#just a deep-rooted response of 'fuck that pot'

[unsteadyimagines]

Bittersweet Reunion - Anon Request (Spencer Reid x Reader)

SUMMARY: “It’s when Spencer gets out of prison. Basically, it had been months and you both missed each other and you felt so bad about how beaten he had gotten so you go out of your way to take care of him.”

WORD COUNT: 2k

WARNINGS: Smut

NOTE:

***Feedback is always welcome for future improvement!

——-

Defeat. Drained. Utterly exhausted. All of those painted on Spencer’s face as he’s discharged from prison. His wrongful imprisonment has clearly taken a toll on him, and I couldn’t feel more guilty. Mexico has clearly not treated him very well.

Seeing him for the first time in god knows how many months felt surreal. Spencer never allowed me to visit him whilst he was imprisoned, in fear of hurting me even more then he thinks he had already done so. In some ways I felt hurt thinking he didn’t want to see me all those months, but I now understand that he was just trying to protect me. However, seeing him now, in his defeated state, it’s now my job to protect him. Care for him, love him. I’d do anything to make sure he’s safe.

As soon as his glassy eyes meet mine, I can feel sobs rake my body whilst my legs move as fast as they can in the direction of Spencer. His arms are already out by the time I reach him, jumping into his shaky arms and feeling his familiar warm touch. Something I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. I can feel his heart beating just as fast as mine, if not faster. I run my fingers through his unruly hair, that’s one of his favourite feelings. Neither of us had uttered a word, not just yet. We’re both silent, content in the stillness we both emitted in an otherwise chaotic and overwhelming environment. When I hear quiet sniffles drawn from Spencer, I decide to break the silence.

“I missed you so much.” I muttered into his warm chest, never wanting to let go.

“I missed you too, so much.” Spencer replies, pulling me into his chest tighter, which seems impossible as we’re already as close to one another as we possibly could. Both of our bodies pressed firmly against the other, the heat increasing.

Once I pull away, I look up to see Spencer’s face plastered with a smile, which automatically makes my smile grow bigger and bigger. Spencer suddenly grabs my face in his hands and places his lips on mine in a sweet and gentle kiss, reminding me that we are still in the presence of prison officers. I pull away only for him to pepper my cheeks with kisses, making me giggle and pull away slightly. I nod my head in the direction of the car, signalling to Spencer that we should leave. Gripping my left hand tightly, Spencer laces our fingers together as we make our way to the parking lot.

The entire journey home Spencer’s hand gripped my thigh firmly, not wanting to physically be apart ever again. During the car ride, Spencer tells me how prison was, the good parts, if you could even call it that, and the not so good parts. My heart hurt hearing Spencer as he details the fights he got into, the treatment he received from prison officers and how alone he felt.

Once we arrive home and walk into the front door, I turn around and see Spencer standing there, taking everything in. The all too familiar house, the smells… everything. Watching him look around makes me feel so content and safe. My baby is finally home.

“Good to be home, huh?” I rhetorically ask, my eyes feeling like they may tear up again. Spencer chuckles, his mouth quivering slightly, obviously just as emotional as I am.

“You could say that.” Spencer answers, closing the door behind him and making a beeline straight towards me. His arms enclose around my body once again, although this time we don’t have numerous prison officers observing our reunion. I let out a big sigh, finally feeling like things are starting to get better. I can tell Spencer feels the same, his head resting on top of mine, not once loosening his grip.

I could stay in this position all day, I really could. But I knew Spencer was probably desperate for a proper shower, a home cooked meal and his comfortable bed.

Lightly giving his neck a kiss, I whisper in his ear. “Why don’t you get settled back in, take a shower and I’ll start cooking dinner for you.” Feeling Spencer’s head nod on mine, he hesitantly releases his grip and makes his way upstairs. Walking into the kitchen, I begin preparing what I hope is a delicious meal for Spencer, god knows what the food is like in prison. I’m assuming it’s not exactly what someone would call a five-star meal, anyway.

Trying to make Spencer feel at home again, I decided on cooking some Indian food, one of Spencer’s favourite cuisines and also picked up some chocolate donuts with sprinkles from his favourite bakery. I felt giddy with excitement having Spencer home and being able to do things like this for him again.

Approximately 20 minutes had passed, and Spencer still hadn’t returned downstairs. Turning all the pots to a low heat, I hurriedly make my way upstairs to check on him. Slowly walking into the bathroom, the room is covered in a thin cloud of steam and the sound of the shower remains. Through the thick cloud of steam I can see into the shower, Spencer’s hair is slicked back away from his face, leaning his forehead on his arms which are leaning on the shower wall, his head held down. His previously tired eyes are now closed, his breathing deep. 

Quietly closing the door behind me, I begin removing my clothes one at a time until I’m completely naked. I open the shower door and am met with the hot water cascading down my hair and onto my body, my muscles instantly easing. Pressing my front against Spencer’s back and wrapping my arms around him from behind, he jumps slightly at the contact before relaxing once he realises it’s me.

I give him a kiss on his back, resting my head gently there. Kissing my way around both of his wet shoulders makes me question if he expects anything to happen tonight. It could go either way - he’d be pretty exhausted but we also haven’t been intimate in months. I suppose it might be better for me to wait and see if he initiates anything.

Spencer turns and spins me around so it’s now my head that’s under the showerhead. I gasp softly at the hot water trickling down, enveloping me. Pulling me in, Spencer kisses me sweetly, running his hands through my soaked hair. I hum in delight, my eyes fluttering shut at the physical closeness I so dearly missed.

“Can I?” Spencer quietly asks, staring deeply into my eyes. I can see how vulnerable he is, his eyes darting back and forth across mine while waiting for my answer. Giving him a confused expression, I question him.

“Can you what?”

Rather than answering my question, like before, Spencer slowly meets his lips with mine, pulling me closer to him than before, his wet skin pressed against mine softly. The droplets cover our bodies as his tongue meets mine, our breaths becoming more laboured and quick. The feeling of our wet skin meeting each other’s is a feeling I’m sure we both missed incredibly.

I begin trailing kisses down Spencers body, his chest and stomach inhaling and exhaling deeply, reacting to my touch. Slowly making my way down his body until I’m on my knees, I reach his lower abdomen. Looking up I can see Spencer’s head thrown back, his mouth open and eyebrows furrowed. My hands grip both of his hips before I kiss his inner thighs, watching his eyes flutter at the sensitive area. I take his cock in my hands, slowly pumping him up and down, watching his reaction in awe. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Spencer in this vulnerable trance, it encourages me to continue. 

I can tell he’s had enough teasing, so I take him in my mouth, and I’m consumed with a warmth spreading through the entirety of my body when Spencer lets out a grunt, biting his lip. I coat his cock with my spit, putting my hands on his hips once again and wrapping my lips around him even deeper, shaking my head from side to side.

“Ugh fuck!” Spencer groans, bucking his hips up, causing my eyes to roll back and squeeze my nails into his sides. I can feel myself get even more turned on seeing him in such a state. A state that I caused.

Pulling back for a second to give myself a moment to breathe, I look up at him through my lashes, smirking when I see utter pleasure painted on his face. Closing my mouth around his cock again, Spencer runs his fingers through my long, damp hair before bunching it up at the back and holding it in a ponytail. His left hand has a strong grip on my hair - every few seconds he grips tighter, causing my roots to slightly sting, but in the best possible way. His right hand is stroking my face, while he mutters words of encouragement to me which causes me to moan loudly against his cock as I lap my tongue around in circles.

  “Fuck yes baby, you take me so well.” Spencer mouths through hisses, his release approaching quicker and quicker. Wanting to see him come undone, I begin pushing his hips back and forth towards me, signalling for him to take control. Spencer understands as he’s now gripping my hair with both of his hands and thrusting himself faster and deeper into my mouth, fucking my face.

“Oh Y-Y/N, that f-feels so… so good.” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching. I slowly snake one of my hands down to my inner thighs, running my wet fingers over my pussy and begin rubbing my clit. My moans reverberate onto Spencer’s cock, drawing him closer and closer to his climax.

By this point, nothing can come out of his mouth other than rugged pants and deep sighs. I take him out of my mouth and begin pumping him with my wet hand, while the other still works on my clit. My legs begin shaking at the immense pleasure that I too can feel my release coming. Jerking him hastily, Spencer’s head hits the shower wall behind him, causing drops of hot water to dribble down his panting body.

“Are you going to cum for me baby?” I ask innocently, looking up at Spencer’s face with a smirk.

Spencer’s instinctual response is to shut me up by forcing his cock back passed my lips, thrusting once again. His hips buck up into my mouth and I’m determined to make him finish. I remove my hand from my pussy and push his hips back against the shower wall to prevent him from moving.

“Shit! Right there… right there baby – yes! I’m gonna cum” Spencer gasps, holding my hair back again.

This time, I wrap my mouth around Spencer’s cock so deep I can feel him hitting the back of my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. I flinch in surprise when I feel Spencer’s whole body convulse, his hands immediately holding the back of my head when I feel him release down my throat.

He lets out a massive groan of pleasure, his knees bucking slightly before letting go of my head. I swallow and leave one last deep kiss on his groin area, standing up to meet Spencer’s hazy eyes, his smile lazily plastered over his face.

“I want to fuck you so bad.” He admits, kissing me sloppily. I moan into his mouth and wrap my arms around his neck. Spencer grips my ass and hoists me up, now wrapping my legs around his waist and opens the shower door. We slowly make our way from the bathroom to the bedroom soaking wet, but neither of us could care.

As soon as my eyes flutter open, they’re met with a light mist of smoke entering through the bedroom door, making me fumble out of Spencer’s arms and run downstairs and into the kitchen, leaving Spencer confused and slightly concerned.

“SHIT! YOUR DINNER!”

Tags: @emmalvei-blog​

[americxn]

Run

Kai accidentally confesses his love to you ╔═══════════════╗      warnings: violence ╚═══════════════╝

word count - 3k a/n - sorry about how badly this is written, I was so tired when I was writing it Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck. Oh fuck.  You held your phone in a death grip as you stood frozen in Kai’s bedroom, Beverly’s frantic voice fuelling a panic within you like you had never felt. “He’s coming, y/n. He left here around ten minutes ago, I’m so sorry I couldn’t call earlier I had to get away from the others first.” You ignored her panic-stricken apologies, striding to the door and pushing it open before hurrying down the stairs of Kai’s house, terror, deep and immobilizing, unfurling in your chest. “Is he driving?” You barked down the phone, not directed at your friend but at the situation you now found yourself in. That piece of shit had ratted you out. And gotten away with it. “Yes. Please tell me that you’re out of the house, y/n, he’s coming for you.” Beverley’s last words, the desperation and fear in her voice, igniting a new level of alarm within you. Fear for you. The thought settles over you like ice water, a truly horrifying realisation that hit home sharply, pushing you to go faster.  Throwing on your shoes hurriedly and grabbing the first set of car keys your hand found in the pot beside the door, you threw open the door and took the steps down two at a time to the driveway, thanking Beverly and breathlessly promising to ring her as soon as you were in the clear before hanging up and pocketing your phone. You pressed the ‘unlock’ button on the car keys, sprinting for the car that beeped in response and lunging for the door. It was one of Kai’s cars. And not a cheap one. This thought added to the terror burning deep inside you, although you knew it didn’t matter. If Kai caught up to you, you were dead, stolen car or not.  Brain switching to autopilot, you turned on the engine and reversed quickly off the drive and sped off through the neighbourhood, your eyes glued to the rear-view mirror incase Kai rounded the corner behind you. “FUCK.” You shouted, slamming a hand on the steering wheel as you hurtled through the neighbourhood.

He had given you up, had ratted out your ass just so he could stay alive. If you weren’t dead within the next week you made a silent promise with yourself to return and kill the little prick.  A new boy had joined the cult two weeks ago. Kai had informed you that was only seventeen and you had been taken by his timidness, decided to sit with him at meetings, sacrificing your position next to Kai on the couch to ensure that none of the brutes in the cult dared to pick on the poor boy. He revealed to you that his name was Liam and that his parents had kicked him out of their house after he was expelled from his high school, leading to Kai having found him and manipulating the boy to joining the cult by offering him the promise of a place to stay until he was able to get a job and support himself. But, after only four days in the cult, after you and Liam had begun to hang out before and after meetings, he revealed to you that he was terrified of Kai and everyone else who was involved with him and that he wanted to leave. As a long-term member of the cult, you knew how that would turn out and convinced Liam to let you help him find a safe way out. But he had thrown that back in your face, all in an attempt to prove his worth to the cult and get in Kai’s good books by getting you, Kai’s favourite member, thrown out of the group. Beverly had explained to you on the phone that Liam claimed to Kai that not only were you plotting to kick Liam out of the cult, which was the partial truth, but you were planning on killing Kai and taking over as cult leader. And Liam had taken the opportunity to tell Kai this on today’s mission, which conveniently involved you staying at Kai’s house and carrying out your role from there whilst everyone else was together at the site of the mission.  And now Kai was coming to kill you. He would always take the words of a man over those of a woman, no matter how close to him you though you were.

This thought spurred your foot to press harder on the accelerator and soon you had made it out of the neighbourhood, Kai still nowhere in sight.  You kept driving, eventually making your way out of the city, hands gripping the wheel so hard that your knuckles turned white as you turned onto the back roads, only now just slowing your pace a little to accommodated the thinner, winding tracks. You jumped with a harsh gasp as you phone started buzzing in your back pocket and you fished it out with one hand, icy dread turning your blood to slush as you read the display name: Kai.  Chucking your phone on the seat beside you, you decided that it was just best to ignore it. After about a minute of ringing, each buzz resonating within you and feeding to your panic until your chest was so tight it was difficult to take a full breath, your phone fell silent, the screen going dark.  Letting out a breath, you leant your head back on the headrest, forcing yourself to breathe through your terror as you drove further and further out of the city, having no idea where you were going and just wanting to put as much distance between you and Kai as possible.  And then the screen on the dashboard of Kai’s car lit up, the sound of ringing filling the vehicle and Kai’s name flashing on the screen. A wave a nausea filled you as you realized that Kai wouldn’t leave you alone until answered him and as you reached out to press the ‘accept’ option on the screen, you began to cry, deep-rooted dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach.  The car fell silent as the call connected you, your poorly suppressed sobs filling the car, turning to hiccups as Kai finally spoke.  “Y/n.” He spoke your name, not as a question but as a command. You took a shaky breath, keeping as silent as you could, trying to mask your painfully obvious sobs. “Turn around. Come back to me.” He spoke slowly, as if talking to a frightened animal, his calm tone fuelling your eagerness to get the hell away from him as fast as you could. He sighed when you didn’t reply. The car fell silent for a beat before he added: “If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.” His unspoken words rang through your head. ‘If you make me come to you, I’ll just take more time killing you. I’ll be more creative.’ And like hell would you go to him, like you were his dog and he your owner. Your mounting fear only confirmed this but you pushed the thought aside. “I won’t come to you.” You hiccupped, “you’ll only kill me.” Hating your sobs, you gritted your teeth painfully as you waited for his response. “Y/n. You’re driving in my car. I’m tracking your location, I can see where you are.” You breathing hitched as he added lowly, his voice reverberating around the car, “you might want to slow down.”  “I’m sorry about the car, Kai. I’ll leave it somewhere and message you the location. Please leave me alone.” You whispered the last part quietly, voice cracking pathetically.  “I’m not interested in the car if you’re not in it.” He cooed, before adding, “oh, there you are.” You froze, fingers going limp on the wheel as you flicked your eyes to the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of a black car rounding the corner behind you. You yelped and slammed your foot into the accelerator, Kai’s chuckle filling the car. “You didn’t think I’d sit at home and let you get further and further away from me did you? Now fucking stop the car.”  Your heart leapt, thudding hard and fast at the raising anger in his tone as you pushed the car to drive even faster, hurtling around corners, Kai easily matching you in speed. You jammed your finger onto the ‘decline’ option on the screen before you, cutting Kai off as your breaths began to come out even shorter. This car would never be fast enough, Kai would drive after you until you ran out of gas, fuck he would drive after you to the ends of the world, just to feel your warm blood coating his rough fingertips. Your terror almost kept you driving blindly, flight overpowering fight, but you forced the practical thinking part of your brain into motion and beginning to weigh your odds of escape. As you rounded a particularly sharp corner, you saw the opening to a little side road branching off the main road you drove on and a reckless plan formed in your head.  You eased off the accelerator slightly, not giving yourself time to scare yourself out of what you were about to try and do, a glance in the rear view mirror confirming that Kai was gaining on you. You forced your rapid breathing to steady, trying to sharpen your focus as the opening to the side road got closer and closer, your hand settling over the handbrake. 10 yards. 5 yards. 3. Your stomach flipped as you yanked the handbrake up, the car screeching as you gritted your teeth, willing the car to stop at the angle you wanted it to, so that it lay across the road diagonally to stop Kai from following you any further by car. Before the vehicle had stopped moving, you had your seatbelt off and your phone in hand and had lunged for the passenger side door, throwing it open and forcing yourself out clumsily as Kai screeched to a halt behind you, the impact of his car hitting yours causing you to fall the rest of the way out of the car and you landed hard on your hands and knees.  Fuck, he would be pissed about the cars.  He shouted in fury after you, his own car door slamming shut with enough force that the sound echoed after you. But you were already running, you hands stinging but your mind clear as you hurtled around the corner and into the side road, praying to any god that might be listening that there was a house, a car, a person out walking, anything or anyone that would be able to help you. But the road was empty. A horrible feeling settled over you as you ran. How far out had you driven? Kai barked your name, forcing you out of your panic-clouded thoughts and you turned your head quickly to catch a glance of him over your shoulder.  His face was contorted with rage as he ran after you, his eyes narrowed into slits as his teeth gritted in effort, his jaw tight. He was gaining on you. You tried to push yourself faster but your thighs burned in protest, your arms groaning as you urged them to pump faster and your ankles beginning to buckle.  Your breaths sawed raggedly in and out of your lungs, the wind ripping your hair free of its ponytail. Remembering that your phone was still clutched in your hand, you racked your brain frantically, willing yourself to think of anyone that you could call that would save you. But the police wouldn’t do anything, they were terrified of Kai.  And anyone else you got roped into this would end up dead alongside you and-You yelped as Kai’s weight slammed into you, sending you both barrelling to the hard concrete of the road, your head taking the brunt of the impact as it collided with the road. Hard. Your phone was knocked from your grip and you tried in vain to blink away the stars in your vision at the impact as Kai flipped you over, one of his hands grabbing both of your wrists in his and another pinning you to the concrete by your throat. Warmth dripped from your temple and a part of you wanted to laugh, the other part willing your brain to shut down at the pain that you surely be forced to endure; Kai had had his hands on you for less than a second and you were already bleeding. “You bitch.” He spat in your face as you blinked at him vacantly. His hands clamped down onto your throat even tighter, the breath you dragged in enough to centre your focus and pull you back into reality.  “Please.” You choked, a sob racking your body painfully. His face softened in mock sympathy as he cooed a sarcastic “awe” at you.  “Poor traitorous whore. You can’t even fight me off can you?” He lifted your body up an inch off the road by your throat before slamming you back down in emphasis. Skin tore where his nails gripped your throat as he dug them into your flesh, your bones bleating from the second impact.  He leaned down, putting his lips by your ear, strands of his blue hair brushing against your cheek. “I don’t know why I let you into my cult, pathetic bitch.” A sob forced its way out of you, his words slamming into you with just as much force as the concrete did as he lifted you again and pushed you back down. Your vision blurred as his released your throat, quickly replacing his hand in your hair in a tangled grip as he yanked you up and began to walk back to his car, dragging you after him, your knees scraping against the rough road. You struggled to right yourself and find your footing as the blinding pain of being pulled along by your hair seized you and you screamed pitifully. “Kai, please.” You gasped, your own hands finding his wrist and trying to loosen his grip on your hair, the pain radiating through your scalp becoming two much as you began to loose your grip on consciousness. Kai seemed to realise this and released you, turning to watch as you hit the floor with a grunt and attempt to crawl away from him, your fingernails splitting as your dug them into the rough surface of the road.  He laughed, stepping forwards and wrapping his arms around your torso before hauling you up and pressing your back to his chest.  Nausea roiled in your gut.  “Kai. K-Kai, please.” You sobbed, fighting to suppress the retch that tried to force its way out of you. Kai hauled you towards his car, his phone appearing in his hand as he opened the passenger side door and shoved you in the car, kicking your legs in before laying a hard slap down on your face and slamming the door. You watched, cheek burning, too weak to try and get out of the car and terrified of being hurt more as Kai brought his phone to his ear, making his way round to the drivers side of the car and getting in.  “Yeah, I need you here.” He grumbled into the phone. Your head lolled to the side to look at him, terror glinting in your eyes. “The keys are still in the car, I don’t care how you do it just get my car back to my house.” You could briefly make out a voice babbling nervously on the other end.  “Just come.” He barked suddenly and you whimpered, your body jolting in response to his tone.  Hanging up, he chucked the phone into the backseat, watching in cruel amusement as you looked after the discarded device longingly. Quickly, he had the car turned around in the road and you were driving again, back the way you came. You could feel the blood dribbling from your temple, matting your already knotted hair. You had your eyes trained on Kai, your body jumping every time he moved his hands so much as an inch in your direction. Kai glanced at you, his face completely devoid of any emotion.  “Ask.” He demanded, turning his eyes back the road. You knew what he wanted of you, the same question that he wanted to hear you utter the only thought floating around your head. You swallowed slowly, your own fear causing you to give in.  “How are you going to do it?” Your voice was thick and it was a struggle to keep the words steady.  He took another glance at you, eyebrows quirking up in surprise. And then he laughed.  “Oh, y/n.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to kill you.” Your heart swelled in hope.  “Why the fuck would I kill someone I love?” He mused in amusement, shaking his head back and forth slowly. Realisation dawned upon your foggy brain as his words settled over you. “You- what?”  “I said I’m not going to kill you.” He replied hurriedly, as if he only just realised what he had said. Silence fell and he cleared his throat. “Don’t get too excited.” He muttered, all of his attention fixing back on the road. “By the time I’m through with your punishment, you’ll most likely wished I had just killed you.” His promise chilled you to the core, even as a strange fluttery feeling filled your stomach at his accidental confession.

