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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

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The Green Light

Summary: Full Story! Andy is over the moon when you finally get the green light to be intimate again after the birth of your babies. But how do you explain to him that you're not quite comfortable with your post-pregnancy body just yet? Check out the sequel: The Green Light Afterglow.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Light Smut, Daddy Kink, Insecure Reader, Discussions of Post-Pregnancy Body, Discussions of Intimacy, Slight Lactation Kink Reference, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I know this took a while. Thank you all for your patience and I sincerely hope it's okay. Prompt courtesy of an anonymous reader. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Warnings subject to change. All mistakes are my own. Please let me know your thoughts!

___

“Well, I’ve gotta tell you, my dear, by all appearances you’ve healed just fine.” You let out a sigh as Dr. Wilson, your OBGYN, removes the speculum. God, how you hated that thing. “You can go ahead and sit up.” You watch as he removes his gloves to make some notes on his mobile workstation. “Everything looks good. How have you been feeling lately? Raising four kids is no easy feat, especially when half of them are newborns.”

“Andy and I try to split the shifts as best we can. If he’s helping with the twins then I’ve got the older girls, and vice versa.”

“That’s good. One thing I’ve always liked about the two of you is that you believe in teamwork. You’d be surprised at how many couples don’t.” He makes a few more notes. “And how many hours of sleep would you say you get a night? Ballpark it for me if you can.”

“Um…” You have to think about that one. “Maybe five. Yeah, I would say about five hours a night. And I can occasionally squeeze in a quick nap during the day when the twins are sleeping. It doesn’t happen all of the time, but it’s better than nothing.”

The older man nods his head. “And how are Bianca and Katrina adjusting to the new additions? And by the way, don’t forget that you promised to show me pictures, because I certainly haven’t.” Dr. Wilson looks up from his computer and offers you a warm smile.

“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.” You tell him with a chuckle. “And they’re okay. Bianca loves to hold them all the time. And Katrina is enjoying being a big sister – she’s very helpful. She wants to play with them so bad, but she doesn’t quite get that they’re still a little too young.”

“I see. And is she still threatening to put A.J. outside?” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he struggles not to laugh just like he had when you’d first relayed your three-year-old’s initial reaction to your pregnancy reveal.

“Oh, God. She’s only made that threat twice I think since we’ve brought them home. Once when he wouldn’t stop crying. And then again when she wanted to cuddle with me while I was in the middle of a feeding. Other than that, she’s been fine. He’s growing on her.”

“Glad to hear it.” He mutters. “That’s usually how it goes. Give it a few years, and I bet they’ll be the best of friends.”

God, you sure hoped so. Just last night you had a dream about finding your little boy out in the woods. Except he’d somehow grown a beard, making him look like a baby mountain man. And, of course, he had been clutching that damn blankie too!

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I’m officially giving you the all-clear to resume any and all physical activity. If you have any concerns after we’re done here, you know I’m only a phone call away.”

Thank goodness! You couldn’t wait to start working out again. You were tired of rocking stretchy pants and maternity clothes.

Your phone buzzes in your purse as Dr. Wilson finishes up whatever else he’s typing. It goes on for a while before it finally stops, only to resume buzzing seconds later.

If you were a betting woman, and you were, you’d put your money on the person behind all the constant buzzing being none other than your husband, Andrew. You knew he’d been waiting for this day. Your man had been extra giddy this morning. So much in fact that you could’ve sworn he’d clicked his heels on his way out the door.

___

Twenty Minutes Later…

You wait to check your phone until after your appointment is over and you're safely back in your car. According to your phone, you have two missed calls from Andy Bear, along with three new texts.

Andy Bear: Hey, baby girl. How’d the appointment go? Did we get the all clear?

Andy Bear: Can you answer your phone, please? I want to hear your sweet voice when you tell me the good news.

Andy Bear: C'mon! You’ve got me dancing on pins and needles right now. Call me.

You shake your head and then dial your man. He answers on the second ring.

“There you are, sweetness! I was starting to get worried there for a moment.” The genuine concern in his voice has you playfully rolling your eyes.

“Relax, Andy. Sometimes these appointments can take a while. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong, Dr. Wilson is just being thorough.” You check your appearance in the rearview mirror, noting that the bags under your eyes seem to look better than they have in days. “That’s part of the reason he’s been my OBGYN for so long, because he’s good at what he does.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s great.” You know he's not being dismissive on purpose, it’s just that he’s chomping at the bit to hear one key piece of information. “How’s your little body? Did we get the green light?”

Ahh, and there it was. Sometimes Andrew Barber was like a dog with a fucking bone. And only your husband would refer to your body as being “little” when you were still walking around sporting maternity wear.

“I’ve been cleared for all physical activity. Which means I can finally start working out again and –”

“Fuck, yeah we did!” He cheers into the receiver, loud enough to make you wince. “Alright, baby girl, that settles it. BiBi and KitCat are going to my sister’s for a sleepover and the twins will stay at grandma’s. Meanwhile, I’m gonna leave the office early to pick us up some dinner. How about we celebrate with some surf and turf?”

“Oh my god, Andrew! We are not leaving our two newborns at your mother’s house for the night. That’s too much!”

“What if she already said yes?” You have no doubt that your unrepentant husband is smiling hard enough to crack a tooth right about now.

“You didn’t.” Your head drops to the steering wheel with a light thunk.

“Oh, I did.” The sound of an eager chuckle spills across the other line. “Ma and Bill are happy to keep Rory and Junior. She said you left them with enough formula and diapers to get ‘em through and that she, and I quote, would be positively heartbroken if you deprived her of time with her precious new grandchildren.”

“Andy…I don’t know…” As tempting as the thought of a night of uninterrupted slumber was, you were on the fence about being away from your precious babies for that long.

RoRo needed to be rocked to sleep, while A.J. needed you to pat his little tush and bounce him just so. And they both needed approximately 1,375 kisses every five minutes, otherwise they got fussy.

“You must really want a good night’s sleep, huh, Big Man?”

“Baby, when I get my hands on you, I promise that sleeping will be the last thing on both of our minds. Now, I’ve gotta run. But I’ll see you home around 4:00pm.”

“Andy…”

How did you tell your husband that you weren’t really feeling your post-pregnancy body right now? You’d even taken to changing in the bathroom lately. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice that increasingly bad habit of yours…

At least not yet. But it was only a matter of time.

“Hush, sweetness. You just let Daddy take care of everything, okay? I’ve been dreaming of this day for almost two months now, and I plan to take my time loving all over every inch of your delectable body. And what’s more, you’re going to let me.” You can practically feel your nipples pebbling beneath the fabric of your shirt.

God, how did he always manage to sound so sexy when he was telling you what to do? Handsome ass buttface!

“I’ve gotta head into this meeting, but in the meantime, get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” You respond with a resigned sigh. “I…I guess I’ll see you when you get home then.”

“Damn right. Can’t wait to lose myself between those luscious thighs.” Andy rasps, with a slightly roughened edge to his tone. “It’s been way too long since I’ve had a taste…”

Oh good God…and it had been way too long since you had to deal with beard burn. At this point, you’d almost forgotten about what it felt like.

“Bye, Andy Bear.”

"Goodbye, little love.”

The call ends, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Putting the car in drive, you pull out of the parking lot and start thinking of every argument you could possibly make to talk your sweet, although slightly ogreish, husband out of sexy times and into sleepy times. But there was also something that told you that might not work.

Which meant it was time to come up with a Plan B. And while you were at it, probably a Plan C too.

___

Later That Afternoon...

“This makes me look like an apple with legs.”

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror trying your best not to give in to the overwhelming feeling of defeat. At this point, you’d tried on multiple sets of lingerie – all different styles, cuts, and colors.

And this one had been the only thing that seemed to look halfway decent.

Well, the good news was that your ass was still there. But the bad news? So was your stomach.

“Swear to God…I’m gonna find an ocean and throw myself in it.” You mutter as you stare at your reflection. You let out a resigned sigh as you do a little spin. “Knowing my ass can’t swim.” You gently smoosh your hand against your tummy in an attempt to flatten it.

To be fair, you’d only given birth two months ago and the lingerie you’d purchased was kind of slimming so…

Maybe you were being too hard on yourself. Or, maybe it was still worth trying to convince your husband to settle for an evening filled with dinner and cuddles. You really weren’t in the mood to take your clothes off in front of him at the moment.

Hell, who were you kidding? You could walk around wearing nothing but fishnets and tinfoil and the man would still find a reason to be into you.

Sometimes your loving husband was a man of the hopeless variety.

Plus, while Andrew Barber wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, he would definitely do everything in his power to persuade you. And he could be very persuasive when he put his mind to it.

Yeah. You were probably fucked.

You take a deep breath and run your fingers through your thick hair, loosening and fluffing your curls. Although Andy would be home any minute, there was still time to throw on sweats and a t-shirt or something.

“Fuck!” You hiss as your eyes well and your bottom lip begins to tremble. The other problem was that, while you were convinced that you needed more time, you also wanted to make your husband happy. But how could you when you could barely stomach the idea of taking off your clothes in front of him.

Just last week, some asshole at your favorite smoothie bar had the nerve to ask how far along you were – his intrusive gaze lingering on your post-baby body. His audacity had caught you so off guard that you were pretty sure that you’d given some unintelligible answer before snatching your drink and running towards the nearest exit.

That one little interaction had practically eviscerated what little bit of self-confidence you had left. And while you hadn’t made specific mention of it to Andy, you might end up doing so – if only to plead your case.

Which was that you were simply too large right now to be sexy, let alone feel attractive. Your skin was too loose, your stretch marks too prominent. And not only that, you were pretty sure that the only reason Andy wanted you right now was because he hadn’t gotten any in a couple of months.

Once his itch had been sufficiently scratched, the haze would clear and then your husband would see your body for what it was. He would understand your need to undress behind closed doors, without an audience. And then he would give you however much time you needed to get yourself back into some semblance of shape.

A lone tear slips down your cheek, which only serves to piss you off more. And although you’re quick to dash it away, another one is soon to follow. The last thing you needed for Andrew to notice you’d been crying. There was no need for both of you to feel bad about the state of things, you know?

With one last shake of your head you decide to throw on your robe and head downstairs to greet your man.

“Let’s get this shit over with.”

___

Ten Minutes Later…

“Baby?” Your husband calls out as he enters the house from the garage. “Baby, I’m home! Where are you?”

“Kitchen!” You go back to busying yourself folding your brand new set of dish towels you’d purchased from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. That store was one of your happy places, second only to Target and Disney World. It also helped that there was one located almost directly across the street from the mall you’d stopped at as well.

Your pulse quickens as you hear him approach, his rapidly falling footsteps coming closer by the second.

“Ah, I found you.” Andy rounds the corner, grinning from ear to ear. “Hi, my gorgeous girl.” His smile somehow grows impossibly wider. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Well, here I am.” You cast him a demure glance over your shoulder. “Although, I’m afraid I’m probably not much to look at.” Noticing his hands are surprisingly empty, you attempt to change the subject. “I thought you were gonna stop and grab dinner on the way?”

“I was.” He cocks his hip against the kitchen counter as loosens his tie. “But since you didn’t seem all that keen on the idea of surf and turf this morning I figured I’d hold off. Maybe see how we were feeling later this evening.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Is that all my baby has to say about that?” Andy tosses his tie onto the counter before unfastening the top three buttons of his light blue dress shirt. “Just oh?”

“Uh, yeah. How was your day?” You were quickly running out of towels to unfold and refold. If you kept it up you were going to start looking like a lunatic.

“Too long for a man who’s been missing his wife the way I have.” His sensual purr is enough to make you weak in the knees. “It was fucking excruciating, Baby Girl.”

Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye – fuck! Your dumbass just made fucking eye contact!

Your throat suddenly goes dry as the weight of his intense gaze threatens to overwhelm you. Andrew Barber always seemed to have this way about him. Only he had the power to unravel you in this manner.

It was truly a skill that was his alone. But on days like today, it was also a major nuisance.

“Come here.” The gentleness of his tone softens the command.

“Umm…” Instead of doing as you’re told you decide to shove those stupid towels you’ve been preoccupied with into a drawer. Which also happens to be the wrong drawer. Kitchen linens didn’t belong with the cutting boards. Anybody with some sense could see that!

“Sweetheart…” Andy’s voice drops another octave. “Stop fussing with those and come here already. I’d really like to hold my wife.” His earnest plea has your eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah. Okay.” You sniffle out, before dropping the towel and making a headlong dash into his waiting embrace. He wraps his brawny arms around you then, tucking his chin into your thick mane of glossy curls.

