#tepid ass environment

[32kills]

can you tell my artstyle changed halfway

[kicksnscribs]

so ive been thinking about a post i saw about social media addiction and how it will literally make your brain rot away chasing validation and connection through these apps and have come to the decision that i am going to severely limit my social media consumption from now on.

ive lost so much to the time ive spent scrolling these sites trying to fond something that it could never give to me in the first place. I dont believe in the grind mindset therefore im bot going to post or work nearly as hard as the rest of my artist peers to stay relevant in this environment and im not going to allow that to fuck up my mentality any more bc of it.

Coupled with the revelation that ive been suffering from BPD for years now and currently am trying to get a proper diagnosis in addition to medication to try and tale back what little of my life i have left ive realized that life is too short to spend on reading tepid ass takes on stupid arguments that have no merit whatsoever, rage bait articles, purity politics, guilt tripping posts and grown ass adults taking WAY too much time to argue and attempt to prove their superiority to teenagers.

im not sure what im going to do specifically going forward from here, i may just stick with Cara and Discord since they provide more control to what im being exposed to (somewhat, and thats provided Cara survives its first winter so to speak). Or maybe ill just abandoned the blog entirely. I still havent figured out that angle yet.

mutuals know where else to find me, and ill update the links in this post and pin it to my blog in the event that people want to keep in touch, but yeah i think me and social media need to take a LOOONG break away from one another for the time being.

[kindahoping4forever]

Hot N Cold // Ashton Irwin

Both @cal-puddies and I had to endure disgusting heatwaves last week (it was literally 99 degrees before noon for me) and were laughing that we co-wrote a hot weather trope fic and it turns out, being this warm is not sexy. I took it a step further and declared that I was so uncomfortable I wouldn’t let Ashton near me and Cass was like bitch please and instantly proved me a liar by suggesting a scenario that I eventually spun into this entirely self-indulgent fic. (Exposing screenshots available upon request 😂🤡)

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash, slight soft!dom Ash, female receiving oral sex/rimming, ice play, unprotected sex within established relationship, gratuitous mentions of Ash with a beard and in basketball shorts because I am a 🤡, I truly cannot express how self-indulgent this is.

Word Count: 4.9k exactly! (And I can never thank Cass enough for being a problem solving, editing queen because otherwise this legit could’ve easily been 10k, I was out of control and have officially been dubbed “the Stephen King of smut”)

Cass & Crystal’s Collab Masterlist

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

Sign up for my taglist!

————-

You tap on the thermostat display, hoping that the numbers you’re reading are a mistake.

“Babe, it’s digital, that’s not gonna do anything,” Ashton calls from across the room.

You make a face and continue staring in disbelief. Last week when you invited your boyfriend to stay with you while his home underwent plumbing repairs, you had no idea there would be a heatwave sweeping the city. And as if the heat wasn’t bad enough, a thunderstorm was also predicted so it’s not just hot but humid, which drives you absolutely crazy.

You usually find it cozy when Ash stays at yours, your modest apartment a quaint contrast to his luxurious house. But waking up next to him in your full size bed (a far cry from the king size at his place), with you both already drenched in sweat put you in a sour mood and as the day progresses, along with the temperature, your mood has only gotten worse.

“How could the outside temperature and the inside temperature be that similar, what the fuck,” you grumble.

“It only feels that bad because now you know how hot it actually is, babe,” he suggests, coming up and wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, lightly scraping at it with his beard.

You roll your eyes. “No, it feels that bad because it is that bad, babe,” you huff, shrugging his arms off of you. In quick succession, he smirks and then pouts at your brush-off. “Ash, I swear to god, why does it seem like the second it gets above a certain temperature, you get super affectionate just to spite me?”

He grins and reaches for you, pulling you into an embrace once more. “Aww, baby, it’s not out of spite,” he laughs. “I just think you’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Ash squeezes you tight, swaying softly as he kisses the top of your head. Normally you would find yourself melting into his touch but today you just feel like you’re literally melting. 

“You’re about to think I’m really fucking adorable then because I’m gonna flip out if you don’t get away from me,” you gripe, wriggling out of his grasp. 

You decide to take a cool shower but you’re not surprised to find that it’s so hot outside, the water doesn't get any cooler than lukewarm. You let your frustrated mind wander as it runs over your sweat-covered skin. Of course the heatwave would have to be this weekend. Of course it was unexpected so all your fans are still in storage and of course all the stores in the area are sold out of their stock. Of course you live in an apartment that only has a small air conditioner that’s basically useless. Of course Ashton is annoyingly unaffected by the heat and of course you know it’s unreasonable of you to direct your hostility toward him but… seriously, it’s so annoying. Despite your agitated thoughts and the tepid water, by shower’s end, you have to admit you feel relieved. 

Ash’s back is turned when you approach the kitchen. Now that both your body and your temper have had a chance to cool, you’re much more appreciative of his presence. You stand in the doorway, admiring his considerable build: how broad his back looks even as he hunches over, digging through a drawer, how the narrow cut of his tank top makes his shoulders look even larger than usual, how his favorite basketball shorts cling to his ass. By the time his arms start flexing as he stirs what looks like a pitcher of sweet tea, you’re padding over to him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Heyyy,” he chuckles, slinging an arm around you and bringing you to his side. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“Better, cooler and nicer,” you declare, pecking at his chest to prove your point. “Sorry I was being a mega bitch.”

He snorts. “No offense but when I saw the heat advisory on my phone last night, I kind of knew what I was gonna be up against.”

You pinch his arm, half offended. “No, my love, I could never think of you as a mega bitch,” you offer the reply you would’ve preferred, in a mocking voice. 

He shakes his head with a smile. “Would I have gone to this much trouble if I really thought that of you?” He gestures towards the living room where he’s spread your spare comforter on the floor in front of the AC; two cold cut sandwiches, a tub of leftover macaroni salad from yesterday’s dinner and a fresh bag of your favorite chips sit on the coffee table. 

You enjoy your “picnic” and continue lounging in front of the AC long after you’re finished eating. Ashton returns from clearing your dishes to discover you sprawled out on your stomach, complaining that you sat on the floor too long and your entire body feels numb. 

He cocks an eyebrow as he lays down next to you and lands a hard smack across your ass. You yelp but honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. You glare at him, unimpressed.

“Just trying to help,” he shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Mmm hmm, sure,” you giggle, turning to face him. “Quick question, why are you like this?” 