[chainofclovers]

Grace and Frankie 7x1 - 7x4 thoughts

Meh? Like...I love them so much, but...meh?

(I did enjoy this line about brunch.)

I really loved season 6 of Grace and Frankie. I thought it was well-paced, largely very well-acted, generally well-written, and it culminated in a massive moment of character development for the title characters, who, having spent years growing closer and being there for each other when others could not or would not be, finally articulate to each other that they are the primary person in each other’s lives. Platonic gal pal soulmate BFF emotional support witches 4 lyfe!

I know progress isn’t always linear, and in fact is very rarely linear, but after a moment that significant, you’d think the writers on this show would maybe come up with some more interesting things for these characters to do than spin in circles?

@bristler and I watched on Friday night, and just this morning over breakfast had a good conversation about the first four episodes of the new season now that they have settled in our brains a bit. We concluded that the writing (often noticeably clunky, like the dialogue is responsible for more narration than usual) and the tone (aggressively wacky) feel really off, especially compared to the prior season. I think we diagnosed the big issue, which is that Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda are by far the most talented actors on this show (if you disagree, fight me in the parking lot) and it feels surprisingly unfortunate that their characters have, to this point in the new season, pretty much figured out their perspectives on each other. No matter how people feel about Grace and Frankie’s sexualities, the whole show has been about them finding each other and getting in deeper and deeper, and it’s less interesting to watch other characters have realizations about that than it is to watch Grace and Frankie having realizations about themselves. If the title characters are now limited to reacting to other people’s actions, and the title characters are played by the best actors on the show, the whole show’s gonna suffer. And is suffering, very much so, at least for these first four episodes. I’m definitely still excited for the final twelve in 2022 (twelve! I cannot believe this season will have sixteen eps!), but I’m pretty disappointed so far.

Stuff I Loved:

The family brunch. These families have been entwined for so long, and the backstory for this particular brunch was so fun (even though I didn’t care for the effects they did to depict Grace and Robert 25 years ago; there was no need for a visual flashback in the scene). I love that Grace hit Frankie with a wiffle ball bat. I love that the two couples realized some of the emotional reasons behind their decisions to lie to each other about Bud’s Bunny and about M’Challah. I love the way Jane Fonda sounds uttering the phrase “Bud’s Bunny” with little to no irony. I love that Grace is able to recognize and articulate just how deep and miserable her anger issues were, albeit with the continued help of her omnipresent martini, and that Frankie told her she’d now make up a holiday in order to spend more time with Grace. I really, really hope Frankie does exactly this at some point in the remaining episodes of the season. I love that Grace is generally a pretty good person now, with aspirations of being a delightful person. I love that she and Frankie don’t have it in them to stay angry with each other, and I love all the evidence that they really, really talk to each other about everything now.

Frankie talking to the man at the office (I don’t remember who he was supposed to be? A toilet manufacturer? I didn’t mention this before, but I actually got pretty high while watching?!? Believe it or not, this was the first time I smoked pot and watched Grace and Frankie at the same time despite having enjoyed both activities on their own for quite some time. I would recommend the combo! And I think I still pretty much got what was happening) about paying for the toilet parts with candy. This whole subplot with the money laundering was absurd and not that interesting, but I loved this particular scene because it was finally evidence of some really thoughtful writing. The concepts aren’t enough! You have to write them into good dialogue! And the whole cash/candy thing was a moment of dialogue that only someone as hilarious as Lily Tomlin could pull off. Which she did, IMO.

In a show about super messy people, Coyote has stayed sober this entire time. He is sober, employed, in love, and preparing to buy a full-sized house with his partner. He hasn’t murdered anyone in his family. Hasn’t even attempted murder once.

In 2017 or whatever, Grace Hanson would have been furious about Frankie using obscure Beatles references like a treasure map when hiding the cash. But here in 2021, she cooperates and even gets in on the fun. The writing is very unsubtle this season, but that did feel like a reasonably subtle moment that shows how good of a partner she is for Frankie. (Platonic, of course! So platonic. Female friendship, amirite?)

Stuff I Did NOT Love and Felt Incredibly Negative About:

Brianna. I can only conclude that June Diane Raphael has decided she’s happy with playing a character whose primary role in life is to be hot and mean. She succeeds at being hot and mean, but I have reached my limit with this character. I realize we’re only a quarter of the way into the season, but I don’t think I can take another arc about her learning to compromise only to reveal to Barry that she never intended to compromise at all. At this point, it’s both abusive and boring. How?! The Grace/Brianna parallels aren’t interesting anymore, because one character has grown and the other is stagnant. I get that Brianna was raised in an emotionally stilted environment by two unhealthy people. But I think it would be very cool if she could learn something from her mother at this point. Grace has put a ton of effort into dealing with her “rabbit-killing, mad-at-the-world anger.” She’s put a ton of effort into figuring out what makes her happy, what she wants her life to look like. She’s even started accepting her age and abilities without shame. And that growth is believable; Grace is still short-tempered and she still slugs back way too many martinis and she struggles to articulate certain things, but she’s grown into a truly lovely human. And while, as a daughter with a mother, I can absolutely attest to the fact that it can be difficult and uncomfortable to learn lessons from one’s mother, Brianna really, really should. Grace spent decades letting anger and shame trap her in a small, miserable life. Brianna—and even Mallory, who just seems like a vapid idiot this season—are traveling that same path, but there’s someone right there who could really help, maybe even more than Frankie helped when the Hanson girls were first growing up.

The arraignment. The scene might’ve been salvageable if it was filmed from Grace’s perspective, and filmed to reflect how surreal and improbable it all was. But speaking of non-linear progress, this scene erased everything Nick Skolka has done to put himself in my good graces (LOL) over the past couple seasons. I mean, I tried, man. I even wrote fic about Nick, Grace, and Frankie making a genuine effort at polyamory. But the arraignment is so emotionally manipulative, such a slap in the face of everything Grace has worked for, and while we’re certainly “supposed” to feel the weight of the moment, I mean, it’s not like we’re supposed to be like, “Oh, cool, we’re in a rom com now! This is adorable!” it still felt bad and unearned and slapdash.

And I want Frankie to process these things with her! Frankie seems so happy to have all this information about Grace and how Grace feels, but I want to see scenes in which we can gain an understanding of how Frankie actually feels. Hearing Frankie talk to other people about how Grace feels is interesting, but it’s like there’s no room in these episodes for us to learn anything new about Frankie herself.

Grace’s transitional wig. Is so. Bad. It is. Such a. Bad wig. Oof. I mean, I like what they’re doing with Grace’s hair from a plot perspective, although (see one bullet up) I would really like to get more of an understanding of what’s happening in Grace’s head, not just on top of her head. And gosh, Frankie would be a really good person to talk to about this in a conversation that lasts longer than 30 seconds. But the wig! She’s in a wig in all four episodes, of course, since Jane Fonda went grey and cut her hair short before they started filming this season. The wig for episodes 1 and 2 is fine; it’s a good approximation of Grace’s typical hair, and of course we know that canonically Grace’s hair isn’t 100% her own hair anyway. But the wig with grey roots looks so weird. The part that’s growing out doesn’t look the same as the hair on the wig from 1 and 2. And the grey roots look like a yarmulke. I cannot wait to get to the point in the season when Grace goes all the way grey.

(One more thing about the hair. I can’t let it go. I paused the show while we were watching to rant, but I’m not done.) I had the great privilege of seeing Jane Fonda in person at a protest in 2019. She is an insanely beautiful human. She was growing her hair out and it was partially dyed blonde and partially grey. It looked really cool. I am not ashamed to say I spent that day learning many things about the climate crisis and about Jane Fonda’s hair. Having seen her in real life with her real hair looking that fucking great, I just have a an extra-large grudge against everyone involved in that horrible wig. The wig is necessary, but it didn’t have to be this bad.

What Do I Care About Now?

I am pretty intrigued by the way Grace threw out her real age in a conversation with Nick and Elena. She has nothing to fear anymore! She’s so chill about aging! What could go wrong? I assume that Nick and Elena maneuvering for Nick to be on house arrest in Grace's house specifically has to do with the fact that Grace is 82. She’s gonna find out that Nick is allowed to be with her because she’s ancient and helpless and the court took pity. Or something like that. She’s going to feel betrayed on top of feeling stifled and overwhelmed by Nick’s presence. I want to see where this goes for sure.

Other than that, and other than the fact that I really do continue to believe this show is moving in a direction in which Grace and Frankie will choose each other, I feel very whatever about this whole thing. I love this show and I will always appreciate this show for giving me some incredible characters to spend years of my life writing about, and for bringing me some pretty amazing friendships. Speaking of those friendships, yesterday @ellydash and @telanu and I were talking about some of the incredible TV we’ve watched recently, like Ted Lasso and Hacks and Fleabag and Killing Eve, and how great it feels to watch beautifully written TV crafted by writers who are profoundly—organically yet intentionally—attuned to even the most minor character’s rhythm. The disappointment of these first few episodes of the new G&F season feels like a mild disappointment rather than a sharp heartbreak, and that has a lot to do with being deeply invested in other shows that could also go in all kinds of different directions but with writing I fundamentally trust.

Also Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin are my forever faves and my appreciation for their performances and general awesomeness onscreen and in life is undiminished. So that’s pretty cool.

[hes-writer]

Kinkmas Blurb #5: Hair Pulling

Summary: just another thing that harry loves while he’s in between your legs

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 806 words

A/N: wanna read 7 extra Kinkmas blurbs? check out my Patreon (link in bio!)

____

Harry loved getting his hair pulled.

You knew this the moment that he groaned against your core in response to you tugging on his locks a tad bit harder than usual from the sudden burst of pleasure. He took on a fast pace of flicking his tongue on your clit, loving the way more of your arousal escaped your pussy at the action.

“Harry,” You moaned in surprise, simmering into a whimper when he slowed down the slightest bit.

“Yeah?” He questioned as if having no clue why your voice dropped in honey-like sweetness. As if his face was not soaked with your juices already.

With his chin and cheeks glistening with your essence, it meant that Harry was fully immersed in the act of eating you out that he paid no mind to the throbbing between his legs. Besides, since he was flat on his tummy, the stimulation from grinding on the mattress kept him at bay while he pleased you.

And he knew that he was doing a great job at it.

If not for the way you tighten your thighs around his face, pulling him close by his neck in an attempt to shove his tongue deeper, stroking your pink walls. The wet muscle licking deeper into you until a strain at the back of Harry’s throat prevented him from going further.

“Fuck, Harry,” Your words came out strained, on the border of sobbing out because it was not enough but too much at the same time.

You used his hair to pull him in the direction you needed him to be. There was no guarantee that he’d give, though, always one for teasing until you pleaded with him. Paired with the movement of your hips, his lips swiped over your entirety; from top to bottom as a test run before you absolutely melted at the feeling when he ran his mouth over your hooded clit. And when that got too much, you would tug and then push his head away as a sign that you were getting too sensitive for his ministrations

But right now, you were pulling his hair at the roots. It bordered on pain but Harry had a pain kink anyway. The fact that your fingers looped around his curls in a desperate attempt to feel grounded from the otherworldly strokes of his tongue against you made him smile because he was making you feel so so good that you had no sense of mind.

“Grab a handful, baby. There y’go,” Harry praised when you adjusted your grip so that you could see the way his lids closed as he hummed into you.

Your mind was blank; aside from the buzzing thoughts of his tongue lathing over your hole, scooping the tremendous amounts of clear, milk-ish fluid running along with the corners of his ruby red lips, and depositing it at your swollen clit. Harry circled his tongue around the bud, making it more slippery with your arousal—making things much easier. He pursed his lips around your clit, the subtle vibrations of his suctioned cheeks feeling like tiny bursts of air stimulating your clit.

If he wanted it to hurt, he would. By hollowing his cheeks and lifting his forehead to watch you looking down at him with the most blissed-out expression on your face, just a touch of pain away. But now, he was sucking the right amount of pull and his tongue was trilling into you faster than you thought possible and he would not stop.

Frankly, you don’t think he even wants to pull away to take a quick breath, emphasized from the way he shook his head from side to side, adding more texture to his actions. Here is a man—between your legs—positively addicted to eating out of your honey pot that he was breathlessly slurping your pussy juices in his mouth. Harry loved how you tasted and he adored it even more that the pleasure he was giving you was making you convulse on his bedsheets.

Grabbing at his hair as a last result of holding on from your impending orgasm, he could tell that you were close—that your lower back was arching away from the mattress, your breasts heaving with the way you yelled out his name. The deep gasps dipping in your throat and the way you thrashed your legs beside him; trembling, shaking and shivering from the zips of pleasures zig-zagging everywhere in your body.

If he looked up now, Harry was sure that you would look beautiful with your forehead smoothed of any lines, eyes closed or either shot open because you couldn’t believe that feeling this much pleasure was possible to experience. Your hair would probably be just as messy as his. Not from the tropes of his fingers—like yours were with his—but from the friction of the pillows beneath your head.

_____

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Dick Grayson received condolences wherever he went. Recently, people in ‘Haven and on the force about everything he lost during the Blockbuster debacle (and he lost a lot.) Press and the public turning their faces down in a mask of sorrow after Jason, telling him it must have been so hard for him to lose a brother. And before that, when he first came to live with Bruce, every socialite looking at him through diamond-studded fingers wrapped around a bubbly champagne glass, telling him how sorry they were he lost his parents, how difficult it must have been to see them fall, how much he misses his family.

For once, they were right. Even after all these years, Dick missed his family more than anything. Dya and Dat were his parents, of course he missed them. But other than Bruce, the elite of Gotham had a rigid definition of family, and it would take far too much energy for Dick to explain to them why they were wrong.

Haleé was an old man, gruff in the way most people like him were. He was the patriarch of their cobbled-together family, someone who built up his life’s dream with nothing but a couple euros, the calluses on his hands, an old performer’s cane, and a recipe for chili that his Cajun mother had given him. He clasped everyone on the shoulder and taught Dick how to captivate an audience with a couple gestures. And every time Bruce looked up at him, concealed pride in his eyes but a mouth barking at him to try again, to do better this time, Dick took a deep breath and reminded himself that Haleé had left with the circus.

Georges the Strongman was one of the few Frenchmen Dick had ever met, but he was under the impression they weren’t supposed to be so...large. Dya had scolded him disapprovingly, and told him that was rude. Dat had snorted and agreed with him. Then again, Dya was Rom and had been to France before, while Dat grew up in Turkmenistan and his first trip to Europe had been with the troupe, so Dya was probably right. Either way, Georges’ muscles were larger than Dick’s head and he used them to sweep Dick up in hugs. He could do handstands on Georges’ shoulders, and his deep, rumbling chuckles were a staple of  Circ d’Haleé, often accompanied by Dick’s own breathless laughter. (The few times Dick managed to get Jason to actually laugh, he had to blink back memories. And whenever he used Jason’s shoulders as a springboard, both in the field and for fun, those same breathless giggles came out when he heard Jason’s indignant sputters and curses.)

Befrî and Cemre were the most talented acrobats and contortionists Dick had ever met. The main reason Dick himself was so flexible was the routines they had taught him, practicing them early in the morning with a couple other members of the circus.  Befrî and Cemre were from Buraydah, and though they told absolutely grand stories to Dick all the time, they refused to go back. Their bodies were lean and quick and clever, their minds even more so. Sly comments and remarks had Dick bursting out in peals of laughter, their determination and dedication to their art pushing Dick to do the same. (Even though he often reminded everyone he wasn’t a contortionist, it was always worth it to see his friends’ faces when he pulled his limbs into a position more than a touch unnatural.) Dick often caught Befrî in Tim’s clever little smirk, and Cemre’s eyes were narrowed in determination as he worked on a case. Then Dick blinked, and Tim was just Tim again.

Guillermina was just a teenager, but she could swallow fire. Dick remembered the night he met her. A stowaway from Mexico, she stumbled around Egypt, lost in a foreign land, before coming across Circ d’Haleé. Haleé had said, in that gruff manner of his, their troop was closed for the night and would not be accepting questions or paparazzo. In response, Guillermina stuck flames down her throat and juggled broken beer bottles she found on the floor, then begged in a hoarse voice, if she couldn’t stay could she at least have a meal. Haleé had stared at her, then asked if she went by Guillermina or Mina. She said neither, she went by Yiye, and after eavesdropping on the conversation, Dick had run up to give her a hug. Yiye was bold and reckless and utterly unafraid of the world, and Dick adored her. She taught Dick to juggle and she taught Dick to ride a unicycle and she taught Dick to throw his entire body and passion into everything he did. Whenever Dick found himself about to scold Damian for his daredevil, he caught sight of Yiye’s fire in his eyes, and found himself getting strung along.

There was a fortune teller in Circ d’Haleé. She went by Tsetvanya, except when she went by Apolonia, expect when she went by Mieczysław. (Isn’t Mieczysław a boy’s name? Dick had asked. She had laughed and said yes, yes it was.) She was Polish, except when she said she was swore up and down she was born and raised in Andorra, except when she said lightly she had always traveled and had long since had her roots ripped out. (An American had once asked if that made her a gypsy. He had meant it as some sort of backwards compliment. No one else even had to intervene because she had slapped him hard enough for her rings to cut into his face and make him bleed. Dya pulled the man away and explained, sternly, how rude that was. Dick doubts the man ever visited the Middle East again.) Whoever the fortune teller was, no matter what lies dripped from her lips, she still found the time to show Dick her hand-painted Tarot cards, to tell him stories, to warn him of the world’s dangers everyone else shielded him from. Her bones were brittle and her makeup was extravagant and her hugs were bony and every time someone brought up Alfred’s vast knowledge of the life and fierce protectiveness and general worldliness, Dick smiled to himself and thought, I think Alfred may have a contender.