The two of you stand there without moving. Holding each other close as your hearts beat in time with one another. Andy’s hand comes to rest on your lower back, his palm slowly rubbing in small, soothing circles.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He hugs even tighter as you gently nuzzle your face against his chest, effectively wiping off what little bit of makeup you’d managed to apply earlier. “Tell me, please.”

Aww. Your sweet Ogre had even said “please”.

“Nothing.” Which was also code for everything.

Andy steps back to tenderly grip your chin, his thumb lightly smoothing across your bottom lip. “You know Daddy doesn’t like it when you lie.” And then he leans in to brush his mouth over your own. “Especially when you’re upset.”

“I know.” The words come out barely above a whisper. “And I’m fine. I just, um…” You go to pull away, surprised when he actually lets you. “I went and did a little shopping today. You know…cuz’ we got the green light. But – well, not the robe. Th–that isn’t new. But once I got it home and really looked at it, I um…” You throw up your hands as everything comes tumbling out in one jumbled mess.

“It just doesn’t fit right, okay? It probably didn’t even fit properly at the boutique when I tried it on and I just didn’t notice. Because the lighting was different and the mirrors are maybe a little more forgiving. Kind of like the ones you find in a funhouse. Except all of them were super flattering. Not like the one we’ve got in our bathroom here at home. Which…I mean that’s probably how they get ya, right?”

Your husband lifts a quizzical brow as you continue to ramble and slowly back away. You knew there was quite literally no possible chance you could manage to outrun your handsome attorney. But that didn’t mean you weren’t above giving it the old college try.

“So, I’m just gonna go upstairs and peel this ugly thing off. That way neither one of us has to even bother looking at it.” You finish rather lamely.

“And why exactly do you think I wouldn’t want to look at you? How about you explain that one to me, please?” Andy growls, jamming his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Because I don’t like the way I look right now and I’m pretty sure that if I show you, then you won’t either.”

Andy stares you down, the muscle ticking in his jaw. But you were beyond caring at this point. Right now was about acknowledging the truth regarding your body and the level of comfort you had with it.

“That’s bullshit, baby.” He rakes an impatient hand through his hair, moussing the auburn strands. “You know I love the way you look. I fucking adore you.”

“And that last part may very well be true, Big Man.” You concede, toying with the material of your robe. “But I, um...” A lump forms in your throat, but you force yourself to press on. “I do believe you love the way I look when I’m pregnant, yes. So do I…mostly. And you also love the way I look when I’m not pregnant. As in, after I’ve lost a healthy chunk of the baby weight.”

“What in the–? I mean, Jesus fucking Christ!” Your husband cuts himself off mid-sentence as he rocks back on his heels – as if stunned by your admission.

“I’m saying this wrong.” Good lord, you needed to get a better handle on the direction of this conversation. “Fuck! I know I am. But I don’t feel very good about myself right now. I don’t want to take off my clothes. I don’t want you to see me in this lingerie. Because I am almost entirely convinced that once you do – once you see all that I’m currently working with – you will change your mind about wanting to sleep with me.”

“You don’t mean that.” Andy scoffs under his breath, which you ignore.

“And if I see that…if I see that switch flip behind your eyes when it finally clicks just how unattractive I truly am…I don’t think I could handle that.”

As hard as this was, it was important for you to make him understand. And once you were finished, perhaps you could cook the two of you something for dinner. After that you would simply settle in and enjoy an easy, child-free night.

“Meaning?” Andy grunts.

“Meaning, I’m not taking off this robe tonight.” You blow out a weary breath as your hands go rest on your hips. “In fact, I don’t even know why –”

“Are you finished yet, sweetheart?” Your husband finally interrupts, apparently having had enough of your tirade. “Or do you have more? Because I’ve gotta tell you, as nice as it is that you think you’ve decided all this shit for us, your Daddy has quite a bit to say. So, are you fucking finished?”

“Y–yes.” That strange lump in your throat is back. “But I –”

“Stop. If you’re going to be done, then be done.” Andy interrupts again, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. “Baby Girl…I know what you’re doing. Even if you don’t, even if you can’t see it. I do. And I’m going to put a stop to it right now.”

“I’m just telling us both the truth!” You cry before you can catch yourself.

“No. You’re feeding us both lies. And I won’t stand for that shit. Not for another goddamned moment. I–I just won’t.”

The passion in his voice is enough to temporarily silence any forthcoming protests.

“And what’s more,” Andy forges on, “you’re not giving me even a shred of credit here. Which, and I’ve gotta be real honest with you here, kinda pisses me the fuck off.” Now it’s his turn to sigh, although this one is filled with exasperation.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking down at your toes.

“Look. At. Me.” The authority in his tone has your head snapping up immediately.

“Have I ever, and I do mean ever, in all the years we’ve been together, given you any indication that you are anything but beautiful to me?” He takes a step towards you, even as you take one back. “I quite literally worship the ground you walk on, sweetness. Which means that I occasionally notice things, even when you think I don’t.”

Your husband takes another step towards you, and then another. He’s getting closer, purposely crowding you with his big body – essentially trapping you like the predator that he was.

“There has never been a time, not once, when I have been less than hopelessly attracted to you. I want you all of the goddamned time. And, you know, maybe I should seek professional help for this shit, but I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Because I love my wife. I adore every single inch of you.”

You jump when your back collides with the refrigerator, the cool surface of the stainless steel appliance piercing your skin through the thin fabric of your robe.

“So what is it, Baby Girl? What is that you’ve got under there that’s got you so convinced I’m going to be disgusted by what I see.” Andy levels you with a pointed look as his hands go to gently grip your biceps, caging you in. “What is it you’re trying to hide from me?”

You close your eyes when it becomes too hard to look at the man you loved more than anything - the man who was surely about to become your undoing.

“While I appreciate your so-called brand of honesty, sometimes it hurts me when you talk about yourself like this. When you doubt yourself in this way. When you doubt me. Doubt us.” Andy briefly rests his forehead against yours before continuing.

“How am I supposed to help you battle these insecurities if you won’t even let me in the ring, sweetness? Sometimes you make it damn near impossible to – fuck!” He hisses, breaking the almost tender embrace before reminding himself to pause. “Okay.”

“I–I’m sorry, Andrew.” This time you don’t bother trying to fight back the tears when they come. Instead you decide to let them fall, realizing that it might finally be okay to let your husband catch you.

Before you broke completely and shattered into a hundred-million little pieces.

“Why on earth are you apologizing to me right now?” He cups your face with his hands as he brushes your tears away. “I’m not shaming you. I’m just…” He takes another calming breath. “I’m just talking to you. I thought we were expressing how we felt about things, weren’t we?”

“Yeah.” You give him a quick nod as more tears make their way down your cheeks.

“Okay.” He presses a sweet kiss to your nose. “Then will you trust me to show you something?” Again you nod before allowing him to lace his fingers through yours and pull you in the direction of the hall.

“Wh–where are we going?”

“Hush.”

He leads you down the hallway in silence, not stopping until you’re both standing in front of the full-length mirror located in the foyer. And then he reaches around to undo the knot on your robe, sliding it off your shoulders and letting it pool on the floor at your feet.

“Well, would you look at you? Is this pretty little thing what you bought for me today?”

“Mmhm.” You breathe, resting your head against his broad chest while your man looks his fill. Andy smooths his hands up and down your sides, lovingly kneading your ample curves. “It was the only thing that I felt, um…like it might be okay.”

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Baby Girl.” Andy playfully nips at your ear. “You still trust me? Okay, good. Then let’s take this off, too.” He reaches for the skirt of your lingerie.

“But why?” You whine, attempting to wiggle out of his hold. Unfortunately for you, your Big Man refuses to let you go. “Wait!”

“I think I’ve waited long enough.” Even though he’s pushing you, you can tell he’s also trying to keep a lid on his patience. “We both have. You got to make your case back there in the kitchen, young lady. Which means it’s now time for your Daddy to make his, don’t you think?”

While you weren’t quite sure where this was going, you also weren’t sure if you were ready to use your safe word yet. If that particular rule even applied right now.

“I – alright.” You concede before lifting your arms so that he can help remove the flimsy garment, leaving you naked and bare to his gaze. Goosebumps rise on your vulnerable flesh as you shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

Safe to say, catching a chill was the last thing on your mind. You just wanted to get this shit over with, whatever it was, and then move the fuck on already.

“Be a good girl and open your eyes for me, little love.” Andy purrs, lightly running his fingers through your curls. “I want to show you what I see every time I look at you.”

It takes you a moment, but eventually you’re able to do as you’re told. But instead of focusing on your own reflection, you choose to look at your husband – taking comfort in the warmth radiating from him.

You wanted to trust him. You really did.

“Thank you. Now, I want you to do your best to hear me.” Andy begins as his hands come up to rest themselves on your shoulders. “You are gorgeous no matter what size you are. And I am consistently awed by the fact that you, my darling wife, just gave birth to two healthy babies a little over eight weeks ago. My babies.” You receive a tender kiss to the back of your neck.

Your lower lip begins to tremble of its own accord. But this time you don’t look away, instead you follow the path of his fingers as they trail their way down your body.

“It’s because of you, and your magnificent little body, that I’m lucky enough to have four pieces of heaven running around this house, making noise and causing chaos. Giving me both a reason to live again along with a few new gray hairs at the same time.”

You watch as he lifts your breasts, hefting the erotic weight of them in his palms. He gently massages them, completely unfazed by the light dribble of milk leaking from your left nipple. Instead you’re treated to another roguish grin as his tongue darts out to greedily lap up the stray drops from his knuckles.

“Fucking delicious. But stop trying to distract me, baby.” He rasps, his tone just shy of teasing. “We both know you’re not quite ready for me to feast just yet.” And then he winks at you, which suddenly has your legs feeling like jelly.

Although you flinch when his focus shifts to your belly, the pads of his fingers tracing along one of your more prominent stretch marks. He keeps his touch light - bordering on reverent - as he marvels at the angry stripes painted across your skin.

The ones formed out of a natural bond built between a mother and her children.

“I love this part of you. This part right here where you – aw, no. Please don’t look away from me, honey.” Andy moves to kiss away a fresh wave of tears. “Let me see those eyes.”

“I…I...” Your mouth clamps shut as you stifle a hiccup. You grant yourself a couple of seconds before opening your eyes again. This time when you do, you gently place your hands on top of his. “I’m sorry. I know, you love this part of me because of the kids. And I get it, I do. But…” You shake your head and give up.

Because something tells you that perhaps you’d be better off just listening for right now.

“Yes, I absolutely love this part of you because of our rugrats, but that’s not the only reason. It’s because, as much as I adore your tight little pussy and that spankable ass of yours, your belly has always been it for me.”

“What?” Now that has your full attention.

“I’m not kidding.” He asserts. “I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with you, probably because I thought I’d run the risk of sounding dumb. But your belly has always been my favorite feature because it’s…it’s my anchor.”

Your husband’s heartfelt admission actually has the nerve to throw you for a bit of a loop.

“I’m serious.” Andy continues, leaning down to press a hard kiss to your cheek. “There’s something about whenever the world feels like it’s falling apart all around me and then I reach for you, because that’s what I do. And you’re always there for me, my love. Always.” He gives you a light squeeze. “And without fail, you just let me hold you like this, wherever we are. And I just…I feel better.”

“Swear to God, I’m a grown-ass man, but this part of you brings me so much comfort. I understand the fact that you struggle with accepting your body the way it is right now, especially after welcoming the twins. But please believe me when I tell you that where you only seem to see your flaws, I see strength. I see incomparable beauty.”

Andy takes that moment to fully envelope you, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle and burying his face in your hair. You allow yourself to stand there for a little while, drinking in the sight of your devoted husband holding your nude body.

You’ve never felt more loved. More cherished than you did right now.

“Andy Bear…” You whisper, your voice filled with emotion. “I…I don’t quite see what you see. Not yet. But I do think I feel it now. More than I did anyway.”

You let out a surprised yip when he spins you around. His intoxicating blue eyes bore into your own as his hands move to tease the globes of your ass.

“You should know that I wasn’t finished yet, princess. I just spent the last several minutes composing a sonnet dedicated to that greedy pussy of yours. Then there’s those luscious thighs, and that ass. I also never really had a thing for feet until I met you, but I’m particularly fond of those too. I’m prepared to wax poetic about it all because I want you to see what I see.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. And when you decide to let it loose, it’s quite literally the most wonderful feeling in the world. You feel lighter than you have in days.

It’s enough to make you start crying all over again.

“I love you, Andrew Barber.” You murmur, rising on your tiptoes to take his lips in a brief kiss. “And I know you had what I’m sure was one hell of a speech planned, and while I really hate to cut it short, I’m thinking I might wanna take you to bed now.”

“Oh?” His tone is rife with cautious optimism. “Is that right?”

“Yeah.” Giving in to impulse, you proceed to tickle his ears. He makes a show of batting your hands away as he playfully dodges your advances – much to your delight. Although he eventually puts an end to things by picking you up and holding you close.

