#centurie

[clochanam]

richie from the bear

on anon or not, tell me who you ship my character with. / ( ACCEPTING! )

nonnie i'm on the same boat as u, i fear we're actually doing the king of the world bit at the head of the boat, we're united, we're on the same book, chapter, page, sentence, word and LETTER! ( @centurie and i have a really fantastic dynamic between aisling and richie and just !!!! chefS KISS! )

[fifthimpact]

❛ YEAH .... i don't think you need a gun like the rest of us. if anything , i think you not having a gun is probably the best move and i'm not going to be the one to give you one , bobby , so uh ... NO. ❜

@centurie ( bob ) surprise starter call !

[h0usetour]

𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗦 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗘'𝗦. maybe that's even why she loves listening to them so much; to catch even the faintest glimpse at what she's been missing in her life. friendship. making the types of memories that she'd go on to tell for years after the fact. the tears in his eyes, those are lucky, show that he's loved & been loved long & well enough to feel such heavy grief when he recounts these happy memories.

a fond smile graces penny's lips as she listens, sat on the couch with her elbow settled on the back, cheek in hand as the other brings a glass of wine to her lips. the compliment was never meant to upset richie. his denial is... well, it's understandable. at least, she tries her best to understand. setting her glass on the coffee table, she shifts closer to richie, reaching to take his face gently in her hands.

❝ richie, just shut up for a sec, okay? ❞ she tells him firmly, green eyes finding his in the dim light of her living room. ❝ i love your laugh, ❞ she repeats, soft enough not to wake her sleeping daughter down the hall, but level enough to get through to him. ❝ and i love hearing your stories, and i love that you make me feel safe, and that i'm starting to figure out who i am with you... ❞ thumb caresses underneath his eye to catch a stray tear as she leaves a beat of silence for her words to settle. ❝ stop bein' so fuckin' hard on yourself, okay? ❞

@centurie cont'd !

[clochanam-archive]

privacy is a rare resource for them these days. between bob being in the spotlight, and her with the ever-growing family... the opportunity for solitude is often a fleeting and seldom-embraced one. but tonight, the universe presents them with a perfectly timed encounter. a benefit gala which neither of them wish to attend, and a huge music festival in central park that draws the squad, the children, and all assorted customers from the diner and into the musical embrace of the park outside.

which means... previously interrupted dialogues can be resumed. and so they are; with a slow, tender introduction, aisling straddles bob's lap, settling against him, hands resting gently atop his shoulders. she's glad that they have the added luxury of time tonight. that look in his eyes, the way his lips part slightly, already flushed from the make-out session in the elevator, the way he smells so outrageously good right now, be it a natural aroma or the use of a cologne or aftershave, she couldn't say. she rests another kiss, slow, tender, on the corner of his lips, swaying ever so slightly against him, thumbs sweeping a careful arc down until she pulls back, still close, still pressed against him, but allowing just a few precious inches to toy with his shirt buttons, her tongue wetting her lips slightly in the process. instead of unbuttoning them however, she glances up, eyes dark with that unquantifiable yearning, fingertip dancing across the tiny seamline of his collar.

" you want me to take mine off first? or take it slower? your voice is much too lovely for you to stay quiet tonight, my love, no matter what you say... you'll tell me whatever it is you want, tonight and always, won't you? "

@centurie liked THIS POST for a spicy/date starter!

[forgaeven]

sydney doesn't know how long she'd sat there crying.

and she tells herself that she won't, that it's useless to, but it's— hard. it's fucking hard, because what do you mean he's leaving ? he– he was the one who dragged her into this, who convinced her that they could do this, and now he's– he's backing out?! and she– she gets it, you know. she gets that it's hard, that maybe creating a restaurant to somehow chase after your dead brother's ghost isn't really the wisest decision anyone could've ever made, but—goddammit.

behind her, the door swings open. fuck. she didn't think anyone's still here. she turns, sees that it's @centurie, and wipes furiously at her tears. ❛⠀i'm fine, i swear— ❜ she says, before he'd say anything else.

one-para starter call.

[whitewdow]

@centurie : "I’m trying not to care."

“ well , try harder .” the words came out harsher than even yelena intended in the heat of the moment . her expression remained cold , unable to meet his eyes . she refused to see the fallout of her words that surely hit their mark . she was pushing him away , hating herself a little more with every word that escaped her lips but she didn’t stop herself . no , it was better this way .

since natasha , there hadn't been anyone in her life to care . yelena knew that , made peace with it . but lately the universe was constantly reminding her of her grief and the emotions were coming back tenfold . she was on edge , more reckless on missions . much like tonight when she returned to the tower with her shirt seeping in her own blood , the catalyst of the now brewing argument between the pair . yelena's recklessness stemmed from her grief , from how little regard she had for her own life . she wasn't a good person - no , she hurt enough people to earn her seat in hell . she killed and one day she'd be killed in return . it wasn't a matter of if , it was a matter of when . so what was the point ? what was the point in this new family ? what was the point in him and her and whatever it was going on between them ? it all felt like a ticking time bomb , ready to be ripped out from under her feet like everything else .

yelena spent most nights laying in her room - natasha's old room - contemplating those same ideas . as if she was searching the walls for any sign of her sister , any answer to the questions that kept her up at night . she wondered if natasha ever felt this way too , if she felt like she was too hard to love or if there was any point to it all ?

when she finally did meet his eyes , it felt like her chest was being ripped open . she hated that she was causing this but couldn’t he just understand ? every day she found herself growing closer and closer to bob and that terrified her . she had someone to lose again , someone she cared so deeply for . someone who would turn her world on its axis again if she lost them . so she pushed . pushed and pushed , hoping he’d eventually leave her behind . maybe that made her a coward but so be it . she’d never survive losing him too .

“ you don’t get it , do you ? ” now yelena was failing miserably , the rare crack in the widow’s composure causing all the pain and fear to come spilling out all at once . years of training out the window from one single look from him . " it's easier this way . for you , for me , for everyone . "

[nightmdic-a]

She's practically become some sort of suture professional by now, stitches being a rather common treatment given to her patients that come to the underground clinic. her patient nor the wound had surprised her, and just as always she had been swift to jump into action, assume a more professional role in assisting - even if in one moment, she ahd dared to offer him a glass of whisky. some patients considered it an aid to help with the pain; whether that was the distraction, or the aid of a light buzz to help with the pain.

" i figured as much - just least try and not rip these open like you did the last ones. " a small quip that arises even as she ventures for a moment to retrieve not one, but two glasses - his more of a heavy pour in comparison to herself. least, she wasn't as much of a drinker as she would understand of butcher, so a lighter glass for herself only made sense.

It's when the touch between her giving him the glass lingers for perhaps a bit longer than normal that not only catches her own attention to her actions, but to his noticing as well. she's prepared to change the subject, tell him she could easily obtain him some new attire that was clean and more comfortable, or how she's always excellent service in the medical field, when he speaks that.

has he known the whole time?

" - excuse me? what are you referring to, exactly?" the light flush of crimson across her cheeks would prove she knows what he refers to.

@centurie from here