Emilie the Lion tamer could read Dick as well as Cass and Raymond may have just worked behind the scenes but his homemade meals made everyone gather together just like Steph making breakfast and Tanuja’s kindness towards the troop and mischievousness towards the crowds was so much like Duke that it hurt. Dick had warred with himself over using Bruce’s and the League’s resources to find them, track them, check if they were okay, see if they remembered him. He always backed down.

They say after you lose someone, you can see signs of them everywhere you go, in the people you meet. Dick was constantly surrounded by his family, both versions of them, and the juxtaposition made him laugh, made him cry, made him miss Circ d’Haleé like a physical ache, made him beyond relieved he wasn’t with them anymore. 

Because that night, Dick didn’t just lose his Dya and Dat, didn’t just loose his parents. He lost his entire family.

*bangs pots and pans together* IF YOU’RE GONNA WRITE ROM DICK GRAYSON FUCKING DO IT RIGHT. or, not really Rom, just not classically American in general. anyway, i bet you could guess how i had no idea how to end this thing. but here it is. tag list: @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg @anothertimdrakestan @thebatsandbirdsofgotham @astroherogirl @subtleappreciation

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2686 Warnings: none unless you count awkward/cringeworthy moments

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: This is a slow burn people so sit tight! A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 2 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

You paced in your apartment for a few minutes, debating what you should do. The gift card was a lovely gesture but you can’t accept it, Bucky is a stranger even if he’s your neighbor, and even though he inconvenienced you it would be wrong to take this.

But then again, maybe he really meant no harm at all and it would be rude not to accept this. It certainly would be put to good use.

All of these thoughts raced through your mind as you walked the length of your apartment. The walls truly were thin and you knew Bucky was home, meaning if he heard you come home then he knew you had the gift card. Was he expecting you to thank him?

Fuck it, you’re going over there. You went to the bathroom to make sure you looked alright. You aren’t sure why you cared so much but you quickly brushed your teeth and dabbed a bit of perfume on your pulse points. With a final look at yourself in the mirror you put your phone in your back pocket, grabbed your keys and the gift card and shut your door.

Your teeth were clenched as you made a fist and knocked at Bucky’s door, holding your breath as you heard him shuffle towards the door to answer it.

“Y/N, hey!” Bucky seemed surprised to see you.

His hair was loose, falling on his shoulders. The blue of his t-shirt brought out his eyes, even in the dimmed hallway lighting.

“Hey Bucky,” you replied easily, as if the words fell naturally from your lips. Holding up the gift card you smiled and Bucky mirrored the gesture.

“I see you got it.”

“Yes, thank you. This was really sweet but honestly you didn’t have to do this.”

Bucky lifted his arm to rub the back of his neck, exposing part of his waist as his shirt ran up. Your eyes couldn’t help but catch the deep V line sculpted on his body, making you unconsciously lick your lips. As Bucky spoke you lifted your eyes to meet his again.

“I felt really bad. I didn’t mean to be a shitty neighbor. I’m not really used to this.”

“Having neighbors?” you asked with a giggle.

Bucky smiled. “Not ones so close.”

“That’s the city for ya,” you said awkwardly, looking everywhere else except Bucky.

“So listen,” Bucky began, clearing his throat. “You just got back from class right? If you wanted, how about I make you a cup of coffee? I definitely owe you a lot, even more than the gift card.”

The thought of having coffee with the embodiment of sex on legs made your knees wobble. You politely said you couldn’t impose.

“You wouldn’t be. I was about to make a pot myself, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

There probably should have been more insisting on your end, saying that you couldn’t come in because you also have a lot of work to do but somehow your mouth had a mind of its own as you agreed to coffee.

You wanted to keep things light, and so as you followed him inside you joked, “How do you get any work done with all that music?” but the moment you stepped into his apartment you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

Bucky’s apartment was a mirror of yours with his bed and couch placed in the same spot against the wall, though it felt smaller with the dark taupe covering the walls, but what really made things feel cramped were the instruments scattered all over the apartment.

Several guitars were hung along the brick wall with a variety of amps on the floor. A large keyboard was laid out on the trunk that served as his coffee table in front of a black leather couch. An electronic drum kit sat beside a large desk, with wires attaching to a device beside his computer.

“Music is my work.”

You were stunned into silence, feeling completely stupid for asking him to not play music when you were home. You wanted to turn around and go back to your apartment where you could shake away the cringey feeling that rooted itself into your bones.

“Ohh,” you managed to squeak out.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, baring his teeth for an awkward smile at your revelation. “But don’t worry about the sound, I went out earlier and got headphones.”

Bucky turned to hold up a bag from the floor and you recognized the name of the professional audio shop.

“I never needed them before. My old landlord had lost most of her hearing so my music never bothered her.”

Bucky turned to the small kitchen counter to start preparing the coffee. He hadn’t offered you to sit, not that you saw a chair, so you stood watching his shirt cling to his muscles as he reached up to open the cabinets. They were different from yours, their honeyed tone showing a little age but not old by any means.

He pulled down a small coffee maker that was clearly made for a single person. You’ve already had more cups of coffee today than that tiny thing can produce in a sitting. Bucky was an obvious bachelor, even if you didn’t know about the revolving door of women you could see it in the way he kept his place.

He had been here just over a month but the apartment looked as if he had been settled in for years. Beside the bag he previously held up were others filled with things that hadn’t been put away. His bed wasn’t made, but the dark blue comforter was mostly strewn over the mattress with just the corner pulled a little too low.

His TV was opposite the bed on a dresser whose bottoms drawers hung open, with a bunched up shirt preventing the middle one from fully closing. Things weren’t dirty, it just needed a good tidying. Behind you was a large bookcase, with each shelf overstuffed with books and graphic novels, loose music sheets spilling out from the top, a few Funko Pops and some other knick-knacks.

“Milk and sugar?” he asked, turning around as one hand gripped the handle of the refrigerator.

You nodded with a smile as you continued to observe his apartment. Above the couch was a large framed poster of the movie Psycho and briefly recalling the conversation you heard this morning you really hoped he was actually talking to his mother.

“Shit.”

You turned around to find Bucky watching you stare at the poster, though his eyes moved to the couch.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked you to sit down,” he said, apologizing for his manners as he moved the keyboard off the trunk and on to his desk. “I don’t usually have people over.”

You both know his statement was a lie; he has people, women specifically, over every night but what he meant was he doesn’t usually entertain.

The couch scrunched under his weight as he sat beside you, handing over a mug of steaming coffee. He warned you it was hot and so you held it as the ceramic heated your skin before placing it on the trunk. Bucky had done the same and so you felt comfortable enough to do so as well, even though asking about a coaster would have been just as simple.

“So you mentioned you’re in school. What are you studying?”

You were aware of how close his knee was to yours as he turned to face you. Nerves made you grab the cup of coffee first, sipping on the still too hot liquid before answering.

“I’m going for my MSW. I’m nearly finished too, I just have this last class before I somehow have to fit a ton of hours for an internship into my schedule which is a little difficult to figure out.”

“You work full time too, right? It must be hard doing both.”

Bucky’s blue eyes were focused on you, deeply staring into your own. All you could do was nod your head in response. He was enchanting, clearly a great listener; it’s no wonder he can charm the world into his bed.

You fell into a conversation about Stark Industries and how you came to work there, going to school part time as you worked to pay the rent.

“It feels like I’ve wasted so much time because of the road I had to take. I keep picturing myself at the end, finally graduating, knowing all the stress and sleepless nights were worth it.”

Bucky watched as the passion you had for social work poured off your lips. There was something deeper than wanting to be handed a diploma, he could see the fire burning in your eyes that you had for this field, something you left unsaid.

“I’m sorry, again, if my music kept you up and distracted you.”

“No, I’m sorry Bucky. I was rushing to class this morning and I probably could have said things in a better way.”

You shared a quick smile with him, bringing the mug up to your lips to mask the way your cheeks wanted to stay pulled tight to cement the smile on your face. Staring at Bucky made you feel giddy and warm all over.

You suddenly realized how long it’s been since you’ve hung out with a man that isn’t Steve. With all your school work keeping you busy you hardly had any time to notice what was missing in your life, not until now where you felt butterflies fluttering away in your stomach. Wow, you definitely needed to get out again.

“So you said music is your work, what do you do?”

Bucky tipped the mug back to finish the last drop of coffee, before smoothing his fingers over his lips.

“I’m a composer actually.”

Well that was unexpected. You definitely judged Bucky too quickly, with the loud music and louder women. Without seeing him you figured he was some punk in a band, who stayed up all night and didn’t give a shit about his neighbors because he wanted to live out the party lifestyle of a wannabe rock star. But as Bucky explained you found out he was so much more than that.

From a young age he was musically gifted, picking up melody and sounding it out by ear as he sat in front of the piano. His mother Winifred had also played and taught him what she could until Bucky’s enthusiasm for playing outgrew the time and knowledge she had to teach him. She and his father George hired a piano tutor who noted how talented Bucky was, especially for a young child.

Bucky’s ambitions grew as he wanted to learn more instruments, guitar, violin, percussion.

“I can’t do horns,” he joked, not having the patience to practice proper breathing for the brass instruments.

Bucky has been composing music since the days you were pining over boy bands, selling his first work to a commercial for an international airline.

“Wow, I feel like the biggest asshole for telling you to stop.”

Bucky chucked at your admission, “It’s okay Y/N, really. I should have realized I’m not in Long Island anymore. I promise to use the headphones for every instrument that I can.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you smiled, sighing a breath of relief although you still felt embarrassed. While trying to lift the weight of guilt you somehow made it worse. “I’m sure our other neighbors would appreciate that too.”

Bucky’s face twisted with concern. “Shit. Have they complained too?”

Your palms covered your face as you shook off your stupidity. Why was this man making you say all the wrong things?

“No, not in a bad way,” you tried to convince him. “Have you met Clint? A bit shorter than you, dirty blond hair.” Bucky shook his head back and forth. “You must have seen his fiancée then, beautiful redhead, Natasha?”

Again, Bucky shook his head. “Well they live above you.”

Bucky cringed at the thought. If you heard all the noise they certainly have as well.

“So it’s actually kinda funny…” you began, telling Bucky that Clint takes his hearing aids out when he was playing. “They’re both really nice, you should say hello if you see them. Plus now I can tell Clint I won our unofficial bet.”

Bucky’s head quirked with curiosity. “Well, he called you the Guitar Hero,” you admitted, watching a smile form on Bucky’s face.

“I don’t just play guitar,” he said proudly.

You smirked, “I know. That’s why I was calling you the Music Man.”

Bucky’s hair blanketed his face as he tipped his head forward to laugh at your nickname. When he sat up again you noticed the crinkles around his sparkling eyes, and the way he smiled from ear to ear showed off perfect teeth, beautifully bright against the beginnings of dark stubble that started to fill in along his jaw.

Butterflies swirled around your stomach like a tornado as your heart rattled against your chest. This sensation was bubbling up the longer you stared at Bucky. Why were you feeling this way? You couldn’t distract yourself, not with a man, especially not this one.

“I get it now, the walls are thin,” he stated, still shining that beaming smile.

Your brain jolts to life again, as common sense starts to combat the small army forming to defend your developing crush. Your brain wins this round however, as you remind yourself the noise wasn’t just about the music.

“Oh yes they are. Our beds are on the same spot on the wall,” you said, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes to infer what you were talking about.

Bucky’s cheeks blush a deep shade of pink with embarrassment. “Oh… I’m….” He’s too nervous to apologize for what you both know you’re referring to.

“I wear headphones to sleep to drown out the noise.” Great, just keep making it worse Y/N. “But on the bright side, the banshees all sound like they’re enjoying themselves.” Nope, that didn’t help at all.

Fear of saying something even worse had you quickly fumble up an excuse to leave, telling Bucky you had a paper to work on so you thanked him for the coffee and practically ran back to your apartment, dreading every future interaction you would have with him.

Later that night Bucky opened the door for a woman who swayed inside with determination. He offered her a beer and with lust in her eyes Dot licked the neck of the bottle before bringing the top to her lips. Bucky turned away, shuddering with embarrassment at how hard this girl was trying.

He knows what she wants, what they all want but Bucky hasn’t believed in relationships for a very long time. It’s something that works for other people whereas he enjoys the physical connection; release your needs and move on.

Bucky wished he cancelled tonight. He felt… awkward after you left. It made him shift his bed forward a few inches away from the wall. He didn’t realize just how much his entire presence has affected you.  

With his arms caged beside Dot’s head he moved above her, thrusting his hips and checking to see that the bed didn’t touch the wall as his motions rocked it. Her nails dug crescents into his back as she began to cry out in pleasure. Bucky forced his lips against hers, an action she felt in her heart but Bucky just wanted to shut her up, hoping you hadn’t heard her.

Shutting the door behind Dot who begged to stay Bucky went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his heated skin. His reflection stares back at him but he doesn’t want to look, wondering why his mind has been wandering to places he doesn’t want it going. He dries his face, letting the towel hang over the sink as he shuffles back to bed, staring at the wall for a few lingering moments before he turns over and hopes sleep will come quickly.

PART 4

[everybodyscupoftea]

can’t help falling in love with you

college isaac  x reader

christmas movies and cuddles with a hint of falling in love along the way

okay so the timeline is like they met in the fall, got together the next spring, and this is the christmas after. so like they’ve been dating 9-10 months

it’s 5 a.m. hahaha fuck. it’s a 4+1 format though!

(warnings: cursing, drinking, zero editing)

You had two problems.

The first was something you noticed early on. It was Isaac’s tendency to make himself small. Maybe not physically, but it was like he hated being too needy. You weren’t sure if it was because he thought it would bother you or if it was just a habit of trying to not take up much space, but you wanted to get to the root of it.

It took you a few weeks to figure out how to bring it up, and you really only did because of his reaction to a goodbye hug. You squeezed him tight when he left, and he full body shivered. Pulling away quickly, you gave him a concerned look, “Everything okay, did I hurt you?”

He smiled wryly and shook his head, “I’m good. Just needed a hug more than I realized.”

You’d had suspicions that physical touch was pretty high up on his preferred love languages, but he’d never said anything about it, and he kept his personal space relatively well, so you’d pushed the thought away. Maybe you should’ve just pressed it anyway.

That afternoon you promised yourself that you were going to be better. If he was too scared to ask, you wouldn’t make him, you’d just look for it more. Luckily, it was pretty obvious when he needed it.

The second was Isaac’s lack of experience with holiday movies. One afternoon, the two of you met for lunch between your classes. It was almost finals week and you’d started listening to Christmas music for the serotonin boost.

“You know,” you started when he sat down across from you, “Carol of the Bells hits so nice when you’re speed walking across campus. Reminds me of Home Alone and I feel like I can do anything.”

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding along, “Yeah, I bet.”

“You know what I’m talking about right?”

Isaac shrugged, “No, but I believe you.”

Your jaw dropped, “You’ve never seen Home Alone?”

“I never really watched Christmas movies growing up. We didn’t really do much of anything for the holidays. My dad worked a lot and my mom wasn’t there either.”

He avoided your eyes, and your heart sank. Over the months of dating, he’d pointedly avoided talking about his family. You weren’t really upset, it was his business and you figured he’d tell you when he felt comfortable, but the little references made you sad when he made them.

“We should watch some this year. It’s like a family tradition at my house to watch a bunch leading up to Christmas.”

You couldn’t help but notice his face soften a bit at the word family, and you were determined to make this first Christmas together great.

One: Klaus

Isaac cooked dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, with little to no help from you. Your greatest contribution was easily keeping his wine glass topped off. He was beautiful, face flushed from the heat coming off the stove and from the alcohol, and you couldn’t help but poke his cheek, giggling at the disgruntled face gave you.

“Cute,” you told him, pinching his cheek gently.

“Stop distracting me and put the garlic bread in the oven.”

“Yes sir.”

Rolling his eyes at your reply, Isaac turned the eye under the pasta off and took the pot off to drain it over the sink. Before pouring, he took a clean mug out of the dish drainer and scooped out some of the water.

“What’s that for?”

“Always save pasta water for your sauce,” he answered, pouring the rest out. 

Steam billowed up in his face and you laughed, “Nice facial I bet.”

“Felt great,” he deadpanned, turning back with the strainer full of spaghetti noodles.

Nodding enthusiastically, “I was gonna suggest face masks for tonight, but you might be fine without.”

“No,” he was quick to correct, “I still want a mask.”

Chuckling, you held your hands up, “Fine with me. We can put them on before the movie.”

“Thought we were going to eat while the movie is on.”

“No, I haven’t seen this one before so I want to give it my full focus.”

Isaac shrugged, used to your weird requests, and went back to focusing on the food. You hoped he would hurry, you were hungry and you didn’t want to drink anymore until you had some food in your system.

After what felt like forever, he flipped the stove off and pulled the garlic bread out of the oven. He handed you a plate, “Want to fix yours first?”

“No, you cooked, I’ll go second.”

Bending down, he pressed a kiss to your temple, and stepped away to start piling food onto his plate. You filled yours after and followed him over to the couch where he was sitting, waiting on you to start eating. 

“You could’ve started.”

“Wanted to wait, it’s polite.”

You rolled your eyes, “Guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Damn straight.”

-

“Okay but you really do need moisturizer,” you told him after he dried his face post-mask.

“Skin feels fine,” he told you, stroking his cheek a few times.

You sighed, knocking his hand away, and rubbed moisturizer in, ignoring the face he made in response. When you finished, you grabbed the hand you’d knocked away and pulled him back to the couch to start the movie.

“Dishes?” Isaac asked, sounding a little worried.

“Later, I’m ready for the movie.”

“You’re going to fall asleep, wine makes you tired,” he warned.

“Never.”

You pushed him down first and tried to position him the way you wanted. After a few seconds, and some amused looks from Isaac, you sat down on the couch, leaning your back against his chest, both of you’s legs stretched out across the couch.

Isaac always ran warm, and you tilted your head, pressing the side of your face into his chest to see the TV. He huffed out a laugh, “Comfy?”

“Very. Can you hit play, pretty please?”

He did and the movie started. It wasn’t noticeable how tense he’d been when you first laid down, but as time ticked on and he got more into the movie, Isaac relaxed. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, fingers pushing your shirt up and stroking rhythmically over the exposed stripe of skin on your hip.

You couldn’t stop the shiver and his chest rumbled with a laugh. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, you tugged gently, wrinkling your nose at the image on screen, “Bet those fish smell bad.”

“Bet she smells bad.”

Pausing for a second to think, you said, “You know, that whole town gives onion vibes.”

“Onion vibes?”

“I feel like it reeks. Bad vibes equals onion smell.”

Isaac laughed, tilting his head down to brush a kiss across your hairline, “Can’t argue with that logic.”

“Furthermore,” you held a finger up to emphasize your point, and he snorted, “it feels musty right? Like I bet it feels damp.”

“Well it is covered in snow.”

“But like, humid almost. Dank, maybe?”

Humming, he answered, “I think I know what you mean.”

You watched as the main character convinced the kids to pay him to send their letters with a frown, “I’m not sure how...ethical that is.”

“The evils of a capitalist society,” he said, and you nodded, chin hitting his collarbone.

“Ouch,” you muttered, rubbing it. Isaac brushed over your chin gently as if to soothe the pain before he brought it back down to your hip.

His warmth combined with the blanket covering the two of you, the wine you’d drank, and the movie playing quietly in the background lulled you to sleep, just like Isaac predicted. The music startled you awake once, eyes fluttering as you watched the sleigh almost teeter off the edge of a cliff, but his rhythmic breathing knocked you back out.

It didn’t seem like much longer later when Isaac squeezed your hip playfully, waking you back up fully.

“Gotta do the dishes, sweetheart, let me up.”

Yawning, you reluctantly sat up, stretching, “I’ll help.”

“You can go to bed, I’ll be there in twenty.”

“No, you cooked, I’ll help.”

He chuckled as you stumbled, reaching for his hand in your half asleep state. The kitchen light woke you up fully when he flipped it on, and you blinked a few times, bumping your hip playfully into his when he took up all the space in front of the sink.