“But can we maybe take it slow?” You ask as you snuggle into his chest, basking in the safety and security of his familiar scent.

“Of course.” Andy murmurs as he spins on his heel and heads towards the direction of the stairs. “We have all night, my precious girl.”

That was the moment you knew without a doubt. The moment you finally believed that everything he’d said, every word he’d spoken to you, had been nothing but the truth.

And later that night, when you collapsed on the bed feeling completely sated with one another, you thanked your lucky stars that fate had led you into the arms of the one and only Andrew Barber.

END

For more about Andy and Reader's first time making love after welcoming their twins, be sure to check out the sequel, The Green Light: Afterglow.

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cameronspecial · 9 months

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Thorn In My Side, Rose In My Hand (Part 6)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Under Age Drinking, Under Age Marijuana Use, Violence and Displays of Toxic Relationship Acts. If I missed one, please let me know.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: Rafe throws a party in an attempt to see Y/N. Y/N finds out a heart breaking truth.

Masterlist

Rafe knows Y/N is ignoring him. No matter what he tries, she never so much as utters a word in his direction. So he is giving her some space. He could say that he isn’t throwing a party for the sole purpose of hopefully seeing Y/N for a split second if she chooses to come, but he’d be lying. Normally, he goes from room to room to check on people. Today, he is in the kitchen, guarding the stuff he bought specifically for Y/N in case she shows up. He sees someone reaching for the hard kombucha in the fridge, “Touch that can and I will throw you out of my house faster than you can say kombucha.” The person quickly closed the fridge and exited the kitchen. “You better not be opening that Oreo package,” he threatens to Mason, who Rafe knows has been eyeing the package.

“Dude, come on. I told you that she isn’t coming. She went to something that Wilson is holding. It sounded fancy. So let me just have one, please,” Mason begs while he inches toward the package again.

“Still you never know. Maybe she’ll get bored and stop by?”

“I love you, dude. And I want to see you guys together, but I think it’s time to call it. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“I know my chances. I still have hope though. We are meant to be, I just know it.”

———

Y/N sits at the dinner table with all of Wilson’s friends. He is having a dinner soirée. Honestly, Y/N is bored out of her mind, but Wilson is her boyfriend and this is typically a girlfriend's duty. La Bleue Fleur is catering and the topic of conversation is that uninteresting Civil War documentary that Wilson made her watch. Y/N is pushing around the leftover garnish on her plate as she is the first person to finish eating. “Y/N, what did you think of Timothy Satonis’ masterpiece?” Allen asks, looking toward the girl. She is caught off guard by the question because she has mostly been left out of the conversation. “Uhh, not gonna lie, I zoned out during the movie. Docs really aren’t my thing,” she replies to the group, which causes them to look at her with horror in their eyes. The group is awkwardly silent for a second before Wilson directs the conversation to something Y/N can be involved in, “Did you guys know Y/N is Cassie Y/L/N’s daughter?”

This sparks a conversation between the dinner guests. “Have you met her?” Hailey questions excitedly. Wilson smiles with pride, “Yes, I have. We met when I took Y/N to Midsummer. Later on, I gave her a manuscript of my book when I visited Y/N’s house the other day. Hopefully, she can pass it on to her publisher and it gets published.” Y/N finds it strange that Wilson would say it like he was the one to ask her to Midsummer when in reality she is the one to ask him out. “That is an amazing idea. Y/N, what is your favourite book of hers?” Josh inquiries. “Um, probably Murder in The Deep. The series is inspired by my love of murder mysteries and the main character, Arabella, is modelled after me. So it feels pretty personal and sentimental to me. She even mentions me in the dedication and named a murder victim after me.” “I see. Wilson did not tell us you were one of those types of readers,” Josh remarks with judgement in his tone. She turns towards Wilson to see if he will stand up for her. He doesn’t, so Y/N once again zones out as everyone else continues talking about her mom like she is not there. She feels a little uncomfortable, but she doesn’t say anything to avoid making anyone else feel the same way.

After dinner and dessert are finished, the evening continues in the family room with a game of trivia. Y/N is usually good at trivia as she is on track to being valedictorian and she loves to know random, obscure facts. However, this game of trivia is all related to the same topics, which bore her to death. “If you’re a fan of Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman, and Miles Davis, which museum in Kansas City will be music to your ears?” Allen reads from the card. Hailey rings her bell quickly, “Amerian Jazz Museum!” The group claps at her answer. Y/N didn’t even know there was a museum only for Jazz music, let alone that it was in Kansas City. Hailey takes the next card, “Bela Bartok and Romantic composer Franz Liszt are typically considered the greatest composers to emerge from what European nation?” Y/N wants to be included in the game, so she tries to take a guess at the answer and rings her bell, “Is it Germany?” Wilson shakes his head in disappointment and she can see the embarrassment in his eyes. “Of course, it is not Germany, Y/N. Everyone knows they are from Hungary. If you do not know the answer, then do not bother answering the question,” he chastises and Y/N feels as though she is a child.

“Excuse me, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Y/N excuses as she gets up to find the bathroom, hoping to escape the situation. Y/N knew she should stand up for herself, but she didn’t wanna make a scene because that would also be embarrassing. She is walking back to the family room when she hears her name being spoken. She stops just outside of the family room archway, hiding behind the wall. “I do not understand why you are dating her. She has no substance at all. She is vapid and I do not know how you can spend so much time with her,” she hears Hailey complain. This absolutely guts Y/N because this is another one of her insecurities. When compared to the intelligent life of the part, Elizabeth Huntington, she felt uninteresting with her more reserved personality. However, nothing prepares her for the feeling of what Wilson says next. “It is about looking at the advantages. Y/N may be vapid, but I got to meet Cassie and hopefully, I can be mentored by her. It is the only reason why I asked her out. I heard a rumour that the Y/L/N’s like to spend time on the beach where we met. I figured I was bound to meet one of them eventually.”

Y/N could continue to just stand there and be sorry for herself, but her blood is now boiling and she decides to stand up for herself, no matter how much she wants to cry right now. She steps out from behind the wall, “I may be vapid, but at least, I’m not a lonely boy, who is so obsessed with an author that I stalked her and her family. It is so sad that you used another human being just to get your boring ass manuscript read. My mom showed me the manuscript and we both agree that you sound like a giant stick in the mud even when you write. You don’t have to worry about putting up with me any longer because we are over!” This isn’t her finest moment, but she storms out in a hurry. She can only make it so far before she realizes that she could not walk home all the way. Her vision is blurry, meaning she could not see three feet in front of her.

She decides it is safer to call someone to come pick her up. She takes out her phone and dials her brother’s number, “Dude, why are you calling? Are you a boomer? Anyways leave a message at the beep.” Voicemail. She calls her parents and gets voicemail again. Right, they are staying on the mainland for the night because her mom has a back-to-back book signing there. She goes to call Lacey, but notices she has a voicemail from her friend. “Y/NNNNN, I love youuuuu. Before you ask, I amz totes not drink. Drink. Drunk, lol. Okay, maybe I am. But, I wants you to know I loves you. Alsoooo, I total- total- totally made out with Derren. He is so h-” The voicemail cuts off before Lacey could finish her drunken rant. This causes Y/N to stop crying for a second and giggle at Lacey’s drunken antics. But the realization that she only has one other person to call whom she felt comfortable with makes her feel anxious because she is not even sure he is going to answer her call after the way she has been ignoring him.

———

Rafe sits on his couch with Elizabeth on his lap and her tongue down his throat. He was able to convince her that saying Y/N’s name during Midsummer was a mistake, which leads to them having been making out for the last ten minutes. Even with the raging music of the party, Rafe could hear the beginning notes of “The Book of You and I” by Alec Benjamin. It is the ringtone he assigned for Y/N. He must admit it is a strange song to have chosen because it talks about a breakup and he and Y/N haven’t even started their story. The song reminds him of her and he knows Y/N loves the song just because of the mention of a book. She loves the idea of a love story being a book of the two people in the relationship. He immediately pulls away from Elizabeth, leaving the girl frustrated again to go answer the phone somewhere quieter. The song couldn’t even make it to the second note because Rafe answers it.

“Y/L/N, are you hurt?” he immediately interrogates with worry seeping into his voice. With Y/N ignoring him for the past couple of weeks, he knows it must be serious if she is calling him right now at night. “Ca- Can y- yo- you pi-pick m-e u-u-up, please?” he hears her struggle to say through her tears. Rafe’s eyebrows knit together in concern, “Absolutely, send me your pin and I’ll be there immediately.” Y/N whispers a meek okay and goodbye before hanging up the phone, not giving him a chance to ask further questions.

———

Once again another party ended early for Y/N’s safety, but seeing as Rafe threw the party just to get her attention, he had no problem with ushering everyone out of his house as fast as he can. He doesn’t even wait for everyone to be gone before hopping into his jeep and driving off to the location Y/N sent him. He held very little regard for his own safety as he drove past stop signs and red lights. All that matters is making sure she is safe. He finally gets to his destination, the end of Wilson’s driveway. Y/N sits on the decorative rock in a full-on sobbing fit. Rafe jumps out after double-checking he put the car in park. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into his neck without saying a word. After a few minutes, she calms down enough to tell him what happened. “He was only dating me to get to my mom. He said I was vapid and I know it’s true, but it just hurts to hear someone else confirm it.” Rafe blood boils at how Wilson made Y/N feel, “You are not vapid. You’re a rose. When you meet a new person, you are the bud. You are more reserved around them. But when you start to bloom, your passion, love, and joy start to show. Just like how when a rose starts to open up you start to see the beautiful red colour that hides within. Wilson was just too selfish and boring for you to do anything interesting with him.” She smiles up at him and nods her head in understanding. “Wait, here for a second. I’m going to go do something real quick before we leave,” he explains before getting up and walking toward the front door.

Rafe knocks on the auspicious door and waits for Wilson to open it. “What are y-” Wilson tries to say, but he is interrupted by Rafe’s fist punching him in the face. “Come near Y/N again and I’ll do a whole lot worse,” he warns, running off toward Y/N. She stands there shocked at what just happened. She giggles at the image of Rafe coming towards her. He grabs her hand as he passes by and drags her toward his car. Once he helps her up, he goes around and drives off, watching in the back mirror as Wilson and his friends finally catch up to the street. Rafe pulls out his phone to play “Getaway Car” by Taylor Swift, which causes Y/N to fall into hysterics.

Rafe drives Y/N to Tannyhill because he knows her parents aren’t home and that Mason is probably still in a guest room with Amanda, even after the party is ended. “Where is everyone?” Y/N ponders out loud as she sees the empty house. Mason told her about the party Rafe was throwing. “Sent them home when you called,” he informs her without skipping a beat. He says it in a matter-of-fact way that she knows he doesn’t want her to feel guilty. The car stops and they see Mason come out to join them outside. “Dude, where did you go?” Mason pauses when he sees the tear-streaked face belonging to his twin. “Y/N/N, what’s wrong?” “Wilson was only dating me because of mom,” Y/N mumbles, attaching herself to Rafe. His being there during her time of vulnerability has caused her to feel comfort in his grasp. Mason’s face contorts into anger, “HE DID WHAT! I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!” Y/N quickly goes to her brother’s side and puts her arm out so he can’t get past her. “Don’t worry. Rafe already punched him for me,” she assures her brother, who pulls her into a hug. “Mace, you didn’t pick up your phone.” He grimaces and places a kiss on her forehead, “I know, I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, Rafe was there,” she whispers in the nook. “Should we go home?” Mason asks. “No, can we go to the balcony?” She replies, looking between Mason and Rafe. Both boys nod and follow her to her desired destination.

Rafe and Y/N make a quick stop to get her more comfortable clothes, so Mason goes to get some snacks. Rafe goes past his room, heading towards Sarah’s room. He looks back to check in with Y/N and notices she isn’t following him. She is paused at his door, waiting for him to follow her. “What’s wrong? Sarah’s room is this way,” he points in the direction of the room. Y/N looks at her feet while shifting her weight between the two, “Actually, can I borrow some of your clothes, please? They are comfy.” Rafe smiles at her suggestion, “Of course, you can, Y/L/N.” he takes her inside. He gives her a plain gray T-shirt and black sweatpants. It may be a mundane outfit, but Rafe loved how she looked in his clothes. She is practically swimming in his shirt because he is so much taller than her and she had to tie her sweatpants very tight so they wouldn’t slip down so much. They both giggle at her constant need to pull up the pants as they head to the balcony.

