe three times a week’. She was bulimic- or, is bulimic- who knows,” House shrugs as much as he can do so considering that Wilson’s weight is on top of him. Still, the expression on his face is unreadable. Wilson remains baffled; why would he lie for her? Why would he take the chance with his medical license by lying like that? Did he have some sort of personal connection with her, or was it just for the sake of solving one of his cases? Just to prove to himself that he was right? “But when bulimics give you a number for the amount they’re purging, it’s usually much more than what they’re actually willing to admit out loud, so I’d bank on it being at least once a day.”

“She’s a smart woman; smart enough to know the kind of damage that could do to her heart, and she did it anyway,” Wilson huffs. He knows everyone copes with stress differently, but he also remembers being very frustrated with that patient while she was in their care. She would use her cell phone during important texting and prioritize her many business calls over her health. Worst of all, she tried to rush herself out of the hospital to get back to work, assuming nothing was seriously wrong and that it was just a random one time health scare at first. If not for the staff’s insistence that she stay, she would’ve died from heart failure. “So why the hell would you grant her the transplant? Better yet, why would you lie to everyone to get her that transplant and risk your job- your medical license? You said you thought you were doing what’s right when we talked about it the first time.”

“I did, because that’s what I thought, and I still think that.”

“Why?”

“Would you believe me if I said I saw a bit of you in that patient?”

At that, Wilson gets off of House and sits up in the bed to stare down at the man, whose expression is unreadable as ever.

“House, I’m not-”

“I know you’re not bulimic, but you’re great at making the worst possible choices for yourself at every turn and ruining your otherwise very accomplished life. That’s another form of self-harm in itself,” House says, sitting up as well. Wilson doesn’t miss the wince that momentarily takes over the other man’s face as he grabs his leg in pain from performing the motion. “Going into oncology even though it makes you miserable, jumping into three marriages that you knew weren’t going to work out, beating up that guy over a Billy Joel song at a bar during an important medical conference, allowing me to befriend you-”

“-you bailed me out of jail, what was I-”

“Staying as my friend even after the conference, allowing me to seep into your personal life and ruin aspect of it, and better yet, your professional life, too!”

“I still have a job and a good reputation, so-”

“Sure, because you got lucky with Cuddy pulling the plug on Vogler, which you had no way of knowing she would do. If that hadn’t happened, your little gesture of voting to keep me on staff even though you knew you’d get canned too still would’ve played out the way it was supposed to. You would’ve been fucked.”

“And what you’re saying is?” Wilson sighs.

“Everyone else in my life; they’re sane enough to not want to deal with me the way I am but crazy enough to try and fix me. You, on the other hand, are sane enough to know I can’t be fixed but crazy enough to stay with me anyway. Even though you’ve made the mistake of getting to know me, you’re still here,” Silence. Wilson isn’t sure what to say, so he tentatively reaches out. House holds his hand and intertwines their fingers with a bittersweet smile. “Nothing to say?”

“Well… What’s so bad about knowing you?”

“Being known is simultaneously one of the best and worst things that could happen to someone. When it works out, it’s great, and when it doesn’t work out, it’s not… And let’s not pretend I’m not a huge asshole. It’s a miracle you’re still friends with me after all these years.”

“That’s all it is?” Wilson asks, to which House nods. “I don’t get it, then. We’ve been friends for a long time, House, you know I can take whatever you can dish out… Unless… Are you afraid I’m going to leave?”

“We could be naive enough to sit here and assume that things are always going to be this way; that we’ll always catch each other when we fall, but people fall out of love. People turn their backs, and they let each other fall. People grow and change and before you know it, your best friend becomes a stranger, and you don’t know them like you thought you did,” House drops Wilson’s hand and turns around to toss both of his legs over the side of the bed. Again, he winces from the pain caused by his infarction. It looks like he wants to stand to leave the room for something but can’t gather the strength to do so. “We’ve both had it happen to us before, and you know it’s real. You’ve been through three marriages and I’ve ran through plenty of relationships in the last few decades. You’re just making the worst possible decision for yourself yet again by throwing yourself into the pits with me.”

“But that’s my decision to make. Whether or not we do anything about our feelings doesn’t change them. There’s no stopping this, at least not for me,” Wilson insists and rushes to stand up so he can go around the side of the bed and offer his hands.