“I’ll wash, you dry,” he told you, handing over a dish towel.

“Fine.”

It took less than 20 minutes with both of you working, and he held his hands out for you to grab after turning the water off. You took them and let him pull you through the living room to your bedroom. 

Pulling the covers back, both of you climbed into bed. He brushed some hair out of your face and kissed you gently, trailing his lips across your cheek to your forehead where he moved back to whisper, “Goodnight, lovely.”

Two: A Christmas Story

The weather was miserable and you felt so bad for dragging Isaac out in it. It wasn’t quite cold enough for snow, an unusual “warm” snap, but it was cold enough for the rain to leave a deep chill in your bones.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shivering, “we should get some coffee on the way home.”

“Yeah, something warm sounds fantastic right now.”

He drove to the nearest drive-thru near your apartment, and you cradled the latte to your chest as he drove the rest of the way home. The rain picked up as soon as he parked and you sighed, “Wanna run for it?”

Isaac nodded, “I guess. We can always change.”

Unfortunately, there were no close spots near your building, so both of you ran, splashing through puddles carelessly, just wanting to get out of the rain as fast as possible. He laughed at your disgruntled face, and you wrinkled your nose, “Gonna be miserable for the rest of the day.”

“You won’t. We’ll crank the heat up and watch a movie. Didn’t you have a list?”

“I do,” you brightened considerably, “we should watch A Christmas Story. It’s my dad’s favorite.”

“Deal.”

The inside of your apartment was dark and cold, and you flipped on a lamp, shivering. He walked to the thermostat, and you went to your room to dig through the drawers for clothes. Isaac walked in soon after you and you handed him a pair of his sweatpants and a sweater.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, starting to struggle with his wet jeans. 

You snorted at his frustrated face, “Told you to just wear sweats.”

“Never,” he swore, “only in the comfort of my home.”

“Oh,” you teased, “you consider this home?”

“Of course,” he answered, eyes looking slightly watery, “you’re home.”

Your smile softened and you held your arms open for him to walk into. Squeezing you in a tight hug, Isaac buried his face into your hair. You mumbled, “Good, because you’re my home too.”

He pulled back and started shimmying out of his jeans again. You were finished changing way before he was and sat on the edge of your bed to wait. There was a furrow between his eyebrows as he finally kicked his jeans off, and you stood to grab the pile of wet clothes to wash.

“Start up my laptop and we can watch the movie,” you told him, pulling the door shut behind you in case your roommate was home.

You started the laundry and walked back to your room, sipping the latte you’d left in the kitchen on your way in. Isaac was scrolling through your movies when you walked back in the room, propped up against your pillows, blanket over his lap.

The rain had picked up again outside, beating against the window near your bed, and you sat down next to Isaac, his arm coming up to wrap around your shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked, hovering over the movie title.

“Born ready.”

Isaac hit play and you rested your head on his shoulder, legs crossed in front of you. You couldn’t drink your coffee at the angle your head was tilted against his shoulder, but you liked feeling him laugh too much to care if it was going cold.

His arm around your shoulder went limp as he fully relaxed into the movie. At the tire changing scene, Isaac snorted, “Well isn’t this relatable.”

Biting your lip, you winced, “Sorry.”

“All good, hon. Not upset, a little funny even.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, “If you say so.”

Isaac’s other hand dropped to hold yours that was closest to him, and you smiled as he brought it up to his face to kiss the back of it. You squeezed his hand and laced your fingers together.

“You know,” you interrupted, “hand holding is the most underrated way to show affection.”

He hummed, “I think I agree.”

“You like holding my hand?” you asked, cheeky smile on your face.

“I do.”

“Good. Now you’re obligated to keep holding my hand forever.”

“Forever, huh? You sure you want to keep me around that long?”

Untangling your hand from his, you held out your pinky, “Promise, bub.”

He linked his pinky with yours and shook it. Before you could say anything else, he tapped your nose, “Now hush, I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Scrunching your nose, you grabbed his hand again, “Don’t shush me.”

“I thought you wanted me to watch this.”

“I do.”

“You’re distracting me.”

You huffed, “Fine. Just rewind.”

Isaac snorted and did as you asked, leaning back against the pillows when he finished. Cuddling back into his side, you couldn’t help the little sigh of happiness that escaped.

Three: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Isaac had apparently been having trouble sleeping. It took you a few days to notice, but he came over for dinner one night and the bags under his eyes were incredibly pronounced. 

“Hey, everything okay?”

He sighed, “Scott and Stiles went home so the apartment has been lonesome to say the least.”

“Bad dreams?” asking was a tossup, you were unsure whether he’d actually be forthcoming with the details he was usually so tight-lipped about.

You were unsure if it was because of the lack of sleep or he just decided to let you in, with a hum, he answered, “Yeah, this time of year isn’t the greatest. Everyone’s with their family and I’m just alone.”

Nodding, you held a hand out for him to take, “You know, one of my comfort movies is on the list of holiday movies, if you want to try it out.”

“I’d like that. I like learning about your comfort things, makes me feel closer to you.”

You smiled, “I’d like to learn more about yours someday.”

“You will,” he said so matter of factly that you believed him.

He let you pull him over to the couch and sat down normally, legs out in front of him. You put the movie in the DVD player and sat next to him, stretching your legs across his lap. 

“You know,” you told him as the snowman started talking, “I kinda forgot what the fuck happens in this movie.”

“I thought it was your comfort movie.”

“It is. I watched it a lot as a kid with my sister.”

Looking thoughtful, he went quiet and started watching again. 

“The island of misfit toys,” he said, chin resting on his hand, elbow propped on your shin, “kind of dark for a kids movie.”

You laughed, “Just wait.”

Not too much longer later, he flinched as Yukon fell over the cliff, “The fuck?!”

“It’s alright, Isaac,” you told him, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Pouting, he slumped forward fully on your legs and pressed his head into your hand. You took the hint and started running your hand through it, scratching his scalp gently. His chin stayed resting on your shin as he finished the movie out.

“I can see why it’s your comfort movie. Happy ending, familiar tale, and a little bit of romance.”

“Yeah. My mom used to play it while we decorated the Christmas tree.”

“You’re a big traditions person, huh?”

“Definitely,” you confirmed, “something to look forward to.”

“My dad wasn’t around much,” Isaac confided, “and when he was, he was mean. I wish I had siblings, but my mom left before she could have another one.”

“Have you talked to your dad much since moving?”

His laugh was humorless, “Fortunately, no. I moved and I left for good. I have no interest in going back to Beacon Hills.”

“So that’s why you decided to stay, huh?”

“Rather stay here with you than go someplace to see people not worth my time.”

“Do you ever talk to your family members?”

“No. I don’t think I’ve ever really forgiven my mom for abandoning me, and my dad is a lost cause. I lived with a guy named Argent for a while after my dad kicked me out, but he’s been abroad since I left for school.”

“How’d you know him?”

“His daughter Allison was my good friend. She’s at school abroad.”

You paused your scratching and cradled his chin, turning his face to look at you, “So you’d go if they were still in Beacon Hills?”

Isaac frowned, “Maybe.”

“Family is important, no matter if it’s blood or not.”

“I guess that’s kind of a moral in Rudolph isn’t it.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He sat up and leaned forward to kiss you. When he pulled away, Isaac smiled, “Thanks for listening to me.”

“Thanks for opening up.”

Four: Elf

“Okay but how often do they have free drive-in,” you pleaded, “and it’s a Christmas movie, and they’re giving out eggnog.”

“Personally, not a huge fan of eggnog.”

“Hot chocolate too.”

He paused, “You might get me with the hot chocolate.”

You snorted, “Well, you don’t have much time to decide because it starts in two hours.”

Inhaling sharply, he stood, “Let’s go.”

“Yes!” you cheered, grabbing two blankets off the couch to bring for when he turned the car off.

“It’s going to be cold, sweetheart,” he warned, looking at your leggings and hoodie.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Mhmm,” he raised his eyebrows, “we’ll see if you say so in an hour.”

-

It was cold, and part of you didn’t want to admit how cold you were, but eventually the shivers won out and you smiled sheepishly at Isaac, “Can you turn the car on?”

“Nope,” he popped the p, “I did warn you.”

You pouted and he rolled his eyes, an amused look on his face. After a few seconds, he lifted the console up and slid across the seat, arm out for you to squeeze close.

“Thanks, bud,” you told him gratefully as the movie started.

“I think I have a sweater in the back seat,” he offered.

“Nah, it’ll be cold anyway.”

He nodded and wrapped the blanket around you, “Offer’s open.”

Isaac was a movie talker, not that you ever minded, you were too, but you could tell he really liked Elf because he barely spoke the whole time.

Leaning into his side warmed you up, and you watched silently, aimlessly playing with his hoodie strings.

“I know it’s not the most prominent theme in these holiday movies,” he said, “it seems that shit dads are pretty common. Like, Merry Christmas to you and all your daddy issues.”

“Oh my god,” you snorted, “I guess you’re not wrong. You elbowed him, “Merry Christmas to you and all your daddy issues.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he told you, kissing your cheek, “I’d rather be here with daddy issues than be in Beacon Hills with a dad.”

Clapping a hand over your mouth, you laughed loudly, “I’m not sure if that’s the truth, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“It’s true. You do mean the most to me.”

Your eyes widened, “Wow, I love you too.”

Isaac’s cheeks turned red and he jumped in surprise at the sudden yelling on screen. You pinched his cheek, and the best way you could describe the look in his eyes was fond. He sighed, “I don’t-”

“Don’t worry,” you reassured, “I know.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Too good? Nah. You deserve all the good things.”

“So,” he trailed off mischievously, “if I deserve good things, does that mean we can eat only from the four main food groups for the rest of the break?”

“What?” you were lost.

“Candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup.”

“Fuck no. I know that you’re joking because I think the lack of cooking would do you in, but I still can’t stand the thought.”

Isaac laughed, “No, I wouldn’t, but I do really like this one.”

“Good. More found family content.”

“It is a theme.”

“The best theme.”

“I know you aren’t the most fond of reading, but I have some books really heavy on found families that I think you’d really like.”

It wasn’t the first time Isaac had recommended you books before, and you hadn’t ever taken them, but you’d thought, with all the opening up he’d been doing, the least you could do was take a suggestion.

“Give me a list, I’ll check some out.”

He smiled softly at you and squeezed your hand, “I will.”

Plus One: Home Alone

Isaac stumbled out of the Uber, and waited for you to climb out, “Come on, babe,” he slurred when you took a few seconds.

“Coming, can’t find my phone,” you told him, patting around the backseat.

“I’ve got it in my pocket,” he told you.

“Oh, shit, okay.”

He threw an arm around you and the two of you walked toward his apartment, “Fucking hell, they spiked the fuck out of that cider.”

You giggled, “To be fair, we both had a lot.”

“We did.” Isaac fumbled with the keys and managed to get his door unlocked after a minute of missing the keyhole. He grinned proudly, “Let’s fucking go.”

“Wow, a genius,” you mocked and he rolled his eyes.

“Just go change so we can watch a movie.”

Luckily, you and Isaac were both floor people when drunk. You went into his bathroom to take off all your makeup and change, and by the time you finished, he was flipping through TV channels and laying on a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor.

“ABC Family probably has a movie on.”

And when he managed to find the channel, Home Alone was playing. Isaac squinted at it, “I think I’ve seen this one.”

“It’s my favorite,” you gushed.

“We’ll watch it then. Lemme go change.”

Isaac left and you slumped back on the blankets, eyes shutting a few times as a wave of tiredness hit you. On screen Kevin screamed, and you jumped, waking up fully as Isaac flopped down next to you.

He laughed, “Comfy?”

“Could be better,” you answered, pulling at him until you could lay your head on his chest. He laughed and you tossed a leg over his. When you finally stopped squirming, you poked his chest, “Now I’m good.”

“What if I’m not comfy?”

“Tough.”

Isaac snorted, “I guess I’ll just deal.”

“Thanks for your service, bro.”

He focused on the screen, “How are these assholes not dead?”

You blinked a few times, trying to focus, “I don’t know actually. Like I would’ve just wanted to die after a certain amount of pain, right?”

“Head on fire? I’m noping right out of that. Fuck the houses.”

“Absolutely, hit me on the head with an iron and I’m gone.”

Isaac laughed, “Weak pain tolerance for the win.”

He picked up his hand and held it up limply, you picked yours up to high five him. It was sloppy and you missed most of his hand, but he grabbed it and refused to let it go. Kissing it sloppily, you smiled at him.

“Sap,” you teased.

“Only for you, of course.”

“Of course, I’d hope so.”

He fell asleep pretty soon after, and you took a minute to reflect. For a while into your relationship, Isaac refused to sleep over. You weren’t sure why, and it kind of hurt your feelings at the start. Eventually he did, but he always waited until you fell asleep first.

Home Alone played in the background softly as he slept, eyelashes fluttering, and you smiled at him. You traced over his cheekbones and across his brow bone, pausing when he made a face before tapping his nose.

“Stop,” he mumbled.

“No.”

You pulled him closer and entwined your legs with his. He huffed, “What if I have to pee.”

“Hold it, I’m trapping you here.”

“You can’t trap me, I’m bigger than you.”

“You can carry me if you must.”

He hummed, “Fine. Hopefully I don’t drop you.”

“You won’t,” you told him, confidently.

“Oh yeah, you trust me that much?”

“Mhmm, obviously,” you tapped his lip.

Nipping at your fingers, he laughed, “Why?”

“Because you love me, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He froze under your fingertips, and you stayed quiet to let him work through it. Tracing mindlessly, you smiled at him, his brows furrowed.

“I do,” he spoke eventually, “I do love you.”

Your eyes filled up and you bit your lip, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I love you too.”

“Good.”

~

day five of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: holiday movies

[ectonurites]

My least favorite type of fic!Tim is when he’s portrayed as depressed/very mentally and emotionally unstable, but also at the same time as someone who is like lauded as being super dangerous/the most skilled or something like that?? Those fics where Tim is chugging caffeine and barely sleeping, but characters are still like “oh I wouldn’t wanna piss off Tim he is Dangerous” and that’s annoying enough but then there are fics that at the same time as that portray him as like on the edge of a breakdown. It’s very irritating even if I’m not sure I can articulate exactly why, it just really rubs me the wrong way. Like, I definitely do think Tim has some issues with depression and stuff, but in fics like those it’s treated more like a quirk sort of instead of a serious issue

LMAOO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT i’m not a fan of that either. I’m apologizing in advance if I sound mean in any of this critique i’m about to give of that fanon version of him. I want to preface this by saying that people can write whatever the hell they want, like, they’re allowed to! And I’m not referencing/calling out any specific works here. Just trends. But I’m gonna bitch about some things I’ve noticed that annoy me, personally. (so again, not saying other people can’t enjoy this stuff! just. not for me)

so like sorry if im mean but this is just me ranting and also this is my blog anyways so:

(nobody take this as an attack on them please because it’s really not)

The problem is a lot of those fics seem to interpret Tim’s behavior in Red Robin (& especially like that last whole arc of his Robin run also by FabNic) as if that’s his normal, rather than the result of a few years of CONSTANT traumatic incidents pushing him to a breaking point (because while all the shit he went through with his Dad, Steph, Kon, Bart, and then Bruce dying was spread out over several years for us as readers, it’s regarded as like within two years in canon! It all happens when he’s 16 and 17. According to the Batman comic right after War Games, Jack was murdered only days after Steph died.

(Batman #634)

That’s a LOT to process for one kid jesus christ) 

I love Red Robin honestly, I do, but it is about Tim at the lowest points in his life. It’s the grand finale of Tim’s story, and everything crumbles, that’s kinda the point! The end leaves him in a position to either rebuild himself or fall apart. It’s all about how he chooses to continue after this point!

(Red Robin #26)

The way he acts and the things he does in that comic should be regarded as such. He can’t live the way he does in Red Robin forever or he will literally burn himself out/become something unrecognizable, like, jesus it’s kinda even acknowledged in the comic when he thinks about what his potential futures would be if he keeps it up like he’s doing:

(Red Robin #25)

He sees himself as dead, as Batman (which he has countless times said he doesn’t want to be and at this point in his history almost every time he’s seen a future he became Batman in he had become a killer), or needing to retire and taking over an Oracle-esque role, likely because he exerted himself too much to continue. 

When you look at him around this same timeframe when he’s not isolating himself/too deep into the mission and is instead working with his friends back on the Titans, you can see that he is starting to heal and work in a more positive direction. He’s choosing to work on coming out of this rough period by being together with his friends who he loves.

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

Not to say that you can’t write about situations in which he doesn’t start to come out of it, but if you are doing so it’s something you should be taking seriously because that’s the idea you want to explore, not just acting like it’s perfectly okay or normal? (And again, there are a lot of works that do explore it in good ways, there’s just also a LOT that don’t)

Like, so much content I see just make any sadness and depression and tendency to over-work himself that’s rooted in his traumas (which! those do have a basis in canon!) into a quirky personality trait rather than a response to trauma. Acting as if he’s always been this way and it’s normal for him. That’s what bothers me. If people want to seriously explore the effects of all these incidents and how that plays into his ability to do his job as a hero, then hell yes do it! But when it all gets brushed off as ‘oh thats just tim, he just doesnt eat or sleep or feel any happiness but like its fine he’s just always been like that’ I feel my blood boil. 

This also often strikes me as related/tied to fanon’s seemingly never-ending quest to make Tim into this victim of so many things he really wasn’t. They make his childhood 10x worse than it actually was (yes he was lonely because he was sent to boarding schools rather than having his parents around, but he was NOT just left home alone all the time as a child. 

(Batman #441)

He snuck away during a school vacation week to follow Bruce one (1) time and to then track down Dick. This is established in his introduction story! PLEASE read Lonely Place of Dying!) and it just... going with those fanon assumptions as being true changes so much of how people characterize him! 

Some people will also (not to call out tim/kon shippers especially because I  literally am also one but) vilify the shit out of Steph and make their relationship out to be some abusive thing rather than just... a messy teen relationship between vigilantes because they had really complicated lives and baggage with one another? Which they both acknowledge they made mistakes in!

(Red Robin #10)

Or people will vilify the shit out of Dick in regards to the situation at the start of Red Robin, or literally just make anyone who Tim ever had a disagreement with out to be the bad guy despite the actual situations always being way more complex and multi-faceted than that.

And then on top of all that, aside from making him into this ‘im broken 24/7 and not doing anything to fix it also everyone around me is terrible to me’ type of character, because he’s a lot of people’s favorite, they also want him to be as cool and strong as he is at his high points. So they’re projecting all this stuff onto him that makes him what should be a barely functioning person but then also act like that’s fine and he’s able to be a dangerous badass on top of it. 

Like I’m sorry but someone who is going out and actively acting as a vigilante like that which is incredibly physically taxing is NOT surviving on coffee alone and no sleep. That’s literally not possible, he’d fucking collapse. (And like, again, if you want to explore him pushing himself to that point, that’s one thing! but acting like he can manage all of that for more than a few days at a time/maybe while working on one really tough case is nuts!) and like, even canon can be a little guilty of this type of thing particularly since the New 52 (Detective Comics 2016 had more than a few references to him barely sleeping, but at least they also made references to him eating normally/healthily and he wasn’t completely self isolating or anything) (and also that comic had him be so self sacrificial he was ready to die to save everyone and only didn’t die because of Mr.Oz’s interference, he’s definitely not in his best place there) but usually it’s still within some realm of possibility.

Also like. The fanon ‘chugging coffee to survive thing’ just annoys the shit out of me because, like, yes there’s a few moments in canon where he’s under a lot of pressure and pushing himself further than he normally would and had some coffee (one of the only times I can even remember him having it on panel is... oh... during that last Robin arc I just mentioned a little while ago shouldn’t be where you source your normal characterization of him because it’s a very difficult situation that pushes him further than he normally would go! huh!) But the thing is like, people play it off for laughs, or like it’s a normal thing he would do at any time in his life! If you want to explore him pushing himself and using coffee as a crutch, like, there’s ways you can write it that takes it seriously, but almost every time I see it come up in fics it is like a core part of his personality and just ‘oh haha silly tim always with his entire pot of coffee he must chug every morning or he’ll die :^)’ And that bothers the hell out of me. 

