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moonstruckme · 2 months

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Can I request Spencer x anxious, overthinker reader ? Maybe, overwhelmed or stressed, like almost burnout, but not quite. Because this semester at uni had just been way too much in every way. Thank you 💕 🌸

Thanks for requeting love, hope you're able to get a break soon!

cw: academic stress, reader has symptoms of anxiety

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

When Spencer gets home in the middle of the night, you don’t hear him over the sound of sizzling and your own racing thoughts.

“Hi,” he announces himself as he comes in, meeting your little jolt with a bemused look. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

“Hey, how was your flight?” You whirl from the stove for the half a second it takes to brush a kiss against his cheek before turning back to keep pushing things around the pan. The momentary distraction is worth it for the emergence of Spencer’s smile, soft and fatigued. “Sorry, I was hoping to have this done before you got home.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says automatically. “The flight was good. I’m happy to be back.” He sets his bag down and rounds the kitchen island to lean against the counter beside the stove, peering at your face. “I hope you’re not making dinner just for me.”

“I’m going to have some too,” you reassure him. “I’m starving.”

Spencer’s expression shifts. You get the sense you’ve confirmed something for him. “It’s pretty late. Why haven’t you eaten yet?”

You wish you could say that you’d wanted to wait and eat with your boyfriend, but there’s never any point in lying to Spencer.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it until now,” you say. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“I know,” he replies. You know he does. You’d started venting about your workload before he left for the case, and he’d been kind about letting you continue to do so during your nightly calls when he was away. “Still, it’s a lot to be up until…” He glances at the microwave clock, unsure of what time it actually is. You can’t say you know, either. “Nearly three-thirty. How long have you been working for?”

You push the vegetables around in the pan, olive oil spitting and burning the skin of your hand. You feel Spencer’s stare narrow on you. “Since I got home, so seven-ish.”

He frowns. “You’re not feeling tired, are you?”

You’re not, though you don’t ask how he can tell. You look tired, you know. Every time you look in the mirror lately, you think of the word unkempt. Messy hair, dull skin, purplish crescent moons stamped under both eyes. But you don’t feel like you could sleep if you tried. There’s an urgency in your blood that gets you up early every morning and propels you to work through the day, like there’s an engine inside of you that’s decided it doesn’t need gas to run. You’re always moving, humming, thinking, certain without reason that if you stop it’ll all fall apart.

You shake your head, and Spencer frowns towards the pan. “What do you have left to do with this?”

You’re surprised to find, upon looking down, that the vegetables look ready. “Um,” you switch the heat off, “I’m just waiting for the timer to finish on the pasta, and then I’m going to mix them together. It shouldn’t be long.”

“Okay.” He takes the spoon from you, moving you out of the way with a careful hand on your shoulder. “I can handle that. You should go sit down.”

“Spence,” you laugh, “I can do it.”

He doesn’t argue with you, necessarily, just utters a quiet, “It’s okay,” and nudges you in the direction of the couch.

You don’t have it in you to protest much, not when he’s just gotten home, so you do, curling up with your feet underneath you and pulling a blanket from over the side of the armrest. You think Spencer is going to want to talk, but he doesn’t, just stirring the pasta and pulling dishes out of the cabinet. Maybe he’s exhausted, too. It is late, and he’s been working on his case the same way you’ve been chipping away at your schoolwork, for days and days with little reprieve.

You thank him when he passes you a bowl, slurping up the noodles the way your mom would chide you if she were here for and comforted by the fact that Spencer’s doing the same. You’re convinced the pasta somehow tastes better than if you’d finished it yourself, your boyfriend’s poor culinary skills supplemented by the love he puts into taking care of you.

“You know,” he says after a minute, “there’s evidence to suggest that consistent sleep loss can lead to loss of brain cells.”

You suck a noodle into your mouth. “I sleep,” you tell him. “I’m just having a late night.”

Spencer gives you a sorry sort of smile. Like he almost wants to apologize for how smart he is, how it keeps you from getting away with anything. “I’ve only been gone for four days,” he says, “but you were texting me after I went to sleep and before I got up every morning.”

“Only psychopaths look at timestamps,” you joke, looking down into your pasta bowl.

He shrugs, quiet.

“What else can I do?” you ask, and you really are asking. “I have deadlines, Spence. Due dates. I can’t just say fuck it and go to sleep at nine every night like I don’t still have work left to do.”

“Which part is overwhelming you?” he asks curiously.

You huff. Not at him. “All of it? It’s like every one of my professors thinks they’re my only class. There’s a bunch of essays and projects all due this week, and no break from the regular stuff to give me time to get it done.” You blink into your pasta bowl, ashamed at the emotion bullying its way into your voice. Blame it on fatigue, you guess. “Every day when I get home from class, I have this impossible list of things to do, and it’s like, if I don’t finish, what’s going to happen? My grades will tank, and I won’t be able to get any of the good internships, and then I won’t get a job, and—”

“It’s okay.” Spencer’s voice is quiet, and you might keep going if not for the hand he sets on your wrist. His thumb strokes once over the delicate skin just below your palm. “It’s okay, just try to breathe for a second. Calm down.”

You do, only because it’s him. When other people tell you to calm down, it’s a demand, a criticism of your display of feeling. When Spencer does it, it's an assurance. That you can relax, because he’s going to make it all right.

“I failed three classes when I was in college,” he tells you.

You imagine your eyes bulging all the way out of your head on cartoon springs, lolling towards the ground. “What?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I didn’t like them. I never showed up to class, and eventually I just failed. I didn’t really care.” His mouth slants sheepishly. “I probably should have, but I still don’t, actually. You can get a job either way.”

Your laugh is dry. “Spence, I think it’s a little different for genius prodigies.”

“Not really,” he says, thumb still pressing into your wrist, and you finally realize he’s been taking your pulse. It’s strangely touching, the way he cares for you so quietly. “Even if you did fail these classes because of the assignments this week, the odds are actually pretty good that you could get a job. And you won’t fail, because you’ll still finish and the work will be great. I know you.” His long fingers stretch up your forearm, a caress. “I know you get really nervous about these things, but you’ll do better work if you sleep more. You’ll be more efficient.”

“I can’t,” you admit quietly.

A tiny, sympathetic crease appears between Spencer’s brows. “You can,” he promises. “I’ll make you some nighttime tea and we’ll make sure all the curtains are closed. We should turn off your alarms, too.”

You bite your lip. “I have class in the morning.”

“You can miss one. You have to miss a lot for it to really affect your grade, trust me.” He gives the base of your hand a little squeeze. “I’d know.”

Your laugh is half breath, but Spencer smiles anyway. “Okay.” You’re giving in way too easily, but a morning spent in bed with your boyfriend sounds heavenly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says sincerely, releasing your hand to pick up his fork. “We’ll go to bed once we finish this, okay? And I’ll pick up breakfast tacos for breakfast tomorrow. Protein is good for brain function.”

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simplysturn · 3 months

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Road Rage❕

Reader x Matt Sturniolo

warnings: soft dom matt, praise kink, smut, unprotected p in v etc. mdni, this one isn’t for you.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

“Fucking move! Jesus Christ!”

My boyfriend’s road rage today was more intense than usual.

“Baby, you ok?” I asked, slightly giggling at his frustration, finding it kind of endearing.

“This idiot just needs to get the fuck out of the middle of the fucking intersection!”

As his eyes focus on the road attempting to navigate us through the traffic, I find myself looking up at him, more like staring at him, with a shit-eating grin plastered on my face. Why is he so fucking hot when he’s mad?

Finally out of the traffic and onto the freeway, Matt lets out a quiet sigh of relief, snapping out of the agitated trance he was in just 10 seconds earlier. Stopped at a red light, he looks at me and catches me mid-stare. I hold eye contact with him, still smiling.

“What?” he slightly giggles.

“What do you mean what?” I softly laugh back.

“You’re staring, baby,” he replies as he turns his eyes back to the road.

I reach out and take his right hand and place it on my bare thigh. I’m wearing a skirt today. After placing his hand down, I feel a wet spot start to pool in my panties. Of course, just when we had a long drive ahead of us, Matt is unknowingly making me incredibly horny. The wetness between my legs only kept on growing as he started softly stroking my thigh.

I gently start guiding Matt’s hand down in between my thighs. I take it slow, trying not to distract him from the road, half hoping he doesn’t notice. Despite my attempt, he quickly catches on and starts flickering his gaze back and fourth between the road and me. As I help him slip his hand underneath my panties, he looks me up and down.

“Do you realise how fucking hot you are when you’re mad?”

He blushes and swallows hard, dipping his middle finger down to collect some of my wetness. He drags it back up, drawing small circles on my clit as I hold my panties aside for him.

“So this is because I had road rage?” He smirks.

“Mhm,” I half-moan in response as I reach my hand across his waist and start to unbuckle his belt, which he assists me with. I reach underneath his jeans and begin palming him over his boxers. Reacting to my touch, his eyes shut for just a moment, paired with a mostly silent sharp breath, and his jaw flops open. He looks so fucking good.

“I’m pulling over.”

He grips my hand that’s already moving on him and adds pressure, making me rub him harder. As he takes the next exit off the freeway, I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean down over his lap.

My boyfriend peers down at me and places his previously occupied hand gently on my head and runs his fingers through my hair, knowing full well what I’m about to do. I tug at the waistband of his boxers until he’s fully exposed. His now fully erect cock is pressing against his stomach, his tip red and leaking.

“Want your mouth on me, baby. Please.”

He nervously watches me as I reach down and touch myself, collecting some of my arousal before using it as lube to stroke him. I love that Matt still gets a little shy whenever I’m the one to initiate anything sexual.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he quietly mumbles to himself. Soft whimpers start escaping him as I place my lips around him and begin to gently suck on his sensitive tip, teasing him.

Matt pulls over into a secluded rest area and puts the car in park before turning off the engine. He eagerly unbuckles his seat belt and watches me, stroking my hair as I continue to use my mouth on him. We’re both moaning. I love making Matt feel good. His eyes are rolled into the back of his head as I pleasure him with my mouth. I can feel myself dripping with excitement, thinking about how badly I need to feel my pussy sink down onto him.

“If you d-don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” he stutters. “Come up here and kiss me, baby.”

I replace my mouth with my hand and lift myself up to kiss him as requested.

As if he’s reading my mind mid-kiss, Matt wraps both of his arms around me tightly and pulls me over into the driver’s seat on top of him. Holding my body against him with his right arm, his reaches to recline the seat with his left. I start grinding myself against him with only my panties in between us, desperate for friction.

“Matt, I need you,” I whine.

“Let’s take these off,” he looks at me for approval. I nod and bite my bottom lip.

He hooks both of his thumbs underneath either side of my panties and slides them down around my ankles. I hover over his lap and align myself with him. He uses one hand to stabilise his aching cock against my slit and the other to hold my hip, helping me ease down until he’s fully inside of me. It takes me a moment to adjust to his size.

“You good, baby?”

"Mhm." I start riding him, and he responds, matching my rhythm. "Yes, Matt, that’s it. Fuck me, baby.”

Matt’s pace quickens and I’m desperately bouncing. He pulls at the hem of my shirt, and I instinctively lift my arms above my head. He throws my shirt aside and places his hands on my breasts, which were covered by a white, lacey bralet I had picked out this morning. I quickly remove his shirt in return. He starts leaving wet kisses across my chest and along the top of my breasts as we continue to fuck each other. He snakes his tattooed arm around my waist, running his hand up my back and smoothly unclasping my bra before returning his hand to my ass, guiding me and helping me ride him.

“You feel so good, so wet for me,” Matt moans.

I’m moaning, there’s so much I want to say, yet I can’t seem to form a single word. I’m consumed by the pleasure. “I-oh my god, fuck yes,” is eventually all I manage to get out.

“I know baby, doing so well for me. Taking me so well.” Matt praises me, which only makes me want more. “Look at me while I fuck you.” He demands softly.

I lock eyes with him. “I’m so fucking wet for you Matt. Holy shit,” I kiss him and he kisses me back, hard.

He briefly breaks the kiss, “Yeah? Am I making you feel good?”

“So fucking good, I’m so close.”

Matt quickly continues kissing me and moves his hands to my now bare breasts, squeezing them. My arms wrap around his neck.

“Your tits are so perfect, fuck,” he takes turns sucking on each of my nipples.

The pace shifts as I transition my bouncing into grinding, using Matt’s body to create pressure against my needy clit. My nails are clawing at his bare chest.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks while reaching down to play with my clit to help me reach my high.

“Mhm, s-so close. Keep talking to me like that.”

“You look so pretty baby, using me to get off. So fucking tight around me.”

“Oh fuck, oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

Matt’s fingers are now at full speed circling my clit while I chase my high.

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, cum all over me.”

“Fuck!” I cry out, moaning loud as I release all over Matt’s cock.

Matt wasn’t far behind, as I was coming down I felt him start to throb inside of me. My pussy was pulsing around him, practically milking him. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming in you,” he softly moans into my ear, squeezing his eyes shut while they uncontrollably roll into the back of his head. As he begins to come down from his high, he starts placing soft, broken kisses on my lips, while squeezing my thighs.

We’re both breathing heavy, trying to catch our breath. We look at eachother and share a smile and a soft giggle, Matt still rubbing his hands up and down my thighs.

I help him pull up his boxers and jeans and he helps me pull my panties back up. I ask Matt to pass me my bra and my top. Once we’re situated, I reach for my water bottle and have a sip.