He pulls you closer. “Don’t act like it’s just me, I felt you ogling me in the kitchen,” he teases. “I know you’re turned on, look how hard your nipples are.” He grabs a handful of your breast and pinches to emphasize his point.

You snort laugh, “I’ve been sitting in front of an air conditioner, you dummy.” 

He makes a sheepish face and you both crack up. Your joint giggle fit easily transitions into a comfortable, lazy makeout session. You’re about to finally reach your hand inside his shorts when you both pull away after hearing a noise. It takes only a few seconds of humid air on your skin for you to realize that the AC has stopped. “The power’s gone out,” you announce, gently pushing his body off of you so that you can go flip the circuit breakers. “Maybe we had the air on for too long?”

A few minutes later, Ash joins you in the kitchen, where you’re fiddling with the breaker box. “Nothing,” you tell him, frowning at the panel.

“Seems like it’s the whole complex, all your neighbors are out wandering around,” he reports. “Maybe a rolling blackout from the heat? Or I guess it could be the storm? Looked like the signal at the end of the street was out.”

“Fantastic,” you seethe.

Ash reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to your clenched fist. “It’ll be fine, baby, this is just a good excuse for us to order dinner. And the sun will be going down soon, so it’ll have to cool off!"

You nod slowly, not believing him but appreciating the effort. "You just don't want me to be mean to you again," you tease.

You start looking for your lanterns and candles in case the power doesn't come back before nightfall. Which of course, it doesn’t. And despite Ashton's optimism, it doesn't cool off much either. You know the heat must actually be extreme when even he starts commenting on it.

He spots your cooler in the closet and offers to run down to the corner gas station and grab some ice to fill it with so you could at least have cold drinks. It doesn’t make much of a difference to you but you know he’s trying to do anything he can to make you more comfortable, so you tell him it’s a great idea. 

He returns quickly, triumphantly lifting up a comically large party bag of ice with one hand. "This was the only size they had," he explains. You smile softly and kiss his shoulder in silent thanks as you pass by on your way to gather the drinks.

The rest of the evening is uneventful. You attempt a candlelit dinner, but you both quickly agree it’s more impractical than romantic and replace the candles with your bright ass camping lantern. 

You make it an early night, not because you're tired but because you need the day to end. You thought fresh sheets sounded cooling but when Ash enters the bedroom, he finds you sitting defeatedly in the middle of the half-made bed and in the dim candlelight, he can’t tell if it’s sweat or frustrated tears he spies falling down your face. “OK, that’s enough,” he announces, reaching for your arm to drag you up from the bed. “You’re getting in the shower, I’m dealing with this.”

You’re pleased to find the water has cooled and the candles you have illuminating the bathroom makes for a much more relaxing environment than your previous shower. You haven’t been in long when you feel Ash’s beard scratching your back as he presses small kisses to your shoulders. You smile to yourself and face him, wrapping your arms around him. “You had to put up with a lot from me today,” you start. You peck along his neck and jaw, landing at his lips, which you kiss softly. “I just want you to know I appreciate it.” 

He holds you against him. “It was a long, shit day,” he shrugs. “I was just sorry to see you having such a bad time. Wanted to do what I could."

You lean in and you make out sweetly, enjoying the feel of each other's lips and the cool water. You feel him start to dip his hands in between your legs but you gently push them away. "I'm good, baby, just wanted to thank you." You peck his lips and leave him to finish showering.

You’re in the middle of putting lotion on when you feel Ashton’s hands on you again; he hasn’t even bothered with a towel, as if he couldn’t waste a second moving from the shower back to your body.

"Ashhhh,” you giggle. “I promise I’m fine… and where’s your towel? You’re dripping everywhere.”

His hand has found its way between your legs again and he swipes a finger through your folds. “Well, I’m not the only one,” he quips. "I knew you were getting riled up over there." He sucks and nibbles at your neck, causing you to groan. "Baby, you've been stressed all day. Let me get you off, it's the least I can do."

You sigh and nod, unable to deny the way you’re throbbing for his attention; he lifts you onto the bathroom counter and you find yourself almost involuntarily spreading your legs for him. “That’s my good girl,” he coos, kissing your inner thighs, running his beard along them the way he knows you like. He uses the tip of his tongue to flick at your clit, chuckling to himself as you instantly shudder and tangle your fingers in his wet hair.  

You pant heavily while he flattens his wide tongue and laps at your pussy. By the time his lips wrap around your clit, you’re bucking up onto his face, begging him for more.

You’re puzzled when he suddenly draws you down from the counter and pushes you over it, remaining on his knees. He spreads your legs again and swirls his tongue around your clit; he then licks all the way from your clit to your asshole, fluttering his tongue over it several times. A guttural whine rips through your throat.

“That a good noise, baby?” Ash asks, kneading your ass in his hands. “Want me to keep going?” 

All you can manage is a pitifully whimpered “Uh-huh” and he smirks to himself as he dives back in, spreading your cheeks with his thumbs and rolling his tongue over your tight ring. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on and it’s overwhelming, the added sensation of his beard making it even more stimulating. You nearly shriek when his hand starts working your clit.

“Please Ash... yeah… oh FUCK...” Nonsense spills from your lips as he licks you and you can’t help but roll your hips against his hand. His mouth pauses for a second and you’re about to complain when suddenly he’s pressing his tongue inside your hole. “Jesus Christ, Ash!” You cry out, white knuckling the edge of the counter.

He groans in response to your outburst and you can feel the vibrations of it as he pushes his tongue in further. You reach back and grab at his hair, desperate for something to hold onto, desperate to pull him even closer. His tongue darts in and out of your ass while his fingers rub tight, relentless circles around your clit. 

Your orgasm hits you without warning and for a second, you’re not sure if you’re going to live through it; your entire body shakes, your legs feel like jelly and your eyes are squeezed shut so tight you’re seeing stars. He reaches his free hand up to support you and continues to lick and rub you as it goes on, even as your fingers viciously yank at his hair.

You let yourself slump over the counter, enjoying the cool feeling of the marbling on your heated skin. You feel Ash’s lips softly kissing up your back and his hand stroking your hair. “You did so good, baby, thank you,” he praises, rubbing your back. “Thought you deserved a treat after the day you've had.”

“That was… wow?” You rasp, surprised at your voice’s scratchiness; you didn’t realize you were screaming but you must have been judging from how wrecked you sound. “ ‘M all sweaty though, gonna need to rinse off again,” you laugh.