House refuses to take them, refuses to accept the help. The older man fumbles around until he manages to retrieve his cane from where he abandoned it on the floor earlier. Instead of using Wilson as leverage, he uses his cane and stands from the bed to walk towards the door of the bedroom. Wilson follows him into the kitchen in wait of a response.

“You’re not scared at all?”

“Of course I’m scared! I’m terrified. I’ve seen our track records with relationships, but… If it means that I get to be with you, I can be scared and still put my best foot forward, to try and make this work. I’m in love with you, Greg House.”

House walks towards the fridge without a word. Again, Wilson follows in wait of a response, this time wrapping his arms around House’s waist and resting his chin on the man’s shoulder from behind.

“You’re persistent.”

“So? You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep making me wait on you. Seriously, it’s been over a decade of this nonsense with two weeks of confusing sex stacked on top of it,” Wilson scolds. House just looks back at him as if he’s not sure this is real. “So? What do you say?” “I say… I’m in love with you too, James Wilson,” House chuckles, reaches into the fridge, and grabs a beer for each of them with a large grin. “Good luck.”

#hilson #house md #house fanfiction #house x wilson #housemd #gregory house #james wilson x gregory house #greg house x james wilson #james wilson x greg house #james wilson #fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

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vigilante-chase · 6 months ago

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Summary: Part 3 of Every Rose Has its Thorn. Leota and Rose catch up after lost time, and Adrian has a bright idea.

Word count: 1.2K Words

Warning: None, other than a few changes to the chapter

Pairing: Adrian Chase x Rose Wilson

AO3, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

3. Dive Bar

Rose and Leota cackled obnoxiously as they took a trip down memory lane at the bar, only remembering the good times. The good times were all that mattered. The two went to a private school, and befriended each other when Leota was a new student. She was very quiet and friendly, and Rose knew that the other students would eat her alive. Rose was always a loner, people knew who her dad was, and decided they wanted no parts of her fucked up life. When she saw Leota, she instantly recognized her as Amanda Waller’s daughter, and her godsister as well.

They were like two peas in a pod, bonding over their parents’ rein over their lives. And now over ten years later, they’ve gotten back into the flow of things like nothing has ever changed. Rose felt guilty that she didn’t even get to see her best friend’s wedding, but knowing that Leota has found a beautiful wife like Keeya made her smile.

“What about you?” Leota asks, taking a sip of beer, shivering at the bitter taste. “Any lovers with any of the Titans?”

Rose laughed a humorless laugh, “A fling here and there. Nothing worth talking about.” She had a brief thing with Red Hood, but he ended things as quickly as they started. That left things awkward as they had to work together on missions after that. But the two got over it after a while, and became friends.

Adrian knew it was a bad idea, but he only wanted to make sure Rose and Leota were safe at the bar. He had taken Chris home, and drove all the way to the dive bar that the two women were chatting in. Quickly pulling his kevlar, undershirt, and pants off. He changed into his civilian clothes, and got out to walk to the door. He sighed nervously and adjusted his glasses before walking in, what he thought was a casual and confident strut, in reality was a bashful and nervous stride. He didn’t know what he’d say once he walked up to them, he may have overestimated his confidence in this moment. Leota stopped her conversation midway, gazing at him with wide eyes. To him, it was a look of excitement, when it was really her own nervousness. Rose turned in her seat to see what had Leota spooked. Adrian couldn’t read her expression, she was clearly getting a read on him. Hopefully, she wouldn’t recognize him as Vigilante. But she was friends with Leota, so of course she’s hella smart. Well, it’s now or never.

“Hi, Adebayo! Hi, Adebayo’s friend!” That sounds like a normal greeting, right. Rose gave a half-assed wave, toying with the rim of her beer and eyeing him suspiciously. He shifted under her intense gaze.

“Um, Hey…Adrian. What are you doing here?” Leota asked awkwardly, playing along with whatever game he was playing at. He couldn’t be serious, right? He was willing to follow them to this bar, and get his precious identity found out by Rose.