“Want some?”

He nods and takes a sip before placing the bottle back down and sliding his arms around my waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, holding my gaze.

I feel myself blush and initiate a slow, passionate kiss to thank him for his compliment.

“Should we get back on the road? Sorry for distracting you,” I say half jokingly. Matt rolls his eyes at me and we chuckle.

“I don’t think an apology is necessary, sweetheart.”

As I climb back over into my seat, Matt keeps me steady with a hand on my back, and then we both buckle up.

“Can I put some music on?”

Matt nods and passes me the aux. I put on our joint playlist and he starts driving.

“If I put my hand on your leg, will I have to pull over again?,” he jokes, placing his hand on me anyway.

“Should be fine. But if we run into traffic and you road rage again, I make no promises, Matthew.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

notes !

*this is my own original writing. i do not give consent for my work to be published outside of tumblr. i do not give consent for anybody to steal or claim this story as their own*

anyway ugh this is my first time properly writing a fic so i hope ya’ll enjoyed, i stayed up til 4am finishing this ur welcome 😭 ALSO i was gonna add these cute asf pics that match the vision i had in my head of this fic but it wouldn’t let me drag them to the top fml. if u have any requests send them in my asks and whenever i’m in the mood to write i’ll pick an idea from there !

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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the day you kissed a writer in the dark // han lue (tokyo drift)

summary: she's stood by his side for years. his loyal mechanic, the brains behind his brawn. but she'd be lying if she said that it didn't hurt to watch him flirt with those other women in his club, when he came home to her every night in secret.

bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark, now she's gonna play and sing and lock you in her heart. i am my mother's child, i'll love you 'till my breathing stops.

pairing: han lue x mechanic! reader

warnings: smut, inappropriate use of a drifting car, insecurity and self-doubt, secret relationships, unplanned pregnancy.

author's note: here's something a little different today, lovelies! it's a departure from the usual realm of f1 content i usually bless you all with, but i felt like i needed to do something different to avoid burning myself out, and rewatching tokyo drift gave me the inspiration that i needed :)

she hated the club.

in the back end of her mind, she always resented the mere existence of that secret room leading to han's garage. the fact that he chose to surround himself with women in tight dresses with long legs and perky boobs like he was some kind of yakuza punk.

well, this wasn't crows fucking zero. this was real life.

she couldn't help but draw comparisons between these beautiful girls and herself. as she curled in on herself to duck through the crowd, she frowned at her reflection in the window: her torn up jeans, the grease stain on the cuff of her army-green sweater, the zip barely done up enough to cover up her double-d's, a small nut from her very first car hanging limply from a chain around her neck.

some days, she wondered why han had chosen her of all people.

"sean?" she asked quietly, poking the young american boy in the arm, practically shouting to be heard. "have you seen han?"

sean shook his head. "no, sorry. have you checked the garage?"

"i'm heading back there now. thanks, sean." she sighed, backing out the way that she came, trying not to think about all of the places that her boyfriend could be right now.

the anxiety ate away at her. was he with one of the other girls? one of the prettier, taller, thinner ones? was that why he wanted to keep the relationship under wraps?

was han ashamed of her?

she hurried down the rickety metal staircase, dropping her purse on the workbench as she went, subconsciously placing a hand over her stomach as she thought about the white plastic stick inside the fake leather bag.

they'd been sneaking around for a year, but they'd known each other far longer. she had come to tokyo when she was twenty-one, with a pocketful of cash and a monkey wrench. she had a high school diploma, but that didn't mean much to the rally teams she had applied to work on the pit crews for.

and that's when han swooped her up. when she became the bonnie to his clyde, the mechanic for his little street racing gambit.

that was three years ago. now she was almost twenty-five, he was twenty-seven, and he was in far too deep for them to keep going like this.

she knew why he had to keep it a secret. telling the world that she was his lover would put a target on her back. because that's what happens when you get in deep with someone like dk.

she pulled her hair back with the green rubber band on her wrist, pushing up her sleeves as she reached for a ratchet and approached han's car, the hood already open and ready for her.

working on the cars had always been her safe haven. her distraction from the outside world. fixing something that was broken gave her a satisfaction like no other.

"babe?" han's voice echoed through the garage, and she hated herself for the way that she froze up, fingers tightening around the ratchet. "sean said you were asking around for me? is everything okay?"

she withdrew from the car, slamming the hood down. "you're pushing the car too far. the engine is wearing down, you have to get something stronger. the serpentine belt is at it's brink."

"and that's why you're the brains of this operation and i'm just the pretty boy who drifts." han said playfully, wrapping his arms around her midsection as resting his chin on her shoulder.

"be more careful out there, seoul-oh." she said softly, placing a cold hand on top of his warm one before turning her head and kissing him softly. "i don't know what i'd do if anything ever happened to you."

han spun her body around gently, his hands on her waist as she jumped to perch her body on the edge of the hood, her fingers tangling in his dark, silky hair.

"you don't need to worry about me, sweetheart. i'm going to be okay."

she sighed, lacing her fingers together behind his neck. "where were you, han? wandering around your club with a girl on each arm? a girl that's three times prettier than i am, maybe one who's clothes are a little more revealing-"

"y/n, stop." han said firmly. "baby, you're the only one. my only one." he kissed her on the forehead softly. "i love you. i love you so much that it hurts. i wish i could shout it from the rooftops, but i can't put you in danger like that. i don't want dk to know, because that's a target on your back that i don't want there."

he pulled her as close as he could, arms wrapped securely around her as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. "i couldn't live with myself if anything ever happened to you."

the sincerity in the older man's voice was reassuring. but some days, it wasn't enough. she loved him more than words could say, but she was getting tired of being his little secret.

but at the end of the day, it was her bed that he always came home to. his arms she woke up in. his terrible singing in the kitchen while he made coffee with breakfast.

han lue was hers.

she kissed him again, still sitting on the edge of the toyota's hood. this kiss was stronger, harder. with more feeling as she bunched han's sweater up in her fingers, trying to wrestle it off his broad shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs tight enough to make her moan against his lips.

"seoul-oh." she mumbled as han broke away from her, pulling his sweater off the rest of the way before tugging his everlast t-shirt over his head.

they fit together like well-worn puzzle pieces, his lips finding that place on her neck that made her crumble, turned her legs to jelly as he slipped a hand up the front of her sweater, thumb tracing comforting shapes against her stomach as he nipped at her neck, biting down gently. there would be a hickey there in a mere matter of hours.

trailing kisses back up her neck, he gently bit her earlobe before placing one hand on the side of her face to guide her lips back to his, the other hand braced against the hood of the car to hold himself up. she bit down on his bottom lip, wrenching a growl from the back of han's throat.

he pulled away, dropping to his knees in front of the car as his large hands dipped under the waistband of her jeans. after reaching down to untie and kick off her beat up vans, she reached above her to grab the exposed beam in the garage ceiling, pulling her body up and allowing han to pull her jeans and panties down her legs in one fell swoop.

"oh, not on the car, baby. you'll stain the bodywork."

"don't care." han hummed, kissing the soft skin of her thigh. "i can't think of anything prettier than you. on the hood of my car, legs spread wide for me." he mumbled in between kisses, inching ever closer to where y/n needed him most, her arousal dripping onto the cool metal hood of the drift car.

and when his lips touched her throbbing clit, she could have sworn she turned electric, using one hand to brace herself against the car and burying the other in han's hair as she threw her head back in a throaty moan.

"han." she panted, grinding against his face as his tongue licked and sucked at her core. "oh, baby, yes."

han smiled to himself, kissing her clit gently as he held her thighs open with his hands. "still think that i don't find you attractive any more?"

"shut up, please. i need you so bad." she'd barely finished speaking when another low, seductive moan left her mouth. the arm that was holding her body up threatened to buckle underneath her as she tugged on han's hair, urging him to keep going.

han chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her body as her arm buckled, and she found herself lying against the hood, her head on the windscreen as she bucked her hips, searching for more as her lover tongue-fucked her, her legs thrown over his shoulders with reckless abandon.

"seoul-oh." she whined, clenching her thighs around han's head

"i know, baby." he mumbled softly, kissing her thigh. "you're doing so well darling. come for me."

and that's exactly what she did. with a moan so loud that she was shocked that the patrons of the club couldn't hear it echoing through the garage, she let go, her juices coating the lower half of han's face as he licked her clean before wiping off the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand.

"fuck." he mumbled, standing between her legs and leaning over the car to kiss her. "i can't get enough of you, baby. i think i'm gonna need more."

"oh yeah?" she smiled sitting up slightly, resting her weight on her elbows and raising an eyebrow when she saw the obvious hard-on struggling to break free from the confines of han lue's jeans. "and what do you think we should do about it?"

"back. room. now." he said, softly but firmly, kissing her in between each word as she wrapped her bare legs around his body, allowing han to pick her up and carry her over to the back room, where a double bed was piled high with blankets for the nights where they worked late, or drift races lasted until the mere hours of the morning.

or, nights where neither of them wanted to go home. han was sure that they had fucked on almost every available surface of the garage.

she undid her sweater slowly, revealing the lacy white bra underneath, the makeshift pendant on her necklace hanging delicately just above the hollow of her breasts as she cast the fabric aside, reaching up to snap the elastic band in her hair, letting it cascade in waves down her shoulders.

"you're beautiful, you know that?" he said softly, kneeling on the mattress as he rested one hand gently against her cheek.

she leaned into his touch, reaching up to wrap her slender fingers around his wrist, pressing a soft kiss to the heel of his hand.

she knew she should tell him. han needed to know.

but now was definitely not the time.

not that she could find the words while he kissed her neck, her chest, her stomach, his fingers dancing across her back as he fumbled with the clasp of her bra, erection straining against his jeans.

"han, babe." she mumbled, reaching behind her. "it's been a year now, you should know how to undo a bra, mr. womanizer." she joked, pushing his hands away as she pulled the bra off by herself.

"why would i need to know how to do it when you just take it off by yourself most of the time?" he grinned, standing up to unbuckle his belt.

he started to undo his jeans, pausing halfway as if he had forgotten something before he darted over to the rolling toolbox in the back of the room, pulling a small foil packet out of the top drawer.

fat lot of good a condom would do them now.

not when she was already carrying his baby inside of her.

her body trembled with anticipation as she watched han rid himself of his jeans, the echo of his belt buckle hitting the floor echoing around the room before he rolled the latex sheath onto his thick, hard cock.

god, she was a fool in love. han seoul-oh made her feel every range of emotions all at once.

"seoul-oh." she mumbled, lips against his as he clambered onto the bed, covering her body with his broad one.

"hm?" han mumbled, pressing kisses all over her face.

"i love you, han lue." she said firmly, gently pushing his face away so she could look him in the eyes. "i mean it, babe. you've ruined me for anybody else. you're it for me."

"good, because i don't think i could love anybody else if i tried." han breathed out, kissing her again, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance.

she squirmed under him, a small gasp escaping her lips before she bit down on her bottom lip.

she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg. that wasn't what tonight was for.

han knew this as well, gently pushing himself inside her. tonight was about more than just chasing a high. for both of them. it was about love, and reassurance, and intimacy.

she threaded her fingers through his hair, whining as han moved ever so slightly, the sensations they both felt sending shockwaves through their bodies.

"seoul-oh." she moaned softly. "please. god, you feel incredible."

"yeah?" han crooned, thrusting softly and barely holding back a moan of his own. "you look so pretty with my cock inside you, my sweet sweet girl."

"just like that." she whined as he thrusted again, bucking her hips into him, trying to take his length deeper. "keep doing that, fuck."

when han's nimble fingers came up grip and massage her right breast, she knew she was a goner, arching her back to drive her body into him with a moan as he kissed her chest.

"you like that, baby? yeah, you love having my hands all over you. and i love touching your beautiful body." han murmured, sucking a hickey onto her collarbone. he could feel himself unravelling, knew that the end was nigh as he moaned against her skin, blindly reaching for her hand.

there were no more slow thrusts as the driver began to pick up the pace, his lover's legs wrapped tightly around him as she moaned his name.

"oh god, han, baby. fuck, keep going." she panted, one hand trailing down her body to play with her clit. anything to get her closer to that release she craved as she whined and squirmed under han's touch.

she'd seen this film before, and she already knew the ending. and the start if the sequel.

"come for me, baby. i know you can take it, just give me one more, okay?"

"han, han, holy shit." she moaned, feeling the coil in her stomach finally snap, her high crashing over her like a wave.

her lover groaned above her, a guttural sound ripped straight from his throat before han gently pulled out of her sensitive body, the evidence of his own peak contained within the clear latex that he slid off his member, tying the condom off in a knot before punting it into the trash can next to his desk.

she pulled the blankets up as han settled in the bed next to her, his warm fingers dancing in gentle circles against her sweaty skin as they laid together in the afterglow, a content look on his face as he kissed her on the forehead.

"seoul-oh." she said quietly, twirling his long, dark locks of hair around her fingertip. "i have to tell you something."

"what's on your mind, pretty girl?" worry creased han seoul-oh's face, a pit forming in his stomach.

he hated seeing her like this.

"i'm pregnant."

han's eyes widened. "what? babe, why didn't you tell me?"