“Oops,” his giggle echoes through the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He helps you stand upright and presses a kiss to your head. You note that he’s fairly hard but he leaves the room before either of you mention it.

You enter the bedroom a few minutes later and discover it empty; you’ve just pulled on a cotton slip nightgown when your shirtless boyfriend appears, carrying two bottles of water and two cups filled with ice. He sits yours on the nightstand and wanders over to where you’re towel drying your hair. You lovingly roll your eyes as he immediately wraps his arms around you; he’s changed back into his shorts and they’re doing nothing to disguise the erection you noticed in the bathroom. 

“Always love this nightgown on you,” he breathes, mouth biting at your earlobe, hands running up and down your sides. “Do you remember you wore it the first time you stayed over at mine?”

You smile at the memory. “And I thought you only liked it because it’s see-through in the light,” you tease, spinning out of his hold. You love him like this so you don’t want to outright reject him but you also can’t imagine having sex in this sweltering bedroom and aren’t about to take your fourth shower of the day.

You prop your pillows up so you can drink your ice water and check your phone while you still have some battery left. Ash sits next to you and you can already feel the heat radiating off of him. He absentmindedly places his hand on your thigh, squeezing every so often as it creeps higher. You slide your hand into his, bring it to your lips and kiss his knuckles briefly before setting it back on his own leg.

“I really should’ve let you buy me that bigger bed like you offered when you first started sleeping over,” you joke, hoping he’ll understand your meaning.

He chuckles and searches your face sympathetically, “Am I making you warm, baby? I’m sorry,” he pouts. “It’s getting better though, I opened the window before our shower and the storm’s bringing a breeze in.” He snakes an arm around you and leans you closer, pecking your cheek.

“It’s still pretty bad in here… and you’re still kind of a radiator, Ash,” you gently complain.

He frowns, then pauses and his face suddenly changes expression. “I know something we can do to take your mind off that…” 

You make a face. “Baby… I know you're hard but it has been such a ridiculous day," you gently explain. "I'll kiss you while you jerk off if you want? I just cannot fathom having you on me right now.”

“First of all, I never said I wanted to be on you,” he notes. “Second, I just feel bad you’re already so tense again, babe, we gotta get you to relax.” He massages your neck as he talks and you didn’t realize how stiff your muscles were until that moment. “I know it’s not gonna be an easy night sleeping in here and I was just thinking you always sleep so much better right after you cum...”

Despite the heat, your body is buzzing at his touch. “Goddammit, that’s a fair point,” you concede and he laughs under his breath. “Feel like whatever you have in mind is only gonna make me feel even warmer though.”

His eyes shine with playful desire. “Not necessarily…” he replies mysteriously. “Trust me?”

You hate how curious you are and how much his vagueness is turning you on. “You get five minutes to prove this is worth it… or until I start sweating, whichever is first.”

Ash chuckles, “I think we both know you’ll be begging for my cock long before then.”

You shake your head at him and then he's kissing you and laying you down. "Close your eyes," he requests. You look at him skeptically. "I'm assuming you think it's too warm for the blindfold," he points out and you nod in agreement.

He hovers over you and brushes his lips lightly against yours. "So gorgeous laying there, just waiting for me," he whispers low, knowing the praise will make you swoon. "Can you get your tits out for me, baby?"

You slip your thin straps off your shoulders and tug your nightgown down your torso, exposing your chest. Your breath is already heavy with anticipation when you feel Ashton's hands run up your thighs on his way to knead your breasts. His touch feels warmer than you'd like but his firm, calloused grip is always welcome.

His hands disappear for a second and you hear some generic rustling; you assume you'll be feeling his mouth next but what you don't expect is the intense cold of the ice cube he has in between his teeth. A squeal escapes your throat and your eyes shoot open at the sensation of him dragging the ice down your neck and in between your tits; the combined heat of your skin and his mouth starts melting it instantly and freezing water drips down your body. 

“Ash, what the fuck?!” You cry out with a shocked laugh. He tugs your nightgown lower and continues his travels, bringing the cube down over your stomach, water dissolving all over your midsection.

You whine as he pulls back and grins. “OH, did... did you want me to continue?” He taunts, chewing what was left in his mouth. “Didn’t take long for you to decide this was ‘worth it,’ huh, baby?”

He reaches for the cup on your nightstand and drops another cube in his mouth before lowering himself to your chest. His cold fingers play with one of your nipples while he sucks the other between his lips; his tongue swirls the ice around your pointed bud and the dueling feelings of the frozen cube and his warm tongue is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You hold his head to your chest, running your fingers through his damp, curling hair. “Ash, babyyyyyy,” you breathe dreamily as he moves his attention to your other nipple. “This was a good idea, you were right.” Even with his mouth around you, he manages to grin at your concession and you arch your back into him.

“Love it when you talk dirty,” he smugly responds. He brings the remaining portion of his cube to the front of his lips and traces it over yours before slipping it back in his mouth and kissing you deeply. You whimper as he slowly transfers the cube into your mouth with his tongue. He tugs your lip between his teeth as he pulls away and you moan loudly at the realization that you can’t feel it because your lips are numb from the ice. 

Ashton sits back on his knees and you reach for him, immediately missing his attention. "Want you," you admit, stretching your arm until your hand lands on his bulging crotch. “Need you. Need this.”

He takes a page out of your book and pulls your hand up to his lips, kissing it and sitting it away from him. “Oh I know you need it, baby,” he teases, slipping his hand inside your panties to feel your wetness. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it... but first… can’t let my last ice cube go to waste.”

He smiles at your annoyed sigh as he snatches the cup from the table and moves down your body. You know that look in his eye and for once tonight, you know what he’s thinking. He starts to raise the cup to his lips as you whine, “Oh my god, Ash, don’t,” pushing him away with your feet.

He cocks his head and rubs his hands up and down your legs. “You know your word,” he replies and looks at you expectantly. You hold each other’s gaze for several beats and then his hands yank your panties off. Your nightgown is still bunched around your waist and you finally pull it all the way off, making yourself bare for him. 

Ash raises the cup in your direction in mock cheers and finally slides the ice into his mouth. In the time it takes you to blink he’s already between your legs, running the tip of the cube up and down your lips. You shift your hips to meet his touch and he lightly slaps your thigh to get you to settle. 