“I was just in the neighborhood, and decided ‘Hey, I should get a beer!’, and then I happened to see my good friend, Leota Adebayo. And hey, she happens to have a friend, the more the merrier!” He was nailing it perfectly. Rose smiled at him, hopefully a friendly smile. She raised her eyebrow at him, he wanted to get inside her head so bad. God, what was she thinking at this moment. She whispered something to Leota then got up and walked away. Leota looked at him incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked him.

“I can’t have a beer after a really hard day?! Is that so wrong?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s wrong if you don’t want Rose to find out your secret identity.” He knew Leota was right, looking down with a soft whine. “I’ll help you keep it safe as much as I can, but Rose isn’t dumb. She’s her father’s daughter.”

Rose walked back to the table with another round of beers before Adrian could reply, staring at him intently as she sat down. “So, Adrian, was it?” She slid a beer in his direction as he nodded. “I’m Rose.” It was his shot, to act normal and keep it together.

“H-Hi, Rose.” He cursed himself for being so nervous. “So what brings you both here tonight?”

Leota looked at Rose, who smiled softly. Is she really falling for this? Stevie Wonder could tell that Adrian and Vigilante were the same person, and she’s not even putting two and two together. Rose leaned forward, crossing her arms over the table, her eyes piercing his. “We had a long day doing this task force bullshit, right Lee?” Leota nodded with pursed lips and a side eye towards her. Where was she going with this? “I had to get on a plane for over eight hours, to be around two absolute morons and kick some ass. But, hey, I’m still alive.”

Adrian looked to Rose then to Leota, “Uh…hopefully those two ‘morons’ were very cool and kicked just as much ass. Let’s say, hypothetically, one of those morons wanted to know if you thought he was cool and badass. Would you think he was…hypothetically speaking.” Leota rolled her eyes, putting her face in her palm.

Rose chuckled and winked at him, “See you tomorrow, Adrian.” With one last gulp of her beer, she stood up, “Ready to head out, Lee?”

“Yeah, more than ready.” Leota said, thanking the heavens that this awkward bullshit was over.

Adrian thought he was hitting it out of the park, maybe Chris should help him with his flirting. He was never good at it to be honest. Usually women flocked to him when he’s Vigilante, only after he’d save them from a mugging or some shit. Impressing Rose Wilson would be harder than he thought.

Leota was gonna just come out and say it, “Okay, what the hell was that back there?”

Rose laughed a maniacal laugh, but tried to hide it with an innocent face. “What? That? Oh, I was just making conversation. You didn’t tell me you were friends with such a cutie.” Leota almost swerved the car, she didn’t know what to feel. Disgust? Confusion? Adrian and cute in the same sentence definitely confused her. Well, only because she’s known him for a while now, and the cuteness fades after hearing him talk for five minutes.

“A cutie?” She asked.

Rose hummed, “Yep, I wonder if he’s seeing anybody?”

“Girl, what the fuck?” Leota was looking at her friend as if she didn’t know her. Adrian didn’t seem like her type, but she did tell her ‘people change’. “I mean, more power to you.”

Rose couldn’t hold in her cackle at this point, “Girl, I’m fucking with you! I knew it was Vigilante the whole time.” They both laughed at the absurdity. “You really think I couldn’t hear the cadence of his voice?”

Leota shook her head, pulling into the parking lot of the shitty hotel they both would be stationed at for the next twelve months. Going to the trunk to get the rest of her luggage out, she walked up to her door, unlocking it and dropping her bags in the middle of the floor. It was time to rest and get some decent sleep.

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slappycr0w · 6 months ago

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Official Introduction Post

Hi! I’m keeping my actual name private (unless we become friends), so until then, you can call me Crow!

As most of you know based on a previous post on a community on my old account, I am transmasculine and am under the nonbinary umbrella somehow! So any pronouns are fine but most people use he/him! Switch it around if you want, I won’t be mad. Anyways, I guess this is Crow’s Coming Out Of The Closet hour!

I am absolutely okay with people coming and chatting with me! DMs are open and even encouraged, I love meeting new people and would love to make new friends! Though I will advise that this is an 18+ account, so minors DO NOT INTERACT.

I am a fanfic writer and you can find me under the username theCr0wthatJamz on Ao3! Tumblr and Ao3 requests are currently closed. This will be edited accordingly!