"i've been trying all day. but you've had your hands full with dk and sean and drifting." she said sadly. "but i can't raise this baby with dk breathing down our necks. you need to get out of this life, seoul-oh."

han frowned thoughtfully, one hand resting against the side of her face. "i'm going to be a father. fucking hell, babe this is incredible. i promise you, i'm going to make a plan, and i'm going to get us out of tokyo."

"you know we can't keep this a secret any longer, right? i'm already eight weeks along, once the first trimester ends, i won't be able to hide it."

"you're right, you're right. we'll test the waters. i'll tell sean and twinkie in the morning, see how the news of our relationship goes over with them. i want to keep it from dk until i can find a way to get us out of here."

y/n nodded, lacing her fingers with han's and placing his hand on her stomach. "okay. let's do this thing." she broke out into a smile. "we're going to be parents, han. can't you picture it? sitting behind the wheel of your toyota, with our little gremlin on your lap, teaching them how to drive before they can even walk."

han laughed. "they'll be born with a monkey wrench in one hand and a bag of lays in the other."

"i love you, seoul-oh." she said softly, kissing him gently. "i'm so glad i found you three years ago.

"i love you more, y/n. and i can't wait to raise this kid with you."

Tags (though im not sure if any of you are interested loll):

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh

#han lue x reader #fast and the furious #tokyo drift #fast and the furious x reader #han lue #han lue smut #fast and the furious smut #tokyo drift imagine

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where-dreams-dwell · 2 months

Text

Dexter is a cautionary tale of the need to accept discomfort as a part of life, with Emma as his contrast and aspirational example.

Throughout the show Emma embodies determination and self assurance. The only reason she thinks she can change the world is.. because why couldn’t she? In contrast Dexter has no idea what he wants and kind of resents having to even think about it, hence his jumping between careers and looking for purpose for the whole show.

While Em knows what she wants emotionally (the satisfaction or having made a difference, the achievement of doing what she always wanted) but isn’t sure on the specifics of what that will look like (I’ll write plays, no write poetry, no I’ll teach, okay no I’ll write a book), Dexter knows the specifics (I’ll be rich and famous) but doesn’t know what he wants emotionally (‘what will that look like?’ ‘I don’t know’).

While Dex is always running from uncomfortable feelings Em faces then head on and comes out the other side, able to learn from them.

As Dex is travelling to put off making long term decisions, Em has taken the first opportunity to do what she wants: writing, be it books, poems or in this instance plays.

On holiday Dex can’t allow himself to admit that he fancy’s Em and to leave it at that, he has to run from the honesty and vulnerability of that moment by adding on ‘but I pretty much fancy everyone’. In doing this you could argue that he looses his chance with her for several years, where as Emma’s confidence could have resulted in them getting together much sooner.

Dex misses his mothers last birthday because he doesn’t want to face reality. Instead of reacting to the fear and anger and pain of her diagnosis by spending every moment he can with her, or sitting down to have heart to heart talks with her, or helping her out in any meaningful way Dex runs away and numbs himself with substances, and is passed out for the little time he is in her presence.

When he’s nervous people won’t (or already don’t) like him on TV he again turns to substances to numb his feelings, and (instead of taking Em’s advice to ignore them) looks for reassurance from hangers on who don’t actually know him that well. He can’t sit in that worry/fear/discomfort so he finds a way to stop feeling.

When Dex’s marriage falls apart we see him running away to Paris to visit Em. And sure there are ulterior motives here (his hope and assuming that this could be the start of their romantic relationship) but the writer shows him literally traveling away from the country where his failed marriage, child and previous life were as he is show to be angrily talking about his divorce. As an image it appears like he’s running away from the reality of the divorce or running to Em for a distraction. It definitely supports Ems assumptions that he’s not serious about a relationship with her; she’s seen this behaviour in Dex before.

It’s even funny how in small ways we don’t see him handle upsetting things until the very end. Talking about his first marriage and the production the day became? Dex admits he didn’t want to rock the boat so he didn’t fight anything/reject anything/ have much say at all in his wedding. Sylvie drops off Jasmine? Dex is still at the cafe so Em is the one managing slightly awkward small talk. Jasmine practising her violin? We get a brief moment with Dex too but mainly it’s Em sitting through the recitals. In that last episode when they’re struggling with fertility, Em is the one who sits down and talks out her anger and fear and worry, where as Dex (who probably knew what the root of it all was) was happy to leave her to process it how she need to and support her while she did. If she hadn’t brought it up he wouldn’t have said anything.

That’s not becisarily a bad thing (Dex could have known that Em needed to process it herself before talking to him) but it is interesting that the writers engineer Dex to avoid all these moments of emotional discomfort. It reinforces his characterisation of being avoidant when confronted with conflict.

In contrast we kind of constantly see Em having to face hard moments and working through them.

Don’t know what to do with your life? Move to London to try and aim to work in your dream field. London life and restaurant job not going the way you planned? Commit to Dex’s suggestion of teacher training. Time to confess a secret? Here’s a hugely personal one about my past feelings for you. Past crush admits he kind-if fancy’s you? Stick to being honest about your past feelings and don’t take the opening to downplay them. You feel shit about your life and your secret affair? Well let’s turn that into motivation to finally write that book.

Not happy with your long term partner? End the relationship.

Emma’s whole confrontation with Ian is a masterclass in facing difficult conversations and emotions, being vulnerable and open and honest about your feelings, and finding empathy for another outside your point of view. And look what she gains from facing that hard in comfortable conversation? Closure, and a kind of friendship, one that lasts even after she dies.

When Dex confessed that he hoped they would start a romantic relationship in Paris, Em sits him down and starts that hard conversation about how she doesn’t think that is 1) what he even wants and 2) would work between them. She doesn’t brush off of hide from the conversation. And then when she has more information and time to think she commits to Dex.

Even after they sleep together there’s a scene of Em laying the ground rules, making it clear to Dex what she will and won’t stand in this relationship. That’s an awkward conversation to have but Em doesn’t hesitate and makes sure he knows from the get go what she expects and deserves. The writers are constantly showing us ‘Em doesn’t run from uncomfortable feelings’.

And then the tragic twist of fate: Emma is gone and Dexter finally has to learn to live with emotional discomfort. He can’t keep running because there is no escaping this, not like he did with his mum. Like he says to Imaginary-Emma ‘why would time change anything’. He is going to feel like this forever, there is no escaping it. Finally he is learning to face it, manage it, and work through it.

Of course Emma is far more than a literally device and is her own layered and well established character. But in this regard for Dex it’s almost as if she’s the final lesson for him to work through to grow up enough so he can eventually choose to return to the place they met.

And it could even come across as a reward for him; in learning to live with those difficult emotions, his reward is being able to remember Emma fondly, and to return to the place they met to seek out those memories. The memories are bittersweet, but now he remembers Emma as she was and not how she never got to be.

Like his dad said, he is eventually able to ‘live [his] life as if she were still here’ but in order to do that he first had to accept that she was gone.

#spoilers #one day #one day netflix #dexter mayhew #emma morley #grief #emotional maturity #grief is love persevering #emotionally avoidant #I feel like he runs from pain #and doesn’t know how to handle it manage it #so he ignores it and runs from it #until the universe says ‘fuck you’ and makes it unavoidable #media analysis

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pagesfromthevoid · 1 year

Text

Cowboy Like Me | d.d.| 14

Don Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Canon violence. Fucking FLUFF

Author’s Note: Thanks for all the love. This is it! This isnt the end I lied Jk. Listen to Getaway Car if you’re inclined <3333

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Way

There was no time to treat her wound, leaving it exposed to the elements as they tore through the capital city of Senex. The speeder bike was easily commandeered from someone at the party, allowing Din and his princess to escape as Han and Leia distracted Calisto and Gideon. Several party goers joined the fight as well, supporting their princess and her attempts to escape. But many evacuated, allowing for the two to sneak out with the crowd.

The Crest was not far off, allowing for them to get a headstart on their getaway. But Din knew better than to assume they were safe; they were far from it. Storm troopers were hot on their trail, though he had the advantage of the Crest being hidden away. They were together, however, and that’s all Din cared about as they skid to a stop outside the Crest. With the ship’s hatch opened and ready for them, he hopped off the bike and took her good hand, leading her into the ship.

“We need to get off this planet,” Din announced, flipping switches in the cockpit of the ship.

“Really? I thought we’d get married in the fields,” she retorted, sliding into her own seat.

He rolled his eyes under the helmet, handing Grogu to her once she was strapped into the seat. “We can’t go back to Sorgan; it’ll be the first place they look.”

“Or Nevarro –I’m certain your bounty hunter friend wouldn’t be thrilled with us.”

“We need to find the other Mandalorians,” he settled, starting the engines of the ship.

Blaster fire suddenly rained down on the ship, and she ducked down over Grogu to protect him. Din looked over at her, frowning deeply as he pushed the ship to take off, but the damn thing was too old for it’s own good sometimes. The engines were too cool, and with Calisto and Gideon’s men trying to keep them down –Din had to take the offensive.

“You know how to fly?” He asked, standing from his seat.

She gave a half-hearted shrug. “Kind of. My father tried teaching me, but our ships were newer –,”

“Doesn’t matter,” he pointed out, motioning at each control and explaining the purpose of each one. She watched closely, moving out of her seat and into his. If their lives weren’t in danger, it would have been a hell of a sight. “When I say, you need to get us into the air.”

“What are you doing?” She demanded as he started climbing down the ladder. “Din, you cannot take on a squad by yourself.”

“Didn’t you tell Calisto I’d like my odds?”

“I was trying to scare her. Not encourage you.”

He waved her off, climbing down into the hull. Opening the armory, Din pulled out several grenades and attached them to his belt then took out his pulse rifle, looking it over for a moment. Then, he opened the hatch on the roof of the Crest, climbing up and keeping his feet hooked into the ladder.

“Can you hear me?” He asked through the comms, into the cockpit.

“Uh, I can, yes,” she responded, though her voice sounded muffled through the speakers. “The engine is still heating up. Please be careful, Din.”

He didn’t respond, instead opting to lower himself against the metal of his ship and take aim. As the chaos of the troopers shooting raged around him, he tried to remain calm and focused. Din knew that his skills were the only thing standing between them getting out of Senex alive. As he fired shot after shot, he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was what he was born to do - to fight, to protect, to survive. And he would not stop until everyone trying to hurt his clan was taken down.

“How’s that engine looking?” He asked as a trooper dropped onto the roof of the ship and swung a boot into Din’s face. He grabbed their ankle and dropped them though, shoving a knife into their leg and shoving them off the roof.

“Almost there,” she promised as the ship began to shake with preparation. “I’d hold onto something if I were you.”

Din couldn’t, given the situation at hand, but he appreciated the concern as he aimed at the speeder bike that was barreling towards him. One calculated shot later and the bike –and two others –were blown up and the Crest was taking off into the air. He thanked the Maker as he dropped back into the ship, shutting the hatch, and rushed back into the cockpit.

Grogu was sitting in her seat, hands in the air as she pushed the throttle forward and the ship took off over the capital city. Din hovered behind her, hand gripping the back of the seat as he pushed various buttons and prepared to exit the atmosphere. But other new ships were appearing around them; Imperial ships that he was certain belonged to Gideon.

Din's heart sank as he realized how outnumbered they really were. While he knew a clean getaway was a long shot, he should have known better than to assume Gideon wouldn’t have brought an army of his own. He quickly assessed their situation, trying to come up with a plan of action.

"We’ve got company,” he said, his voice low and urgent in her ear.

"I see them," she replied, her hands moving deftly over the controls as she tried to evade the incoming ships.

Din activated the ship's weapons systems, ready to defend themselves if necessary. He knew that they were outnumbered, but he wasn't going down without a fight. As they flew through the sky, lasers from the Imperial ships streaked past them, narrowly missing their ship.

"We can’t fight them, Din,” she pointed out as he took control of the ship’s blasters.

“We don’t need to fight them if we can distract them,” he offered as reassurance, turning the ships guns on the Imperial fleet that was catching up to them.

But the ship needed to gain more speed if they were going to jump into hyperspace, and he needed it to last long enough against Gideon and Calisto’s forces to do that. Din gritted his teeth as he fired the ship's weapons at the incoming Imperial fleet. He knew that their best chance of survival was to distract them long enough to make the jump to hyperspace. But he also knew that their weapons weren't strong enough to hold off the Imperial forces forever.

"We need to go faster," he said, his eyes scanning the control panel for any way to increase their speed. "Can you give me more power to the engines?"

“I don’t think so,” she admitted, looking over the panel herself with a deep frown. “Din, I-I don’t know if we’ll get out of here alive.”

“We will,” he promised, returning his attention to the fleet that was on top of them.

“Din, tell me the vows,” she insisted, her hand reaching out to grab his arm.

“No,” he snapped, looking down at her for a moment. “No, not like this.”

Din felt a surge of energy as the ship's engines roared to life, propelling them forward at an incredible speed –the engines were finally catching up to the urgency that engulfed the cockpit. While the Imperial ships were caught off guard by their sudden burst of speed, Din took the chance to pick off a few more of the fleet.

But the Imperial fleet was relentless, and their ships were quickly closing in on them. Din knew that they had to make the jump to hyperspace soon, or it would be too late.

“Tell me the vows,” she demanded again as a blast hit the side of the ship, too close to the engines for comfort. She yanked on the exposed part of his arm, drawing his attention to her. Her eyes were watery with unshed tears. “Marry me, Din Djarin.”