He moves through your folds, nudging at your entrance for just a second before moving on; you brace yourself as he reaches your clit. He teases around it first with only his tongue and your heart pounds as you wait for the cold to shock you. After what feels like half a lifetime, a burst of piercing iciness shoots through your entire body, starting at your core. You let out a long, low moan as he alternates flicking the frozen cube over your clit and then running his warm tongue against you in raging contrast. 

He sucks at your clit softly before moving to kiss up your inner thighs as he sits up. You didn’t see it happen but he apparently slipped the ice into his hand because now he’s pressing it directly on your clit, letting it melt, causing you to moan and writhe. 

"ASH PLEASE… oh my godddd…” you cry, grabbing his wrist. You’re not quite sure if you want him to stop or to keep going until you cum so you just hold onto his arm, begging. “Fuck me, please, need you to fuck me, Ash!”

Smiling, he firmly grinds the last of the cube against your clit and you thrash as it melts within seconds. He slips two fingers inside you and you shudder at how cold they are. “Knew I could get you begging for me, baby” he growls, smirking as he kisses up your body. “You sure it’s 'worth it'? Maybe you’re right, maybe it is too warm? This pussy feels pretty warm to me.” He skillfully juts his fingers in and out of you as he taunts you.

You whimper pathetically in response and he chuckles. “Alright, baby, you’ve been so good for me tonight, I’ll let you have my cock,” he declares. “Hands and knees for me, gorgeous.” 

Ashton pulls his shorts off while you do your best to get into position, unsteady from all the stimulation. You can’t help yourself and as soon as you get up on your knees you lunge for him, capturing his mouth in a filthy kiss and your hand tugs at his cock, easily coaxing out a trickle of precum.

He murmurs into your kiss, letting you have your moment and then in one swift move, he swats your hand away and pulls you off his lips by wrapping his hand around your throat. “I said hands and knees, baby,” he reminds you, squeezing lightly.

You can’t quite find your voice to moan but if you had, it would’ve been the loudest yet. You get into position and for the first time tonight, you notice the curtains billowing as the long-promised stormy breeze fills the room. You’re about to point it out but you decide to bite your lip instead because the head of Ash’s cock is pushing up against your entrance. 

You sigh restlessly and slowly push back on him, eager to have him inside you but he promptly halts your hips and roughly smacks your ass for trying. “Don’t be desperate,” he reprimands sternly. 

You mumble a pitiful “Sorry” and he rubs over the stinging redness of his handprint in acknowledgment. He slides his cock over your pussy a couple times, slicking it with your arousal, enjoying how your legs shake every time he juuuust misses running his tip over your clit. Then he starts pushing in for real, at an agonizingly slow rate; he knows you’re already on the verge of overstimulation and he knows you’re aching to cum but he loves teasing you, loves making you feel every inch of him as he enters you.

You hang your head, breathing his name so softly you almost don’t even hear it yourself. The thrill of finally having him inside you combined with the sublime stretch as his thickness gradually fills you is overwhelming; if you wanted to, you honestly think you might be able to cum from this alone. For a moment it crosses your mind to tell him this but in the next, you realize he already knows.

“Love watching you take me,” Ash praises you, finally bottoming out. “You’ve really gotta see it sometime, baby, there’s nothing like it.” 

You whine at his words and your sounds increase as he thrusts into you, wasting no time setting a punishing rhythm, you’ve both waited long enough for this. “Feels… so… good… babe…” you pant, voice quivering as his hips hit forcefully against yours. Your hands are cramping from how tightly you’re gripping the sheets in front of you but you don’t know how else to handle the intensity of what you’re feeling.

Ashton grunts, slapping your ass once on each cheek. He fucks into you rapidly and it's not long before his fingers dig into where he’s holding your hips; this means he’s getting close. You slide your hand to your clit and start rubbing, burying your face in the bed as you let out a choked sigh. He speeds up the pace when he notices. “I’m almost there too, baby,” he puffs. “Go ahead and cum, baby. Fuck, you deserve it.”

The soft howling of the wind, the vigorous slapping of Ash’s skin on yours and your muffled moans are all that can be heard for the next minute or so. Your sounds gain volume as your pussy begins to throb and you finally feel your walls tensing around him. He fucks you through it, murmuring about what a good girl you are, how beautiful you look. 

As your orgasm reaches its end, you hear Ash continuing to mumble but you realize it’s mostly nonsense; seconds later you feel his cock pulsing as he empties his load inside you. He groans loudly, running his thumbs over the fresh marks he’s left on your hips and slowly pumping into you a few more times before sighing and pulling out.

He pecks a kiss on the small of your back and then he grabs the tissues on your vanity to clean you up. You lay on your stomach, sleepy but satisfied; when he’s done, he lays beside you. “How are we feeling?” He asks, running his hand through your hair.

You smile dreamily at him. “Like I’m gonna sleep real good tonight,” you joke. You scoot closer to him and lightly kiss his bearded chin. “Like I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through today without you. Like I love you a lot.”

Ashton’s eyes shine fondly at you through the darkness. "I'm happy to hear that, there were a few times today I wasn't sure if you still liked me," he cracks. You poke him and he kisses your pouted lips. "I love you too, by the way."

You finish getting ready for bed and as you blow out the candles around the room, Ash instinctively moves closer to the edge of the bed; he's sure you'll want to sleep as far apart as possible. "Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?" He asks.

"Yup," you answer, surprisingly unbothered, getting back in bed.

He frowns. "What do you think we should do?"

You surprise him again by curling into him, tangling your legs with his. "We've got all day and half a bag of ice left," you grin mischievously. "I think we'll be fine."

—-

Tag list: @cal-puddies @mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore  @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @feliznavidaddycal  @castaway-cashton @boomerash @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @ashtonangst @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o  @abadaftertaste

Click here if you’d like to be tagged for future fics and click here if your name is on my list but crossed out (Tumblr won’t let me @ you) 

[condiscum]

!!!!! All the white shades for Lierik pls!!!!! 💜

God this is literally a year late im so sorry, but i finally finished it so here we gooooo!

White - Do you consider yourself a good person? What’s the best thing you’ve ever done for somebody?

“I mean, yeah. But doesn’t everybody?” he asks plainly, crossing his arms. “I work hard, look after my own. Almost everything I create impacts somebody besides me. I’m not gonna sit here and tally deeds or some shit. It’s a stupid thing to try to prove to somebody.”

Snow - Have you ever seen snow? Do you like it? What do you like to do in the snow?