———

Mason sits opposite from Y/N and Rafe with a joint in hand while Y/N cuddles herself into Rafe’s arms. They’ve been talking about anything and everything just to cheer Y/N up. “Why the dude never used contractions was so fucking weird. He sounded like such an old person,” Mason jokes while taking a drag of his blunt. Rafe laughs, “Those stupid button-up shirts he’d wear all the damn time. With his name monogrammed onto them. He looked like such a douchebag in them.” This continuous mockery of Wilson has cheered Y/N up. “I caught him ironing the collar of it. Only an asshole is that uptight,” she joins in while taking a swing of her hard kombucha. The boys nod in agreement. Mason snubs out the joint and gets up from his seat, “I’m gonna head to bed. Y/N, you cool if we sleep here?” She nods; originally, she was supposed to sleep over at Wilson’s house. With that, Mason leaves the two alone.

They sit in comfortable silence, drinking their drinks and looking up at the stars. She has now shifted so her head is on his chest and his arm is around her neck. Y/N opens up the pack of Oreos placed on the coffee table in front of them. She untwists the top of the one she picks up and gives the bottom with the cream on it to Rafe. Understanding what she wants him to do, he grabs the bottom and eats the cream for her before handing it back to her. Y/N and Wilson never had this unspoken language while they were dating. “Why doesn’t anyone love me for me?” She wonders as she gives him another Oreo. “Someone does. He’s just waiting for you to be ready,” Rafe whispers without realizing that she heard him. She looks up at him from her position and he looks down at her. She closes her eyes and starts to lean in to kiss him. No matter how much he wishes he could lean down to meet her lips, he knows this isn’t the right moment, so he pulls away. “As much as I want to kiss you right now, I would rather our first kiss be when you are feeling less vulnerable and are 100% sober,” he tells her. Disappointment is written all over her face, but she knows that he made the right decision. She would prefer their first kiss to feel more right and not just because he is there being sweet to her after a breakup. She nuzzles back into his chest and they go back to just enjoy each other’s company. Her light snores tell him she has fallen asleep and instead of waking her up from her slumber, he picks her up and takes her to the other guest bedroom. He tucks her into the bed and admires the serene look on her face as she sleeps. He lightly kisses her forehead and goes back to his room to welcome the sleep.

Taglist: @itsalexwin @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @terraeluce @f4ll-for-you

#thorn in my side rose in my hand #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you

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sentinelpri · 3 months

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Knowing (NSFW)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But do you want to go home to her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t sleep with married men.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucked up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

House furrows his brow.

“Like what?”

“Will you answer me honestly?”

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

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

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

“Who was that again?” House questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

“House, I’m not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not scared at all?”

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

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

“You’re persistent.”

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

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

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unlimitedhearts · 5 months

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I’m dreading the third game of Spiderman might kill off Harry :/ either he’s goblin (solo or probably along with daddy-o) and dies a la Hero Sacrifice. Or kept comatose and in the end with grim results the decision is to pull the plug on him. idk I feel Harry’s fate is doom and gloom. But they could have killed Harry at the end of this sequel giving a strong motivation for Norman to be the Goblin and hatred for Spider-Man…yet they didn’t. idk rambling thoughts. What do you think?

Personally i can see both options. I saw someone in the tags of my last headcanon post say that it wouldnt make sense to save him from death in this game only to kill him in the next. On some level i get that, why wait when you could do it now?

I have two worst case scenarios in my head:

Harry wakes up from his coma w amnesia a la the third Tobey Maguire movie. Hes unaware of Pete being Spider-Man and Peter, thinking hes protecting Harry, wont tell him. This may cause a rift in their friendship when Harry finds out - or if Norman ends up going goblin and dies - Spider-Man is to blame in Harrys eyes and he'll go after him then. To me this is a tired trope of Harry getting an intense hatred for Spidey and wanting to kill him over his father. It always felt out of character for me and i truly TRULY hope they dont go this route.

Harry becomes the Kobold. In the comics, Kobold is essentially Harrys way of making the Green Goblin a good guy. If he still wants to fight by Peters side, he'll find a way to do it. Kobold would make a lot of sense to me personally, as it kind of continues their dynamic from this game. Then at the end theres a heros sacrifice to be made and Harry goes for it despite Peters protests. This would be lazy to me too though because he essential already did the heros sacrifice in this game. Seems like theyd just want us to have more time with him to love him even more, just to make losing him hurt worse. I wouldn't put it past an intrepid writer to think they could make it work, but it just seems lazy to me.

Actual best case scenario for me though? Harry wakes up as the g-serum is being injected. Hes against being his dads experiment all over again so he runs and finds Peter. Hes not aware of his pseudo-retirement, he just goes straight to the place thats always been his safe haven; Peters home. He asks Peter to hide him from his dad. Tries to explain everything but hes exhausted and frantic. Peter agrees and they take him into hiding.

Norman, ever the expert deflector, doesnt see this as a failing on his part. Hes convinced spider-man had something to do with his son escaping so he puts out a hit on him. Hes ready, willing, and able to capture and kill at least one of the two spider-men it doesnt matter. We see him pardon Wilson Fisk for this job, and when Fisk cant do it, he has to. Normans going to go Goblin. I know it, i can feel it in my bones.

Miles asks Peter to get back in action and he does. Fisk, plus potentially Otto again, plus this brand new villain in town is too much for any one person to handle. Heres where i see Harry becoming a "Guy In The Chair" for Peter like Ganke is for Miles. Two Guys in the Chair helping the spider-men is definitely better than one. I could also see Harrys goblin powers start to emerge but he keeps pushing them down. Last time he gave into power it didnt end well for anyone.

In an effort to not write out the entire plot of the game as i see fit (because itd be long and there are so many moving pieces and characters and IDEK WHERE THEYRE GONNA PUT SILK IN-), i think if Harry does take on the cowl he'll be doing so against his father. I think i see Harry becoming Goblin/Kobold to fight against Norman and ultimately try to help Peter/Miles. This is where i see Harry either accidentally killing Norman or Norman killing his son (and of course, blaming Spider-Man)

There is also room, in my mind, to bring back Venom a la Lethal Protector/Agent Venom. But tbh if they do, i would much rather Venom go to Eddie Brock or Flash Thompson. But thats just the separate Venom Fangirl Entity within me.

Ultimately my hope of course is that Harry not die and they dont go down that all too tired and hackneyed trope of Harry growing to hate Peter dor whatever reason. I truly TRULY hope they dont go that route it is just SO tired and lazy. I want them to stay close and loving. Whatever route they go with will be SO MUCH MORE IMPACTFUL if Harry Osborn lives and doesnt make a full 180 on his best friend for no good reason.

#harry osborn #peter parker #parksborn #if you squint #spider-man #marvel's spider man 2 #spider-man 2 #insomniac spider man #insomniac spider-man #insomniac games #spider man imagine #spider-man headcanons #honestly insomniac pls hire me #i would be so good at writing this game i care about these characters SO DEEPLY.#what do i need to do for you to notice me insomniac senpai #venetiangoldroz

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rose-of-pollux · 3 months

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So, @belphegor1982 asked me for my thoughts on the BTTF musical which I saw about 10 days ago, and I've managed to put them together and keep them as spoiler-free as possible--

Even before you go into the theatre, the merch store is separate, which is great when it's a rainy January night and you're waiting for the doors to open (which I was). I'm not sure if this has been a thing for previous productions at the Winter Garden Theatre, but for other Broadway shows I've seen in different theatres (Phantom and Anastasia), the merch was sold inside the theatre, and you needed a ticket to get to it/wait til the doors opened.

The pre-show immersion/ambiance is fantastic; not even Phantom can boast that.

There are numerous easter eggs for fans of the movies; it's so fun spotting them all.

It does not take long for the fourth wall to come tumbling down, and it is glorious. Marty even lampshades it in the opening number.

@knickynoo mentioned this in her writeup, but Doc and Marty are just as neurodivergent (if not moreso) than their movie counterparts

Doc is also so very obviously asexual in this version, I love it.

A small thing, but we actually get to hear Doc say "If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything." In the movie, everyone credits him for saying it, but we never actually hear him say it.

Doc's involvement in the Manhattan Project is canonized in the musical-verse!

The DeLorean is borderline sentient and sassy

Most people know by now that they changed Twin Pines Doc's cause of death/the reason Marty goes back in time, and it works so much better for both practicality reasons on stage, and for the fact that the original was a charging bull elephant in the room.

Goldie Wilson gets an absolute banger for his song (as well he should!)

Another small thing, I like the little addition of Doc's fear of heights.

@wromwood pointed out how only Doc and Marty seem to acknowledge the existence of the chorus ensemble (Lorraine gets some backup singers for her number out of nowhere, but she takes no notice of them). I didn't even realize this until he mentioned it, and now I'm fascinated by the implications of Doc and Marty being hyper-aware of the fourth wall for whatever reasons.

The Act I closing number is gloriously chaotic.

...I could do an entire post about why I love "For the Dreamers" so much and how it delves so deeply into Doc's character. Just... GAH. This man has dealt with so many naysayers and considers himself a failure (it's telling that he did technically have a success with the Manhattan Project, but still considers that a failure--I'd theorize because he obviously feels so dang guilty about having the blood of innocent civilians on his hands as a result of it) but now he has hope that he will accomplish something great.

Not only do we have Marty worrying about Doc dying in 1985, we get to see him worried and unsure of his own fate. This kid has been Through It, and it isn't over yet.

THE WAY THEY DID THE ENCHANTMENT UNDER THE SEA DANCE. I cannot spoil this; you must experience this firsthand, but I will assure you that "Earth Angel" and "Johnny B Goode" are there in all their glory.

The Clocktower scene is spectacular. You're wondering how they'll pull it off onstage, and they just do it.

Others have mentioned this BUT WE GET THE LONE PINE HUG THAT SHOULD'VE BEEN IN THE MOVIE.

The absolute best meta joke comes courtesy of Jennifer near the end. I cannot spoil this either, but if you know, you know.

THAT FINALE (again, if you know, you know).

#bttf #bttf the musical #back to the future #don't mind me

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firstelevens · 2 months

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No. 20 from the eras tour prompt list for sambucky ? ?

did I hear someone ask for a Sweet Home Alabama Louisiana AU? no? well I wrote the start of one anyway, so here it is

20. all your dirtiest jokes

Pebbles go flying as Bucky pulls his rental up in front of Sam’s house. He kind of wishes there was the satisfying screech of tires on asphalt to emphasize his mood, but he slams the car door twice as hard to make up for it, and feels just a little bit better afterwards.

Back when they were kids, the Wilsons’ place had been close enough to the neighbors’ houses to wave at them from the porch. The house that Sam bought when he came home from his first tour is set back a lot further than that, wooded where it doesn’t back up onto the water, so Bucky has no compunctions about getting a little shouty.

“Sam Wilson, I know you’re in there!” he calls out, walking up to the front door. “You can dodge my calls as long as you want, but I’m not going anywhere until you open up.”

It’s not a big house, and there’s at least three open windows, so there’s no question that Bucky’s voice is carrying through loud and clear, but there’s no response. Bucky raps sharply on the doorframe.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Sam. I know this town just as well as you do, and I will follow you everywhere.”

It takes another five minutes, but finally, Bucky sees a figure approaching through the frosted glass pane on the front door. When it swings open, he’s met with a bare-chested Sam Wilson, breathing heavy from a workout as he pulls his earbuds out of his ears.

For all that he was yelling a second ago, Bucky suddenly can’t seem to make words come out of his mouth. To add insult to injury, Sam seems perfectly unaffected by the sight of him, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Bucky Barnes,” he drawls, and Bucky hates how comforting that voice still is after all this time. “What can I do for you?”

In a second, the ire comes flickering back to life. The nerve of Sam, to ask that question when he knows perfectly well the only thing that Bucky’s been asking him for for the past year.

He holds up the envelope that’s the whole reason he had to drag his ass back here, a thousand miles and twenty years removed from home.

“You could start by giving me a fucking divorce.”

Bucky spent so long working himself up over this, back in New York and on the plane here and on the almost-two-hour drive from New Orleans. He’d written and rewritten a hundred different speeches, rehearsed so many arguments with the Sam in his head that he was sure he’d know exactly what to say.

But now he was here, and he’d gone and delivered what should’ve been the last line of his scathing speech way too early, and what more was there to do except stand there on Sam’s porch and glare at him expectantly?

Sam, for his part, looks at Bucky consideringly for a moment, then peers around him to look out towards the yard. “You should come inside,” he says, and then steps away, leaving the door open.

The petty part of Bucky wants to refuse, wants to make a nuisance of himself right here on the porch so Sam can’t ignore him, but then he stops to take in his surroundings for longer than a second. The air is thick, the heat more sluggish than it was when his flight touched down. Beyond the trees, the sky has gotten darker. It’s been a while since Bucky lived on the bayou, but the signs of an oncoming storm haven’t changed.