The dawning realization that they might actually not make it hit him hard, and he couldn’t argue. “Repeat after me, okay?” Din remained focused on firing the weapons as he spoke. “Mhi solus tome, we are one when together”

“Mhi solus tome,” she repeated, eyes locked on the ships that she was maneuvering around. “We are one when together.”

“Mhi solus dar'tome,” he continued, bracing against the controls as another round of shots hit the ship. “We are one when parted.”

“Mhi solus dar'tome,” she closed her eyes for a moment as Grogu cried out, as if he knew something was going wrong; that they were on more danger than ever before. “We are one when parted.”

“Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” Din concluded, looking down at her finally as one of the engines stuttered. “We will share all, we will raise warriors."

“Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” she finished, looking up at him now as well. “We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

Din couldn’t pinpoint why it felt right to marry her right there, in the middle of battle, but it did. Perhaps it was the adrenaline pumping through his veins, or the realization that life was precious and fleeting. Maybe it was the way she stood by his side, fearless and determined. Whatever the reason, Din knew he couldn't let her go.

“Kiss me, Din.”

His heart almost broke, realizing now that they were married –and very well could be dying at any second. But he nodded, finally abandoning his post at the weapons control. His hands here on his helmet, hesitant for just a moment, before he lifted it and set it down. Decades of wearing the helmet, not showing a single living thing what he looked like –all abandoned now as he faced his wife for the first time.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, the tears finally falling as she reached up to touch his cheek. Her touch was warm against his face, where her fingers stroked the scars that had settled there. Blood still caked her nails, but her wound was wrapped and he had to look away. He could see the worry in her eyes, but he also saw the trust and love that she held for him. He leaned in slowly, savoring the moment, before finally pressing his lips against hers. It was a gentle kiss, but it held a depth of emotion that words could not express. For a moment, the fight around them faded away, and all that existed was the two of them, locked in a tender embrace.

But the ship still rocked from gunfire, reminding them that the end felt too close. They pulled away from one another just barely, foreheads resting against one another. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as her eyes traced over his face, taking in everything she could. He had never felt so exposed, yet so liberated. It was as if he had shed a heavy burden that he had been carrying for so long. He reached up and cupped her cheek, staring deeply into her eyes. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to express, but the words eluded him. Instead, he simply leaned in and kissed her again, pouring all of his emotions into the tender touch of his lips.

“Falcon to Crest, do you copy?”

Both of them looked to the comms, then at each other before finally pulling away. His helmet slipped back on, ensuring it was only her who would ever see him.

“This is Crest,” Din announced, leaning against the control panel.

“It’s Han,” the pilot explained, and gunfire could be heard in the background. “Leia and I are holding them off –got a handful of Senex fighters on your side out here.”

He looked to her, then back out the window of the Razor Crest. “You hold them off and we can get out of here.”

“That hunk of junk can hit hyperspace?” Han ribbed, and Din knew the man was smirking. “Gotta love classics.”

“Gideon got away,” Leia pointed out, voice gravelly through the comms. “So did Calisto. But if you get to the Outer Rim again, you should be safe for a while.”

“If you’re gonna jump, now is the time,” Han warned as Din moved her from the pilot’s seat and took over again. “Good luck with whatever the hell it is you two are up to.”

She laughed and Din glanced at her, smiling beneath his helmet. With his hands on the controls, Din hit the switch and pushed the throttle forward –the jump to hyperspace knocking them both back into their seats. As the stars streaked by in their blur, Din felt a sense of relief wash over him. The battle was over, at least for now. They had emerged victorious, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to relax.

Beside him, his wife let out a contented sigh, her hand reaching out to take his. He laced his fingers through hers, relishing the warmth and comfort of her touch.

“I can’t believe we did it,” she whispered, taking a deep breath as she looked up at him.

Din turned to her, his heart full. “It’s not over yet,” he reminded her gently, taking his hand back for just a moment. She watched in curiosity as he lifted his helmet, revealing himself once more to her. “But whatever is out there –we’ll handle it.”

She stared at him again, slowly standing from her seat. Her hands –covered in dried blood and streaks of sweat –reached for his face. For a long time, she simply stood above him, eyes and fingers tracing over his features. One hand held his jaw as the other ran over the bridge of his nose, up to his brow and over his eyes. Her thumb skated over his cheek, against the stubble that had grown over the last several weeks.

“You have brown eyes,” she whispered, both hands now resting on his jaw to hold his gaze. “You have brown eyes and you are so beautiful.”

He’d never been called beautiful before, and the compliment made his heart ache as he reached up to hold onto her wrists. Her touch was warm and gentle, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, lost in the intensity of their emotions. It was as if they were the only two people in the galaxy and nothing else mattered except the connection they shared.

Finally, Din broke the silence. "I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled at him, a soft and genuine expression. "I love you too," she promised, her voice barely more than a breath. “I get to look at you for the rest of my life.”

Din felt his heart swell with love for her. He knew that he had found something special, something worth fighting for. And no matter what the future held, he was determined to keep her by his side. As they soared through the galaxy, her touch on his skin, Din felt a sense of hope for the first time in a long time.

Grogu cooed suddenly, drawing their attention to him. He held his arms up and she laughed again, lifting him into her arms. Din took off his gloves, tossing them to the side, so he could run his thumb over their child’s face.

The future was uncertain; there were still threats out there. People hunting them down. But with his princess and their child with him —he knew this would be The Way.

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @lovelessprick @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dilf-din @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mando x reader

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mylovelies-docx · 10 months

Text

Sorry, I Love You - Part 6

It's my birthday, so here is my gift to all you lovely people :)

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: brief mentions of HYDRA approved "science", insecurities

Word Count: idk ill look later

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5]

Meeting with the contact goes down without a hitch. You’re surrounded by scraggly trees and evergreens, snow heavy on bare branches and pine needles alike. You’re briefed on all the important information: who’s who, ongoing projects, expectations for your work. You nod along as you write down shorthand notes – really only intelligible to you, but you’ll burn them once you memorize the information regardless.

The rendezvous is short, but you’ll be seeing them again soon at your new ‘job’. You flip your notebook closed and dip your head briefly to acknowledge the end of the meeting. Olaf (not his real name) returns the gesture and stalks off, presumably heading back to the HYDRA facility.

You take your time getting back to the house – you want to give Bucky his privacy and time by himself to prepare for the workday ahead. You envy the monotony of working on vehicles all day: scouring the engine, finding the necessary parts, sliding under the metal frame and lying on your back for hours…

Come to think of it, maybe you shouldn’t imagine lying on your back for hours in the same thought process that involves Bucky. Too many memories and too much pain.

Regardless, anything is better than working for HYDRA, even if you are actively working to sabotage them while you’re there. Yeah, Bucky is here to keep an eye on you and provide backup and know-how, but you’re the one that is pivotal to this mission. The one that needs to get in, get out, and get gone before HYDRA realizes how big of a mess they’re in.

You begin fine-tuning the personality and mannerisms that will serve you best here. Olaf had explained the specific work culture of the HYDRA facility during the meeting, so you’re now better able to imagine your life for the foreseeable future: work, work, work, kidnapping, torture, experiments, exhaustion.

And going home to Bucky every night, your brain supplies. You mentally swat the words away. Of course you’re going ‘home’ to Bucky. He’s your immediate backup in case something goes wrong – he has to be close. Even if it’s not the intimate kind of close. Not the kind of close you used to be when this mission was first given to you last year. Not the close that originally had you posing as husband and wife, but the kind that now has Bucky as your brother.

A shiver courses through you at the thought, and you wrap your arms tighter around your snuggly bundled self. Bucky as your brother is the worst scenario you could possibly imagine, but everyone agreed that with the new tension between you and Bucky, romance wouldn’t be the wisest play up here.

A soft groan leaves your lips and you dip your head quickly in disappointment before popping back up and looking ahead. There’s no point in yearning for something that will never happen again. You need to actually move on, not just lie about it and pretend like you did. Bucky deserves that much. You deserve that much.

Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus back to the mission. It’s time to embrace the role, leaving behind the echoes of a love that was now confined to memories. You couldn't afford distractions or longing. HYDRA's demise depended on your unwavering commitment, even if it meant burying your heart's desires in the depths of your being.

***

You arrive home a short while later, the creaks and groans of the old house underlying the silence of the empty rooms. It seems that Bucky had left for work while you were out. Glancing over to the clock atop the fireplace mantel, you're taken aback to see how much time has passed. You must have been lost in your thoughts far longer than you had initially realized.

You close the door softly behind you and shuffle out of your coat. You hang it on a peg beside the door where your and Bucky’s other coats reside, noticing how well the colors reflect both of your personalities. You can’t help but laugh at the blacks, grays, and dark blues of Bucky’s jackets that contrast sharply with the whites, pinks, and pastels of your own. The smile lingers until you kick off your boots and walk further into the quiet house.

The echoing silence pulses in your ears and makes you uncomfortable. You hadn’t been alone like this in a very long time – there was always at least one person in the next room or house or building that you could reach out to. But with Bucky at his ‘new job’ and no neighbors knocking on the door to welcome you to the neighborhood, you feel totally isolated.

With nothing else to do besides wallow in loneliness, you decide to throw on some music and dive into all the information the team has gathered on this HYDRA location. You’d skimmed the files on the way here yesterday, but now you had the time to really peruse. You run upstairs to change into comfortable clothes and throw your hair up and away from your face. You return downstairs and pull out your laptop, setting up camp at the kitchen table. You open your favorite music streaming app and hit play, starting up your ‘get shit done’ playlist. You bop your head to the beat and dig in.

***

Hours later, you hear the door creak open and Bucky steps inside, his face smudged with grease and a tired smile on his lips. You rise from your hunched position and stretch your aching muscles. The pain in your upper back and neck eases slightly as you greet him, "Hey, Bucky. Welcome back. How was your day at the garage?"

Bucky wipes his hands on a rag, glancing at you with a mix of exhaustion and genuine warmth. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fixing engines, tinkering with parts. It's a nice change of pace from our usual gigs."

You nod, attempting to keep the conversation light. "Well, at least you get to put your mechanical skills to good use. It must feel good to work with your hands again."

A brief moment of silence hangs between you as you both glance down to Bucky’s hands. His metal arm is covered by Stark tech that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it in the first place. You can tell how uncomfortable he is with the sight after working so hard and so long on learning to accept himself the way he is now. He picks at the fake skin, pulling it slightly away and letting it snap back into place. Bucky clears his throat, his voice a touch hesitant, "It doesn’t quite feel right, ya know?"

You shift in your chair, tucking your leg up under you. "No, I get it, Bucky," you say. “Doesn’t feel like you, does it?” You give him a smile and a small shrug of your shoulders, as if what you’re saying is common knowledge and an opinion that everyone shares, “If you ask me, I prefer the metal.”

Bucky's eyes soften and he stops fidgeting with the skin, letting his arms drop down to his sides. “Yeah,” he agrees, “me too.”

You nod, trying to hide the warmth swelling in your chest. "Anyway," you begin. “I’ve been going over the data that you guys have gathered in the last few months. There’s a lot here, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs and walks over to you, taking the chair opposite and stretching out his legs underneath the table. His feet encroach on your space and nearly rest underneath your chair, the table not really accommodating for his size. You pick up the one leg you still have dangling off the chair and tuck it under you with the other one. Bucky places his hands behind his head and leans back. “All of my memories of this place are hazy, but this place was a real piece of work.” A grimace mars his face and his eyes start to cloud over.

Wanting to shift the conversation away from the discomfort he may be remembering, you change the subject, "So, did anything noteworthy happen at the garage today? Any signs of HYDRA activity in the town?"

Bucky's eyes shift with a sense of purpose, grateful for the chance to discuss something less complicated. "Actually, there was something unusual. I overheard a couple of guys mentioning some military-grade vehicles arriving tomorrow for inspection. Might be worth investigating to see if they’re HYDRA."

As you delve into mission-related details, a sense of normalcy descends upon the conversation. The awkwardness and unspoken emotions linger in the background of your mind, but for now, the focus is on the task at hand. You understand that the mission takes precedence over personal matters, and you commit again to putting aside your feelings for the sake of success and Bucky’s peace of mind.

With a renewed determination, you delve into strategizing and planning, resolute in your shared mission to dismantle HYDRA's operations.

Part 7

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #Sorry I Love You

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ncityprincess · 3 months

Note

girl write smth with jungwoo like I'm thirsty for jungwoo bc there are no jungwoo new posts on this site I'm going crazy everyday without reading smth with jungwoo (I'm insane)

Distraction

Jungwoo girlies come get y’all juice! Tbh Jungwoo is the most mysterious 127 member to me, but I wanted to take some time to think about how his fictional persona would be, and I think he would be super whipped for his girl (or whoever). Y/N is kind of a ditzy brat, I think that would be his type tbh. Anywho, let me know what you guys think 🤗

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“Ugh i literally don’t understand any of this. I’m so doomed!” You sighed hopelessly, tossing yourself back onto your cozy pink bed. Jungwoo laughed at your dramatic antics lovingly, growing accustomed to your girly and cute personality. Your boyfriend has always been a super mega genius math nerd, as you liked to call him. He was effortlessly excelling in math and engineering classes that even seniors were struggling with. You were positive he was solving math problems fresh out of the womb.

Jungwoo, being the kindhearted boyfriend he was, volunteered to tutor you, and for the past few weeks he’s been diligently and patiently helping you. Throughout these painful study sessions, he never once made you feel like you were dumb or that you were bothering him. He loved you so much, he didn’t care how many times he had to repeat the same things to you. He was more than happy to help you pass this class.