“Absolutely!” he says, grinning. “I have to travel out to Hoelbrak from time to time— y’know, standard conferences with my northern marketing team ‘n stuff— and that shit’s gorgeous. Have you ever seen the way the sun glints off of the snow in the early morning? Or taken a good look at all of the intricate crystalline structures of the frozen water when you see a large flake intact? It’s great. Sign me the fuck up.”

Frost - What do you like to wear in cold weather?

“Well, first of all, Rata Sum’s in the Maguuma. We don’t get a whole lot of cold weather down there in the tropics, as you might imagine.” he quips. “But when I do have reason to venture outside of the mundane, muggy, incalescence, I bundle appropriately. Hypothermia and frostbite are for dipshits.”

Bone - When was the first time you ever witnessed death? How did it impact you?

“Hard pass.” he says with immediate finality. “Next?”

Author’s Note: Lierik’s parents died in a lab accident in their home when he was still young. It was pretty awful and really traumatizing, and he doesn’t talk about it.

Cotton - What do you like to wear for pajamas?

“Okay, so hear me out.” he says with a grin. “You know those full-body onesie type things progeny wear? Well, those things are comfortable as hell except for one problem. Your feet get cold, right? So— I wish this was one of my own brilliant innovations, but I’m not a fuckin tailor, so I’ve gotta give credit where it’s due: the humans came up with this shit.” 

He sticks his leg out, gesturing at his own feet. 

 “There’s like. Socks attached to these things. But they’re non-slip on the bottom and stuff so you can just wander around in them in the middle of the night. I had some modified for the superior three-digit anatomy and voila! Instant coziness. You should try them sometime.”

Cream - Do you prefer Tea, Coffee, or Cocoa? (If your world has those things. If not, what sort of hot drinks do you have?)

“Well, nothing beats a good hot-chocolate when you’re cold. All sweet and delicious. Buuuuut, trouble is it’s not… energizing enough, y’know?” he says. “Plus, it only has a single static state of being if you want to enjoy it. You can’t throw it on ice. So, coffee is the obvious choice, here.” 

He starts up again, counting each of his reasons on a finger as he does. 

“It’s good hot, sends you right on into the project zone, picks your ass up off the floor at 4:30 in the fucking morning when your incompetent staff can’t problem-solve— and when you get back from that 4:30am problem solving? And your coffee is all tepid and gross? You can just throw it right in an ice cube tray and chuck it in the coolerator. It’s truly one of the best multitools of the engineering world.”

Coconut - What would be your ideal vacation?

He hums, pausing a moment to think more seriously. 

“I guess anywhere less hectic. Somewhere out with my buds. I’ve never been one to keep still for very long, but its always a relief to get away from the hustle and bustle for a while. Just enjoy some time living simpler, wherever that might be.”

Pearl - What do you look for in a romantic partner?

“I’m flattered.” he jokes. “But she’d have to be Asura, for starters. Sorry, mysterious likely-human interviewer, you must be this tall—” he says, gesturing a bit above him “—or under to ride this ride. 

“Past that, though, we’ve just gotta jive. Sure, looks are a plus, but that’s not what it’s about for me.” 

He crosses his arms and leans to one side, smirking. 

“What really drives me wild, though? Smarts. I want a woman who can run circles around me— a tall order, I know, so I’m not in a rush.”

Parchment - Do you like to read or write?

“Reading’s fine.” he says. “Generally, if I’m learning something new, books will hold my attention. New theses from time to time, articles.” 

He shrugs.  

“It’s a little passive for me though. I’d rather be working with something than reading about it any day. It’s hard to improve on a concept without having it in front of you, whether its a drawing on paper or something more three-dimensional. And, frankly, the most writing I’ve done since graduation has been in bullet-points.”

Lace - What would you name your child if you were to have one?

“Oh man,” he manages, “glitch, I don’t know… it sounds like a lot of pressure to name a real, live person. But, progeny are not in my near future anyway, I can tell you that. If it happens, I guess we’ll figure it out then.”

Porcelain - Do you consider yourself a delicate person? Do you fall apart easily?

“Hell no.” he says, rolling his eyes. “Where do you even get these things?”

Salt - Would you consider yourself a mean person? What is it like to fight with you?

“I’ve got a temper, sometimes, I’ll admit.” he says, scratching his head. “But, I’d like to think it’s hard to push my buttons to that point. I’ll tolerate a lot, and I don’t get purposely pointed, but past a certain line, I make no promises of being ‘nice’.”

Ghost- Are you easily scared? What scares you the most?

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fearless.” he says, crossing his arms. “But that’s not to say I don’t have a sense of self-preservation either. Just because I graduated from Dynamics doesn’t mean I’m not well aware of how much precaution has to go into innovation if you don’t want to wind up letting your prototypes take you down with them.” 

He pauses to crack his knuckles before adding “You want something really scary, though? Wasted potential.”

Ivory - Do you play any musical instruments? If so, which ones and how well?

“Eeeehhh—” he starts, waving a hand side to side. “Nothing classical or anything boring like that. But if you’re into some sweet electronica? I’m killer with a drum machine. Gotta have something to put under my sick rhymes.”

Chiffon - Do you prefer a larger and cleaner environment, or a smaller and cozier one?

“Large and clean, for sure.” he says. “I’ve been spoiled for choice for a long while, but the straight fact is that if you want to be able to do anything wherever you are, you need room to do it. A crowded room is stress. An empty room is inspiration.”

Alabaster - What is the most recognizable thing about you? What are people most likely to notice about you when they first meet you?

“Other than my dashing good looks and cutting edge sense of fashion?” he teases. “Well, I do try to keep one statement piece on me at all times: what’s style without a pair of good old fashioned aviators?”

Egg-nog - Do you celebrate Christmas Wintersday? If so, what traditions do you have? Which are your favorite?

“Everybody celebrates Wintersday! Well, everybody who likes fun, I guess. I haven’t been able to go every year, but I try to make it to Tixx’s Infinirarium at least once a year for the Toypocalypse. The mayhem! The adrenaline! The toy carnage!” 

He sighs wistfully. 

“There’s just never a safe chance to cause that much ruckus otherwise. Reminds me of a couple’a friends I had in college…”

Ecru - Do you have curly, wavy, or straight hair?

He grabs a fistful of the thick curly locks on his head and tugs. “Gee, I dunno. Pretty straight, I’d say.”

[frangipanidownunder]

C 32 from the prompt list?