He huffs and steps into Sam’s house, closing the door behind him just as thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s cooler inside, at least, and as Sam moves further into the house, Bucky figures he’s supposed to follow. He’s still not completely over his need to be a nuisance—or so he tells himself—so he goes slowly, glancing around at the house that Sam bought long after Bucky wasn’t a part of his life anymore.

Bucky knows it’s a completely different building, but part of him still expects that it’ll be the house that Sam grew up in, all warm wood and quiet chaos. Somewhere in his head, he thinks that if he just went up that staircase in front of him, he’d end up in Sam’s childhood bedroom, sixteen years old and laid out on the floor with the boombox between them, laughing at the dirty jokes that Sam heard in senior calc or trying to figure out just what the deal was between their grade’s latest on-again, off-again couple.

But this isn’t that house, Bucky reminds himself, and this isn’t back then. He’s not looking to go back in time; he just wants to go forwards, and he could if Sam would just cooperate.

“What happened, you get lost in that hallway?” asks Sam, when Bucky finally makes it to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother answering, but Sam’s back is to him, so there’s no way to tell whether he’s even noticed. “Hey, cream and no sugar, right?”

“What?”

Sam turns around with a mug of coffee in his hand, and Bucky’s pretty sure he can’t hide how he immediately perks up when the cup is set in front of him. For a second, he thinks about telling Sam that he does take sugar now, just to be contrarian, but then he remembers he’d actually have to drink it and throws that plan out the window.

“This is fine, thanks,” he eventually says, setting the envelope on the island and picking up the coffee. He hasn’t had caffeine since before his flight this morning, and he can feel the first sip right down to his toes. His eyes actually close for a second, and when he opens them, Sam is back on the other side of the counter, looking amused. There’s no mug in his hands.

“You’re not having any?” Bucky asks. “What’d you do, poison it?”

Even if he did, Bucky’s not convinced he’d be able to put it down. It’s really good coffee.

“I will,” says Sam. “But my Mama would kill me if I entertained company like this, so I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home; the view’s nice from the family room if you missed the water.”

He breezes out before Bucky can argue, his footsteps thudding up the stairs between one sip of coffee and the next.

After a moment of looking around incredulously, waiting to see if maybe he’s being pranked, Bucky decides this is just Sam trying to annoy him into leaving, and he won’t let it work. He marches into the family room just as the rain starts in earnest, and just to spite Sam, he turns his back to the French doors and surveys the rest of the room. There’s art hanging up, intermingled with family photos. Lumpy ceramics that are definitely grade school art projects sit beside beautiful crystalline sculptures, tall and spiky and somehow familiar.

Along one of the walls is the credenza that Bucky recognizes from Sam’s parents’ house, the one that Mr. Wilson had hauled home from an estate sale and refinished just because Sam’s mother had lingered beside it for a few seconds longer than anything else. It’s a different color now than it was before, but Bucky would recognize it anywhere. Sitting on top of it are what Bucky guesses are the important photos: Sarah’s wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson on the boat together, Sam with a toddler beside him and a baby in his arms.

Furthest to the left is a picture of the dock behind the Wilson house. Two figures sit at the end of it, leaning into each other in the sunshine. One of them wears a t-shirt, gangly arms braced behind them. The other has a letterman jacket on, and that’s what tips Bucky off when he picks up the frame to look at it more closely: that’s him and Sam, sitting out where they did almost every day after school. Sam had gotten his varsity jacket for the baseball team when they were sophomores, and Bucky was pretty sure he’d worn it more often than Sam had. He’d always liked the way it felt on his shoulders, and when fall rolled around and the wind blew in a little cooler off the water, Sam always passed it over to him without needing to be asked.

They’d gotten a little more refined, once driver’s licenses were acquired and curfews were lengthened. Sam would drive the Wilsons’ old pickup truck a little ways out of town, to an empty plot of land flanked by trees on one side and water on the other, and they would sit and soak up the wind off the water until they could both breathe a little easier. Bucky had started thinking of it as their piece of the island, the safest place he could ever remember being.

When the future had barreled towards them with no signs of stopping, it was where Sam had driven them, nothing around but the birds in the trees when he quietly suggested his plan for getting out of Delacroix and taking Bucky with him. Nobody else had been around to see Bucky fling his arms around Sam’s neck and whisper a muffled yes into his shoulder, either: both of them a little bit scared of the future but determined to make it better for each other.

Maybe they can be reasonable about this. Maybe he and Sam can look at each other and see exactly what the other person needs, the way they did when they were younger. Maybe there don’t have to be questions and discussions and the kind of passive aggressive emails they’ve been exchanging through lawyers for the past year.

The rain is still coming down hard, lulling Bucky into a daze, so he can’t be blamed for the way he startles when Sam’s voice sounds from behind him. He scrambles to grab the picture frame before it falls out of his hands, setting it down and taking a beat before he turns around.

Sam is holding the envelope with the divorce papers in his hands, but Bucky has seen his ‘I give up’ face and that definitely isn’t it.

“The entire year that we’ve been going over this, I’ve asked you the same question, over and over, and you’ve never answered,” Sam says.

“Fuck,” says Bucky, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This? Again?”

“Yeah, again,” says Sam. “Because if I’m getting a divorce, I at least deserve to know why. I deserve to know what changed.”

“I have told you every single time you asked, Sam. Nothing changed. Nothing changed, because this was never a real marriage, and you know that. We got married so we could both get the fuck out of this town, and so I could stop being so terrified all the time, and we did that, and now we’re done.”

Sam crosses his arms, setting his jaw, and it occurs to Bucky that this is the first battle of a long war. “We did all that fifteen years ago, easy. That’s not what this is about. What changed, Buck?”

But Bucky can’t answer Sam any more now than he could the first time he asked that question a year ago. He can’t remind Sam of all the things he missed out on because he was tied to Bucky, he can’t bring up Riley or Sam’s parents or all the little ways that Bucky managed to steal things from him without even trying, because Sam would never see it. Even now, squaring off against each other with no possible middle ground, Sam would never see it, so Bucky can’t say it.

“Just sign the damn papers, Sam,” is what Bucky says instead.

It’s the first time he’s ever evaded the question in person. Somehow when he pictured Sam reading all those emails and messages he’d sent, Bucky had never imagined a flicker of disappointment on his face, gone as soon as it appeared.

Sam turns to set the envelope on an end table and picks up a wristwatch from beside it, doing up the strap before he turns around again. When he does, he’s got a determinedly cheerful smile on his face, the kind that Bucky has always known meant trouble.

“Gee, Buck, I wish I could, but as it happens, I’m running late for something,” he says, with an exaggerated look at his watch. “Maybe later?”

He’s already heading for the door, leaving Bucky to hurry after him. “What do you mean you’re late for something? Where the fuck are you going in a hurricane?”

Sam snorts. “You’ve been away too long. This is barely even a storm.”

An enormous crack of lightning punctuates his words, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“It’s a drizzle,” says Sam, pulling on a jacket. “And I have a date.”

Bucky is not entirely prepared for the feelings that those words stoke in his chest, but worse still is what Sam calls out before the door swings shut behind him.

“Guest bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. Don’t wait up.”

He’s not entirely sure how much time he loses, fuming in the foyer of Sam’s house, but eventually, that rage sharpens into something else entirely as he remembers what he yelled out standing on Sam’s porch half an hour ago.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does, and unless fifty years of corporate development hit Delacroix in the last fifteen, there’s only one place to take a date if you’re an adult who doesn’t want to get accosted by the entire senior population of the island over the course of your evening.

Bucky pulls his keys from his pocket and and umbrella from Sam’s coat closet. If Sam means to drag this out, Bucky’s going to make sure he feels every single second, until he decides for himself that this marriage is more trouble than it’s worth.

(And if, before he leaves, he swaps his comfortable traveling clothes for a short sleeved button down that’s a size too small and not buttoned enough, well, nobody ever said Bucky was perfect.)

#sambucky #ok admittedly i lied emma did in fact cheerlead the writing of this and encourage me the whole way but what's new #this is truly just like. the opening half a chapter of this au but I have THOUGHTS #to be clear the rest of it is never getting written unless a miracle occurs #but here have this nonsense on the occasion of bonky's birthday #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics

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warlenys · 6 months

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something about house in 4x03 telling wilson i love you right after dying and seeing no afterlife and so drugging and showing wilson what death is like in 8x21 to replicate that experience, but when wilson wakes up from his fake death he just tells house that he believes in heaven, instead of finding himself compelled by life’s love like house did. death made house value life, value wilson. but in that moment death doesn’t make wilson value house. house feels like he’s secondary to wilson’s heaven. like wilson thinks life might be better after death, after house. something about house not wanting to live if wilson hates him. something about him living for a man who’s now refusing to live for him. something about him throwing away his rationality for wilson. for his love of wilson. and then wilson throwing away his rationality for a belief in heaven. something that makes his death less awful for him, but not for house. it even acts against house’s desire to get wilson to truly value him. the first thing house does after nearly dying is tell wilson he loves him. he doesn’t want to hurt wilson in death. he needs wilson to know that he’s living for him. but wilson now doesn’t return that favour. wilson is centring the pain of his death around himself. he says don’t worry it’s fine i believe in heaven!! but house is standing there like what about me bitch!!! meanwhile house’s relationship with the afterlife is centred entirely around wilson. i’ll tell you i love you when i learn there isn’t anything after death (or after you), i’ll choose to live for you despite you hating me (i’d rather be dead than have you hate me), i’ll fake my death and turn you into the afterlife i’ve never until this moment believed in. whereas wilson just believes in this foreign, impersonal heaven. his own dying is about only him. house’s dying has always been about wilson. luckily!! holding on is about wilson realising and accepting just how much he loves and values and needs house. because house has always known. and, whilst he only fully realises the extent of it in everybody dies, house has never denied his love for wilson. but wilson has regularly tried to. he’s tried to reject it to instead prioritise himself. but holding on sees it all bubble over. foreman tells him that the only person he’s consistently loved is house, and that has to mean something. thirteen tells him that house is the only person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. he realises that he needs house to tell him that he loves him before he dies. and then he sees those fucking oreos in his cupboard and goes shit man. he needs me. and i don’t think that’s a bad thing anymore. i haven’t actually just been living for me, i’ve been living for house. if i can’t even look at a fucking oreo without thinking about him then surely. my life is entirely about him. and so wilson is prepared to do chemo for house. to suffer in life for house. but house tells him he doesn’t need to and instead joins wilson in killing himself so that they can live together in death. life has prevented them from being who they want to be. the only life they want to live is one completely devoted to the other. their afterlives aren’t heaven or hell, they’re each other. they turned their deaths into their love for each other. their deaths will exist forever as their eternal love. and like this is canon

#mum help she’s taking the old man medical drama too seriously again #why does the whole thing hinge on the fuckign oreos #i’m gonna turn you into my heaven but it took oreo symbolism for me to decide that #fuck this stupid baka show #house md #hilson #suicide mention #+

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theerurishipper · 1 month

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I think the Batman's sidekicks equal child soldiers comes from them being called soldiers. Bat books seem to embrace the 'war on crime' narrative more as they are more gritty. On top of this Batman is emotionally incompetent meaning he treats his kids more like soldiers than children sometimes.

It's also quantity of sidekicks. Like, Barry had Wally. He didn't have any other kid sidekicks at the same time. Batman has a solid army and it often feels like one. They often feel more militarized than other 'fams'. Also, he is too controlling and doesn't treat this solid army of children well. So obviously when a character mistreats everyone around them, people are more likely to see the flaws. A kid cheerfully fighting aside their adult mentor isn't going to get called a child soldier but a kid written with a more gritty undertone is (especially because of the war on crime stuff).

He also had the whole 'good soldier' memorial which says he kinda viewed Jason, a dead 15 year old he adopted, as a soldier. Even though they were portrayed as a father son relationship so this immediately damages the perception of his relationships with his other children.

Also, the Under the Red Hood Movie is an entry level media for Bat fandom. It starred Mr Ackles of Supernatural fame. There is a huge child soldier narrative in the treatment of Sam and Dean by their father so Supernatural fans are more likely to see these themes. So Ackles fans watching the movie and then getting into the Batfam stuff will obviously latch onto this.

Also, this is not the only incident in superhero fandom where certain characters are singled out as child soldiers for other characters. This narrative is also present in some parts of the X-Men fandom, especially regarding the relationship of Professor X and Cyclops. As it is another incident of an adult character 'rescuing' a child in need and (I can't think of a better word) indoctrinating them to their cause.