Jungwoo’s hand slid up and down your thigh, bringing you back to reality, and you pouted at him like a wounded puppy. You were a public relations major, why were you being forced to take stupid math classes anyway!?

“Baby, don’t say that. We have all night to study. Why don’t we take a little break, huh?” Jungwoo consoled you so sweetly as he always did when you were having one of your math meltdowns. Always looking at the bright side of things, he tried his best to reassure you that you just needed more practice. You on the other hand, were not having any of it. “Hmph..I don’t want a break, I wanna drop this stupid class. I hate it! I hate math! I hate everything! Ugh!!” You whined dramatically, tossing your hands in the air in defeat.

Were you slightly playing up the dramatics to receive a little extra attention from your sweet boyfriend? Perhaps. But truly, you really did hate this class with a burning passion, and maybe you did need a little distraction from studying…

“Aw, my sweet baby, c’mere,” jungwoo reached for your hand, attempting to pull you back up to a sitting position next to him.

“No” you whined, keeping yourself down on your back.

“Babyyyy,” Jungwoo matched your whiny tone, and bent down to kiss your forehead. That got a small giggle out of you, and he peppered a thousand more kisses all over your face. Jungwoo’s hands ran up and down your arms, leaving hot goosebumps along the way. His lips migrated to your ear, and his low voice sent shivers up your spine.

“Need a break, angel?” You shifted your eyes to look into his, admiring how his brown locks hung in his face. He was so beautiful…

You bit your plump bottom lip, and nodded at him silently. Jungwoo knew you too well by now. When you got in one of these moods, you wanted nothing more to be nurtured and taken care of. That was no problem for him. You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger, and he loved it.

Jungwoo gently caressed your face before he maneuvered on top of you, and slowly eased himself lower and lower until he was in front of your lower body. He looked at you, never breaking eye contact as he lifted up your skirt. He hooked his fingers into your pink lace panties, pushing them to the side and checking to see how wet you were. He smirked when he heard you let out an airy moan.

“Aw, this is what the princess wanted, huh? Just needed some little kisses and touches?” You let out a breathy sigh and pushed your hips into his hand, completely disregarding the world around you. All you cared about was Jungwoo touching you. “I always need you Woo, always…” he slid his fingers up and down your folds a few more times before peeling his shirt off and pushing his grey sweatpants down. He looked back up to see your fingers picking up where his left off, and you shot him a devious smile.

“Always such a needy girl, aren’t you?” Jungwoo dug in your bedside table drawer for a condom, and continued watching you play with yourself as he rolled it onto his hard cock. You finally moved your hands away and allowed him to slide himself through your wet folds a few times. “Mmm fuck me already baby,” you whined out in a bratty tone. Jungwoo smiled at your antics once again and fulfilled your request, bottoming out into your soaking wet hole.

“Fuckkkk baby you’re so tight” Jungwoo groaned. You moaned in response, running your hands across your bouncing chest. “Mm yeah? I’m tight baby?” Jungwoo was hypnotized by your bedroom voice and dark eyes to match. You were definitely the best partner he’s ever had. You turned him on like no one else could, and it showed in the way he thrusted into you. You held onto the backs of your thighs, pushing them against your chest and fully opening yourself up for your boyfriend. This was way better than trying to understand what a factorial was for the 100th time.

Jungwoo’s eyes locked in on your dripping cunt, admiring how fast his dick moved in and out of you. “God just like that baby, you’re fucking me so good,” you moaned out, ready to burst at any moment. Jungwoo groaned at your naughty words, and a hand flew to your nipples to help you get there quicker. “Shit, shit y/n I’m cumming” Jungwoo moaned out and emptied himself into the condom. He thrusted into you a few more times, overstimulating himself and bringing you over the edge at the same time.

Jungwoo collapsed on top of you, and you slowly released the hold on your legs, wrapping them around his waist. You were on cloud nine, relishing in the delicious high you two just shared. You laced your hands through jungwoo’s hair and placed a wet kiss onto his neck.

“Thanks for the distraction, Wooie”

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hungermakesmonsters · 5 months

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R for smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Just the usual smutty behaviour, some of it happening in a public place. There's also a very brief mention of a car crash but no details are given. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~4.7k

A/N : Billy is finally getting to take reader for dinner! So, yeah, that's kind of it. This is roughly the halfway point of the story, so thanks to everyone who's been reading and stuck with it this far, and thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback!! Also, OMG I hit 50 followers - I genuinely did not expect that to happen, thank you all so much!! 🥰

Chapter Ten

You weren’t sure what to expect when Billy picked you up for dinner, but it certainly wasn’t a Rolls Royce (a Wraith to be more precise, as Billy enjoyed explaining to you when he caught you staring at the car). At least it wasn’t a bright red Ferrari, you supposed, but you couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable once you were sitting in the passenger seat. It was so expensive and perfectly cared for that you were scared you might do something to ruin it, like you weren’t even worthy of sitting in it.

Billy explained that it had been another impulse purchase, another big ticket item just because he could, because as a boy he’d always wanted a fancy car. Another expensive thing just to try and fill a void. You wondered how empty he must feel to need so many expensive and shiny things, but you didn’t dare ask.

In fact, you remained mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant, not wanting to distract Billy while he was driving.

It wasn’t far, less than twenty minutes. He hadn’t told you where you were going, but once you saw the restaurant, you found yourself nervously playing with your sleeves. You’d never eaten there before, but you knew it by reputation; one of the best Italian restaurants in the state, and you had a good idea just how much it cost to eat there. Suddenly you felt underdressed in your black dress, suddenly you found yourself wishing he had taken you to Pizza Hut.

Parking at the back of the parking lot, Billy killed the engine and, for a few seconds, you were too caught up in your own thoughts to realise that he wasn’t moving.

His hands were still on the steering wheel, gripping it tight. It was something you were getting used to seeing; moments like this where Billy seemed to be fighting against himself, trying to hold himself back. You wondered if he was always like that, or if it was something he did because of you, because he was trying not to scare you. In the time you’d known him, you’d come to realise that Billy was a man of action, that he liked to do things without thinking and he didn't like to hold back when it came to certain urges - he’d called it poor impulse control, Krista had called it hypersexuality. You didn’t know what it was, but you liked to think he felt the same desperate neediness you felt whenever you were together.

“Billy,” you muttered softly, drawing his attention to you.

Your breath caught as he looked at you, his dark eyes flickering with a barely contained desire that had you wanting to crawl onto his lap. Clenching your thighs together, you tried not to think about all the things he could do to you, all the things you wanted him to do.

“We should go eat,” he finally managed, forcing an uneasy smile to his lips before getting out of the car. Before you could fully climb out of the Wraith, Billy was at your side, his hand extended to you. Of course, you took it and let him lead you into the restaurant, all the while smoothing down your dress, wanting to make sure you looked presentable enough to be seen with him. If Billy noticed, he managed to keep it to himself, he just gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he opened the door for you.

You stayed quiet as you were led to a table - that Billy had somehow managed to reserve yesterday, despite how exclusive the restaurant was. His hand left yours so he could pull out your chair for you and, still, you didn’t speak. You didn’t know what to say about any of it.

When the menu was placed in front of you, you really started to feel uncomfortable; there were no prices listed but, judging from the sort of things on offer, none of it was within your price range.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, though it was clear from the look on his face that he had some idea what was going through your mind.

“Nothing, it’s just -” you gave an awkward sigh, “- this place is really fancy...”

“Order whatever you want, I’m paying.”

“Billy -”

“I know, I know, you don’t want my money, and I promise I’m not trying to buy you. I just really like eating here and I think, if you give it a chance, you’ll like it too.” His shoulder ticked. “Besides I can either spend my money having a good time with you, or I can waste it on something dumb.”

You managed a laugh at that and, despite how awkward it made you feel, Billy probably had a point; he had enough money that he probably wouldn’t ever miss what he spent tonight, and you could at least try to make sure that he wouldn’t be left feeling empty at the end of it. You relented with a sigh and a nod, dropping your eyes back to the menu, though you still tried to think about what would be cheapest.

In the end you settled on pasta, while Billy ordered steak. Without much in the way of conversation, he also took it upon himself to order a antipasto platter for the two of you to share - which, you might have briefly felt uncomfortable about, but seeing the way he lit up when the food started arrive seemed to reinforce his point that he liked eating there, and you didn’t want to do anything that might ruin that for him.

And, you had to admit, the food was very nice. So much so that you were content to eat in relative silence for a little while. From time to time, Billy would ask you what you thought of the food and if you the wine that he’d ordered was alright - and it was, you could already understand why the restaurant was so raved about - but there was something almost shy about the way he was being. And shy wasn’t a word you thought you’d ever use to describe Billy.

It wasn’t until your main course arrived that you really started to notice, wondering if Billy just preferred quiet when he was eating, or if it was you. But, regardless of his silence, every time you happened to look up from your food, you’d find Billy staring at you. The first couple of times, he’d smile before returning his attention to his steak

But, finally, you had to ask; “what?”

“What?” He responded, looking up from his plate.

“You keep looking at me like - like that.”

“Like what?” Still confused, though he managed to give a little huff of laughter.

“Like you’re barely holding yourself back.”

“From what?” He asked, shifting in his seat, sitting a little straighter and leaning back in his chair, like he thought the extra inch of space it created between you could save him. You could tell just by looking at him that there was something he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Was what he was thinking really that bad or did he just think you didn’t want to hear it? (Did he think you couldn’t handle it?)

You decided to lean forward, destroying the distance he’d tried to create. If you were going to do this, you needed Billy to understand that he needed to talk, otherwise you’d overthink every little thing until you tore it all apart.

“Like there’s something you want but you’re fighting against it?” You tried to explain. “I saw it in the car earlier, and the night of the gala; you get this look like you need to do something but you’re scared to do it.” You watched his face, taking in every little flicker of discomfort as his eyes searched your face, trying to figure out just how much you could handle.

“I told you, I have poor impulse control,” his shoulder ticked upwards, “I’m trying to work on it, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Who told you that - that you have poor impulse control?” You asked, but Billy didn’t need to answer, you already had a pretty good idea. The flash of unease on his face said it all; Krista. Your expression instantly softened, and your heart ached for him. “Billy, I’m not worried and I don’t need you to protect me from you. You don’t need to hold back when you’re with me. If you’re scared something might be too much you can just ask.”

“Sweetheart,” he started softly, a warm smile on his lips, “if I didn’t hold back, we’d never leave my bed.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” you joked and Billy’s gaze seemed to darken with want again.

As much as you wanted to get to the bottom of it, you knew that it wasn’t something you could figure out in one night. Clearly there were bigger issues at play and, in a restaurant, on your first date probably wasn’t the best place to have this sort of conversation.

Your attention returned to your food for a minute or so before you looked up again, catching him staring again.

“Did you sort the thing at Anvil yesterday?” You decided to ask. “The security problem?”

“Not yet,” he answered and fell silent again, attention returning to his dinner. But, after a few seconds, he seemed to realise that you genuinely wanted to talk to him and that his being silent wasn’t conducive to a good dinner date. “I think Frank’s just blowing things out of proportion, it’s probably nothing to worry about,” he shrugged, “we get people poking around a lot, it’s just the nature of the business.”

“Oh, well that’s good, I guess?” You smiled, wanting to show that you appreciated the effort he was making.

“How was your day?”

“It was okay. Work was kinda crazy, but things always start to get insane this time of year,” you shrugged, chewing your lip and thinking for a moment before adding; “but I, uh, got some good news?”

“What kind of good news?” He set his cutlery down and reached for his wine glass, attention completely on you.

“Well, I know this guy who runs a little gallery in Queens, he told me he’s got an opening in the new year and asked if I wanted to put on a show.” It made you nervous seeing the way that Billy practically lit up at the news. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ve got anything worth showing at the moment, but it was nice he asked...”

“You should do it, I’d love to come see some of your work.”

“I’ll be sure to put you on the guestlist,” you laughed despite the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach; the new year was months away and you weren't sure Billy would even still be in your life then. (But seeing him smile at you made you want to hope that he would be.)

“Do you make any money from your shows?”

“Some, but not a lot; mostly just from the door but sometimes people buy things.”

“How much is some? Ballpark figure?”

“Ballpark figure?” You laughed. “You’re such a businessman.”

Bill let out a laugh of his own, shaking his head.

“Sorry, force of habit. It’s hard to switch it off sometimes.”

“Well, I guess some people probably find it incredibly sexy.” You smiled, watching the smirk grow on his lips.

“Oh, some people, eh?”

“Yeah, y’know, the kind of people who get all hot and bothered over men in expensive suits who drive fancy cars and know how to get what they want?” You leaned forward a little more, trying you best to sound seductive, despite the ridiculous grin on your lips.

“Yeah? What about you? Does it get you all hot and bothered?” He smirked, falling right into your trap.

“Nah, I like men who wear jeans and drive Toyotas,” you started laughing, and the look on his face was priceless. As much as he might have wanted to feign upset at the comment, Billy couldn’t stop himself from letting out a ridiculous laugh, and it was the most joyful sound you’d managed to pull from him.

“You’re such a tease,” he took a drink, though his eyes stayed fixed on you.

“Don’t worry, Billy,” you reached for your own glass and took a long, slow drink, “I’m prepared to make an exception for you. What you lack in fashion sense, you make up for in other areas.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he prompted, a hint of impatience in his tone, like he needed to hear you say it.