This is an old prompt, sorry anon! C32 Hurt/comfort: “Where did all those bruises come from?” combined with “There you are” for the @xfficchallenges prompt 17.

Post IWTB, on the run. Angsty.

 Drive: fic

It’s been a month. A month of tyres humming over winding blacktop, covering up the thrum of their hearts. A month of brooding mountains towering over their whispered conversations. A month of tall, dark trees crowding in on their secrets. A month of off-the-track motels with templated clerks and templated rooms, with tepid water not quite powerful enough to wash away the fear and aging mattresses not quite thick enough to swallow their guilt.

              This one is no different. There’s a blinking neon outside their room, an irritating reminder of their predicament. Life – on, off; on, off. A flickering hold on a temporary future. He suppresses the urge to smash it. He doesn’t want permanent darkness. He wants to find the light.

              She’s in the shower and he listens to the clunk and groan of the ancient plumbing. His heart makes the same noises every time she sighs in her sleep or dyes her hair again or writes letters to her mom that she crumples into the trash can. The remains of their shared burrito is congealing on a chipped plate on the rickety table, taco seasoning wafts around the room with each blast from the heater. His eyes are gritty. His throat is drying. A dull ache pulls at his temples. He reclines, head on backs of hands. If he could only be still, be empty, just for a moment.

 When he comes to, she isn’t there. Her towel is folded over the too-short rail in the bathroom. The mirror is almost clear again, save for a bloom of mist in the top right corner. The khaki jacket she favours is still hanging on the back of the chair, but her wallet is gone.

              Outside, the day is trapped, sun half-strung in a purple sky, the moon a ghost above it. He checks the environs, a necessary habit. There’s a kid pushing a bike across the road. A brindle dog cocking its leg against an unlucky red sedan’s tyre. An old man stooped over a walking stick.

              The park is grimy, old leaves scattered across a path that’s more weed than paving. The playground equipment is tired, silvered timber and split plastic. The boy with the bike is hanging off a swing, smoking.

Scully is on a bench by the lake. There’s a pair of ducks floating towards a clump of reeds. In their transient world, this seems like a good moment to snatch. He sits besides her.

“There you are,” he says, watching the birds stretch their wings and shake water from their bodies. She inclines her head to his shoulder, her dark hair falling. It’s still a shock, the colour, how it drains her face, how it makes her eyes cold. Or maybe it’s not the hair.

She shivers and he looks at her. Sees the discoloured marring around her wrists. Takes her hand in his, gently.

“Where did all those bruises come from?”

The ducks squabble as the dog runs around the lake, disappearing into the trees beyond.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. Her eyes shut in a slow blink, shutting out the truth.

“It does to me.”

“I’m glad you slept,” she says. “You needed it.”

“Did I do this, Scully?”

He’s been having nightmares. Fear crawling through his veins, dread pinning him to the bed. Faceless men tearing at them, clawing him apart from her, pulling her screaming into the void ahead.

“I’m fine, Mulder.”

She slips her arm through his elbow into his as they walk around the water in silence. The day finally ends. Another night closes in.

 The mattress sinks beneath them. It’s been a month and she finally lets him in. She pulls him down with greedy fingers kneading his ass, with a hungry mouth devouring him, with a searing heat that swallows him whole and sets the nerve along his spine on fire. He implodes. She cries out with abandon, shuddering, falling.

              In the night, he wakes with a start. But she moves closer, draping her wrist over his chest and he kisses his apology, his love around the bracelet of bruises.

They leave the next morning. The dog sits by the bus stop up the street. Scully writes another letter, scribbling across the motel note paper in her precise lettering. Behind, ugly clouds gather. Ahead, silvery light filters across the sky. They drive towards the sun.

[bonecarvedquiver]

“We are almost there.” 

“Good. Because I’m freezing my ass off in this thing you pass for a truck.”

“I have the heat on.”

“Not high enough for me.”

“Rub your hands together. You will get warm if you move around.”

Grumbling to himself, the hulking sniper rubbed his gloves hands. It only took a moment, but he felt relieve spread through his covered palms and up his arms. Perhaps he had to credit this guy and give him some due. He seemed to know what he was talking about. Moving around, even if it were just the process of rubbing one’s hands or arms, circulated warmth through the body after all.

Two trains and nearly three days worth of traveling behind him (in both plane and train), he ended up at the station at the base of a mountain. This mountain, of course, housed Coldfront, his brand new base. The moment he stepped off of the train, he was welcomed by a rather austere looking security guard (he guessed he was one, or maybe just an official worker for the MannCo company in general, like the Administrators), holding up a sign with his name on it. The tepid smile on his face had been more of a grimace than anything. 

He had been sent there to collect him, he had said. To escort him to the base. And in a way, Owen was grateful that he was, because he wasn’t sure how to drive up the mountain trail and not run right off of it due to a slippery patch of ice.

“So,” Owen began dryly, still rubbing his hands together, “how did you pick up that lit’l tip?” He looked the man over. His back was properly straight, and he kept his eyes on the road, never once deviating from it. “You been here a while?”

“A few years, yes. In that span of time you pick up a few things to help you survive. The citizens of the town your train stopped in are well adapted to the harsh environment. You should talk with them. They might have good tips to share.”

“...uh-huh.” 

Clutching to the side of his seat, he slid a little with the rather sharp turn they took. He swore he heard the engine backfire and belch. Goddammit. If he ended up dying just a few feet before reaching the base thanks to the godforsaken rustbucket, he’d haunt the driver’s ass (if he made it, of course) to eternity and beyond.

He was about to snidely comment on his driving when he saw it. Cresting around the turn they took was the base before him. Two looming, massive structures, almost side-by-side but not quite, heavily topped with snow. Around them were the snow dunes and peaks covering, quite clearly, other structures. He could make out a few sheds, what looked to be a burned down house, and, of course, good ol’ issued MannCo crates.

He exhaled his wispy, cold breath as they came closer to the base. His driver took a path that had already been shoveled out. This was nothing like Teufort or Viaduct. This was a whole new thing, a beast of cold steel and ice. 

“We’re here.”

Owen hadn’t realized they had stopped. he had been gawking at the bases before him. One clearly for RED, one clearly for BLU. He looked over at the security guard wannabe and he huffed. “Open the doors and I’ll get my bags.”

“No need,” the man said, turning to face him for the first time since he stepped off of that train. He had such a serious expression. “I will take care of your luggage. I’ll bring them to your assigned room. Take your time and get used to the place.”