I am a bass player! My inspirations include (and will likely be updated as my journey continues, every bass player will also be listed under the band they were most known for):

Cliff Burton - Metallica

Jason Newsted - Metallica

Robert Trujillo - Metallica

Les Claypool - Primus

Geddy Lee - Rush

Lemmy Kilmister - Motörhead

Ryan Martinie - Mudvayne

Steve Harris - Iron Maiden

John Paul Jones - Led Zeppelin

Very basic list, I know. But it’s made bass playing a lot more fun for me to have such a diverse, versatile, and talented list of idols!

I’m also a gardener! Though my collection is exclusive to cacti and succulents at the current moment since they’re low maintenance and live all year round! Thanks to a few Christmas gifts, I now have fourteen cacti!

I love reading as well! I can’t say I have a favorite author but my two favorite books are Geddy Lee’s Big Beautiful Book Of Bass by Geddy Lee and The Energy Bus: 10 Rules to Fuel Your Life, Work and Team with Positive Energy by Jon Gordon! Most of the books I read are either written by/about bands and musicians I like or horror and thriller!

I love art as well! Though my focus is on tattoos, making things out of clay, and wire sculptures. I’m not the greatest artist, but working with my hands like that while also expressing what limited creativity I may have helps me relax!

I rarely watch movies and TV but the rare times I do, nine times out of ten it involves zombies or infection! Weird, but I’m a weird individual.

I listen to just about any genre you throw at me! I just usually don’t like country music or most pop music (though I have a confession, I love Lady Gaga). But my top genres include: psychedelic polka, stoner rock, funk metal, prog rock, and classic rock!

My account will now be focused on:

Fanfiction

Metallica (usually Jason Newsted)

Primus (honestly just Les Claypool and the occasional things I find with him and Kirk Hammett)

Rush

Motörhead (mainly Lemmy Kilmister)

Mudvayne (just Ryan Martinie)

Iron Maiden

Led Zeppelin

Slipknot (mainly Sid Wilson, Jay Weinberg, Paul Gray, Alessandro Venturella, Chris Fehn, Mike Pfaff, Jim Root, Craig Jones, and Mick Thomson)

Guns N’ Roses (all of the original five, but mainly Duff McKagan and Steven Adler)

All things bass

(Occasional) plants, nature, and gardening

Book requests and recommendations

Tattoos and piercings

Wire art (very rarely)

And last but not least! If you are prejudiced against anyone at all, you can kindly see yourself away from my account because you will not be welcome here without a few choice words.

Anyways, it’s nice to see you all again and I’m excited to get this new account started!

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jedimandalorian · 2 years ago

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Are Sabine and Ezra in love? Draw your own conclusions.

The quotes are from healthline.com.

They are from this article: “Is It Love? Dilated Pupils and 7 Other Signs to Watch For”

Medically reviewed by Debra Rose Wilson, Ph.D., MSN, R.N., IBCLC, AHN-BC, CHT

Article written By Adrienne Santos-Longhurst.

Screenshots from Ahsoka Season 1, written by Dave Filoni.

Featuring Natasha Liu Bordizzo as Sabine Wren and

Eman Esfandi as Ezra Bridger.

1. Pupil dilation.

“For starters, oxytocin and dopamine— the “love hormones” — have an effect on pupil size.

Your brain gets a boost of these chemicals when you’re sexually or romantically attracted to someone.

This surge in hormones appears to make your pupils dilate.

Dilation may also be related to the biological need to reproduce.

It’s been suggested that a male’s attraction to larger pupils has to do with their biological quest to pass on their genes.

A woman with dilated pupils mirrors his attraction, indicating returned interest and perhaps sexual excitement.”

2. Mutual eye contact.

“We all love a little eye candy and can’t help but stare when someone catches our interest.

But did you know that making prolonged eye contact with someone can make you more appealing?

One 2006 study found that a person’s attractiveness is boosted when they make eye contact and direct interest your way.

And, according to older research, the longer you engage in mutual eye contact, the stronger your feelings of love and affection become.

Eye contact may be just as important once you’re in a relationship.

The amount of eye contact you and your partner share may be indicative of just how in love you are.

Older research suggests that couples who are deeply in love make more eye contact than those who aren’t.”

3. Leaning or tilting.

“The way a person sits or stands in your presence says a lot about their interest. Someone who’s interested or flirting with you will often lean or tilt your way.