“Well, you have a very talented tongue,” your cheeks started to warm but the ridiculous smile stayed plastered to your lips, “and you have quite a way with words. And you’re very hands on...”

“And you like that, do you?”

You decided not to answer him, instead you made a point of returning your attention to your food before it got cold. Billy’s eyes lingered on you for a few moments more before he did the same. The game wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot, but you needed some time to consider your next move.

After finishing your main course, you excused yourself, heading for the bathroom, as a terrible idea formed in your mind. You could practically feel Billy’s eyes on you as you walked away, and you could almost picture the look on his face as he did, that hungry glint in his eyes, the way his lips curled upwards ever so slightly whenever he stared at you. Especially tonight. Your silly games had gotten to him, but they’d gotten to you too, and it left you craving what would come next.

Standing in the bathroom stall, you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart but there was nothing for it. Now that you were doing this with Billy, now that you were finally willing to let him in, you were terrified in the most inexplicable way - it was scary how much you wanted him after so little time. But you did want him, and you wanted him to want you just as much.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you slipped out of your panties, trying not to think about the telling wet spot before balling them up in your hand.

When you left the bathroom, your cheeks were burning; your free hand nervously smoothing down your dress, terrified that everyone would suddenly be able to tell that you weren’t wearing panties. Billy gave you a confused look as you approached the table, and it was almost enough to make you completely lose your nerve. You awkwardly offered your hand to him and quickly handed him the balled up red lace before retreating to your seat.

“What’s this for?” He asked, fighting back a grin, momentarily looking at the panties before shoving them into his pocket.

“They were getting wet,” you managed to answer, nervously biting your lips before adding; “they’re my favourite pair, I don’t want them to get ruined.”

“They’re my favourite pair now, sweetheart.” He smirked at you, a devious glint in his eyes. “If I’d known this was what you were doing, I would have followed you to the bathroom. I hate to think of your needy little pussy all wet and unfulfilled.”

“Billy -” cheeks burning, glancing around, hoping that no one could hear him.

He leaned closer, smiling softly as if the pair of you were exchanging romantic sweet nothings. You felt his ankle nudge yours beneath the table and your breath caught.

“What’s wrong? Am I making your tight little hole drip? Are you making a mess thinking about how my cock would feel inside you if I bent you over this table in front of all these people?” And, just like that, he’d turned the tables on you. You’d wanted to drive him crazy, but you’d underestimated him. He reached for you, his hand covering yours.

“Is that what you’re thinking about?” You dared to ask in little more than a whisper, leaning closer.

“I’m thinking about crawling beneath the table and eating your sweet little pussy as my next course.”

You bit your lip again, thighs rubbing together beneath the table.

“I can’t wait to get you home.” He smirked, obviously noticing your discomfort and revelling in it.

“Does that mean we’re skipping dessert?” you asked, suddenly feeling breathless.

“No, I promised you dinner; it wouldn’t count if we skipped a course.” He kept smiling, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Your needy little pussy will just have to wait.” His smile got wider as you almost pouted. “Though, it's driving me crazy knowing how wet you’re gonna be when I get you out of here.

“Now who’s being a tease?” You squeezed his hand, giving away just how much he was getting to you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, did I ruin your plans?” He asked with an unapologetic smirk. “Was I supposed to get flustered or did you want me to drag you out of here and fuck you in the car?”

You dropped your gaze, cheeks burning, not really having an answer for him; you’d just wanted to make him feel as out of control as you did.

“I appreciate the effort though,” Billy continued, “I like knowing the effect that I have on you.”

Your lips parted, about to say - you weren’t even sure what, when you were interrupted by the waiter bringing your dessert.

You ate dessert slowly, your eyes fixed on Billy, knowing that once you were done eating the rest of the night would begin. You both remained calm and composed, as you finished your meals, and as Billy paid the check. You pulled on your coat and slowly let him lead you from the restaurant, but things quickly changed the moment you reached the parking lot.

It was dark save for the flickering of a single street light, only two other cars remained but Billy had parked at the back of the lot, out of the way.

By the time you reached the Wraith, his hands were on your hips, turning you to face him as he pressed you back against his car. He kissed you, nipping at your lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your fingers gripped his tie, holding him close, surrendering yourself to him.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered against your lips, “you got me so fucking hard with that little stunt with your panties.”

“Good,” you answered, your hand slipping down his body to palm his erection through his pants.

“You keep that hand there and I’m not gonna be responsible for my actions, sweetheart.” Billy groaned.

“You should be more concerned with what I’m gonna do to you,” you smiled, your hand releasing his tie and gently pushing him backwards so you could drop to your knees in front of him. Your hands started to pull at the fastenings of his pants, pulling his hard cock through the zipper. Billy gave a groan as your fingers ran along his shaft, his own hand finding the roof of the Wraith for support.

He was barely breathing when you looked up at him.

You took a deep breath before leaning forward, your hand still gripping his cock while your tongue slipped between your lips.

You felt him twitch as your tongue touched hot skin, heard him groan as you ran your tongue from root to tip, lapping the salty sweetness that had already leaked from him as your tongue swirled over his tip. Lips trailed hot kisses up and down his shaft, smiling as he swore under his breath, and loving the marks your lipstick left on his skin.

You wet your lips with your tongue before finally taking him into your mouth, pulling an eager moan from him. He reached for you with his free hand, fingers fisted in your hair, gently guiding you up and down the length of him, while your fist pumped the base of him.

Billy was completely yours in that moment. With just your lips, you’d rendered him speechless, helpless, and hopeless. The feeling of power was intoxicating; the way he moaned and shuddered and swore made you want more. It made you want everything. Your cheeks hollowed against him, tongue working along every inch of him, your moans vibrating around him.

“That’s it. Look at me, sweetheart,” he grunted as your eyes found his, staring up at him through your lashes, and the look on his face had moaning even harder around him, “I wanna watch you suck my cock.”

His grip tightened, his chest heaving with every panted breath. He was getting closer and you didn’t want to stop. You took more of him, managing to sink lower and lower with the encouragement of his hand, earning more desperate moans from him. Eyes watered when he hit the back of your throat, but you didn’t stop, you barely even slowed. Tilting your head a little, he slipped into your throat and you felt his grip tighten, but just a fraction. Billy was barely managing to hold himself back, you could see it in his eyes, in the way he grit his teeth. You almost wanted to push him, make him lose control completely, but you didn’t want him to take over. You were in control of the moment and that was how you wanted it to stay.

You heard your name and the start of a gasped warning before his hips bucked and his cock started pulsing, filling your mouth. Despite trying to warn you, his grip on your hair didn’t loosen. You kept pumping his length with your fist, swallowing down everything he gave you, milking every last drop from him until it was too much for him to bear and he had to gently push you away. You dropped back against the Wraith, knees protesting and aching, licking his cum from your lips, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breathless as he forced his cock back into his pants and offered you his hand.

Your knees ached from the gravel as you stood back up, but once you were up, Billy’s arm was around you, supporting you, holding you against him.

“Did you enjoy that?” You asked quietly, almost shyly, as if there was any chance someone else might overhear.

“Sweetheart, I think I just about lost my goddamn mind,” he smiled, lightly pressing his lips to yours before reaching around you to open the car door for you. “I’m gonna show you just how much when I get you home.”

Your shaky legs just about managed to get you into the car, and Billy shut the door behind you. While he made his way around to the driver's side, you checked yourself in the mirror, and found your lipstick smeared around your mouth. As Billy climbed into the Wraith he shot you a very smug look before handing you his handkerchief. He started the car while you did your best to fix your makeup.

There was a relative silence for a while, and you were content to just look out the window at the New York City lights. You didn’t talk, again, not wanting to distract Billy. But it felt like there was something in the air between you, a tension, a longing for things to come.

He glanced your way a couple of times before his hand found your thigh, causing you to tense suddenly. The hand was quickly pulled back and the car was very quickly filled with a different kind of tension.

“What’s wrong?” He dared to ask, his attention fixed on you more than the road, and that just made things worse.

“Watch the road, please...” you awkwardly pleaded and, to his credit, Billy did as you asked.

An awkward silence filled the air for the next few minutes; he didn’t dare look at you so he didn’t see the way you were awkwardly pulling at the sleeves of your jacket, your eyes fixed on the road just beyond the windscreen. He didn’t look again until he hit a red light and the car had come to a complete stop.

“What did I do?” He asked.

You didn’t want to tell him, you weren’t ready to share that part of your life with him, but you’d agreed, hadn’t you? You’d told him that you’d stop pushing, that you’d tell him if he fucked up. And he had fucked up, just not in a way he could have anticipated.

“Nothing,” you answered quietly, “It’s not you. I - I was in an accident and, now, being in cars makes me nervous sometimes.”

“Is that how -” he didn’t finish the question, he didn’t have to. He put it together, at least part of it. Your scars had come from a car crash. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t know. I should’ve warned you.”

Whether out of respect to your anxiety at being in the car or just because he didn’t have anything else to say, Billy stayed mostly quiet the rest of the way back to his apartment, save for asking you if you were alright a couple of times and if you were warm enough. It was more than enough time to get over the awkwardness of Billy knowing a little bit more about you and, by the time the car was parked, you were ready to put it all behind you and continue the rest of the night with him.

He took your hand in his as he led you from the car to the elevator, your bag slung over his shoulder and holding you extra tight - you weren’t sure if it was meant as a reassurance or a sign that his patience was wearing thin. Either way, you squeezed his hand in return. His other hand, you soon noticed, was in his pocket along with your balled up panties.

You found that familiar look on his face once you were in the elevator. He didn’t look at you, he didn’t dare, you just kept squeezing his hand, silently telling him that you were there, that everything was alright. The elevator dinged when it reached the penthouse and everything quickly became a blur.

By the time the elevator door had closed behind you, Billy had you against the wall, your legs around his hips and the bag with your things abandoned somewhere on the floor. His hands awkwardly tugged open his pants, dropping them to the floor before, thrusting his cock into your wetness. You cried out, straining around him, wet but not entirely ready, your fingers curling in his hair. He didn’t give you time to adjust or get used to him before he started to fuck you, roughly laying claim to you.

“This is what you get for trying to play games with me, sweetheart,” he all but growled against your lips. All you could think was that if this was the sort of punishment you’d get for playing games and trying to rile him up, then you’d have to do it more often.

Your head dropped back against the wall, moaning and completely at his mercy, losing yourself with every snap of his hips.

There was no holding back the inevitable and, soon enough, you were moaning his name as you came undone, and Billy soon followed suit. He kept you against the wall, his weight holding you in place as he came inside you, still moving until he’d completely emptied himself, leaving you feeling oddly triumphant.

“See?” You panted, smiling widely. “I like your poor impulse control.”

His hand moved, gripping your jaw loosely with his fingers, looking at you like he was trying to make sense of something incomprehensible. You held his gaze, wanting him to see that you wouldn’t waiver, that you wouldn’t shy away from this side of him. Then he kissed you, softly, reassuringly, telling you a thousand things he didn’t have the words to say aloud to you.

He lingered against your lips as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him not because he was still inside you, but simply because you wanted to hold him. (How many people had just held him, you wondered.) Your fingers ran through his hair and you smiled against his lips. When he pulled back again, he still had that look, like he just didn’t understand. But you didn’t ask; it wasn’t your place to tell him how to feel, you just hoped he’d figure it out eventually.

Without a word, he lowered you and, once your feet were back on the floor, he was pulling you towards the bedroom so he could spend the rest of the night keeping you from sleep.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

END NOTES : So, yeah this is about the halfway point with what I have planned (I've got about 20 chapters planned, unless any get too long and need breaking up) but now that reader and Billy are in a nice place with their relationship, it's time to turn up the angst. There might be some more triggering stuff coming up in the next part, so please check the warnings! Next part should be up same time next week.

As ever, thanks so much for reading!! I know I say this every time but I'm honestly just overwhelmed with the likes/comments/reblogs/follows, it really does mean so much to me! (I have no idea how many of you are real and how many are bots, but you're all great - if you're not a bot drop an emoji in the comments idk)

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (if it's not working for some reason... I honestly have no idea how to fix that but I hope it is working??)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @uncontainedsmiles @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #cmiyc ff

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onboardsorasora · 3 months

Text

I’ve been having this idea and idk where I’m going with it. I guess it could be another au of sugar baby daniel, but more angsty? Maybe escort/call boy daniel?

Anyway Lewis has been booking Daniel for a while now. They don’t hang out outside of their booked time but Lewis always wants to see him. And during one of their sessions he’s like ‘you should come to the gp’ and Daniel says sure but he doesn’t like believe him.

Because men say anything during pillow talk, whatever they think will impress him or make them look better in his eyes. To him, Lewis is just one of those guys– saying things that they won’t backup. Inviting him everywhere in bed only to never bring it up once the moment passes. He likes him but, thats not what this is.

So he’s surprised when someone delivers a package to his apartment a couple weeks after. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Lewis since because he’d been away on a triple header (Daniel does follow the sport). He gets two paddock passes, he’s literally floored and not even sure if he should go. Lewis is his client, they don’t like talk like that. Anything they've done has been on paid time, all the dinners and sex. Sure there were a lot of them, but they weren’t dates.

Scotty convinces him to go, and he takes Scotty with him. They go, and don’t run into Lewis at all. Well Daniel tried to avoid him as much as possible and he seemed to have been having a very ‘on’ weekend so there was no reason to distract him.