“A bit chummy wit’ this place, aren’tcha? Know it like the back of your hand? So I expect to see you walkin’ the halls, acting like a brand new class, yeah?”

With a bit too much force than the motion really warranted, the driver had closed his door. He went about opening up the back doors, taking note of the four luggage pieces lying, haphazardly, on the back seat and floor. He seemed to ignore the sniper’s sarcastic tone, and this caused the sniper, himself, to become amused.

Owen did take his advice, though. He left the lukewarm confines of the truck, and he took his first steps on the grounds of his new base. Despite his warm coat, gloves and hood, he could still feed the chilly wind nip at his bones. He shivered as he walked, untouched snow crunching underfoot.

Everything was soft and muted. Everything seemed so... quiet. The snow-- was it muffling any sounds made? 

No matter. He’d get used to the quietness and he’d get used to the cold. After all, snow was just frozen water, wasn’t it? And he was familiar with water. He grew up alongside the ocean. Water was his friend. In due time, he’d master the snow, too.

Carefully picking the easiest path to travel, he made his way over to the BLU base.

Welcome home, Owen. Welcome to this frozen hellhole.

[actual-leia-organa]

Huddy ofc but real huddy not the crap david shore huddy

Right @macsturbating apologies first up because you sent this before my trip and I just never sat down and answered it because I’m a lazy shit tbh but now Im trying to write fic and I’m stuck so you get this instead

((Also holy shit it got really long so I’m apologising in advance))

Who said “I love you” first - trick answer. House said it first, but Cuddy was fast asleep and didn’t hear him, and he’d never admit to it anyway, and was shocked at himself for it slipping out. He hadn’t said it since Stacy, but watching Cuddy peacefully sleep, curled up beside him, the words felt like the most natural thing in the word. The first to say it when both of them are awake is Cuddy, after tearing herself up for a week about whether she was ready to say those words and whether House was ready to hear them. Once they were said, he accepted it in his typical Housian way, no “I love you too”- not for a long time. And whilst they both knew the love was there, they weren’t constantly showering “I love you”s on each other, because that’s not how they operate.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background - well, Cuddy would want a photo of them as her background, but would fight with herself as to whether that meshes with her ultra-professional-at-all-times appearance. And she’d have pictures of them- the two of them, as well as ‘family’ shots with Rach, filling up her camera roll, and eventually on display in her office, but I don’t think she’d ever have her lockscreen as a personal photo. Ditto with House- he’d think he’d gone soft, and that everyone else would also think he’d gone soft. Plus, the photos on his camera roll would absolutely be like terrible sneak shots of Cuddy asleep and half snoring, or her with smudged make up on a Saturday morning, or that time she split coffee down her blouse when she was running late, and a multitude of photos that would make her squeal House delete that! (Which she also screamed at him after he managed some sneaky lingerie shots, because, well, he’s House) As well as stacks of Rachel selfies when he’d let her play Fruit Ninja on his phone. And instead of having Cuddy/Him + Cuddy/Him + Cuddy + the Spawn as his lockscreen he’d select the absolutely worst photo he had of Cuddy to appear whenever she called him.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror - well fingerprints make stubborn ass marks on mirrors and windows, so there is no way in hell Cuddy would be doing that. That’s purely a House behaviour, and one she tries to train out of him, because he’d shower and leave some dirty message on her mirror, and once the fog cleared there would be smudges on the mirror and that would be all she could see when doing her make up, and she would guiltily apologise to her cleaner about the “state of the bathroom mirror” but the tables are turned when they’re having some fun in the shower and she leaves handprints on the shower screen. Those she can smirk at, because of the memories with them.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts - more like who steals the other cheesy gifts, because its canon that this is House. Cuddy would stress herself senseless over gifts for him- he’s curated his environment, both at work and at home, and has very particular interests. There’s only so many vintage medical texts you can buy your significant other. She would only do gifts on significant occasions, versus House who would saunter home with a stuffed toy because it reminded me of you or to say sorry for the procedure I’m about to ask for. He would also buy the most amazing gifts for Rachel, to the point where Cuddy would worry he was outright spoiling her, only to realise that was how he would best express affection- he struggled to voice his feelings, was often physically distant, but with gifts he had no issues. On special occasions though he could give a perfect gift- perfectly suited to the receiver, and often a unique or sentimental object.

Who initiated the first kiss - this one’s a double hitter, because there were two “first kisses” in my mind- Michigan and Help Me. And Cuddy instigated them both (get it gurl). Michigan, she’d encountered the blue-eyed enigmatic genius in the bookstore, his eyes burning hers as he scanned her schedule and summed her up in 10 seconds. She’d followed him to endocrinology, he’d followed her to the party, although he’d never admit it. Greg House doesn’t follow girls. He especially doesn’t follow under-grads. But somehow he found himself at the party, where the music was terrible, and too loud, and the beer approaching flat and tepid. But when he caught the swing of her hips as she strolled through the kitchen it suddenly seemed worth it. And when she grabbed his arm on her way past, well, he was a sure thing. He couldn’t even tell you the first song they danced to, he was so entranced by watching her move. The musician in him appreciated how she seemed to just move with the rhythm, but the man in him appreciated how her hips swayed, how her hands felt as they left glancing touches on his arms, how her lips parted as she mouthed the words. But the beat slowed, and there they were, her hands resting on his shoulders as his hands settled on her petite waist. He could definitely tell you this song, its burned into his memory along with every move they made. As Time After Time faded into silence, his hands loosened and slid down to her hips, as her hands laced behind his head and pulled it down, as Cuddy raised up on her toes to press her lips to his. He could taste her cherry gloss, she could taste the cheap beer he’d been downing, but as they both leaned into it suddenly nothing else existed but them. He breathlessly asked her if she wanted to get out of there, and she felt full of daring when she replied “your place or mine?”. That was how they found themselves falling into Cuddy’s bed, half naked with clothes strewn around. And when he didn’t call the next day, Cuddy tried to act like it was nothing, just a casual one night stand, when inside she was mourning all that she’d hoped for. And so the kiss at the end of Help Me was Cuddy giving in, letting college-Cuddy try and realise her dream of a relationship- a real, grown up relationship- with Gregory House. But unlike college, where she roughly grabbed his head and smashed their faces together, this is an older, wiser, more experienced Lisa Cuddy, and as she reaches for his face she smiles softly as he leans into her touch, his stubble gently scratching her palm. She runs her hand through his thinning hair and he willingly lowers to meet her. It’s soft, and mutual, and a little hesitant, as if neither of them can believe they’re truly at this place, but each feeling like the twenty years it took to get there were totally worth it.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning - depends on your definition of morning. House’s sleep schedule is…the opposite of a schedule. He’ll stay awake for 3 days straight on a case, then sleep for 2. He’ll stay awake until 3am reading a journal article, be woken by Cuddy at 5am, then catch catnaps in the clinic. So there’s two answers here. If “morning” is any time after midnight, the answer is House. He’ll sit in the lounge, engrossed in the latest neurology journal, barely tearing his eyes away as Cuddy kisses him goodnight on her way to bed. He’ll finish the article at close to 3am, and slowly limp down the hallway, pausing in the doorway to watch Cuddy sleep, smiling at how she hugs his pillow in his absence. He’ll change for bed, and softly sit, leaning over to gently press a kiss to Cuddy’s lips, feeling her respond as she’s pulled from sleep, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down to her. Once they settle in together, Cuddy’s alarm will go off at 5am sharp, causing House to groan as Cuddy stretches out like a cat next to him, always turning to gently kiss him, as if apologising for the disturbance. He’ll always respond, but then its anyone’s guess as whether he’ll fully awaken or roll over and snore within seconds.