Examples of this are leaning forward and bringing their upper body toward you, or moving closer to the edge of their seat when talking to you.”

4. Feet pointing.

“Without having to give it any real thought or effort, a person’s feet will generally point in the direction they want to go.

If you’re speaking to someone and their feet are pointing toward you, then they’re where they want to be.”

5. Mirroring.

“Mirroring has long been thought to be a nonverbal sign of interest.

Mirroring is the mimicking — subconscious or otherwise — of another person’s actions and behaviors.

When two people are genuinely engaged in conversation, they tend to mirror each other without even realizing it.

It’s also believed that a person will mimic your actions when they want to build a rapport with you.

Aligning their actions encourages closeness and creates a bond.

So, if you happen to notice that the person you’re chatting up is holding their hand in the same position you are, they’re probably interested.”

6. Touching.

“Subtle motions, such as grazing your arm or leg during an animated conversation, may be a sign of interest.

Also take note of how they interact with themselves when speaking to you.

Running their hand along their arm or through their hair while looking at or speaking to you may be another sign of attraction.”

7. Blushing.

“Your face becomes flushed when you get a rush of adrenaline. This causes your heart to race and your blood vessels to dilate.

It can result from any type of emotion, whether that’s stress or embarrassment or anger.

But in terms of mating, it’s a good indicator that you’ve managed to get someone excited.

Blushing has long been thought of as a sign of

attraction and attractiveness.”

Are Sabine and Ezra in love? I say trust the science.

Rewatch all of Sabine and Ezra’s scenes together in Ahsoka and draw your own conclusion.

#sabine wren #ezra bridger #star wars #ahsoka series #sabezra #ezrabine #star wars rebels #natasha liu bordizzo #eman esfandi

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ontheropesss · 1 year ago

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SLADE WILSON/DICK GRAYSON RECS (T-M)

Playing with Uranium by BlameTheMachines Slade invites Dick into his study for a friendly chat about Rose’s training. It goes poorly.

stiff competition by roipecheur Something weird is going on between Dick Grayson and Rose's daddy. For better or worse, Rose might be too wrapped up in her own teenage bullshit and vying with Sophia for Dick's attention to figure out what. Hell, as they say, is a teenage girl.

storm thirst by cheju A quiet confrontation on a stormy night.

crumpled paper by greeneyedfirework Five times Adeline Kane disapproves of Nightwing, and one time she understands.

seeing is believing by envysparkler Five times Agent Padilla has the wrong idea about her neighbors’ relationship, and one time she gets it right. (Or: Natalia knew that Gotham was crazy, but she didn’t realize it was move-in-next-to-Nightwing-and-Deathstroke-the-Terminator-crazy.)

#dick grayson #slade wilson #sladick #fic recs

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timechange · 1 year ago

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MCFLY JULY ‘24 — backyard cookout.

JULY 4, 1986

“Jesus, the whole block is out there.”

Marty can’t stop looking out of the window, watching distantly as every single resident of Lyon Estates seems to be staking claims on their backyard. The people, the tables, hell, even the food, are all plastered in stars and stripes. His dad is welcoming everybody with a handshake, a clap on the shoulder, and a smile, like there’s a paparazzi hiding in the rose bush. His mom is chatting up Mrs. Wilson from across the street like they’re old pals, which is hilarious considering they were this close to shanking each other with the free, shitty mini candy canes at his dad’s company Christmas party two years ago.

“Of course it is. It’s the same every year,” Dave returns, balancing vats of macaroni salad and potato salad as he works his way out the door, dressed in Sperrys, red shorts, and a navy polo shirt.

What if I died, Marty briefly wonders, what if I died in the thunderstorm in 1955 and God screwed up and stuck me in yuppie heaven? What the hell did I do to deserve that?

“Aren’t you ready yet?” Dave promptly derails his train of thought. “Mom and Dad are insisting on taking family photos again this year. I tried telling ‘em I’m twenty-three and way too old for that shit, but–”

“Dave, shut up,” Linda interrupts dryly, carefully carrying a bowl of punch so as not to spill it down her sleeveless blue and white dress. Marty spares a glance toward the red polo shirt and white shorts that are laid out for him. Matching outfits, Jesus Christ. “Marty, he’s right. Go get your stuff on.”