In general it’s just... people treat Tim so weird. They want him to be so many different things that he’s shown himself to be at different times for very specific reasons, except they want him to do all of it at the same time which just doesn’t work. A person can’t function like that, and it’s not even close to who he is in canon. 

Again, people can do what they want, and this is just my opinion obviously, but yeah. My two cents on the matter.  Read Lonely Place of Dying, read Young Justice, read his Robin run. Read his comics and get a feel for who he was before all the rest of his trauma, and see how he canonically reacts to it along the way. I know reading comics can be tough for some people but so much stuff just echo chambers and becomes barely recognizable in this fandom and it’s just... a shame when it happens with a character ya love. 

[fictionalabyss]

We can carpool.

Pairing : Dean & Reader, Sam, John

Word count :  2,990

Written for : @spnfluffbingo​

Square : Neighbour AU

Warnings : AU, Running from the past, fresh start, new life, anxiety and suspicions,  Dean is is a good guy even when insulted.

A/N : I wrote this after two very very tall men (one was like 6′7 easily) delivered my new oven.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

SPN Fluff bingo 2020 Masterlist.

Moving to a new place was nerve wracking, but also came with an odd sense of peace as you looked around your new, and bare, home. Lawrence wasn’t far enough, nothing would ever be far enough from what you’d ran away from, but it was as far as you could get with what you had, and it would have to do.

You jumped when your bell rang and then a knock sounded immediately after. Cautiously, you made your way towards the front, glancing through the window at the visitor before opening the door. Opening it, you glanced up at the man who’s back was to you for a moment before he turned to you again, a small smile gracing his handsome face. “Hi.” When you just stared up at him, not responding, his lip twitched a little higher on the left side. “Appliance delivery?” He motioned to the embroidered logo on his shirt and watched as you glanced down at it. “You are Y/N, right?” he glanced down at the papers in his hand.

“Y-yeah, sorry.”

He glanced up again, another soft smile. “I just need to come in and check out the space, is that okay?” You nodded, stepping back and opening the door further. He gave you a nod and strolled past you, thankfully not glancing around as he headed first for the kitchen. You couldn’t help but watch him as you chewed on your cheek. He was tall, he was good looking, his jeans fit snug on what you noticed were bowed legs, and you couldn’t help how your eyes lingered on his ass before he turned out of sight. Maybe this town wouldn’t be so bad. He came out then ducked into the downstairs bathroom which also housed the washer and dryer connections, then he came out. “Alright, we’ll bring it right in for you.” Again, you simply nodded and stayed out of his way as he headed past you and back outside to the truck parked on the curb.

You headed for the front room and the large window that overlooked the street beyond. You watched as another man opened the back of the truck. He was handsome too, surprisingly taller than the guy who’d come to your door. Hair blowing in the breeze so he had to tuck it behind his ears to get it out of his face. They were talking as the back of the truck was opened, a conversation you obviously couldn’t hear, but it had the taller one shake his head with a smile before he hopped into the back of the truck and disappeared.

Turning, you glanced around what should be a living room and sighed. It needed paint. It needed furniture. It needed everything. You felt oddly embarrassed that your place was as empty as it was. The whole place looked like this. You’d moved in two days ago with nothing more than a small bag of clothes, two blankets, a pillow and an old smartphone with a cracked screen. Slowly but surely, you’d make this place a home. Or, at least homey. Glancing back out the window, you watched as the two men pulled straps over their shoulders, one on each side of the range oven, and then they hoisted it up and started towards your door.

You watched as they made their way up the few stairs out front, then through your door. The man who’d been at your door was backing in, his head turned, glancing behind him as he went, then looking to the walls to be sure not to hit anything. “You good?” The delivery guy’s voice grabbed your attention.

“Yeah.”

You glanced over to see his partner duck his head slightly as he passed through the inner door. Was he that tall? That he had to duck? No, but he was damn close to needing to. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he went past, not even sending a glance your way as he focused on the task at hand.

As they made their way towards your kitchen, you sat on your window sill in the front room as you pulled out your phone and opened a notepad app. Looking around, you started to make a list of the things you needed and arranged it based on priority. Now that you had appliances, you needed food and dishes. You couldn’t do takeout forever, though you might survive a few more days if need be. As the boys moved back through and out your house again, you glanced out the window and saw the delivery guy glancing back at you, a half smirk on his lips before he turned back to the truck as he came up to it. Curtains. You’d need curtains asap. A bed would be nice too, or at least a half decent mattress.

And a job. Fuck. You froze and just stared blankly ahead. It was too late to go out looking today, you had waited around for these guys all day.

You were pulled out of your hole of self pity and list making by someone clearing their throat, and you glanced up, confused to see the delivery guy standing there with a look in his eyes you couldn’t read. How long had you been spaced out and how long had he been standing there watching you? “We’re uh, we’re done. Sammy’s just hooking up your dryer for you,” he pointed behind him with his thumb, “And I need you to sign this.”

“Yeah, okay.” you pushed off the window sill. “He doesn’t need to hook stuff up, I can do that myself.” you mumbled, stepping up to him and taking the pen.

“You paid for it.” he shrugged.

“Did I?”

“Says so here.”

You scanned the form, but didn’t see anything about a hookup service. With a shrug, you signed.

“All done.” ‘Sammy’ announced, neatly folding the shoulder dolly they’d used to move all the appliances in.

“Thanks.” He gave you a dimpled smile in response before he continued out the front door.

“Here’s your copy, you call this number if there’s any problems. This receipt is your warranty, basically. You’re covered for three years.” You nodded, taking the slip of paper he ripped off for you. “Have a nice day.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He left, easily catching up to the other man by the time he hit the sidewalk, and you stood in your doorway watching them for a moment. “Told you she was hot.” He nudged the other man, and you realized you probably weren’t meant to hear that.

“Shut up, Dean. We’re working.” ‘Sammy’ replied heading for the back of the truck to shut it while ‘Dean’ laughed and went around to the drivers side.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t look, Sammy.”

Awkwardly glancing away, you shut your front door.  Once you heard the truck pull away, you let out a breath and looked down at the list on your phone again as you walked towards your kitchen. Maybe you could get furniture tomorrow, and at the same time, see if any of the nearby places were hiring.  Get an early start. Looking up at the shiny almost new fridge and stove, your stomach grumbled. With a smile, you grabbed your keys off the counter and started back towards your front door.

It was time to have some real food in this house. You practically skipped to your car as you thought of all the delicious things you were about to grab at the grocery store.

Breakfast was simple while you air dried after your shower. Popping a bite into your mouth, you moved towels up your list of necessities, right under pots and pans. You couldn’t wait for a good, big breakfast. Finishing off your food, you made your way to the downstairs bathroom and pulled a warm shirt out of the dryer. Holding them up to your nose, you took a deep breath in and smiled before digging for the rest of the clothes you planned to wear today.

“This is happiness.” you mumbled to yourself as the warmth still clinging to the clothing surrounded your body with each item you put on. For the time being you had peace, you were safe, and now you had warmth and comfort.

Turning to the mirror over the sink behind you, you brushed your teeth and made yourself look more presentable. Each little thing made you feel more human again. Another step closer back to who you were before all this shit weighed you down and made you run. You stared at yourself in the mirror, as ready as you’d ever be to start getting your life back on track, but you wondered if you would ever be that person again. Could you be?

You weren’t sure, you were anxious at every turn. Even out here, where you knew no one and no one knew you, there was anxiety about heading out, buying stuff to settle down and finding a job. There was fear about setting down any kind of roots that would make it difficult to run again if you needed to. You felt like you would always be running, but you were tired. It was time to get your life back. Time to stop letting yourself be afraid of every shadow. You were stronger than this, god damnit!

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the day ahead and headed for your phone,  keys and bag on the kitchen counter.

Stepping outside, you locked your door, turned and froze.

The delivery guy from yesterday was standing outside on the sidewalk between your house and the neighbors, eyes focused down on the phone in his hand. You glanced around, you’re not sure what you were looking for, maybe help, maybe police, but your eyes went back to him. Why was he here? He had said he found you attractive, was he back to act on that? Was he stalking you now?

Maybe he felt eyes on him, because he looked up suddenly, glancing around before his eyes met yours and he gave you a smile. He opened his mouth, but you cut him off, putting on the bravest face you could muster. “Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry?” he looked confused by that, his phone in his hand forgotten for the moment.

“Why are you here?” you asked again. “This isn’t flattering. It’s fucking creepy.” His eyebrow cocked up at that. “I get that you may think you’re god's gift to women, but you’re not, and this is unacceptable and unprofessional and I will not stand for it.”

With a sigh, he tucked his phone into his pocket and turned more towards you. “Look, lady-”

“No you look.” you snapped, cutting him off. “I’m not interested in creeps, okay? So either you get lost, or I’m calling the cops and your place of employment. I think they’d love to know what you do after you-”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” You froze, mouth still open mid sentence as he cut you off. “I’m not fucking stalking you, I’m your neighbor.”

“Wha-”

“I live next door.” he pointed to the house and you glanced over at it, finally closing your mouth before looking back at him. “Yeah. So, I mean, you can call them if you want, but..” he just shrugged at you.

Embarrassment flooded you. Embarrassment and guilt. You were so on edge you attacked an innocent stranger, your neighbor no less. How could you live next to him now? “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I just-”

“Save it.” he held up his hand, cutting you off. “I’m not accepting that apology.” You shrank away from him now, considering running back inside and hiding for the day, forgetting everything you had planned and everything you needed to get. You wanted to hide and disappear. Licking your lips, you were about to turn away when he spoke again. “But you can make it up to me.” Your eyes shifted up from the ground to meet his again. “Join me for dinner.”

“What?”

“You’re new here, right? I mean, I grew up here, and I’ve never seen you before so you must be from out of town.” You gave him a small nod. “You know anyone? Been out to check out what we’ve got here?” You shook your head this time. “If you want, I can show you around. I’m off today, so I don’t mind, and we’ll grab something to eat after, as friends so you can keep those accusations to yourself.” he pointed out with a playful smirk.

“I uhm.” you chewed your bottom lip for a moment. “I’m busy today.. I need to get stuff for the house and find a job, and-”

“You moved here without a job lined up?” He watched you carefully. “You running from something?” You were quick to glance away, nervously chewing on your bottom lip again. “What kind of work are you looking for?” he asked, taking a step closer.

“Anything.”

“You got a resume, experience, or-”

You took a deep breath and sighed. “Not really. Nothing too recent, anyways.. I uh-”

His hand came up. “You don’t have to explain.” You looked up at him, and felt relief that he wasn't going to pressure you into details. “We might have a job for you at the warehouse, I’ll ask about it.”

“Really?” You were stunned. “You don’t even know me.”

He shrugged. “No promises, and it’s nothing special, probably just phones and making orders and shit.. If you want we can go now and I’ll ask.”

“Uh, yeah.. Thanks.”

He smiled. “Alright, get in.” He started to make his way around the sleek black car he’d been standing in front of. “Unless you’d rather just follow in yours.”

You took a moment trying to remember how much gas was left in your tank before conceding. “I’ll ride with you if you don’t mind.”

“I offered, didn’t I.” he smiled, motioning towards the passenger side door as he pulled open the drivers side. “Oh, hey, before I forget.”

“Hm?” you hummed, sliding into the passenger seat and shutting the door just as he shut his.

“So you don’t go accusing my brother of stalking you too, he lives around that corner.” he pointed before putting the key in the ignition and turning.

“Your brother?” you asked, engine roaring to life and surprising you. Why would you care about his brother?

“Sammy.” he smiled, glancing behind him before pulling away from the curb.

“That was your brother!?”

He nodded. “My little brother.”

“That man was anything but little..” you mumbled, making Dean laugh.

It was only about a ten minute drive before Dean was pulling into a parking lot. You followed Dean into a front shop where everyone, customer and employee both, greeted him as he went past, then he led you through a back door to a large warehouse. “My dad in?”

“He’s around.” came the answer. Dad?

“Dean.” You followed the sound of the rough voice and spotted an older man making his way towards you, the grey that was peppered through his hair covered most of the light beard on his face. “What are you doing here, son, it’s your day off.” He greeted his son, then glanced at you as you tore your eyes away to look around. “Who’s this?”

“New neighbor. Sammy and I ran a delivery to her yesterday.”

“Everything okay? Something wrong?” he glanced at you again.

“No, everything's running fine. She needs a job, actually. Desperately, I think.” The last three words were whispered so just his father would hear, and the older man nodded.

“Hey, kid.” You turned, realizing he might be talking to you. “You got somewhere you need to be right now?”

“Uh-” you glanced at Dean, then back to his father. “Not really. I was just going to buy some needed things for my place.”

“Bring her up front, let’s see what she can do.”

“The store?” you were surprised. “But I don’t know anything about-”

“Dean will teach you. You just lost your day off, kid.” he pat his son on the shoulder. “You brought her in, she’s your responsibility. I’ll check back in a few hours.” He started away.

“Thank you, sir.”

“John.” He glanced at you over his shoulder. “Call me John.”

You nodded and watched him go, then turned to Dean. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to sell appliances.”

Dean chuckled, leading you back towards the font. “You're not. Not really.”

“Then what am I-”

“You’re getting to know the space and people. Getting to know the products. ‘You’re my responsibility’ means you’ll be working with me. I don’t work up here. I work in the back, repairs and deliveries. You’ll end up in the back office doing orders and taking calls.”

“Then why put me up here?”

“Don’t question the old man.” Dean put an arm around your shoulder. “He doesn’t like it, being a marine man and all. So let’s see what you know. What’s this?”

“It’s a fridge.”

“Very good.” he teased. “And that?”

“An oven.” Dean cocked an eyebrow at you. “A range oven.” you corrected and he smiled again.

“See, you do know some stuff.”

“Fuck off.” you gave him a playful shove, pushing him away from you and he laughed. You felt oddly relaxed around him, like you’d known him and been friends with him for years. There was something disarming about that smile and laugh.

“Okay, okay, what’s the cubic footage of this oven?” you froze at that and he laughed again. “Check the sticker.” he pointed to a sticker slapped onto the top of the stove. “Always check the stickers. There’s no way you’d just know that.”

“I’m starting to regret this decision.” you muttered at him, walking away from him and moving towards washers and dryers.

“Oh, come on. Working with me will be fun. We can carpool!”

“Not happening.”

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Tagging :  Dean - @akshi8278​  @adoptdontshoppets​   @evyiione​ @karikatz12481​ @idksupernatural​

SPN -  @sandlee44  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @mrswhozeewhatsis   @deanandsamsbitch  @deans-baby-momma  @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng   @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh  @ksgeekgirl   @hobby27 @maddiepants  @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn    @fandom-princess-forevermore​     @kalesrebellion​   @deanwanddamons​

All tags - @sorenmarie87​ @artemisthebadger​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @iflostreturntosteverogers​ @akfonkin​ @rebelminxy​ @foxyjwls007​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @shaelyn102​ @supernaturalenchanted​  @kazkingdom​   @babypink224221​  @emoryhemsworth​    @ilovefanfic86​  @pie-with-hunters​   @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @lazinessisalliknow​  @feelmyroarrrr​  @letsdisneythings​   @cdwmtjb8​   @notyourtypicalrose​  @xostephanie​  @marvelmenmusicandroses @ilovedeanspie​ @defenderrosetyler​ @amandamdiehl​

[staceysonier]

Little Red (MxF) Part 2 *NSFW*

*Gnoll Boyfriend!*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I saw Tazz the next day, or his hulking figure, at the edge of the woods.

It still blew me away how dark the woods were, even with the morning sun shining down on my grandma's small clearing.

"You can come out, Tazz," I called as I sat in a rocking chair on the wooden porch with a steaming cup of coffee.

"I don't think you'd like what you saw," he called back but moved closer within the treeline, still covered in darkness.

"I wouldn't like what I saw if I didn't already know you, maybe, but I've never been shallow, and you of all...creatures...should know that," I rolled my eyes.

I listened to him growl and something about it deep and gravel-like down in his big chest had a jolt of energy rocketing straight south within my body.

And then I had to mentally chastise myself because it was much too early to be feeling those kinds of feelings...there, anyway.

But when I looked down at my cup and saw that my nipples had peaked as well, I crossed my arms over my chest and blushed and wondered if he could tell what I was thinking or if he had been able to sense things as well as he had when we were younger.

He seemed to know all of my moods, being more clingy and touchy when I was upset, making me laugh until I had tears rolling down my cheeks when I was sad, and usually kept his distance when I was angry.

Leaves crunching caught my attention and I turned to see him moving closer, his silhouetted head tilted up and his snout-like nose sniffing.

And then those eyes that I had seen yesterday pointed my direction and he made a noise at the back of his throat before he backed away.

"Chette, you need to go inside. I'm sure Rosa has your breakfast ready," he said in a short tone and when I stood up and a sudden gust of wind blew past me that had my nightgown billowing around me and into the trees, I watched him stiffen before he disappeared.

"The fuck," I whispered but made my way inside and had breakfast with my grandmother before getting dressed to help her around her place.

***

I didn't see Tazz for the rest of the weekend. I called for him Saturday evening but I got no response. I called for him Sunday morning--no response.

And when I had to leave, I kept my eyes on the treeline on the way down the path to my car, hoping to catch a glimpse of him...

But nothing.

I thought I saw something huge running in the treeline as I drove down the gravel road that led to my grandmother's road but it stopped at the edge of the woods.

I hated that I wasn't able to stay longer but I was grateful that I got to see my grandmother again... And I was grateful to remember and talk to Tazz again.

Hoping, praying, and wishing was I, that summer break would hurry up and come soon.

***

"You have to, Blanchette," My mother said with her brow raised.

"Again, mom? Seriously? I was just out there! Grandmas fine! I saw her with my own two eyes, for Christ's sake," I cried out in frustration as I sat at the island while she made dinner.

My mom huffed but continued to chop the carrots.

"I don't understand what happened since then but you said you had a great time with her during winter break," she insisted and brought the carrots to the pot behind her.

"Yeah," I said as I put my phone down, "I don't even really remember all that happened but I definitely don't want to waste my whole summer break at her tiny shack, mom! I have a life, friends, and I wanted to look for a job!"

She glared at me in that 'no-nonsense' kind of way, "I said you're going and that's final. Do you hear me? Your grandmother says she needs help and since your father is away at work and I have to be here for your little sister, it's up to you to go and help her."

It was my turn to huff and drag my hand through my hair.

"Seriously mom, be cool, please? I mean, why don't you just pack up Megan and bring her! I'm sure she'd love the outdoors!"

Her face turned red and then she exploded.

"I am not going out there! You are and that's final! Not another word, Blanchette, and I mean it! Go and pack enough for at least a few weeks and I don't even want to hear a sigh! Now go!"

My eyes widened because she had never really gone off like that so I was sure she meant business. But I stepped down from my stool and headed up the stairs without even a sigh.

But once I got to my room, I was, quietly, cussing up a storm.

***

The closer I got, the more I remembered.

The huge dark figure in the treeline, and the feeling of comfort but also...

That growl.

My heart started to race as I parked my car where I parked it the last time.

I didn't need the cloak this time as it was summer and hot as hell so all I had on was a pair of shorts, tennis shoes for the trip through the overgrown path, and a sleeveless shirt.

And sunglasses, of course.

I grabbed my duffle bag out of the back and knew I would hate the walk this time because the bag was packed to the brim with all the things I thought I would need but now regretted.

"Fuck me," I growled under my breath and kicked the back door closed with my foot before locking the car and placing the keys in my pockets.

I began my trek up the path and then had to switch shoulders when one got tired.

"′Go and visit your grandmother again, Blanchette', 'It'll be fun, Blanchette', ′Just you and her and the peace of the woods, Blanchette'. Yeah, and this mile-long trek to her house with this hundred-pound duffle bag, mom!"