I think another thing is the fact the Bats do not have powers. So narrative of 'with great power, comes great responsibility' only actually applies to Batman himself with his obscene wealth. So the classic narrative of you have power so you have to help people with them doesn't apply here. Most of the kids he recruits could have relatively normal lives. Jason, whose fans propagate this take heavily, did not ask to be Robin. Batman gave it to him. I also feel that Starlin was trying to have an arc about why having a child sidekick was bad in the Jason's Robin run so Jason's fans are more likely to be critical of the child sidekick thing. It basically goes 'maybe I should not have had this child fight crime' (while Jason is still alive) to 'it's Jason's own fault he got himself killed' which looks really bad.

So it just feels like a lot of factors give more and more people these kind of takes in a way that doesn't apply to other characters. Wonder Woman mostly fights alongside adults. The Flash is also adult heavy (Barry, Jay, Max as in adults that started as adults). Shazamily is all near is age (argument for Wizard perhaps). Lanterns, adults. Arrow family are usually a bit older than the bats and get less attention. Ect.

For me the thing is that... this is fiction. Not a one-to-one direct reflection of reality. In real life, we would frown upon vigilantism as a concept, but enjoying characters like Batman and Superman requires some suspension of disbelief. The same idea should be applied to the idea of sidekicks in general, something that would be very wrong in reality, but is acceptable within the fictional world of DC. Admittedly Batman is usually more grounded than the other books, but it still is within the fictional world of DC, where having child sidekicks in okay. Where letting children fight crime is not inherently wrong, and what defines whether it's good or bad is the intent of the person training/raising them (Bruce or Barry or Oliver as opposed to David Cain or Slade Wilson). We need to view it through that lens, otherwise it's kinda just bad faith criticism.

Another thing to consider is that Batman is an emotionally withdrawn character. It's pretty clear that he did not consider Jason a simple soldier for the cause, or his death wouldn't have ruined him the way it did. And honestly, for every Jason is a soldier case in the Batcave (something he got yelled at for btw), there is a Bruce giving Damian a heartfelt speech about how his kids aren't soldiers. For every moment Bruce treats his kids like soldiers, there is a moment where he openly admits to how much he loves them. I suppose after a point of time it's all up to interpretations, especially since the latter are far and few between, but canon has been pretty clear that Bruce loves his children above all else, and that he doesn't see them as soldiers. That's actually been a plot point a few times, so I think it shouldn't be a question that he sees them as sons and daughter and not soldiers. After all, the whole reason he does what he does for them is so that they don't turn out like him. Him coming off as seeing them like soldiers is not because it's the truth of what he thinks, it's because he can't express himself.

I did say there are plenty of other reasons to criticize Bruce as a character, one of them being the fact that he behaves abusively to his kids. But that's not a symptom of them being child soldiers. My post mostly stemmed from me seeing a lot of criticism of Batman "throwing kids into tights and a cape instead of getting them therapy," and it's like, nooooo. He very explicitly did not do that. They chose the life. Most of them would have done it whether or not Bruce was there. The kids being crimefighters isn't the problem.

If the cheerful thing is what differentiates them from others, the Robins have had that with Batman. Dick and Bruce actually had great fun as Batman and Robin, for instance, before things went sour. Jason may have been given Robin by Bruce, but he also loved being Robin and said it gave him magic. The inherent idea of kids fighting crime is not the issue in a fictional world. Robin in itself is something of a child empowerment kind of thing, a genre staple, at least in the beginning. We don't go around calling every child protagonist a child soldier, do we? It would be an inherently unethical thing in real life, but this is fiction. We have to have some amount of suspension of disbelief when it comes to that, just like we do for the idea of vigilantism itself. Otherwise, we wouldn't have a story.

My take on it is this: there are no child soldiers in DC (when it comes to the sidekicks). Because it's fiction. Within the conventions of the genre, it's well and good for Bruce or anyone to let kids fight crime. Bruce being an abuser is a different conversation entirely, one that should not be derailed with accusations of him raising child soldiers. Those are not a thing in DC, and we would all be happier if we accepted that. My post was specifically about that, that Bruce letting kids fight crime is not inherently a bad thing within the context on the world they operate in. I made the OG post because I saw a lot of criticism towards Bruce for the very act of letting kids fight crime, not because of how he treats them but because he apparently indoctrinated and manipulated them into his war on crime, just criticism for the very act of him letting them do so.

I've also seen talk about how awful it is for Bruce to continue to let kids be Robins after one died, and I just have to say, do you not want Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain and Damian Wayne and Duke Thomas and every other kid hero in the Batfam to exist? Because if Batman were to do the right thing, they shouldn't exist. But, again, this is fiction. It's a story about superheroes. As per the rules of the story, Batman needs a Robin. Someone was going to be created to fill the void, and it was Tim Drake.

And if we go down that route, what does this say about Conner Kent and Bart Allen and Cassie Sandsmark and the other heroes like them? Because if Bruce is in the wrong for letting kids fight after Jason died, so are the other heroes who allow kids to keep fighting after one sidekick died on the job. Was Clark Kent raising a child soldier when he allowed Jon to fight crime? And it's also funny to me cause again, Tim Drake practically forced Bruce to take him on as Robin, with the explicit blessing of former Robin Dick Grayson, and Alfred Pennyworth. Everyone else was already in the life, and Bruce just helped them out. They would have done it regardless of him. So, to frame it in a manner as though he forced them into it, or he didn't care that Jason died and that it could happen to them too is wrong.

Perhaps it's because Batman is the most popular DC hero, perhaps it's because he's had the most sidekicks, perhaps it's because one of them died, but it's still not a correct argument. Again, there are very legitimate criticisms to be made of Bruce, ones I can agree with wholeheartedly, but this is not one of them. He is toxic and controlling and abusive to his kids, but they are not child soldiers. It is that very specific thing that I am objecting to. And that's what I think a lot of replies to my post misunderstand, because they're conflating Bruce being abusive with Bruce raising child soldiers, and I while I agree with their general point, I disagree with the framing and the inferences made from it. And then there are the people who inspired me to make the post, who are just wrong.

So, I do agree with a lot of the criticisms of Bruce and a lot of your points! I can see where the idea comes from considering how Bruce treats his kids, but I don't think the correct takeaway is that they are child soldiers specifically. Victims of abuse from Bruce? Sure. Not child soldiers. I hope this makes sense.

Thank you for your ask!

Just... gonna leave this here...

#DC #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Batman #Nightwing #Red Hood #Robin #Meta #My meta #Asks #DC Comics #DCU

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thefingerfuckingfemalefury · 5 months

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youtube

There's so much stupid in this film but I really have to single out this scene as being the best "What the fuck is happening" moment of the whole movie

"Tell him this rock is more valuable to me than his life"

Elon Musk here good lord

"Ask him where he found it"

"He says it came from the sky"

He didn't ask where it came from, I think he needs a better translator, maybe this whole thing is a wacky misunderstanding that's due to Wade Wilson's Non-Union Equivalent not actually speaking the language here

"It's a meteor fragment"

"I KNOW WHAT IT IS"

Stryker sounds so pissed here like "fuckin hell why is no one just answering my one basic question, I know its a fuckin sky rock, WHERE THE FUCK DID IT LAND"

"VIIIIICCTOOOOOORRRRRR"

That line delivery

No notes, chefs kiss

"WE DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS"

Logan, you are part of a fucking black ops kill squad this is LITERALLY what you signed up for this is what you've been doing

We saw you doing this a scene ago

Also oh my god, why are you surprised your brother is a monster, you literally got into this mess because you had to physically stop him doing a war crime

But the best part?

"We can't just let you walk away!"

Logan: (Walks away)

Every member of X-Force: (Just lets him do that)

That line

That line has become part of me an my girlfriends love language

When she's feeling down I will lift up one of the cats and yell at her, before she goes to work "REBECCA!

YOU KNOW WE CAN'T JUST LET YOU WALK AWAY" because we both have seen this stupid as shit movie and it's such a fuckin peak stupid moment that being reminded of it makes her chuckle before she goes to work :D

#Marvel #Comics #Sfw #This movie is The Room of superhero movies no one acts speaks or delivers dialogue like a human #Youtube

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chas3supremacist · 8 months

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father figure.

Pairing/s: James Wilson x Platonic!Doctor!Reader

Summary: Wilson's favourite oncologist struggles with POTS.

Request: Anonymous asked

hi omg i love that you're writing platonic house fanfic! if you're taking requests can i rq like platonic greg house and/or james wilson with a reader who has a chronic illness/pain

Word Count: 612 Words

CW: none I think! Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Okay. Here goes nothing - also here goes my first house pic! I don't love or hate this, my biggest apologies to the anon who requested this pic - A lot went down from the time I started writing this until now. Please let me know what you think - Likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated!

"Y/N"

You hummed and then groaned in discomfort as you opened your eyes, the harsh white light from the ceiling of the doctor's lounge burning your eyes. You recognized the concern written on the blurry face hovering above you - Wilson, the head of the department you worked in. You sighed, a bit embarrassed that your boss had found you passed out because you had been standing up for too long.

"I'm up," You assured him, trying to wave him and his concern off. Fainting was nothing new for you, especially if you'd gone too long without resting - you were diagnosed with POTS when you were 15 and had tried everything that your doctors had suggested to try and treat it, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was going to be something you would need to live with since your diagnosis had been 10 years prior.

"Are you okay?" Wilson helped you up onto your feet, making sure not to rush you, just in case you fainted again. If you were being honest, Wilson was kind of the closest thing you had to a dad, considering your family put you up for adoption when you were six - citing that you were too much for them to look after anymore. You ended up in the foster care system until you turned 18 and got yourself into a good medical school, powering your way through school despite the struggles that came with your illness.

"Yes, dad, I'm fine," You joked with him, shooting Wilson a tired, weak smile. He chuckled and shook his head at you, you were certainly...something. But you were one of the best oncologists he'd met, specialising in pediatric oncology, your gentle nature made you extremely likeable among your colleagues. "Don't you have better things to be doing? I'm fine now Wilson," You assured him.

"I know, I'm just making sure. I don't want you fainting again, here, have some water," He handed you a bottle of water, since you were told you had to keep your fluids up and try and avoid sugary foods or drinks all you really drank was water. You took the bottle from him and glared at him jokingly - Wilson knew that you could be defensive about him "looking after you" sometimes, but he guessed that was part of the package of growing up without a real family, you never had one set person care about, if even at all.

But no matter how defensive you were - Wilson would never judge you for it. You had your reasons for it; but you would never admit to him, or even yourself that part of you found comfort in your head of department looking out for you in the same manner you wished a father had when you were growing up. You knew that he cared about you - Maybe even more so than some of the other doctors on your ward, you weren't sure why, you just know that he did.

#Robert Sean leonard #James wilson x platonic!Reader #housemd fanfic #hatecrimes md #james wilson x you #platonic fanfic #house fanfiction #dr wilson #James wilson x reader

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letshearitforthebabyboy · 8 months

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I saw once that you thought the spidey cable pool dynamic would be toxic.but turned out very different,what made you think it be toxic in the first place?

hoh.. with wade wilson and peter parker and nathan summers everything's just a little bit toxic.

i don't really know, actually - i figured with peter's inadequacy issues, peter would immediately be kind of threatened by nate - but every time i write peter, he kind of surprises me with how mature he winds up being - particularly when it's dealing with wade's wellbeing. like in my head i imagine peter's impetuous and careless, but on paper, he always, always winds up being so much more intelligent than i give him credit for. he's so ready to discard his own issues and hang-ups to facilitate wade's happiness, when he can, and it's something he's only getting better at, as time goes on.

wade - wade also kind of always surprises me too - in my head, he's selfish. he's selfish, and he wants things his way. he wants to be satisfied, on his terms. he wants things to be about him

but - on paper, it doesn't pan out that way because actually - actually. he's moved past that.

i always expect wade to be selfish, until he goes and proves, time and time again that actually, he adores peter, and wants to see peter be his best possible him and thrive in the spotlight. he's an unwavering cheerleader for one peter parker - and he's found he enjoys peter being in the limelight much more than being there himself.

and well - nathan. nathan. what can we say about nathan. nathan christopher dayspring askani'son summers... he's distant, he's sexy, he's mysterious - he's never and always exactly everything wade needs him to be. i think he's meant to embody everything that makes wade and peter nervous but excited.

there's meant to be this tension over what exactly nate is going to bring to this dynamic - peter kind of is ready to assume it's nothing good. after all the harm nate's done already - peter's ready to assume nate's here to make everything worse, but - but he trusts wade enough to let wade make the call. and - and, it turns out - nathan isn't this sinister force to threaten their happiness.

actually, nathan wants wade and peter's happiness just as much as they do - and the big lug has been rooting for them the whole time.

i think wade's been terrified of facing nate for a while - just because of all the emotional wounds it'll potentially open up for him.

i do think deep-down, wade knows that nate actually does want to see wade happy - and - wade wants to show nate that he's happy. and maybe - initially, i thought it'd be in a rubbing-it-in-your-face sort of a way - but - wade's smarter than that. and the fic kind of takes place after wade kind of gets wise to just how much nathan's done for him. there's a nice little closure scene for wade and nathan that i've had scripted for a while and - it kind of makes all of this possible, for wade.

i think if the threesome were to happen right now (circa 2017) in the 9319 timeline, it wouldn't be nearly so healthy. no sir. peter needs his dick biggened, and wade needs that closure with nate, first. but once all that happens – wow. happy days. sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, and all-expense paid trips to disney world. hallelujah.