The week after the gp is when Lewis books him again, and he’s revved up from his Monaco win and just happy to see Daniel.

“Thank you for the passes btw, it was fun.” Daniel tells him after, when they’re lying around. Lewis always books several hours so they have time to be lazy if they want to and have multiple rounds if he wants to.

“You were there?” Lewis is surprised, he didn’t even know. Daniel never said, never even acknowledged the passes. “Why didn’t you find me?”

“I originally wasn’t planning to.” Daniel shrugs, “and you seemed busy.”

“I would have made time for you.”

“That wouldn’t have been like necessary. The passes were more than enough.” Daniel didn’t want it to be a thing, didn’t want to seem like he was expecting treatment of any kind. He sits up in the bed, and Lewis follows him.

“I would have–” Lewis frowns.

“Would have what? Introduced me to your mechanics? Your engineer? As what?” Daniel’s forehead creases because he doesn’t understand what Lewis is getting at, what he thinks this is. It doesn’t matter what it feels like, because at the end of the day it wasn’t. Daniel reminded himself of that daily, whenever he felt the swoop in his stomach at the notification that Lewis booked him.

Lewis is quiet for a bit, playing with Daniel’s fingers. He didn’t have an answer.

“It was a lovely gesture Lewis, and I really appreciated it.” Daniel said finally, when the silence started to fray into awkward.

“As mine, I’d want to introduce you to them as mine.” Lewis said finally and Daniel bit his cheek against the rush of every emotion ever. He needed to be the level headed one here, clearly.

“And then I’d be on the front page of the Daily Mail as the whore you’re trying to make a housewife.”

#idk idk #dewis #lewis/daniel #random thoughts I needed to get out of my head

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annalu86 · 11 months

Text

First date

“Yeah. I do.”

They stood in Grey’s office smiling at each other for a few more moments before Lucy took a big deep breath.

“Right, I should let you finish” she reaches her hand out and grazes her fingers over his elbow. The motion is quick as a flash but she watches his breath hitch and his eyes widen.

“Yeah, I’ve got hours of work left and you…” he smiled broadly “are a distraction”

Lucy couldn’t believe how quickly and easily they were falling into open flirting with each other. She took three slow steps back, neither of them breaking eye contact. She paused at the door and took another deep breath before walking out of the room and making her way out of the building.

Before she had even got to her car she had her phone in her hand.

Lucy: so, this date. What are you thinking we should do?

The three little dots spring up instantly and Lucy grins knowing he must have had his phone in his hands to respond that fast.

Tim: how about we decide when first?

Before she can reply the dots are back

Tim: if I suggest tomorrow does that make me look eager?

Lucy laughs as she climbs into her car

Lucy: a little eager but I’m not mad about it!

Tim: good because I am eager.

Lucy: you are adorable

She knows he won’t be able to leave the bait and she’s not disappointed

Tim: I can change my mind you know Chen

Lucy: you don’t intimidate me, sir.

She takes great pleasure in picturing his glitched out face as she watches the dots appear and disappear over and over.

Lucy: how about we talk it through tomorrow. I think I’m distracting you again!

Tim: if I don’t finish this paperwork Grey may never let me leave and we’ll be having our first date in the break room with terrible coffee and Smitty in the corner slurping soup. Talk tomorrow Lucy

Lucy waited for a minute in case Tim had more to say before starting her engine and beginning the journey. The whole way home her mind races. This is actually happening. Finally.

She arrives home and instead of trying to sleep she grabs her laptop, climbs on her bed and starts researching. When she finally drifts off to sleep there are many tabs open, restaurants, hikes and more.

Tim wakes before his alarm the next morning, he dresses quickly. He and Lucy are due in to work at the same time but he can’t help but arrive early, just in case.

He beams when she pulls her car in next to his less than 5 minutes after he arrives at the station. They look at each other through their windows before they both climb out.

His breath catches, his heart hammers. He doesn’t know why he feels more nervous than the night before but in the light of day everything suddenly feels so real.

Lucy is standing in front of him, smiling up at him. He knows he should say something, anything but The stupid grin remains.

“Hi” she sounds as nervous and excited as he feels

“Hi” he manages and they stand there. Neither knowing how to move forward and neither really wanting to break the moment.

Fortuitously a colleague walks past and calls a greeting or Tim feels like they would have stayed like that for the whole shift, dopey smiles and soft eyes. It’s exactly the wake up he needed. He gives himself a little shakes and turns to lead them both into the station.

Just as Tim is about to bring up the topic of their first date Lucy starts “So, I did some research”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm”

“So what do you suggest?” Tim raised an eyebrow

“I’ve got a list of restaurants, classics, fusion” she pauses and looks up at him “romantic”

“I like the sound of that” Tim feels like keeping his relationship with Lucy a secret might be harder than he expected as he reminds himself to take half a step back. They’ve never been good at ‘personal space’ but the building certainly wasn’t crowded, there really was no need to stand quite so close.

“I made a ‘wild card’ list, too” she added, seemingly unaware of his inner thoughts as she instantly fills the gap back up with a small step forward. “Paintball, shooting range. Those kinds of things, your kind of activities”

He’d kiss her if he could. He will kiss her, not right now but this date is going to have to happen sooner rather than later.

“Send me your lists and the nights you’re free this week” he captures her gaze “I’ll do the rest”

“Ok” she holds his gaze

“I have to go, be safe.” He turns and walks off quickly.

Lucy sends him the lists as promised. He’s managed to find 10 minutes in his day to sit down at his desk and open his email. The message begins:

Lucy: It feels like we’ve waited so long for this, I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m free tomorrow night, I don’t care where we go or what we do. Let’s just not wait anymore.

For a moment Tim couldn’t breathe, the moment Lucy had told him he was the most important relationship in her life had felt, surreal, magical. It seemed like a dream. These reminders that what they were doing meant as much to her as it did to him proved that this was all real.

Tim decided then that he would make this first date special and to do that he needed help.

Aaron was minding his own business, he had paperwork to fill in. So much paperwork.

It meant that when Sergeant Bradford arrived at his desk he was completely unprepared.

“I have a job for you” the gruff voice came from behind his shoulder and he jumped sending papers skidding across the desk.

Aaron scrambled to pull the pieces of paper back into a neat pile “Sir, I’m… yes ok, of course sir.” He turned and looked up into the face of the much taller man “what do you need” finally feeling composed.

“You have connections” Aaron blinked, was that supposed to be a question

“You need my sword guys number?” He tried “I’m not sure if my mom would be happy for me to expense another private jet just yet.”

Tim just glared at him, Aaron was getting used to this look on Tim’s. It was his companion for most of his day.

“Restaurants” was all Tim said, his expression not changing. Aaron smiled broadly, this was his world. His area of expertise.

“Sure! I’ve got contacts at some of the best places in town” his glow of pride didn’t last long as Tim continued to stare

“Tomorrow night, 8pm.” Tim handed him a piece of paper. Aaron opened it, it simply had the names of two restaurants. “One of those”

Aaron’s eyes widened, two of the hardest to get into and most romantic restaurants in the city “for how many?”

Tim’s only response was to glare harder.

“Two, of course” Aaron spluttered “I’ll make some calls” he sat back down at his desk and took out his phone. He looked back up into his sergeant’s face to see it soften a little.

“Thanks Thorsen”

“Any time” Aaron called to his receding back

Well, thought Aaron, they’ve finally done it!

#chenford #chenford fanfic #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie #afterthecamerastops #left in draft for too long and lost my way

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dearestcynthiaw · 3 months

Text

Goodbye Stranger - House M.D x Reader

Chapter Two: Who Are You?

Source A: Photograph, with missing piece, and handwritten message: 'Spring 1928 - Trip to London' no other inscriptions.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Hello again!

Sorry for the long wait, this chapter might be a little dodgy writing wise, but I'm hoping it'll sound ok.

I just wanted to add that themes might get a bit heavier from here, but I'm still unsure. I'll let you know if any trigger warnings come up.

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Chapter One: World Weary

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TW: Mentions of blood, death, cigarettes and alcohol. (Sounds like a underground band name)

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In truth, House thought about this peculiar encounter for the rest of the day. He never once closed the Wikipedia tab on this mysterious, yet apparent English Rose. He'd found himself opening it frequently and scrolling to the bottom of endless pages to really see how far this woman would go with her 'fantasy'.

Due to this anomaly in his usual work day, he found it challenging to engage with his current case, often sitting in his office and pondering in the silence. His eyes glued to the door she had disappeared through hours earlier. Would she ever come back? She had been such a fascinating specimen, he just wanted to know exactly what was going on in her head. He thought about the endless illnesses that could have caused this odd phenomenon, ones that would cause hysteria or an overactive imagination.

Was she here to fool him into a prescription? Was she living out a long time wish to live the life of someone with great lineage and aristocratic fortune? Did she want to live in the romanticised perception of the past? It was all a colossal enigma that he wanted to unearth and tease out of the woman.

To him, the current case was a bore compared to what had transpired earlier that day. It sounded like a harsh flu, but not one that he’d ever seen. They’d isolated the patient and kept up with questions, which the man was reluctant to answer. With House acting distant, the diagnosis seemed far out of reach. House thought of giving up at one point, letting his team of three figure it out for themselves. That was until they found the man’s ankles were swollen.

At this point, due to House’s lack of interest, the whole procedure was moving at a snail’s pace. The case was getting increasingly worse and House’s team decided the patient would need to be scheduled for an X-Ray of the chest, checking the lungs for fluid and the heart for implications.

The conclusion was the possibility of heart failure, yet they were still unsure of how it got to this point.

The end of the day was nigh. Still after plenty of pestering, House rebuffed the idea of at least looking at the patient through the glass. The idea of this patient dying seemed to have no effect on him, maybe deep down it did, but he appeared oblivious or distracted.

It was late when he got back to his car. The rain was heavily pattering on the roof of the multistory car park. It was loud, but that never detached him from his buzzing thoughts.

Dr Wilson, his friend (you’d like to think) and colleague, caught him just before he left, knocking sternly on his driver's side window, which House reluctantly opened. Wilson’s eyebrows were knitted and his mouth was pulled into a straight line 'What's gotten into you? I’m made to believe this is a one-of-a-kind case, not even you can figure it out.’

House only huffed at this, rolling up the window. Again there was a torrent of knocks.

‘What? I’m late to a date with one of the hottest chicks in town.’

‘Don’t mess about, this is a life or death House. Why are you not interested?’ Wilson spoke, his voice sprinkled with concern.

In return, House revved his engine ‘No time to talk, probably won’t see you tomorrow, I doubt I'll be able to walk with all the fun I’ll be up to tonight. Bye.’ With that he flew out of his space, leaving Wilson in the dust.

Rain drops danced on his windows as he bolted down the bustling roads. The street lights and headlights of other cars painted his window screen with an array of vivid colours. The music on his radio hummed in the background along with the rattling of the wheels on the dodgy tarmac.

He was eventually stopped at a set of traffic lights, watching people trudge through the rain as he sat snugly in his warm car.

Amongst the hoard of busybodies was a young lady, one with a look of discomfort and panic. She was instantly recognisable, yet her togs were soggy and discoloured with the spatters of rain. Her hair was heavy with water and had lost its neat, waved styling.

He watched intensely as a singular man approached her, touching her shoulder, causing her to jump back in fright.

The lights flicked to orange and he was about ready to move on, when she was pushed up against the wall unbeknown to those around her.

He moved on through the green light. He thought nothing of this interaction, knowing someone else would interfere.

He was part way down the road when without thinking he flicked on his right indicator, stopping in a lay-by, hopping out in haste with his hand roughly gripping his cane.

Bracing against the frigid rain, he splashed through puddles approaching the pair.

He was close now, and could see how dangerous this situation was. The man was grabbing at her with his filthy hands, his face was close and his voice low.

House put his cane between the two causing an instant reaction from the unknown male.

‘Whatcha think you’re doing, cripple?’ The male hollered.

He attempted to push the stranger away, making sure to keep distance in case he decided to lash out, which his body language suggested.

House’s mind was sharp thinking ‘This woman has a disease that’s contagious through touch. She’s an escapee and has been on the run for the past 2 days. You’ve probably contracted it by being in close proximity.’

The man seemed to instantaneously spring backwards ‘How come you’re fine?’ his face scrunched up.

‘Inoculation, dummies don’t have access to it. Now move on, nothing to see here.’ and with that the frowzy man scurried away. The appearance of his walking aid would’ve probably been enough to strike fear in the stranger, but the spontaneous story-telling seemed to bring the alarming interaction to a close.

House moved away as well, pacing back to his car.

She hesitated before shouting after him, forgetting about nearby eavesdroppers ‘Why did you help me? I thought you said I was mad and should be locked away.’

‘Doesn’t matter, you coming or you just gonna stand there staring at my back?’ House turned back to look at her, water running down his face.

He finally got a closer look at her when they were back in the comfort of his car. She was soaked to the bone, dripping on the fabric seats. Black could be seen about her red, puffy eyes where her cake mascara had smudged. Her hair was tousled and unkept. She was quite a pitiful sight to behold.

There was an uncomfortable silence before the engine was started up. House was hesitating.

Again the music could only be heard faintly in the background, not even a single breath.

‘I’ve seen a lot. New things, that is.’ She attempted to start a conversation, hoping that after this frightful evening he would see some sense in what she had said previously that day.