My thoughts were taken from how angry I was when I heard leaves crunching and sticks breaking past the treeline.

And my heart was racing again and that anxiety I remember feeling when I was leaving the last time I was here, was back again.

"Tazz," I breathed out hopefully as I saw a familiar hulking figure of darkness--but now it looked...slimmer.

"Chette," he softly greeted, "And with fewer clothes than the last time, I see," he teased.

I blushed and looked down at how tight my sleeveless shirt was, and how this was probably the wrong shirt to wear on this day because while also trying to carry my heavy bag, I also had to keep pulling up the shirt so it wouldn't expose my braless breasts.

My midriff was showing, as well, and the shorts could've been deemed too inappropriate but it was summer and it was hot and there was no way I was going to go by social regulations while out in the woods.

But something about having Tazz comment on my outfit...

It had my body feeling...things.

"It's summer," Is all I said, though.

"Indeed, it is. I caught on that you needed help with that," he asked and stretched his arm out and I gasped as I caught sight of his hands and claws.

He pulled his hand back as quickly as the sound escaped my mouth and I instantly felt regret.

"I'm sorry, it's just been so long since I've seen you," I moved closer, "Your nails weren't nearly as...deadly when we were kids," I tried but then I watched him disappear again.

"Fuck," I whispered as all around me was quiet again.

***

"Oh, Chettie-spaghetti, I'm so glad you came again," My grandma met me on the porch but then she frowned.

"Tazz didn't help you with your bag," she asked accusingly and then turned her attention to the treeline.

"Oh, he tried, but I scared him off," I huffed as I walked up the stairs and onto the porch.

She laughed as she pulled me into a hug, "You scared him off? What'd you do?"

I grumbled and slumped my bag down on the porch with another huff, "I gasped when I saw his claws. I hadn't meant to and it wasn't because I was scared or anything..."

"Quite the opposite actually," Grandma asked with a knowing look and I blushed under her gaze.

She then chuckled and patted the back of my hand, "Leave your bag here and go take a walk. You need to talk to him. He's missed you."

I rolled my eyes and lifted a brow, "He didn't even see me off when I left in January. If he missed me so much then why did he avoid me?"

Grandma shrugged and smirked, "You'll have to talk to him about that, sweetheart."

I watched as she walked around me and my bag and then into the house before she turned around before the door shut, "Don't stay out too long, I'm making dinner. But then again...Tazz most likely won't let you."

"Grandma, how am I supposed to find him," I asked quietly before she turned back around.

Jutting out her chin, she looked out at the treeline, "Go get lost. He'll find you."

If that's what it would take...then I guessed that's what I would do.

She shut the door behind her and I walked down the steps and out into the clearing but stopped at the treeline.

"Tazz," I said, knowing that he was probably watching and could most likely hear me, "Are you really going to make me come in there after you? You want me to get lost in there?"

No response.

"Fine," I shrugged and stepped a foot past the treeline before I heard branches snapping.

"Uh-huh," I smirked and followed the sound that was just in front but a bit to the right of me.

I lifted branches and stepped over various spiked vines and tree roots as I followed the sounds of breaking sticks through the forest.

"You will help me get back out of here, right," I asked in a chuckle and was then pushed up against the base of a tree, my front to the bark.

"What the he--"

"--You were following a Dryad," he whispered into my ear.

A shiver ran down my spine as I felt his fur all over my half-naked back, his warm breath on my naked shoulder and neck.

"What would she have done," I asked in a whisper.

I felt his cold nose drag up my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"She would've charmed your panties off," And I heard the smirk in his words.

I let out a breathless chuckle before I sucked in a deep breath, "Is she at least pretty?"

He scoffed lightly, "All nymphs are beautiful. That's why I find you so charming."

"Beautiful and charming, huh? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting, Tazzimo," I tried to say with confidence but it definitely came out as a whimper.

"Your pounding heart...and the scent of your arousal...they are both flirting with me," he said and I imaged he had a brow raised as he looked me over with a hunger in his eyes. I know I would be.

I then felt one of his hands with all of those sharp claws touch my hip and I gasped but he didn't back away. No, he moved that hand around to my front and planted it on my stomach and moved closer.

"You smell divine, Chette," he whispered and I felt his tongue run along my neck.

I swallowed audibly and was focused on those claws sitting against the skin of my lower stomach.

"You could rip me open with just the swipe of your hand," I whimpered quietly.

He growled, "Does the thought frighten you?"

"No," I breathed out and when his other hand wrapped around my throat, I laid my head back against his chest.

"You really aren't scared, are you? You're...you're turned on...by me," he asked and chuckled darkly before his fingers squeezed lightly around the sides of my neck.

"Um," I tried to play it down but I felt the fingers wrapped around my throat let go and then I felt those sharp claws touch the sensitive skin of my neck.

I then felt as he ran them, gently, down to the top of my chest, "Don't lie to me, Chette. You've never been good at lying."

"You always could smell a lie when I told one," I whispered and my chest was heaving with my heavy breathing as his claws played at the top of my shirt.

"Mmh, let's play a game," he suggested and I felt the claws on my naked lower stomach tap there.

"A game," I asked, unsure.

"Yeah. Two truths, one lie. You tell me two truths and one lie and I'll try to guess which one is a lie," he whispered and ran his tongue along my neck again.

"Okay... Um," I thought for a moment.

"I didn't want to come out here again when my mom asked me to. Um, I love my grandma... And... I don't...want to...kiss you."

I was spun around then, my back to the tree, and came face to face with his massive chest until I felt his claws lift my chin. My eyes then met his and he smirked down at me.

"Lie," he growled, "I'll have to punish you now."

I whimpered but my panties were damp, "You wanted it!"

"And so do you," he whispered and picked me up so that I wrapped my legs around his waist and I was face to face with him with my arms around his furry spotted neck.

He looked like Tazz, like he always had but older, more masculine. He had an edge now that he never had when we were growing up but maybe that came with age.

His brown eyes looked black in the darkness with barely any light reaching through the trees and his teeth were sharp in his mouth...

But I wanted nothing more than to feel them on my skin.

I looked up into his eyes again, "I don't want to kiss you," I lied again.

"I'll punish you, for sure, now," he whispered and looked down at my lips.

"Please don't."

He smashed his lips to mine and then we were frenzied as he yanked my top down to sit at my hips and pushed my back against the tree before bringing his claws between us and shredding the small bit of denim that was my shorts before obliterating my panties with just a yank.

And I had to pull back just a bit to moan as I felt one of his claws graze my clitoris a few times.

"Please," I breathed into his open mouth before letting my tongue find his.

I then heard the sound of a zipper and the ruffle of cloth before I felt something hard and hot against my slit.

"So warm, Chette, and so wet," he said and was all but panting with his tongue hanging out.

I pushed my lips back to his and brought my hands down to rub his cock.

It was so big that I had to use both hands to fit around him as one wouldn't close. And once I got down to the base of him, I felt his knot and gasped at the size. There was no way.

"Impossible," I whimpered but he made me look into his eyes with his hand around my neck again.

"All of me will fit inside of you," he growled and brought the tip of his cock to my entrance before he pushed in.

"Oh, fuck," I breathed out and chuckled breathlessly, "Big boy."

"Tight," he grunted and growled when his knot hit against my opening but couldn't fit.

"Go, please, hurry," I whispered and kissed him as I felt him begin to rock in and out of me, each time, his knot hitting against me and each time, I gasped for what was to come.

And as he rutted up into me, he brought both of my wrists up above my head and held them there with one of his large hands as we kissed.

As he sped up his thrusting, we both began moaning into the other's mouth.

"You like that," he grunted before nudging my head to the side so he could have access to my neck.

"Yes! Just like that, please!"

I then felt his teeth drag along my throat, sending jolts of electricity to my clitoris.

"I'm close," I cried out and loved feeling how big he was inside of me, how much he stretched me, "Bite me, Tazz."

"Yeah? You like my teeth on your delicate human skin, Chette? One wrong move and I could seriously hurt you," he whispered but his words were what sent me over the edge.

I tightened my legs around his waist as my walls tightened around his cock. I squeezed the hand that was holding my hands above my head as I wailed out my climax.

He growled and began to thrust harder into me, his knot hitting against my sensitive entrance but I was ready for it--ready for all of him.

"Helpless," he growled and his dark eyes were on mine, "Even if you wanted me to let you go, there'd be nothing you could do to make me. You're helpless, Chette, and you love it, don't you? You're at my mercy and I say when I'm finished with you."

"You're gonna make me come again," I cried and could already feel the build-up again, that familiar feeling of heat rushing through my body.

"Not until I say you can," he enunciated every word with a hard and punishing thrust.

"Please say I can, please say I can," I pleaded as I tried to hold back the flood gates but I was almost there.

It wouldn't be long before I overflowed again.

And then he thrust hard into me, and I had to stretch to take his knot. At the same time, he latched his teeth onto the skin between my neck and shoulder with a growl and I exploded--seeing stars behind my eyelids as I came for a second time.

As I came back down from the heavens, he was licking where he bit me and his fingers were rubbing the tops of my hands.

"Are you okay," he asked gently and widened his stance as his come began to glob out of me and onto the forest floor with how much there was. And because of this, it caused him to shift inside of me.

I gasped and clenched my walls around him and listened to him growl as he pushed as far as he could into me.

"Sensitive," he groaned as he buried his face in my neck and licked the mark he left again.

"Stop moving so much then," I teased and nuzzled my cheek to his.

"I don't want come on my feet," he whined and chuckled as he pulled back to look down at me.

"Then don't come so much," I whispered and grinned.

"That is not something I can help," he admitted and brought my hands up and licked the backs of them.

It was only then that I saw I was bleeding slightly.

There were small dots exactly where his claws had been as he held my hand but it warmed my heart to see him taking care of me as he used to when we were growing up.

"I'm okay," I answered his question with a genuine smile, "Better than, actually."

As his knot reduced, he slipped out of me and then set me down.  

I pulled my top back up to cover my breasts but there was absolutely no salvaging my shorts.

Tazz smiled sheepishly and kneeled down to grab his jean shorts before holding them out to me.

"Sorry about your shorts...and your panties," he chuckled.

I pulled up the shorts but they were several sizes too big so I had to hold them up, and we both laughed at the sight.

"I should be getting you back. Rosa's probably worried and dinner is definitely ready. I can smell it," he said quietly as he looked down at me.

"She's not worried. She's the one who told me to come into the forest and get lost. She said you'd find me," I blushed and began walking in the direction of my grandmothers house.

"I'll always find you, Chette. If you want to be found," he said quietly again and walked with me.

We were quiet for most of the walk back but once I could see the clearing through the trees, my stomach started to knot knowing that we would have to part soon.

"How long will you be here this time," Tazz asked and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"I'll be here most of the summer," I replied and watched the forest floor as we walked.

But then I was pushed against a tree again and his lips were on mine and I was ready to go for round two but he pulled back.

"Then we'll just have to make the most of the summer, won't we," he growled and licked over the mark he left on my skin again.

And before I knew it, I was pushed into the clearing and when I turned around, Tazz was gone.

"Thanks for making me face her along, you asshole," I hissed at the treeline, hoping he was watching before I turned around and started walking up to the porch.

I knew grandma would ask a million and two questions with the way I looked but I had to face her at some point.

It did help that I was more relaxed now...but I was in definite need of a shower.

There was no way I could keep Tazz's shorts up and carry my bag inside so I just kneeled down and grabbed some clothes before going inside.

Grandma had her back to me as she was busy in the kitchen and I tried my hardest to sneak past her but damn her squeaky floorboards!

"Chettie? You're back," she asked and turned around and then let out one loud laugh when her eyes met me.

"And it seems you had fun...but...you lost your shorts, dear," she smirked," And you've got a bite mark on your neck. Oh dear, you were attacked, weren't you? Did you fight terribly?"

I chuckled but rolled my eyes, "For my life, grandma. If you don't mine, I'll be taking a shower now."

"Yeah," she asked as I set off down the hallway, "You need help getting the tree bark out of your hair, dear?"

"Grandma," I cried but could here her hyena laughing in the kitchen as I slammed the bathroom door.

I was never going to be able to live this down.

And I knew I didn't want to.  

Tonight was one of the best nights of my life and I couldn't wait for many, many, many more.

[hopelikethemoon]

used to be lonely (Javier x Reader) [MTMF verse]

Title: used to be lonely Rating: PG-13 (language) Length: 2,400 Warnings: Angst, sexism, pregnancy talk.  Notes: Based on a prompt by @youhavereachedtheendofpie​. All of maybe today, maybe forever can be read here.  Summary: A month after “maybe” Javier comes to a conclusion.  Tag List: @grapemama​ @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​ @pedropascalito​ @thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​ @gooddaykate​(lemme know if anyone else wants to be tagged in these)

You felt like shit. The worst of the morning sickness had passed as you entered your fourth month, but that didn’t mean you magically felt good. You weren’t sleeping terribly well at night and not being able to drink coffee was torture. Work was… fine. 

You’d had to tell your superiors about your ‘delicate condition’ and they hadn’t taken it well. Their first reaction had been to send you back to the states — which had been your worst fear. If you went back to your states, you knew that whatever you had with Javier would come to an abrupt end. Every day was a give and take, trying to find your place together. It wouldn’t survive distance and you wouldn’t let him leave with you if it came to that. 

Luckily they came around and put you on indefinite desk duty. You could live with that, even if it meant spending less time with Javier in the office. You were like two ships passing in the night most days. You’d get into the office, just as he was heading out on assignment and he’d return as you were heading home. 

Sometimes he’d ride the elevator with you, even though he was headed in the opposite direction, just so he could steal a few minutes alone with you. Four stories was never enough time. He’d rest his hand on the swell of your stomach, press a kiss to your temple before the opening doors would force him to pull away. Fleeting moments that convinced you that this could be something. Something that would linger long after the baby was born. 

You pinched at the bridge of your nose as you rested your elbows on your desk. The caffeine migraines wouldn’t give you a break. Every time you caught the scent of a fresh pot brewing in the breakroom, your body craved it. And Chris seemed to make a fresh pot every hour — just to torture you. 

“Hey Peña,” Chris started, tossing a crumpled up paper onto Javier’s desk to get his attention. “How’s things out in the field?”

“Fine.” He lifted his gaze and gave Chris a questioning look. 

Chris shrugged, “You know I was just wondering if things might be easier for you now.” 

You frowned, but kept your focus on the report you were typing. 

“Why would it be easier?” Javier questioned. You glanced at him, catching the way his teeth were clenched together, his jaw set hard. You both hated Chris. Nothing good ever came from his idle wondering. 

“Well, you know.” Chris threw another piece of paper towards the garbage can against the wall, missing it by a mile. “Without having a chick in tow. No offense,” He offered disingenuously when you glared at him. “You get to deal with all Colombia’s finest informants and I can’t imagine having a female partner helped you.” 

You drew in a deep breath, counting to ten instead of picking up your stapler and beating him to death. Though the mere thought of it was wholly satisfying. You exhaled slowly, flexing your fingers before you continued typing. Chris’ sexism didn’t even warrant a reply from you. No one gave a shit and it wasn’t a hill you wanted to die on. 

“Fuck off.” Javier bit out. “She was a damn good field agent and a competent one too.” That dig made you smirk. He’d been paired with Chris a half dozen times since you got stuck on desk duty and he always looked pissed as hell when he got back. Chris was a decent agent, but he was only there because he had a drinking buddy among the higher ups. 

You glanced up again, catching Javi’s eyes on you. You could never quite tell what that look meant — sometimes it felt like he was looking into your soul and other times like he was looking straight through you. But you knew Javier better than anyone else knew him — save for Steve. You had spent the better part of your past five years in Colombia at his side, day in and day out. But sometimes you just couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Especially when it came to you. 

“Don’t waste your breath on him, Peña.” You remarked, pulling the finished report out of the typewriter. “He’s just jealous that he didn’t get my job.” Javier had been insistent that they hold the spot open until after you delivered. He’d have to work with Chris and Daniel, but neither of them would be his official new partner. 

“Damn straight I am,” Chris scoffed. “It’s not like you’re going to be fit to go back in the field.” He vaguely gestured to his stomach. “You’re already getting fat.” 

“I’m having a baby.” You snapped as you stood up. “What’s your excuse?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, heading out of the bullpen and down the hallway towards the bathroom. You didn’t trust yourself not to cry. Your hormones were all over the place and the prickly burning in your eyes suggested that he’d struck a nerve. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, splashing a little water on your face to soothe the flush that was starting to spread across your skin. You looked as good as you felt, which was shit. There were dark circles under your eyes, revealing just how little sleep you were getting. 

Someone knocked at the door.

“Occupied!” You called back.

“It’s me.” 

Your brows furrowed together as you turned back to the door, you unlocked it and pulled it open a crack. “What are you doing?” You questioned as you stared at Javier, your eyes flickering up and down the hall to make sure no one else was around. 

“Just checking on you.” He murmured, his expression soft as he looked at you. “You okay?”

“Just trying to prevent a murder.” You quipped, letting out a humorless laugh. 

Javier reached through the cracked door and took ahold of your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “We could probably get away with it, if we put some effort into the planning.” He said lightly. “Can I come in?”

You nodded your head slowly, pulling the door open wider. “This is risky.” You warned him as he stepped inside and locked the door shut. 

“Just a man checking on his partner,” Javier chewed on his bottom lip with his hands on his hips. 

You frowned, resting your hand on your stomach. “That’s a ‘bad news’ look.” 

He gave a stiff nod, his jaw rocking as he stared at you. “I’ve got to meet with an informant tonight.”  

“Okay.” You said calmly, even though you felt your pulse jump in your throat.

“Okay?” Javier’s head cocked to the side, like he was expecting another answer out of you. 

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It’s your job, Javi.” 

He blinked slowly, before looking away with an incredulous laugh. “You could at least tell me that you’re hurt.” 

“By you doing your job?” You shot back, staring at him. “I don’t know what response you were expecting.” 

“Yeah,” He shook his head, his voice cutting to the bone. “I don’t fucking know what I was expecting either.” 

“I’m not in a position to be jealous, Javier.” You told him, biting down on the inside of your bottom lip. “This,” You gestured between you. “Is held together with a shoestring and the allusion of trust. 

“The allusion of trust?”

“Javier,” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Can we not do this?”

“I trust you with my life.” Javier breathed out, his eyes darting over your face. “So fuck that.”

You sighed heavily, “I trust you with my life too, but I don’t trust you with my heart.” You admitted, your lashes fluttering as you looked away. “Look, I need to get back out there before Chris comes up with a conspiracy story that neither of us need right now.” 

“Wait.” Javier urged and you turned back around to look at him. “Can I come over tonight? After?”

You gave a faint nod of your head, “I’d like that.” 

 ——

 Despite your best attempts at falling asleep, you were still wide awake on your sofa watching late-night reruns of a telenovela well past midnight. Javier hadn’t shown up, which you weren’t entirely surprised about. Disappointed? Maybe. But you knew how things went. You hadn’t gone into this with your eyes closed. You knew Javier, you knew what being with him meant. You didn’t let it get under your skin. Or at least, you didn’t acknowledge it when it did bother you. 

Sometime near one, there was a knock at your apartment door. You hauled yourself off the sofa, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you went to open the door. “Hey.” You smiled softly as your gaze settled on his face. 

“I didn’t know if you’d still be up.” Javier stated, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket as he shifted anxiously on his feet. “Can I—?”

“Yeah, come in.” You pushed the door open wider, stepping aside to let him in. You drew in a shaky breath, taking your time as you pulled the door closed, latching the security chain back. “How’d the meeting go?”

Javier pushed his fingers through his hair as you looked back at him. He shook his head, “I didn’t get anything out of her.” 

“Oh.” You pulled the blanket around you tighter as you walked back towards the sofa. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You curled up on the sofa, peering over the back of it at him. “Are you going to sit down?”

“Does it not bother you?” He questioned, staying rooted in one spot. 