#spideycablepool

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lust4life01 · 8 months

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I wish I was your girl. chapter 1

First chapter is a little short, just to introduce the story and move it along! Set around the early seasons :) -please check out this post for warnings.

You dont know my mind.

Your head laid on House's bare chest, as his fingers drew soft circles on your shoulder, while you both listened to each other's heavy breathing from the highs you both just came down from.

Breaking the sweet silence, House couldn't help but ask a provocative question ruining the simplicity being held in each other's company.

“Are you sure you’re not a porn star?” He asks with a huge grin plastered across his face.

“Ha, ha, very funny. And anyway you'd be so lucky, old man.”

Your tone sarcastic yet playful as you try to hide the smile creeping onto your lips, while staring up at him with doe eyes.

House dramatically places a fist to his heart and lets out an exaggerated hiss.

“Ah, ouch! God I hope you weren't this mean to all your other bosses, or well pimps.”

“Mhm only the ones I was sleeping with.” You shot back immediately, earning you a proud smirk from him.

As he goes to get up to grab hisvicodin, and break from your touch, you let out a whine in protest, not wanting to feel the loss of contact.

“God, you're so needy, better keep you away from Wilson. Actually speaking of Wilson he's meeting me here in about half an hour, and quite frankly I wouldn't like to sit and explain why a member of my team is on my couch in her underwear.

You can't help but take his last statement to heart, you knew it was stupid as you were sleeping with Greg House, what more were you expecting? However the desire to be more than a fuck buddy had been creeping up on you lately and you simply wanted more. Was you just an employee with a nice set of tits and a nice arse to him?

“Actually, I was thinking maybe it wouldn't be terrible if people knew about us.”

You lowered your head and your voice was quiet and consumed with seriousness. House didn't reply for a few seconds until you lifted your face to meet his eyes.

“What? You can't be serious.”

After a moment he realised you in fact were not joking and let out a frustrated laugh.

“Oh my god. I don't see how you dont think its a terrible idea, (y,n), we agreed that we would just have great mindless sex, no strings attached. Why ruin that?”

He was defensive which just pissed you off even further.

You became more enraged and hurt the more you thought about the words spilling from his harsh mouth.

“That was then, this is now. Maybe I don't want to be your dirty little secret, who is chucked out everytime there's a threat of someone seeing us, forever. I'm not asking for the moon here House, I just don't see why you're so scared of a little commitment.”

“Yeah well maybe I didnt think by fucking you I was signing up to be husband for god sake. Did we sign a prenup?”

House's voice was mean as he spoke and his hand rested on his forehead out of frustration.

You let out a scoff of shock and disgust.

“Fine. I won't be bothering you anymore, you know unless a patient is dying, if that's even worth bothering you for.”

As fast as the words travelled out your mouth, so did your clothes appear on your body and feet step out of his apartment.

Tears filled with rage brimmed and finally spilled from your sad eyes once outside his apartment door. Thankfully spilling outside of House's sight despite them threating to stream from your face as soon as his vindictive words hit you.

— 2 days later —

Hostility wasnt near close enough to explain the feeling and tension between you and House. Snide comments and brooding stares were exchanged but other than the differentials and generally doing your job you didn't speak or acknowledge House.

House was being more of an ass than usual and it was obvious the team were starting to pick up on it as for the past couple of months he had seemed relatively happy. They ultimately knew there was no point trying to figure out Greg House.

Your best friend Foreman on the other hand had no problem trying to figure out why you had been acting strange. He was worried you might be slipping back into past habits.

He came to look for you while you were in the common room, where you were finishing up paperwork but mainly hiding away.

“Hey, how come you're in here instead of the office?”

He asks the question already knowing the answer, he just wanted to know why exactly you were hiding away,

Feeling slightly defensive not wanting to unload all your problems and thoughts on to your best friend, you did the only thing you could think to do. Lie.

“Um, I don't know, it's just quieter I guess. You gonna join me?”

You try to give him a convincing smile, although it definitely didn't work all that well.

He let out a sign of slight annoyance seeing straight through your lies, not understanding why you weren't being straight with him.

“Quit the bullshit (y,n). I can tell somethings up with you. You've hardly been yourself and believe me I know when somethings bothering you.”

You hated shutting Foreman out but you couldn't be arsed to explain that the reason you had been distant was because Greg House only saw you as a cheap fuck. I mean it's pathetic.

“Okay, yeah i've been a little off lately and im sorry, totally nothing of your doing. I just stopped seeing this fling but i don't know I was delusional to want to take it further. It's dumb really.”

He nodded his head to make sure you knew he was listening before finally giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Not to sound like a jerk but yeah that is pretty dumb. But he'd have to be even dumber to not want you.”

He let out a chuckle and you smiled trying to act like you agreed, despite knowing it was far deeper and more complex than you let on.

“Look, come for a drink with the team after work. Have a few drinks, or a few kisses and forget about whatever idiot you were screwing.”

You nodded your head in agreement.

I mean sure you know that getting out will dull the hurt you feel but the alcohol will only spur on your self destructive manic side.

What could possibly go wrong?

#house md #fanfic #gregory house #greg house x reader

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cameronspecial · 9 months

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Thorn In My Side, Rose In My Hand (Part 4)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Under Age Drinking, and Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Everyone in her life is finally back on the island and she finally has her date with Wilson. But what happens when things don’t go to plan and she starts questioning her feelings.

A/N: This was way longer than I though it was going to end up being because it was honestly supposed to just be a filler chapter but I honeslty just couldn’t stop myself.

Masterlist

Y/N and Wilson had been texting for a week before he finally asked her on a date for tomorrow night. She isn’t sure what he has planned, but he said the dress code is formal so maybe they are going to a fancy dinner. Not exactly her favourite idea, she could live with it though. Lacey returned back to the Outer Banks yesterday, so Y/N is going over to her house to cook brunch together. Even though Y/N and Mason picked Lacey up from the airport, the girls need some quality time together. Well, Lacey would do most of the cooking while Y/N snacks under the guise of quality testing and making smoothies for them.

“I’m here,” Y/N sings as she waves the bag of smoothie mix she brought. Knocking is no longer in her vocabulary in regard to her best friend. “I missed you so much, Bitch! The men in Paris may be hot. But they got nothing on being with you,” Lacey screams as she blindsides Y/N with a hug. Y/N laughs and wraps her arms around the other girl, “I missed you too. But I literally saw you yesterday, babe.” “Yeah, but we spent so long a part for my month-long summer internship,” Lacey complains, “Let’s get cooking. Mama is hungry.”

Y/N moves toward the blender to begin mixing the smoothie blend. “So a little birdie told me that you and Rafe are actually starting to get along with each other,” Lacey teases her friend.

“Yeah… He’s been acting like a totally different person lately. The teasing is mostly just verbal and he can actually be helpful.”

“Awwww, Y/N/N. It sounds like you have a crush on him. Should I start planning a wedding?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Plus, I met someone last weekend.”

“Ohh, tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s sweet, funny, likes to read, he really likes doc-”

Lacey interrupts her, “I don’t want those details. Show me a picture.” Y/N giggles and pulls up a picture on her phone to show her friend. Lacey also notices how similar Rafe and Wilson are but bites her tongue.

“He’s totally cute, but he looks like he has a stick up his ass.”

“LACE! He does not! Although, he doesn’t use contractions and goes to sleep at like 11 P.M., but I promise he is funny.”

“Okay, but how is the sex?”

"We haven’t gone on a date yet. We have our first date planned for tomorrow night.”

Before the conversation could continue, the oven timer goes off and Lacey goes to take out the chocolate chip scones from the oven. “So what are the plans for tomorrow? Do you need help getting ready?” Y/N nods her head, “Yeah, could you help me curl my hair, please? He said to wear something fancy so I was thinking of wearing that black dress that I wore to my cousin’s wedding last year. You know the long one with a spaghetti strap kind of style.” “Ooh, you’d look so cute in that. I can definitely curl your hair. Maybe, I can braid it back like a little crown on your head,” Lacey gushes as she stirs the omelet in the pan. Y/N smiles at the girl and starts playing some music on her phone.

Brunch is finished quickly and the girls settle in the breakfast nook to eat. “So let’s get back to the topic of Rafe Cameron because we both know you haven’t told me everything, bitch,” Lacey bugs with a shove of Y/N’s shoulder with hers. The slight blush on Y/N’s cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by Lacey. “There isn’t much to say. I mean…” Y/N stops not wanting to admit what she felt last week after having lunch with Rafe, Mason, and Wilson. “Girl, you better continue or else I’m gonna make you cook for us next time,” Lacey warns as she knows where her friend is going. “Fine, last week, after I had lunch with the boys and Wilson, I thought maybe… Maybe Rafe and I were going to kiss.” Lacey beams with excitement at this revelation. “No way! What happened?” “Kie and I jumped into the pool to sink the guys and… when it was just Rafe and me, he teased me about always getting him wet. He took my hand and we got closer, but I got a text from Wilson before it went any further,” Y/N wouldn’t admit it but even she could hear the slight disappointment in her voice.

“You totally should’ve let him kiss you!”

“No, it was a mistake for us to even have gotten that close. He may be sweet today, but it doesn’t mean I can just forget about him being a jackass. Plus, he is Mace’s best friend. It would be awkward.”

“That’s true, but I’ve always thought there was something between you and Rafe. And I think if you guys really like each other, Mace will accept that and be happy for you.”

“Maybe. Let’s not talk about this anymore. I have a date with someone else tomorrow anyways.”

———

“So how many parties did you throw and drag your sister to, Mason?” Cassie questions while she sits in her newly claimed passenger seat. Mason groans, “I was only able to convince her to let me throw one and even that was cut short. Not that it was your fault Y/N/N.” Mr. And Mrs. Y/L/N didn’t mind their children throwing parties as long as the police didn’t show up, everyone had a designated driver and nothing was broken. They’d rather be realistic about their children’s activities and ensure they do it safely.

“Why? What happened?” Marvin looks up at his twins through the back mirror. “Owen was being an asshole when I went out to the gazebo. Rafe and Mace found me before anything serious could happen. Although I did punch him for insulting them, so I might need your help untangling that web.” Marvin shakes his head with a light chuckle, “Like that knucklehead’s lawyers can beat the Y/L/Ns. I swear that idiot’s parents were just as bad as he was when I was in high school.” “How was Bali?” Mason asks. “Amazing. You guys would love the beaches, we’ll have to go back with you guys sometime,” Cassie gushes to her children. “That’s a great idea, my love. Just, kids, remind me to put sunscreen on. I fell asleep on the first day when your mom was at pilates, I woke up three hours later as red as a lobster,” Marvin chimes in. This causes the whole car to laugh.

———

Y/N is getting ready for her date with Wilson. She does her makeup while Lacey lightly curls her hair and braids the front pieces back to create a crown. “Has he given you any hints about where you are going?” Lacey inquires, returning to sit in the bed after finishing Y/N’s hair. Y/N pauses with her makeup sponge in hand and turns towards her, “Nope. If it’s just dinner, it should be fine.”

“It’s basic though. You hate those types of dates. You need more excitement.”

“Yeah, but at least it’s not like dumpster diving.”

“I mean he could still do that. Maybe he just wanted it to be fancy.”

“Oh my god, could you imagine?”

Both girls fall into hysterics at the notion, which catches the attention of a certain boy passing by the open door. Rafe pauses as he walks past the door and upon hearing the laughter, stops. He wants to go inside to investigate the reason behind it. He quickly starts to walk again toward Mason’s room, “Where are Y/N and Lace going?” “Oh, they aren’t going anywhere. Lace is just helping Y/N/N get ready for a date with Wilson. Can you believe she actually wants to go out with him?” Mason states without so much as looking away from the video game he is playing. “A date? Really?!” “Yeah. Now, dude, hop in before I get creamed by these guys.” Rafe does as he is told but he could not stop thinking about what Mason said. Y/N has been on dates before, but something about Wilson screams bad news for Rafe. All of Y/N’s other dates were obviously not serious about her. They just liked the novelty of dating a Y/L/N and were not into dating men. Wilson seemed too serious at lunch to want to date around like the other boys Y/N has dated.