Who starts tickle fights - House. He discovered in college just how ticklish Lisa Cuddy is, and the adorable giggle she lets out when tickled. He also kinda likes how it feels when she squirms against him and that exasperated “House!” she puffs out whilst trying to fight him. He’ll usually do it when they’ve been settled in together and he feels his distinct brand of boredom set in- which seems it coincide with every time Cuddy wants to relax with a BBC boxset. They’ll be on the couch, cozied up, an hour into the latest period drama, when House would slide his hand down her side and start to tickle just below her ribs. She’d push his hand away with an annoyed huff, but within 5 minutes it would be back, and she’d be giggling and squirming enough for him to get the other side. The only reason it doesn’t become a full out tickle war is that House only has one weak spot- the soles of his feet. And the one time Cuddy tried it she caused his thigh to spasm as he pulled away, making for a very sudden end to their tickle fight, and their entire plan for the evening. He’ll pretend to be ticklish for Rachel though, when she attempts to tickle him by poking at his ribs, something Cuddy is eternally grateful for- she loves when he plays along with Rach.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower - well, House would never ask, he’d just barge in. Especially at Cuddy’s house, where the shower is spacious enough for them to get creative. So this one goes to Cuddy, who shyly asks may I join you? the first time she stays the night at his apartment, which he considers slightly ridiculous since they jumped straight into a bath together, and he tells her as much. She snarks back that she was being considerate of his leg since he was still dealing with the aches and pains from crawling around a collapsed building, and heaven forbid she think he mightn’t want an audience whilst attempting to get in and out of the shower, plus its more difficult for two people to shower when its over a bath (he doesn’t to think about how she knows that), but whatever, House, be offended over a simple request. He huffs, slightly annoyed at how she’s already making concessions for his leg (which seems to dig a bit more now that she’s his girlfriend, not just his boss), and sighs fine. come join me. I suppose you can catch me if I slip which triggers their first stupid fight, learning that they don’t hold back the punches when they’re both tired and sore.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch - Cuddy, bringing House ruebens during the day when he’s caught up with a case and forgets to eat. On the flip side, House will order delivery to Cuddy’s office and wander down to join her when he notices her pulling overtime, coming to give her a break and needle her to come home with him. Wilson feels slightly put out when he realises that Cuddy has suddenly taken over the ‘feed House’ duties, to which House rolls his eyes and sighs, reminding Wilson that he’ll always be required, and he hasn’t been replaced.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date - House and Cuddy love to laugh over how they did everything in the wrong order. They slept together, then Cuddy adopted, then they tried a relationship, all over the course of twenty-plus years. Everything backwards, and no first date. House never asked Cuddy out, or vice versa. Which, when pointed out to them, neither feel the urge to ‘correct’. What they have works for them. They go out to dinner, sometimes driving there in separate cars from the hospital, sometimes just going for a drink, sometimes staying in and ordering take out. But the date that really mattered, the date that felt like a date, the date where a velvet box was burning a hole in House’s pocket, was the one and only time that Gregory House felt nervous. And it showed- Cuddy picked up on it in seconds, which resulted in throwing his whole plan out the window and he ended up proposing on Cuddy’s doorstep, not even making it to the restaurant- and they didn’t make the reservation as all, as once the ring was on Cuddy’s finger she pulled him into the hallway and they barely made it to the bedroom.

Who kills/takes out the spiders - both of them take care of insects. Lisa Cuddy isn’t the kind of woman to scream at the sight of creepy crawlies, and she’s lived alone long enough that she just deals with it herself. Same deal with House, although he has to take his leg into account if he’s going to attempt gymnastics to catch or kill an insect. The only time he’s banned from dealing with insects is when Rach is around, because he’ll catch it and turn it into a biology lesson. It took “and after copulating, the girl rips the boy’s head off, mom!” to implement that rule, with a steely look at House across the dinner table.

Who loudly proclaims their love when drunk - House didn’t need to actually be with Cuddy to announce to a whole hospital that they slept together, and it took Cuddy formally announcing their relationship to HR for anyone to believe him, but strangely House is always quiet about his true feelings, and even more so when it comes to how he feels about Cuddy. Sure, he’ll joke about her ass, and make crude jokes about their sex life, but the day Wilson confronts him with christ, House, you really love her, don’t you he can’t even lift his eyes from the floor as he nods slowly, swallowing heavily as he softly replies more than I’ve ever loved anyone. House quietly proclaims his love, hiding his deep feelings behind his brash and bravado. It’s Cuddy who, after one too many champagnes at the first hospital fundraiser she drags House to, who slurs loud enough for 90% of the attendees to hear, I absholutely love you, Gregry Housh whilst House blushes under his collar at her, stunned that she has no qualms with people knowing she’s chosen him, that she loves him. And as he drives her home, he softly asks, did you mean it Cuddy? Do you really…love me? and she rolls her eyes, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, putting her hand on his, meeting his eyes, and almost whispering, with the slight slur of champagne, I love you. It’s taken me twenty years, but I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, and I love you. House leans over to kiss her and is rewarded with a honk from the car behind them as he ignores a green light.