You sank back against the arm of the sofa, rubbing at your forehead. “I just compartmentalize it, Javier. I don’t really have the privilege to be worried about it.” Your eyes flickered towards him, “I’d rather have you most of the time, than none of the time. If that’s my two options.” 

Javier’s shoulders sagged. “I see.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, before he moved around the sofa, settling down on the opposite side of it. He stared straight ahead at the T.V., but you knew he wasn’t watching it. His jaw was clenched, lips moving slightly like he was trying to formulate what to say.

The silence was smothering as it lingered between the two of you, oppressive like the thick heat of Colombia. 

“I didn’t fuck her.” 

Your brows shot upwards. You curled your feet beneath you as you sat up, staring down the length of the sofa at him. “Is that why you didn’t get the information?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t care.” 

“Javier, it’s your job.” 

“Fuck that.” He snapped, fingers curled into tight fists on his lap. “I’m done with that shit.” Javier turned to look at you, looking more wounded than you’d ever seen him before. “It’s not just work. Don’t you get that?” 

You blinked slowly, before looking away from him because you couldn’t take the pain in his eyes. “I do. But I also know…” You shook your head. “It’s not a game, Javier. This is our job, our livelihood. We can’t let whatever this is get in the way.”

“Whatever this is.” He scoffed, sinking back against the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. “You can be such a bitch sometimes, baby.” 

“Yeah, well you’re a jackass all the time so I think we’re even.” You bit back, throwing your blanket off as you stood up. “I’m going to bed. You can sit out here and sulk or whatever, be my guest.” 

“I love you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. 

“What did you say?” 

“You heard me.”

“No.” You turned to stare at him. “What did you say?”

“I love you.” 

“Javier, we’ve been together for a month.” 

“No shit,” He dragged his hands over his face before he stood up and stalked towards you. “We didn’t just meet last month.” 

Everything felt like it was closing in on you. The telenovela sounded like white noise in the background, blending into the thrumming of your pulse in your ears, the steady flow of air through your nose. “You can’t just say that, Javier. You can’t just tell me you love me if you don’t really mean it.” 

“I do.” 

“How?”

“You’re all I think about.” Javier admitted, reaching out to grab your hands, holding you in front of him. 

“Is that why you couldn’t?” 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You swallowed thickly, “Wow.” 

“I tried.” He admitted. 

“I figured.” You laughed a little, uncertain how to feel. “You smell like cheap perfume.” 

He chuckled. “I’ll shower.” 

You shook your head, “It’s fine.” You took a step closer to him, looking up at him with a quiet smile. “I swear to God, if you break my heart Javi.” 

“Are you going to say it back?”

You brushed your fingers along the curve of his jaw, “No.” You said lightly. “I’m going to make you wait.” Your hands settled at his shoulders as his own hands found your hips. “You’re going to have to work for it.” 

“I can live with that.” He smirked, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. His nose bumped against yours as he pulled back. “Just don’t make me wait too long” 

“You won’t.” You promised him, giving his shoulders three little squeezes. 

Javier inhaled sharply, looking down at you quizzically. You smiled a little more broadly nodding your head to confirm his suspicions. Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck and you drew him down to kiss him again. 

You let the kiss linger, your tongue teasing over his bottom lip. “I lied. Go take a shower.” You shoved him playfully in the chest. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

He stole another kiss, before he headed for your bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

You were already half asleep when Javi slid beneath the covers beside you. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent the night since you’d started your relationship, but it was the first time it felt like that was where he truly belonged. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his arm wrapped around you, his palm spread out over your stomach. 

You used to be lonely too. 

But now, in Javier’s arms… there was a hope in your heart that maybe neither of you would have to feel lonely again. 

[dudeandduchess]

Light smut/fluff please!! Modern AU Nemi coming home from school and sees his girlfriend making dinner in his apartment without him asking. Maybe then it's when he realizes he wants to marry her? Thank you Jen ♡♡♡♡♡

Hope you like it, bby! And you’re very welcome! The narrative reminds of that Flying Pot fic I also wrote for Nemi tho. 😂🍉🍉🍉

***

Sanemi x F!S/O: Always Her (Fluff, Modern AU, Slight NSFW Scenario)

Warning: Mild Smut, Marking, Daddy Kink

Sanemi almost felt like he was drunk with how heavy and sluggish his entire body felt, but he still trudged up the hallway that led to his apartment— ignoring the faint pounding in his head, and the slight throbbing of his feet all the while.

There was nothing more that he wanted than to get inside his room, and collapse on his bed; nevermind the fact that his stomach had just grumbled in protest, since he hadn’t had the time to eat dinner.

If he had even remembered to do so, he would have stopped by the convenience store to grab a quick meal that he could heat up at home; but he hadn’t, so he was contemplating whether to cook some instant noodles, or to just sleep on an empty stomach.

At that thought, his stomach grumbled once more— telling him that he wouldn’t be able to sleep when all he could think about was having something to eat. So, he resigned himself to having to cook a little bit before heading off to bed.

However, when he got to his door, he instantly picked up the smell of curry wafting from inside his home— and when he unlocked it using the electric keypad, he was hit by the mouthwatering smell of freshly steamed rice as well as spicy curry coming from the kitchen.

Had he not seen his girlfriend’s familiar pair of sneakers by the front door, he would have been alarmed— but, since he had seen it, all he could do was sigh in relief and try not to run over to where she was so he could hold her in his arms.

(Y/n) was supposed to be reviewing really hard for her board exam, yet there she was… slaving away in his kitchen, while quietly humming the tune to an inaudible song. “Hi.”

One smile from her was enough to take away all the tiredness he felt; from the dull ache at the soles of his feet, up to the strain his eyes felt from having graded so many papers throughout the day— everything practically disappeared. And slowly, his lips pulled up at the corners in a lopsided smile.

“Hey yourself,” Sanemi answered softly, just as he closed the distance between him and (Y/n)— putting his hands on either side of her face and pulling her in for a kiss that he had been wanting for the past few days. He would have gone and visited her at her own apartment, but he didn’t want to cut into her studying time; so, he made do with talking to her through video chats, as well as pretending to catch her kisses through the call.

It was highly sappy of him to have done so, and he would have buried himself in a hole out of embarrassment— had anyone found out just how bad he had it for (Y/n)— but it was all he could do to make her smile; so he did it, despite the fact that it went against the whole tough guy persona that was trying to exude.

The moment that his lips touched hers, he had to pull away to savor the taste of her lips on his own— not even bothering to hide the small grin that took over his lips as his heart fluttered inside his chest. “Shouldn’t you be studying at your place?”

“I should, but I figured that you needed me tonight,” She answered with a light laugh, before leaning in and pecking his lips. “It seems my hunch was right.”

Her words brought pause to Sanemi’s entirety. He’d known for a long time that he wanted to marry her, and they had talked about their future plans multiple times before— it was just the fact that the perfect opportunity to ask her hadn’t presented itself yet; not until that moment.

It was either that, or something had clicked inside the young man at that very moment; where a future with (Y/n) was made clearer in his mind with her words.

Sanemi wanted her to be there for him, and stay by his side not just for that night… but for the rest of their lives. He wanted her to be the first thing he saw in the morning, and the last thing he saw at night— and he wanted to be the one that she relied on for anything and everything. He wanted to be so much more than her boyfriend… and ‘husband’ was having a much more appealing tone to him then, as opposed to all the other times he’d broached the subject with her.

After taking a deep breath, he gently rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks— caressing the soft skin beneath the pads of his thumbs, before opening his mouth to finally tell her his thoughts.

“Not just tonight, but always…” He exhaled at that, a shaky one that had him swallowing thickly just to settle the nerves that suddenly crept in inside him. “I’m always going to need you, because you’re the only one for me, (Y/n). It’s always been you… and it’s always going to be you.”

He could feel his tears pricking the backs of his eyes, but he held them back with another shaky exhale. Then, with a hopeful expression completely taking over his features, he asked, “Marry me?”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened at the sudden question, and her heart began to race in her chest— as she took in her boyfriend’s adorably earnest look. She couldn’t even begin to describe how attractive the soft expression on his face was; but it was more than enough to have her feeling all weak in the knees.

Gingerly, her hands lifted themselves up from her sides, moving to clasp Sanemi’s own hands that still cupped her face tenderly. She then lowered his right hand down to her chest— placing his palm on top of her frantically beating heart, while she brought the other one to her lips; kissing the middle of his palm in a tender gesture that had Sanemi’s breath catching in his throat.

“Of course, Sanemi,” The young woman whispered, tightening her grip on both of his hands as she leaned forward and caught his lips in a slow and sensual kiss. “I’d love nothing more than to finally be your wife.”

No matter how hard he tried, Sanemi couldn’t hold back the grin that tipped his lips up at the corners. He also had the urge to let out a cry of victory at (Y/n)’s answer, but tamped the urge down in favor of claiming her lips once more. But, that time, he had no intention of stopping at mere kisses.

He pushed her back against the countertop behind her, placing both of his hands on her waist so that he could slip his fingers beneath her shirt; slowly inching it up until he had managed to slip if over her head. After that, he threw the shirt over his shoulder and dove right back into her— zeroing in on her neck and sucking hickies onto the soft skin.

“Fuck, kitten. You don’t even know how badly I want to fuck you right now,” The silver-haired man whispered against her neck, fanning the fresh love bites with his warm breath, before trailing his neck up her skin in a hot stripe— letting him savor the taste of her even more.

In response, (Y/n) parted her legs and welcomed him between them— locking her ankles together behind him, resting the heels of her feet against his ass so she could pull his hips flush against hers.

She felt the outline of his cock press against her clothed pussy, making her bite down on her bottom lip as she tangled her hands right into Sanemi’s hair. All the while, he trailed his lips lower down her chest, peppering kisses all over her breasts, then pulled her right bra cup aside so he could take one nipple into his mouth.

Meanwhile, his left hand made quick work of the other cup; fondling the other breast in his hand and pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger— alternating between rolling it around between the two digits, as well as flicking it rapidly with his index finger.

(Y/n) moaned aloud at that, involuntarily closing her eyes as pleasure coursed through her entire body at the move. “I- I think I have an-” She gasped when her boyfriend gently bit down on her nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue in a way that made her legs tense up too. “Idea.”

Another grin tipped Sanemi’s lips up at the corners, but he refrained from answering immediately in favor of sucking harder on (Y/n)’s nipple. Her grip on his hair tightened even more, which had him getting harder with every reflexive tug of hers. “You want me to fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes, daddy. Please,” The young woman gasped out in a breath, as she wantonly rubbed her crotch against her lover’s clothed erection; quietly mewling at the feel of his cock through her sweats and his slacks.

However, just as Sanemi trailed his hands down to pull her sweats off of her, (Y/n) quickly let go of her hold on his hair and began tapping on his shoulders. “Wait! Wait! Sanemi!”

He immediately stepped away from her at that, eyes wide with panic as he tried to think of what he could have done to warrant such a reaction from her. But she didn’t even bother to look at him— nor to fix her askew bra— as she jumped off the counter and raced over to where the curry was still on the stove; turning the burner off hastily.

“Oh no, no, no. The curry got burnt!” She cried in horror, after mixing the darker-than-normal dish in the pot.

Sanemi felt bad for being the root cause of her burning her curry, but he couldn’t tamp down the quiet snicker that left his lips— especially as he took in her disheveled appearance— boobs hanging out of her bra, hair mussed up, and love bites littering her neck and chest— as she fussed over the pot.

Truly, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to find a woman like her, even if he scoured the world twice.

And slowly, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her from behind— locking her in his embrace, as he pressed a kiss against the back of her head. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

[highly-opinionated-ramblings]

Batshipping masterpost

Sometimes asking yourself the question “what would it take for me to ship these two characters together?” helps you come up with really really good stories that you otherwise might never have thought of! 

Very fun writing exercise. Do recommend.

ANYWAY. I like Batman, so I asked myself this question about him, and these were the results! 

(Featuring: Catwoman, Riddler, Twoface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Azrael, Mr. Freeze, Clayface, Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Aquaman)

What would it take for me to ship Batman with that character? A few key ingredients: 

If they are/were a villain, a redemption of sorts. A slow process of coming to terms and actively deciding “yeah, that’s not who I am anymore.” 

A connection, a distinct moment where they’re able to talk to Batman as more than just an old enemy or a League ally. A spark that generates interest in developing the relationship further.

An establishment of explicit trust. This usually comes in the form of Bruce revealing his identity to the other and trusting them (maybe tentatively at first, but even so) not to give it away.

An introduction to the kids. I am one hundred percent positive that this is, for the vast majority, not a voluntary action on Batman’s part. But if you raise nine kids to be detectives, you can’t expect to keep secrets from them for long! And once they know you’ve been sleeping with that former villain, you’re going to have to justify that to them somehow.

Then the whole cycle starts again as the villain redeems themselves in the eyes of the kids and gains their trust and acceptance too. Good stuff.

Note: my interpretations of these characters are entirely my own and by no means do all of them line up with any sort of canon. I just sort of do whatever. 

Also: some of the bullet points below address some of the mental health problems in the villains, so proceed at your own discretion.

Catwoman: I really like the Gotham tv show’s dynamic between Bruce and Selina, which is to say, they were childhood friends with an early attraction to one another, but had a falling out sometime around the very beginnings of Bruce actually becoming Batman. She spends a few years as a professional thief. He sends her to prison a few times. But eventually she settles down and opens up a casino or whatever, where she deals information under the table. Alfred and the kids know her these days as an ally rather than enemy. So it’s just a matter of her realizing that her attraction to Bruce is deeper than originally assumed, and that if she wants to be with him she has to really dedicate herself to that idea, and for him to realize that she’s being serious and that he needs to prioritize spending time with her over obsessing over his work.

Bruce takes his mask off dramatically, saying something along the lines of “it’s me, Selina” and she’s like “yeah I know.” “What?” “You do this thing where you pace back and forth and nod your head up and down when you’re thinking. Never known anyone else who did that but Bruce Wayne.” “...Oh.”

Childhood friends interpretation is also great because Alfred already knows her and likes her. And she has all these embarrassing stories about 14 year old Bruce to share, which means that even the most resistant of the kids warm up to her right away.

Riddler: the first line in his Arkham file is that he has an obsessive need for attention. And Bruce KNOWS that. But it takes years for it to occur to him, incredibly sleep-deprived and staring down one of Ed’s death traps that he really, really doesn’t want to deal with today....what would happen if he just, y’know, gives it to him? The attention that he wants? And the results are instantaneous. It’s like the floodgates are open and Ed just can’t stop talking. It starts out snide and derogatory, the same way he usually talks to Batman, but the longer it goes on the more it deteriorates into something oddly helpless and vulnerable. Bruce has been so used to cocky, swaggering Ed that it never really occurred to him that this was someone suffering, who needed help. So he sits down and does his best to convince Ed that he’s not going to take him in (how many times has he been sent to Arkham? And what good has it done him, really?) and they talk. He leaves out of necessity (bank robbery in progress, says Barbara’s voice in his ear) but he goes back the next day, and again after that. Ed gets attention from Bruce without having to resort to crime to get it. Bruce gets a break from head busting and an outlet for some of the stale energy inside his head. They tell each other riddles and play strategy games and get to know each other, for real this time.

Ed stops worrying so much about proving that he’s smarter than Batman. Instead he channels all that energy into uncovering Bruce’s secret identity. It’s just another one of their games. Bruce has kept that secret for a long time and he’s confident he can keep it up, but Ed’s always alert waiting for him to slip up, to leave a clue

Option 1 for how he finds out: he sets up an elaborate trap, making it seem like he’s in danger and the only way to save him is for Bruce to take his mask off, so he does. Ed is outraged. “REALLY? BRUCE WAYNE? FUCKING REALLY?” he yells, dropping all pretense of being in danger. The robots he made for this setup drop like puppets with cut strings. Bruce gets ready to Fight.

Option 2: Some other villain reveals Bruce’s identity before he gets the chance (Arkhamverse style). Ed is outraged. “HOW DARE YOU LET ANYONE ELSE BUT ME DO THAT” he yells while Bruce tries his best to ignore him and focus on calling the JL to fix the whole situation somehow

Option 3: Bruce just tells him. Ed is outraged. “I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO FIGURE IT OUT YOU IDIOT”

The kids are Not Happy about Bruce dating Gotham’s Most Annoying Super Villain

Twoface: again I gotta go with the whole ‘they were friends when they were younger and Bruce had a raging crush on him’ setup. Cause that adds a whole layer to Bruce’s part of the story, watching Harvey become Twoface and assuming responsibility for locking him up every time he gets out. One day something happens in Gotham- string of murders or something, it’s not important really what it is. Bruce goes after the person responsible and his trail leads him to Harvey. So he busts into the safe house, intending to intimidate anything Harvey knows out of him, and then throw him back in Blackgate. “Ohohoho, noooooo, you got this all wrong,” Harvey says when he figures out what Batman’s getting at. “That motherfucker put a dozen of my men in the ground. This is personal. You want me to tell you what I know, you’re going to take me with you.” And Bruce agrees. Cause he knows Harvey’s got a certain moral code that he can be trusted to stick to, and it’s the most painless way of getting what he wants from him anyway. Working with Harvey is weird, though. He shoots a couple of goons going after Batman and gives him that lopsided smile, says “I’ve got your back,” and suddenly Bruce is like 20 again and Harvey is bringing him a coffee, smiling. During their chase they have a dramatic rooftop showdown with whoever it is they’re chasing. Bruce turns around just in time to see one of the thugs push Twoface over the edge. He gets caught up in the moment and practically screams, “Harvey!” Of course, he’s able to dramatically swoop in and save him, though it’s a pretty close call. When Harvey comes to he sits up and says quietly, “It’s been a long time since anyone’s called my name like that, did we have that kind of relationship?” and Bruce panics and tries to brush it off as his imagination, but Harvey shakes his head and says “once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it, man. It’s you under there, isn’t it, Bruce?” And it turns out that knowing Bruce’s real identity turned out to be exactly what Harvey needed. Cause he can identify some of the duality he feels about himself in Batman, now. They spend some more time together, talking some of that out, and it doesn’t take long for Bruce’s crush to return en force.

Poison Ivy: He lets her go. He knew she was at that scene, and she knows he saw her, but he lets her go, cause it wasn’t a big deal. No one died, relatively little property damage, and that jerk deserved it anyway. The next day there’s a potted plant sitting on GCPD’s doorstep and they call Batman thinking it might be dangerous, but it’s just a lovely specimen of a rare flower, which he knows is her way of saying thanks. (He doesn’t let the police know that, though. He just puts it in the back of the Batmobile and tells them it’s nothing he can’t handle). He takes it home with him and treats it well. And she knows it, can kind of sense it, distantly. They have a few more run ins over the course of the next few months and they take it easy on each other, having this sort of mutually unspoken agreement. Eventually something happens for her to need to talk to Batman, so she digs her roots in deep and finds that flower...in the garden at Wayne Manor. She leaves a message for Batman and they meet up and talk about whatever she needed. She doesn’t mention the Manor, so he asks about it. She just shrugs and mentions something about Bruce Wayne’s recent efforts in protecting the environment. “Maybe we’re not as different as I thought, after all.” They give each other more little presents from afar. One day she sees him hanging around (where she knows he knows she can see him), and drops by to talk. He offers her a ride home and ends up spending the night.

This one I think he owns up to before the kids can figure it out. Pam’s a good source of information, and if he was desperate he’d call her even with all of them watching. They’d all think he’d been bewitched, of course. It’d take a while to convince them all otherwise.