“Uh, actually…” Marty rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, guys, I think I’m gonna sit this one out. I-I mean, there’s plenty of people out there already, and–”

“Sit it out!” Dave interjects. “Marty, what’s gotten into you lately? You love this!”

“... I do?”

It’s only at Marty’s look of genuine confusion that Dave’s face turns from indignant annoyance to deep concern, making lines in his forehead he’s way too young to have.

“Quit being a dweeb,” Linda, halfway to the door, gives her brothers a glance over her shoulder. “Go get changed. I’m not bringing all this out by myself.”

Searching his kid brother’s face one more time, Dave follows his sister out the door.

When he’s actually outside and sitting on the front steps, watching the kids waving sparklers and running around the yard, Marty realizes he can’t feel his hands.

It doesn’t freak him out now, but back when it first started happening, his breath would freeze in his throat, his heart trying to make a break for it out of his chest as he made sure that he wasn’t being erased from existence. Now, it’s just one of those things. Maybe he’ll ask somebody about it, but he doesn’t want any more people looking at him the way Dave just did.

Shrieking and talking and sizzling bounce all around him, but it sounds like it's coming from a radio in the other room. Maybe somebody left the TV on again. Maybe–

“Marty?”

He blinks. Worried brown eyes look back at him and there’s a hand on his cheek he almost– almost– shrinks back from.

“Jennifer?” he breathes. “The hell are you doin’ here? Your parents… your parents go to Montara for the Fourth. Right?”

“Yeah, but for the last couple years I’ve stayed in town with you,” she responds. “Remember?”

“I…”

“Come on,” Jennifer encourages, gently taking his hands and pulling him up. She lets go of one hand but tightly holds onto the other. “It’s a little crowded for me.”

“Yeah,” Marty agrees, squeezing her hand back, smiling despite the pricking behind his eyes and the lump in his throat. “Yeah, me too.”

Even if everything else is a shit show, at least two things have stayed the same; one, he doesn’t deserve Jennifer Parker, and two, he’s crazy about her.

She leads him back inside where she’s put her roller skates and helmet by his skateboard, propped up against the front door. Once they’re geared up, they skate off hand in hand down the streets of Hill Valley.

The sound of Einstein’s barking and Jules and Verne laughing greet them. The boys are chasing the dog around– mostly through the elaborate automatic sprinkler system Marty had helped Doc had set up earlier in the summer– while Doc fusses over the grill and Clara sets the patio table.

“Hey,” Marty tentatively tries, leaning his skateboard up against the side of the house as Jennifer undoes her skates, “Room for two more?”

“Marty!” Doc exclaims, immediately abandoning his post and sweeping the boy into his arms, an embrace which is gratefully and tightly returned. “Jennifer!” Marty moves over and Doc extends his arm to accommodate her, and she eagerly joins the hug. “You made it!”

“Marty’s here, Marty’s here!” Verne whoops, pumping his fists in the air victoriously.

“Hello Martin! Hello Jennifer!” Jules chirps, waving with both hands.

“Emmett, the hamburgers!” Clara calls to him, laughing, as Doc lets out a theatrical gasp and races back to the now slightly smoldering patties.

Clara joins the two teenagers, wrapping a maternal arm around them both.

“I’m so glad you could join us,” she says warmly, “We were hoping you would. I know it’s not anywhere near what your family puts on, Marty, but–”

“No, Clara, it’s great,” Marty reassures, leaning into her touch. “It’s all great.”

#drabble tbt.#mcflyjuly #mcfly july ‘24.#i told you guys this one was going to be a monster...#this is SO long and took SO LONG TO WRITE HELP #tl;dr: jennifer is a treasure. marty needs help (and a hug). the clayton-browns are the best.#dissociation tw #derealization tw #depersonalization tw #long post #long post tw #jennifer tbt.#now i look into your eyes i can see forever [marty & jennifer.]#we’ve been back together for five minutes and you’re already talkin’ about the end of the universe. i’ve missed that. [doc & marty.]#you're my best friend in the whole space time continuum [doc brown.]#clara tbt.#dave & linda tbt.#jules & verne tbt.#clayton-brown family tbt.

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