“I have to go, my dad wants to go to the country club for dinner. Bye, love you.” Rafe hears Lacey say from down the hall. The sound of her footsteps and the front door opening prompts him to say, “I actually forgot to get some snacks while I was downstairs. I’m going to go get some now.” “Okay, dude.”

Rafe makes his way to Y/N’s room and leans up against her door frame to watch as she looks at herself in the mirror. “Well, don’t you look like a disaster, Y/L/N,” Rafe teases. “Haha, very funny. But seriously. Does this dress look okay?” Y/N asks timidly. Rafe wanted to say that it doesn’t just so that she would take more time looking for something else to wear and miss the date, but the look of uncertainty on her face makes him forgo that tactic. He also wanted to be honest with her; the truth is the dress she wore wouldn’t be the dress he’d want to see her in if he took her on the date. “While you looked amazing in that dress at your cousin’s wedding, I think this dress would be much better,” he answers as he walks towards her clothes and takes out her long black dress with a column skirt and halter top. He had seen her wear it last year to her dad’s 45th birthday bash. Rafe remembers having some inappropriate thoughts about the dress for a family event. Y/N nods at the suggestion and goes to try the new dress on in the bathroom.

She comes out with a smile on her face and does a little twirl for him, “Rafe, this is perfect. Thank you!” She gives him a hug, which he returns. He was correct; she looks like an absolute vision and it kills him that he isn’t the one taking her on the date. That he was honest with her and now Wilson will get to see her in Rafe’s favourite dress for a date. Although, Rafe wouldn’t take her anywhere fancy on their first date. He knows it would make her nervous if he did, so he would take her to the bookstore first and buy any book she so much as glances at. Then he’d bring her over to his house to bake some cookies for their dessert after dinner, which would be a picnic on the beach at sunset. He would make sure to bring a sweater and an extra blanket for when the night breeze sent goosebumps up her arm. He has to shake himself out of his daydream before he stares too long, “No problem. Have fun on your date. Be safe and I’ll probably see you when you get back because I’m too lazy to go back home.” Rafe makes a quick exit back towards her brother’s room.

Y/N notices the upset look on his face and assumes it is because of the thought of his father being home, the most likely reason why he is sleeping at her house again for the fifth night in a row. At this point, he might as well just move into their guest bedroom. Everyone in the Outer Banks knew that Ward Cameron had a favourite child and her name was Sarah Cameron. This caused Rafe to constantly try to get Ward’s approval so he could feel the same paternal love his middle sibling got, but no matter what he did it still led to arguments between the father-son duo. It didn’t matter that Rafe had continuously dominated the breaststroke events in swimming, he still wasn’t good enough in the eyes of Ward Cameron. She would be wrong though; the reason why he is upset this time is the fact that she is going on a date. Before she knew it, a knock was at the door and she heard her father answer the door.

She walks towards the landing overlooking the front entrance. “Hello, I am Wilson Porter and I will be taking Y/N out on this fine evening. I hope you are in accordance with this idea, Mister …,” Wilson greets while holding out his hand for her father to shake. She realizes she still hasn’t told Wilson her last name yet. Her father takes Wilson’s hands and shakes it, “Hey, it’s Mr. Y/L/N. And I am fine with you taking her on a date as long as you have her home by one.” Y/N hopes Wilson doesn’t make the connection to her mom. Y/L/N is a common last name. “Of course, Mr. Y/L/N. punctuality is my specialty. Ah, there is the woman of the hour. She looks radiant.” Y/N is surprised she doesn’t blush at Wilson’s compliment; she could’ve sworn she was on fire when Rafe was raving about how she looked, “Thanks, Wilson. Are you ready to go?” “I absolutely am. Right, this way,” Wilson leads Y/N towards his car and goes to the driver's side. She thought he would open the door for her, but when he doesn’t, she quickly scrambles to get in so it isn’t awkward.

———

The car ride was filled with pleasant conversation. Wilson mostly talked about Cassie’s books, which doesn’t surprise Y/N considering she knows he wants to become a writer as well and some of her mother’s earlier works are his favourite books. They arrive at La Fleur Bleue, an expensive French restaurant. She isn’t thrilled to be here considering the portion sizes are so small. They enter the restaurant and are led to their table. They look at the menu, when Wilson speaks up, “Do you think I could order for us? I think I have you figured out and can pick you something you love.” “Sure, I’m not too sure what I want to get anyways.” “Great,” Wilson waves the waiter over to order, “Hello, we are both going to have the quiche loraine with a bottle of champagne, please.” The waiter nods, takes their menu and goes off to put their order into the kitchen. “How did you get them to not check our id?” Y/N is astounded at the strings he could pull or hopes she isn’t dating someone who is 21 without her knowing. “My dad is a silent partner here, so they generally look the other way as long as the restaurant isn’t busy,” Wilson explains.

At least, she knows he isn’t dating her for her money. While waiting for the food to come out, Wilson starts up the conversation again, “So have you had the chance to read The Wisp of Forever? Is it not a literary masterpiece? I mean hardly say this but Conan Austin’s work could rival Cassie’s”

“No, I haven’t had the chance yet because my tbr is so long. But also, it doesn’t really seem to be my type of book.”

“You should stop filling your time with Book’s Instagram and Young Adult Fiction. It’s all nonsense you will grow out of and look back on with disgust. The books I read help fill you with knowledge and enlightenment. They are also realistic.”

“Well, I like YA and Bookstagram. I actually enjoy the books I read from there. Also, it’s nice to read about people going through similar issues as me,” she says as nicely as she can. She is used to this response from most adults in the Outer Banks community, so she has the response memorized. Before Wilson could retort, the waiter comes back with their food and champagne on a tray. The first thing she notices is how tiny her quiche is. It definitely will not be enough food for her, but she doesn’t want to complain about it because of how expensive the food is. Even though her parents have generational wealth, Cassie and Marvin raised their children to be cautious of pricing and that just because they have the money now, doesn’t mean that it can’t disappear with one bad decision. She’ll just make grilled cheese when she gets home. As she eats, she notices she is shivering. The AC is on so high right now. With nothing to cover herself with, she tries to continue eating.

Dinner went and passed with pleasant conversations about themselves. “Would you guys like to look at the dessert menu?” The waiter offers after clearing their plates. Y/N is about to speak up, but Wilson beats her to it, “No, we actually have somewhere else to be, so just the check, please.” The waiter returns with a check and places it on the table between the pair. Wilson pushes the bill close to Y/N. She isn’t one to expect the man to pay for the first date every single time, but she thinks that whoever asks the person out and chooses what to do should pay for the date. Or at least split the bill. She doesn’t want to make a scene, so she pays the bill without a word. Maybe, he just wants to reverse the unfair expectations of men always paying, which she could get on board with. Wilson gets up in a hurry and makes his way toward the entrance, leaving Y/N to run after him. He opens the door for himself and walks through. This causes the door to shut in her face. Y/N awkwardly opens the door for herself and gets into Wilson’s car.

“So where are we going to now?” Y/N asks to break the silence. “We are going to a showing of Hamlet at Kildare Theatre. I hear it is an amazing performance.” Y/N is a little disappointed at the notion. She has nothing against Shakespeare and actually enjoys reading his comedies, but she finds watching the actually plays boring and can’t remember the last time she could stay awake through one of them. “Oh, cool. Sounds fun.” They arrive at the theatre house and settle down into their seats. As she watches the play, she has to gently pinch herself every time she nods off to keep herself awake. By the time the play finishes, Wilson takes her home and she gives him a peck goodbye before going inside.

———

She enters her home and looks at the grandfather clock in the front entrance to see it is 12 A.M. At this realization, she notices how her stomach grumbles. She goes to change into Rafe’s Led Zepplin shirt and comfy shorts. She puts her hair up into a messy bun then makes her way downstairs to make a grilled cheese. “Did you have fun on your date, Y/L/N?” she hears from behind her while she is turned toward the counter wall. She jumps out of surprise, “God, Rafe. We need to tie a bell around your neck. And to answer your question. Yes, I did have fun.” She lied because although he planned a pretty boring date, she didn’t mind Wilson’s company. Rafe is wearing his light gray zip-up swim sweater on top of his salmon t-shirt with basketball shorts. His hair is all messy, he probably just woke up. She wishes she could just reach up and run her fingers through his hair. “I smell lies. If you had a good time, then why are you here making a grilled cheese in the dead of the night?” Rafe points out. “Even if the portion sizes are small, I can still have fun on a date, Rafe,” She argues. “Whatever you say, Y/L/N,” Rafe comes over and takes the pan out of her hand, “Come on, let’s go to McDonald’s instead.”

He takes her hand and gently guides her to where he keeps his keys at the front entrance so he can pick them up. Once he has his keys, she opens the front door for them to head to his car. He jogs ahead and opens the passenger door for her. She whispers her thanks and takes the hand he offers her to help her get up into the high jeep. Wilson didn’t open the car door for her.

Most of the car ride was spent making fun of Mason and singing along to Rafe’s playlist. She notices most of the songs are her favourites. When they get to McDonald’s, Rafe is quick to help her out of the car and open the entrance door for her. She has to admit it is nice to not have a door slam in her face. They pick a seat near the back close to the window and Y/N tries to get up to go with Rafe to order, but he stops her, “I’ve got this, Y/L/N. Just stay here.” Y/N listens to what he says and watches as he orders the food. She’ll have to remember to pay him back on the way home. A few minutes later, he returns with the food, “Ten piece chicken nuggets with fries and Sprite for you. And a BigMac with fries and a coke for me. I’ll get our ice cream after we finish,” he recites as he places her food in front of her.

“Thanks, this is honestly exactly what I need.”

“No problem. Couldn't have you go hungry. So where did you guys go?”

“He took me to La Fleur Bleue, then we watched Hamlet at Kildare Theatre.”

Rafe chuckles at the look of slight disappointment he saw in her eyes, “I swear that place has the smallest portion sizes. It’s where Rose likes to eat when she wants to diet. However, you must’ve loved the play. You always looked so cozy taking those naps whenever we go to one for school.”

“Oh, it was so fun. I think I still have an imprint on my arm from every time I pinched my skin to wake myself up,” Y/N jokes back, showing him her arm to further the joke. The belly laugh that Rafe lets out causes heat to reach Y/N’s cheeks. She likes making him laugh like that. “I’m going to go get the ice cream now.” Rafe gets up and walks back to the counter to order. Y/N once again notices a chill overcome her tonight and sees how her arms are covered in goosebumps. She should’ve grabbed a sweater before she left.

Rafe makes his way back to Y/N, noticing the bumps on her arms. Either she always forgets to bring sweaters with her or she is stubborn enough to not wear one to not disturb her aesthetic. He places the ice cream on the table; quick to remove his sweater for her. He hands over the sweater to her without saying anything. How come Rafe noticed she was cold and Wilson didn’t? She takes it and shrugs it on, “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Rafe watches as Y/N happily takes a bite out of the Oreo flurry he bought her, “Why don’t you eat any other flavours other than Oreo? Even when we get Dairy Queen, it is always an Oreo blizzard.” She is shocked he pays enough attention to her to notice it, “Oreos remind me of the one time when we were little that you, Mason and I would get along. Our moms would always bring us Oreos after soccer practice. It was the one time we could share without trying to kill each other. I loved the cookie part and you loved the filling, so I would always let you eat the filling from my Oreo and vice versa.”

Rafe is a tad saddened by the mention of his mother; however, the fact that one of her favourite ice cream flavours is in relation to a memory of him makes him glad. “I didn’t know you remembered that. I have to confess though, after like the second time of us doing that I was sick of eating just the cream filling. The only reason why I kept eating the filling is because you were always so sad about wasting the filling if you didn’t eat it,” he confesses. “No way! Rafe, you didn’t have to do that.” “It’s okay. It made me sick, but my mom would cuddle me after to make me feel better so it was a bonus.” At the mention of his mother again, a comfortable silence washes over the pair. If she was with Wilson, she’d probably feel the need to fill the silence in a way that would prove her intelligence. They finish eating and head back to the car.

“How should I pay you back? Do you want me to e-transfer you or I could get you the cash when we get back home?” She offers, pulling out her phone in preparation to make the transfer. “What? You don’t need to pay me back, Y/L/N. I asked you to come out with me, so I pay.” It looks like Y/N and Rafe are on the same page about who should pay when going out. Y/N begins to protest; however, Rafe speaks up again before she could, “I’m serious, Y/L/N. I won’t accept anything you try to give me, so don’t even try.” Y/N nods and looks out the window of the car. She turns up the car radio, beginning to sing along to the music. Rafe glances over at her and starts to sing with her. Much like their drive to McDonald’s, it is filled with laughter and music. Y/N can’t help but wonder why she can’t feel this way when she is with Wilson. She is dating Wilson and is supposed to hate Rafe, but why are they making it so hard to feel the right way about each one of them?

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