Harley Quinn: all it takes is for him to get his first glimpse of the real her and decide that Joker victims need to stick together and help other Joker victims. After the breakup and the subsequent recovery, she’s living free (albeit under Constant Surveillance) in Gotham, and he checks in every once in a while, just to make sure she’s doing ok and not reverting to her previous, Joker-driven, rocket-fueled bad habits. One day there’s an incident in her neighborhood- maybe someone was going after her and Bruce was there protecting her, or maybe it wasn’t related to her at all. Regardless, it’s her who finds him after the explosion and takes him home and gives him first aid. He’s groggy and panicky when he first wakes up in a strange place (not a hospital, not the cave) with an IV drip in his arm (he’s not in a hospital, where did that come from!). It gets worse when he realizes that his mask was blown right off his face in the blast. It gets SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE when Harley appears in his field of vision, waving around a tablet pulled up to Bruce Wayne’s wikipedia page, in full psychologist mode, ranting about how he’s been going about dealing with his childhood trauma All Wrong. But they talk, and she promises not to give his secret away. “What would I have to gain from that? You’d stop coming to visit me then!” It takes a while for the two of them to figure out exactly what’s going on between them but once they’re both sure the others’ intentions are good, they develop a good, strong relationship.

Bonus points if, at any point in the above time space, she walks up to him one day and hands him an unmarked usb drive. “What’s on this?” “My daughter.” “What.” “My daughter! Her location and everything about her.” “Is she...Joker’s?” “I dunno. Could have been him or any one of a number of other guys. Mistah J threw some really wild parties. *shrug* The only part that really matters to me is that she’s mine. And if anything ever happens to me, she’ll need someone to look out for her, y’know?” “And that’s me???” “Well, helping people in need is one of your compulsions, after all. Especially kids, or else you wouldn’t have so many of your own.” 

I usually imagine Jason as one of the ones kind of sticking up for Batman, citing how crime has all but disappeared since he started sleeping with whatever particular villain and that who are they to police who Bruce shares his bed with anyway (BONUS bonus points if he’s just entering the early stages of coming to terms with his own bisexuality and never realized that Bruce was bi, too), but that wouldn’t be the case with Harley. He’d feel pretty hurt about that, I think. On the other hand: Dick has been around since Harley’s debut on the scene, and has always thought of her as relatively harmless and even respected her to a degree, as a fellow acrobat, so he’s cool with her dating Bruce

Azrael: His JL team goes on hiatus for a little while, so he calls Bruce up like “uhhh, I don’t really have much of anywhere else to go, so can I come back to Gotham for a while?” And Bruce tells him that they’re actually experiencing a pretty calm stretch for a change, but yeah, he can come if he wants. At first he’s excited because he’s never been invited to the actual, og Batcave, but there really IS nothing going on. He meets Alfred, who offers him tea. He meets Steph and Tim, out of masks, lounging on the couch playing Street Fighter. They assure him that if literally anything happens, one of their gajillion alert systems will let them know. He goes off in search of Bruce, finds him sitting at the kitchen table making his way through a veritable mountain of paperwork. Eventually he admits that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself in the downtime. “I usually try to use time like this to do things for Bruce Wayne, instead of for Batman,” Bruce explains. “You should do something for Michael Lane, while you have the chance.” “But...but...but I’ve been Azrael full-time for years now...” “Alright, well, what did you like to do before you were Azrael?” “UHH...” Before he can short-circuit too much trying to come up with an actual answer to that question, Bruce puts aside his paperwork and takes his arm. They get in the car and Bruce takes him to like a hobby shop or something. They buy model kits and a cookbook and some yarn (”one of the kids can teach you”), and he promises that one of these days they’ll clear some space on the lawn to play football. Michael hasn’t experienced this level of anyone caring for his well-being probably ever? and all he can do is stammer something about “is there anything I can do for Bruce Wayne in return?” “You can keep me company while I file all my paperwork, I guess.” So he sits at the table across from Bruce and builds his little ATAT model kit feeling happier than he has in a long time. Bruce can tell that a little more attention would do him good, so they spend some more time hanging out which leads to having some deep conversations and building up feelings for each other, it’s all very cute

Right at the beginning of Michael developing his crush on Bruce he realizes that something’s different, but doesn’t quite realize what it is, and his mind jumps to the worst case scenario right away. He locks himself in his room, calls Bruce at work, panicking, and says he thinks his St. Dumas brainwashed obsession with Bruce might be coming back. Bruce tells him to calm down, they’ll run some tests. All the tests come back negative, but Michael is visibly shaken, so Bruce offers for him to hang around Gotham a little longer so they can monitor him, which is what leads to his extended stay in Gotham

Mr. Freeze: One day something changes. One day the realization finally, finally clicks into place. There’s a huge floating JL base in the sky and aliens living on Earth and people coming back from the dead and healing from miraculous injuries and plagues all the time. If it was going to happen to him, it would have happened by now. It’s over. Nora’s not coming back. That day he laces up his boots and loads his gun and walks over to the little diner on the corner and wrecks it. Batman gets the call, and obviously he knows that something’s different, this isn’t Vic’s MO, but he goes anyway, of course. Vic blasts away at him with his freeze gun, wildly, recklessly, screaming and ranting the whole time. Bruce dodges out of view, and Vic transfers his aggressions to the nearest object in sight: a table. He blasts that thing in half, and then in half again, and keeps going until it’s nothing but splinters and he’s just standing there, gasping for breath. “Victor,” says Bruce from behind him, “tell me what’s wrong.” “Nora’s dead,” Vic mumbles under his breath. Bruce comes around to face him and Vic is looking at him with THE SADDEST puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. (I know what you’re thinking right now. “Mr. Freeze can’t do puppy dog eyes.” You’re WRONG, I’m telling you) “That’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud, I think... I d-don’t...I don’t know what to do…” and Bruce is like, darn, I can’t take this fool to jail. So he brings him back to his chilly lair instead and sits him down and talks him through it a little. Leaves him with a phone number to call if it gets real bad again, but makes the first call to check up on him later anyway. This one is a sloooow burn, it takes Vic MONTHS to get over Nora, couple weeks to realize he MIGHT? be developing feelings for Bruce, couple more weeks to wrestle with the guilt of that. Learning Bruce’s identity is the thing that really brings all of it to a head. Maybe there’s an attempt on Bruce Wayne’s life and later that day Batman shows up with the same pattern of lacerations on his cheek, or broken leg, or whatever. Vic’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. When Bruce finally takes off the helmet in front of him, it’s a huge relief. To be able to say “I know what it’s like to lose people” and for Vic to know he’s not just talking about heroing. They get closer and closer from there. Their relationship is a weird one, with a lot of compromises to make, but they do the best they can.

The kids don’t particularly mind Bruce going out with Vic. He’s not so much a villain as he is just a guy who’s been dealt a bad hand in life and done the best he could with it. But having around makes the already-cool cave soooo much colder, which isn’t so fun.

Clayface: There hasn’t been an incident with Clayface in years. He’s older, little calmer, little more mature (I like the New 52 plotline of him joining Kate’s crime busting team, but this little scenario works even without that part thrown in). Still, when Bruce hears he’s back in town, he figures he should probably pay him a visit anyway. Just in case he’s planning something. But he goes to the address he was given, some apartment building in Kingston, opens the door, and finds Basil. Not Clayface, Basil Karlo, sitting in a chair by the window reading a paper. “Haven’t seen that face on you in a while,” he says, still unsure if it’s a trick or not. “Oh,” Basil shrugs, unsure if he should be worried about being tossed in jail again or not. “Well, it’s my face. The one I’m most familiar with, takes the least amount of concentration to keep up with. I did make some changes, though, see? Few gray hairs, few lines on my face. Do I look older?” “Yes. It’s a good look.” He keeps checking in with him, cause you can never be too careful, and then because he actually starts to enjoy Basil’s company. Their relationship is one of the more light-hearted ones on this list. They get wine drunk and make out on the roof of the apartment building, very giggly.

“If I learned anything at Arkham, it’s that there are some things that you know are wrong with you, but there are also things that are wrong with you that you aren’t even aware of, and that you couldn’t identify or fix even if you tried.” “One of the psychologists told you that?” “No. I shared a cell with Tetch for a few weeks. That dude is so much more messed up than you realize.”

Superman: Clark calls him up saying something about a mystery in Metropolis that has everyone stumped, and maybe the World’s Greatest Detective wouldn’t mind helping him out? So Bruce drops by to lend him a hand. The ‘mystery’ turns out to be a group of unfamiliar aliens who’re out to get Superman (I don’t care why. Maybe they’re holding some kind of grudge, maybe they’re bounty hunters, maybe they want to sell him off into space-gladiator slavery, whatever). These antagonistic aliens have been very careful in their preparations- they’ve done all the math, and come up with special weapons specifically designed to hit Superman hard enough to knock him out. But they didn’t plan on Batman being there with him, which throws them off just enough that Superman is able to chase them off successfully. In the midst of that fight, though, Bruce takes a hit. A hit calculated for Superman. It breaks several of his ribs and punctures a lung. Clark panics, scoops him up and flies him to the nearest hospital at record speeds. They’re able to stabilize him at Metropolis, and then they send him back to the Watchtower for further treatment. When he wakes up he’s pretty disoriented and confused, but Clark (who had been listening for a change in his breathing and heartbeat from a couple rooms away) comes rushing in, ushering him back to bed and promising to explain everything. Bruce is woozy and wonky enough from whatever drugs they gave him that he lays back down and lets Clark hold his hand protectively without argument. He listens to Clark’s explanation, mumbles something about calling Alfred, and promptly falls back asleep. Clark feels so guilty about his injury that he won’t leave his side for weeks, even following him back to Gotham once he’s well enough to leave the Watchtower.

“God, when will they finally just kiss already,” Jason says, taking cover with the rest of the family in the cave. “I know, right,” says Steph while Tim, Cass, and Duke (and Alfred) all nod in agreement. “SHUT UP,” yells Damian, having a hard time adapting to the idea of his dad and his best friend’s dad getting together

Any Superbat is good Superbat but I enjoy it best in the context of ‘they’re old enough by now to be embarrassed about how angsty and competitive they were when they first met, and they both have huge extended families, and the rest of the JL has been watching them dance around each other for YEARS, JUST KISS ALREADY DAMMIT’

Wonder Woman: I don’t usually imagine Bruce as a flustered kind of guy, but Wonder Woman is everything he wants to be when he grows up and he can’t help it. She’s so effortlessly cool, calm, and collected. And she’s a natural charmer, the public loves her. She always manages to come at things with a fresh perspective that has helped unstick his too-logical train of thought numerous times. She paid him a compliment once and he sat in the batmobile in the parking lot thinking about it for like twenty minutes. One day they get assigned to a League PR thing together that turns into an assassination attempt (surprising no one), but everything turns out ok. Minor damage to the surrounding buildings, a few people injured in the mass chaos, that’s all. She goes looking for him after returning from talking to the local cops, and finds him with a toddler girl on his hip, holding hands with her six yo sister, helping them look for their parents. And she just has to stop and marvel for a minute at how soft his voice is??? How the toddler isn’t even crying??? He bends down to hug the little girl bye after returning her to her fam and Diana almost has a heart attack. “I see that the gods have blessed you with an affinity for children of all ages,” she says. By the time he straightens back up he’s Batman again. “What do you mean by that?” “I can never get kids to warm up to me like that in situations like these...I always thought it was because I was just too big and imposing. How did you do it?” “Oh. Well. You know. *gestures vaguely* You just gotta give them what they want.” “And what is that?” “Security. A promise of safety from an adult that they can trust.” She doesn’t quite get it but she watches him, and talks to his sidekicks sometimes. It amazes her how much kindness and love are hidden under that mask of his. When he smiles from the heart he could melt glaciers. So she starts to press, just a little, just to see how he’ll respond. And once she figures out exactly how flustered he can get, too, it’s all downhill from there.

Martian Manhunter: This one is literally one of the sweetest, most pure relationship dynamics I think I’ve ever written, which really caught me by surprise! The way I think of it is like this: When they first meet, Bruce is really, really uncomfortable with the idea of having J’onn in his head, so J’onn tries to keep telecommunication with him to a minimum. So when Bruce gets his attention during like a meeting or something and subtly lets him know he needs to talk, J’onn knows it must be important. So he opens up a private channel and helps Bruce deal with whatever it is (I don’t know exactly what that would be, only that it’d be some kind of sensitive topic best kept between the two of them). And over the course of that, all those one-on-one mind convos, Bruce starts to get used to talking like that with J’onn. In return, while they’re working together, he helps J’onn get used to human physical contact. It starts with small things- handshakes, little pats on the shoulder- until J’onn is comfortable returning them. One day J’onn has a bad day and it’s Bruce that comes to find him, to comfort him. He doesn’t really say anything, just puts his arms around J’onn and holds him close. Most humans- and hell, even most Martians- wouldn’t have done that for him. What else was J’onn supposed to do but fall in love with him?

I really liked the scene in JL8 where J’onn was trying to, like, share a memory with Bruce or something, and instead he ended up unintentionally stumbling into some of Bruce’s trauma memories, which freaked both of them out pretty badly. I think that little scene would fit quite nicely into this scenario. Bonus, if it happens in the really early days of the League, it doubles as the moment when J’onn first learns Bruce’s secret identity.

Flash: It’s been a longtime headcanon of mine that Barry is very active in the Central City community, not just as Flash, but as himself, too. Namely, he spends a good deal of his free time volunteering with the local homeless shelter slash food bank. I mean, come on, just by the very nature of his powers, is it any surprise that he has a vested interest in ending hunger in his community? One day he stops Bruce in the hall in the Watchtower, and clumsily explains that he needs to ask a favor. The shelter has been looking to expand their operations for some time, but right at the last second one of their backers pulled out. They’re short 7k for the payment on the property they needed to make tomorrow, and Barry didn’t know where else to turn to get that much money that quickly. He promises to pay him back, somehow, eventually. Bruce cuts him a check right there for 10k, and tells him to consider it a gift. Later he even publicly endorses the program on social media, saying he thinks Gotham should implement something similar. Barry invites him down to see the building he paid for, so Bruce rolls up his sleeves and spends the day volunteering with him. It’s a chance for both of them to see a side of the other that they’ve never seen before. Bruce watches Barry shine like a ray of sunshine, bringing light and laughter to a room full of people at their very lowest. Barry watches Bruce inspire trust and confidence in complete strangers, like magic. Not to mention, that smile- Barry tries not to use his powers out in the open if he can avoid it, but he discreetly flashes over to stop a tray or something from falling, and of course it doesn’t escape Bruce’s notice. He grins at Barry from across the room and Barry’s heart fully stops for a second.

I like to think of Bruce as a little older than Barry. Just a little, just a few years. Just enough that Barry always feels like an inexperienced, incompetent baby in the face of The Batman

This one throws the kids for such a loop once they find out about it. “THIS is what you’re attracted to, Bruce? THIS???”

Green Lantern: what I know about Hal is that he’s sassy. And what I know about Bruce is that if anyone he doesn’t have the ability to tell to go to their room is sassy with him, he gets snippy. So he and Hal butt heads a lot. One day Hal is venting to Superman in like, an elevator or something about how Bruce just Doesn’t Get It, Clark, He Doesn’t Understand Me, and Clark says, “well, Hal, can you honestly say that you understand him, either?” And suggests that maybe he should spend some more time actually getting to know Bruce before passing judgement. Hal takes that to mean ‘maybe I should go to Gotham and spy on Batman for a day’. When he spots him doing his best to hide inconspicuously on a nearby rooftop, Bruce rolls his eyes and ignores him. Dick spots him too, though, and invites him to the cave in hopes that maybe they’ll be able to settle whatever their argument was about (Jason, Tim, and Steph break out the popcorn and get themselves front row seats for the Drama). But in the end, an up-close perspective was exactly what Hal needed to realize that there was more to Batman than had been meeting his eye. He watches Bruce juggle ten different comm feeds while giving a press conference AND directing his kids’ efforts in the field at the same time, and he earns a new respect for Bruce. He gets where he’s coming from now, and why he’s always so cautious all the time. The guy has a lot to lose. So he mans up and apologizes. Bruce accepts the apology graciously, says he realizes that they’re fundamentally different people but that he values Hal as a comrade and respects his prowess with the ring, and Hal is like, ‘ah. We Are Friends Now.’ He spends more of his time on Earth with Bruce, and along the way he trips and falls headlong into a debilitating crush on him. Like, a visibly obvious crush. Bruce finds it adorable.

Green Arrow: Bruce and Ollie get invited to the same billionaire shindig one day and neither of them can think of a good enough reason to not go. Ollie’s recovering from a bad ankle sprain, and Bruce hasn’t slept in days, so instead of socializing with anyone else there they just sit in the corner and hang out with each other. Midway through the event Bruce closes his eyes and does this forceful little sigh through his nose. Ollie knows him well enough by now to know that small outward signs indicate big amounts of internal emotions with Bruce, and this is about as frustrated as he’s ever seen him out of mask. Normally his act is impenetrable. “What,” he asks, imagination running full speed ahead thinking about what might have happened, “what’s wrong?” “Firefly just broke out of prison,” Bruce growls, reaching for a refill of whatever he’s drinking. “Wh- Wait, who?” “Pyromaniac, serial arsonist in Gotham.” “How exactly did you learn this?” (read: do you have some kind of spider sense I don’t know about?) Bruce just gestures to his microscopic earpiece. Ollie offers, probably against his better judgement, to take a trip to Gotham and help catch Firefly. Bruce, barely able to see straight at that point (bad combination of sleeplessness and alcohol), accepts. So Ollie gets the full treatment, a trip to the cave and tea from Alfred and a haranguing from the kids and a trip to Blackgate with Firefly, even. In return he offers to have Bruce over in Star City sometime. Ollie is usually a little on edge around Bruce, but then he starts to see the real him and finds out that he does, in fact have a sense of humor. They have goofy adventures together and it’s all very cute

Aquaman: Arthur is hotheaded and when he gets in a Mood, the sight of Bruce and his stupid unmovable face just makes him angrier. But once during a mission, when Arthur is busy working himself into a panic, not knowing what to do, it’s Bruce that snaps him out of it. Grabs him by the shoulders and demands that he get a hold of himself. And it’s enough of a shock that it actually works- Bruce tells Arthur the plan, and Arthur does it without argument. No one is more surprised when it works than he is. He is SHOOK. Eventually he swallows his pride enough to go up to Batman and admit, “I think I’m still too emotionally invested in this, can you help me?” Bruce agrees, of course. He does his best to explain how he always keeps his emotions in check, especially when lives are on the line. It occurs to Arthur to wonder what kind of toll that takes on a person. He decides that Bruce could probably use a little vacation of sorts, and invites him to spend a day with him in Atlantis. A day in the life of a king, if you will. Bruce rolls his eyes and agrees, just to play along, but he ends up really enjoying it. Yes, there are a dozen-odd irons in the fire waiting for him when he gets home, but this time he finds that he actually has the energy to deal with them for once. Which is a good enough excuse to go back and do it again, and spend more time with Arthur in the process.

Dami is usually super resistant to Bruce dating anyone, but he would be ok with Arthur, I think. Like, “you bagged a king? Ok, respect”

Extra notes:

I feel like a lot of my thoughts about Clayface and Martian Manhunter specifically could also apply to Killer Croc, too, in a way. I mean, he’s not EVIL. He’s just never really been treated like a person, and so he embraced his image as Killer Croc instead of continuing to face that rejection. But if anyone can look past his exterior and see the needs of the man within, Bruce could. Feels a little weird to think about but maybe there’s something there.

Polyshipping is GREAT may I interest you in some ot3s??? SuperWonderBat is one of the more obvious ones, and I love it (cause Diana gets to play with TWO flustered boys) but BatLanternFlash is also top tier. And then there’s the villains! RiddleBatCat is one of my favorites! Also TwoRiddleBat and BruHarlIvy. The possibilities are endless!

I considered adding Lex and Slade to this post, but in the end I left them off. Cause it’s hard for me to see those as anything but weird, inherently unhealthy relationships. They’d make great black ships though : o

When talking about Bruce dating someone else from the JL, there’s DOUBLE the kids to embarrass. Can you imagine you’re like, Roy Harper or something, somebody’s sidekick, and you walk in and find BATMAN in bed with your mentor???? WILD

This post really got away from me, haha. Thanks for reading! Hit me up if you ever need someone to talk about Batshipping with (especially rarepairs, I got you fam)!