He ignored her.

‘I’ve got a car at home.’ She muttered under her breath, she was speaking to herself more than him. She was partly facing away, looking out the window as the streets flew by.

He turned the radio up to drown out her rambling. He would much rather be glued to the thumping music and the overactive thoughts building in his mind. He detested the notion of making awkward conversation with a lady he did not wholly trust.

The music was blaring now, the bass rattling the plastic interior of the car.

As she listened intently, she heard a new plethora of instruments that was very unlike what she was used to. She didn’t know what to concentrate on, she couldn’t tell anything apart. Every instrument seemed to drown each other out.

Her eyes were wide from the boisterous sound but she happily sat tapping her fingers on her lap to the rhythm. She could only pick out one phrase from the lyrics;

“Who are you?’’.

Who was she? That really was the truth. The song just exaggerated that query.

House finally let a question sit in the noisy atmosphere ‘You like The Who?’.

‘Who?’ She turned to him.

‘Very funny.’ The conversation was quick, short and littered with sarcasm.

The song had a bit of a quieter section but jumped straight back into the chaos. It made her jump slightly with the suddenness of it all, consequently causing House to humph with a singular hissing laugh.

Again, there was a gap of silence and a sort of sizzling, filmy sound that rang out from the central system in the car. The bulky set of technology to her left disposed of a silver, holographic disk and she looked at it curiously.

Panicked, she asked ‘Did I break something?’.

In a quick movement, he flicked open a compartment in front of her knees ‘Pick one, and replace it.’

She tentatively did so, taking the plastic cases from the glove box and splaying them out on her lap, looking at the different images. She seemed to figure it out, it was much like the vinyls she was used to, but in a different format. She gently replaced the circular disk safely into its matching case. Opening another dark coloured case with a man and a blonde woman displayed on the front, she placed the disk where the other had originally come from. As it slid from her fingers into the machine, her eyebrows furrowed in awe.The new song flicked on after a couple seconds of whirring.

‘Top Gun? Really?’

‘I didn’t know what to pick, I’ve never seen any of these before. It's the only one I could see with the musicians on the front.’

‘They’re not the musicians, it's a film soundtrack, Marty. Maverick and Charlie? Have you not watched the movie?’ He used that odd nickname ‘Marty’ again amongst his rambling.

She sighed, looking down at her lap at the remaining disk holders. She brought one close to her face as the darkness obstructed the image. ‘You listen to King Oliver? Are you a fan of Jazz?’ she perceived his seated figure at the wheel. She was delighted that this music was still being heard. If she could relate to him with music then it might make the atmosphere more comfortable.

Irked by her continued persistence on making conversation, House stared back at her. ‘What? Are you going to tell me that you were there when they came out?’

He was still fighting conversation.

Feeling knocked back she spoke quietly again ‘I’m only curious, that’s all.’.

Her thoughts consumed her that when House had parked and was now exiting the car, she was too slow to realise. They were before an unfamiliar single-story building, he was bugging her to leave the passenger seat.

He ushered her towards the front door, both traipsing on damp gravel, water still continuing to cling to their raiments.

Hesitating, she stood by the entrance ‘Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there and freeze?’. She was already cold, she had barely had time to dry and was finding it hard to conceal her shivers.

It had been a rough looking public house, she had no longer been pleased when seeing its interior. Truthfully, she was glad to no longer be stuck on the streets but this brought no hope as to what House had in mind for her. She pined for her home, at this point it seemed ever so far out of reach. The panic was devouring her insides as she walked with him to the long stretch of bar.

She still had her bag of small belongings clasped to her side; a small pocket watch, a delicately painted case of cigarettes, a metal lighter, a compact mirror, a gold tube of lipstick and a small amount of notes and coins. It was a pure set of luck that it hadn’t been snatched out of her clutches whilst she helplessly wandered the streets.

House had already placed an order whilst she lingered a distance back from him. He’d downed a couple doubles and was waiting for his glass to be topped up.

The bartender seemed to look at her in inquiry, she felt pressured to place an order too.

‘Cognac, a little soda, please.’ Giving a small smile as she felt relieved to finally have a drink.

‘You think we do that here, sweetheart?’ The man seemed amused by her request.

She felt embarrassed, flushing a rosé shade on the cheeks ‘Just brandy then.’ She spoke as she placed a few shillings on the counter.

‘We don’t take whatever those are.’

House surely thought she was a fool at this point, he pressed his glass to his lip and gave a sharp snicker. Every aspect of her life had to be littered with old-timey things. He thought; she was quite committed to leading this lifestyle and neglecting the reality of today’s society. She proceeded to sit beside him after the interaction with the bartender, who went to tend to another customer. Demoralised, she let out a shaky sigh, elbows on the bar and right hand over her eyes. She felt like crying, but was certain that the doctor would degrade her for it.

‘So what’s your real name then?’ House questioned after a lengthy couple of minutes, again grabbing the attention of the bartender to fill up his glass.

In a huff she pulled out a little red cloth-bound book from her purse and pushed it in front of him. ‘That’s my driving licence, have a look at it yourself.’ He opened it in a blasé manner, finding the same name she’d given when they met, written in neat looped writing. Alongside her name were the start and expiry dates for her driving permit that conveniently matched up with her story.

‘That’s all I've got in terms of identification. That’s it, that is my name. If you can’t believe me after this then I don’t know what will convince you.’

He continued to study it ‘This is a good forgery, looks authentic.’.

She didn’t know why she hung around, but she felt that he might be her only chance when it came to getting home. She opened her cigarette case, placing one at her lip, flicking open her lighter and taking a deep exhale.

‘Better put that out before you get caught.’ He said in a snarky voice with a face to match when she chose to ignore him.

With that final comment she left her seat marching outside, gasper still between her fingers. House trailed behind her to the overhead roof outside where she continued to take drags. He didn’t want to lose sight of her, not again, he was far from finishing his investigation.

Snapping she snarled ‘What is it? What is it that you want? You’re following me yet you refuse to help me. You don’t even believe me, not even my name! I’m beyond it all, I just- I just - want to get back home, yet you ridicule and tease me to no end! What is it ‘Dr’ House? What do you want me to say? That I’m faking all of this, then fine have it your way, I am. Are you finally satisfied?!.

There was a second of silent acrimony before she finally stated; ‘I’m going back to the hospital’. She stubbed the cigarette butt beneath her heel, beginning to move.

Suddenly, a pair of headlights blinked at them. They both stood still like a pair of stunned deer in the beam. ‘House!’ came a shout.

House squinted and called back ‘Can’t you see I’m with a babe?’.

She was too stunned to react to his crude joke.

‘She looks wet, House.’ The voice came closer, it sounded sympathetic.

‘I’m sure she is, from the sight of me.’

Gritting her teeth she sneered ‘For goodness sake!’ Crossing her arms for warmth and setting foot back into the intense rain, she began to trudge through the drenched car park. She stood by what she said, she was going to find her way back.

She walked as far as the side of the car who’s headlights had previously blinded them.

‘She looks distressed, Are you going to stop her? You can’t let her go back in the rain, the hospital is miles from here.’ The man came into view, appearing to her right. She flinched backwards as he tried to rest an assuring hand on her arm. His face was scrunched and his eyes were squinting from battling the downpour.

‘Just hold on a second, I’ll take you there- House- Jesus Christ, we need to get out of this rain-’ This new man managed to convince her to step back under cover, she still kept her distance from the both of them, arms defensively crossed over her chest.

‘I was trying to find you, and I found you at a bar? You need to take this seriously, your patient went into cardiac arrest, we were trying to get a hold of you but you weren’t answering your phone.’

Looking unbothered, House shot back ‘Is he stable?’

‘Yes but-’

‘Well it's fine then, let me get on with my night.’

You could hear a very heavy sigh from the other man as he pinched the bridge of his nose, ready to speak again.

She finally let her quiet fury go ‘You let this man deal with patients? He couldn’t be the slightest bit interested in a man that is actively dying. He can’t honestly be a doctor, he's such an ass!’

‘Hey! That's not very nice to say to your prince charming!’ his eyes flew wide, pulling a mock frown, his words were a little slurred.

‘Well, I’m not wrong, you’re being a complete and utter cad!’

House gasped, looking defensively at the other man shrugging his shoulders ‘I don’t know what she's on about Wilson.’.

That was his name, Wilson. Was that a first or last name? She was yet to know.

‘Can we stop fighting like children? You, House, are going home and you’re going to take the case-file with you. Get in the car.’ Wilson paused to look at the lady, taking in her peculiar outfit. He didn’t know whether it would be dubious to ask her the same, especially with how distraught her manner appeared.

‘Whaaat? Are you calling off my playdate?!’ House whined. ‘I can drive myself, you know.’ He added in a flat tone.

‘The man behind the bar has his keys, I saw him take them earlier.’ She muttered in earshot of the man named ‘Wilson’.

There was a stern ‘In!’ from Wilson before House gave in; ‘Fine fine, Jesus, you really know how to be a stick in my ass!’

She remained hesitant as this gentleman, Wilson, opened the back door for her, ushering her in. She really had no other choice at this point, afterall, she had nowhere else to go.

Wilson turned back to look at her when he had finally seated himself in front of the wheel. ‘What do you need to go back to the hospital for? The clinic closed two hours ago...’.

‘Don’t worry about it, any hotel will do, I’ll go in the morning.’ She spoke softly in defeat.

House let slip ‘Don’t know how you’ll do that with no money.’.

A gasp could be heard ‘House! I-I can’t believe you! Were you planning to spend an evening with her and then just dump her?!’ Wilson shouted in a whisper, which was partly inaudible to the lady in the back. ‘You can’t do that! You’ll have to let her atleast crash on your couch until tomorrow.’

‘Why can’t you?’ He mumbled back.

‘Because I’m living out of a hotel at the moment, you know it's not possible.’ His voice went lower ‘You got yourself into this, not me!’

House heaved out a sigh, he was too inebriated to protest.

The drive was prolonged by the squabbling going on up front. She let her ears tune out, concentrating on different landmarks passing by her window. She recognized a few from when she had been roaming earlier that day; The laundromat where a woman stopped her for a chat, commenting on how her voice sounded funny and there was the barbers where she had been catcalled whilst trying to ask about the area.These were only a handful of places that were recognizable. She set about situating them on a map in her mind. She had to know her way around before it was too late, knowing that it would become a survival tool when House inevitably left her on her own.

Her eyes were terribly heavy as she peered out of the rain soaked window, her elbow resting on the seal, her chin propped on her hand. She could see her likeness reflected in the pane, it looked pale and exhausted. Although she felt miserable, It was also surprising how comforting this stranger's car was. She should’ve felt on edge not knowing where she was going, but the warmth and humming chatter seemed to lull her into a peaceful state of mind and eventually a light slumber.

The door was pulled abruptly open, causing her to tumble sideways. ‘You getting out or what?’. She sleepily trailed behind House up a couple of steps towards a green front door. His keys turnt in the lock, this must’ve been where he lived.

She was greeted by an array of objects, all messily placed around the entirety of the apartment. There were dark bookshelves filled with all sorts of oddities, some of which were recognisable like lozenge bottles, anatomical figurines and the odd syringe that she would see used in her hospitals at home. They were being used like decorational items, which she found quite curious.

Amongst it all was a grand piano, one possibly made from a rich wood, it was the only surface completely clear.

House limped through the apartment leaving her standing stunned in the entryway, Wilson was behind her, moving to her left to follow the doctor. She’d only seen him in low light, now realising how much more smartly clad he was in comparison to House. He looked and acted more like a man bearing the title of ‘doctor’. He seemed genuinely kind, but after House’s reaction, she didn’t want anyone else caught up in the mess she had gotten herself into. They were still having their previous conversation, she could hear their muffled voices from the other room.

Her heels clicked faintly on the hardwood floor, following the two into what looked like a kitchen. House was propped against a cabinet with a vile of tablets clutched in his hand. He tipped a couple into his palm, tipping his head back to swallow them. He glanced to his side, his steel blue eyes fixing on her figure awkwardly standing just outside the kitchen.

‘I’m going to get her a towel or something, at least offer her a glass of water instead of staring at her.’ Wilson was prodding House to accommodate his guest. Wilson promptly made his way out of the kitchen space, making sure to keep his distance and disappearing down a corridor, leaving them both alone.

House appeared disapproving as he continued to study her, lips curling inwards in thought.

She looked down at her shoes and spoke at the floor to avoid eye contact ‘I apologise, I didn't get the chance to thank you…’. She spoke softly and with gentle words only to hear a sniff and a heavy swallow in reply.

‘I wasn't being very kind considering you did help me.’ She added.

Pushing past her, in a way that didn’t cause physical contact he announced ‘I'm going to bed, Wilson will show you where everything is. You’re sleeping on the couch-’

He turned on his heel slightly, looking over his shoulder, which caught her attention; ‘Unless you want to join me for some sweet, passionate sex.’ He teased. He couldn't help himself, she thought, he had to pull some rudimentary rubbish to cover his arse whenever she tried to be polite.

Showing a slight grimace, she watched his back as he staggered away. She shifted her weight behind her on the kitchen’s doorway, head positioned upwards regarding the textured plaster on the ceiling.

There were a couple subdued footsteps before she noticed Doctor Wilson beside her, holding out a rather plush looking towel.

With a soft ‘thank you’ and a nod, she wrapped it about her person.

‘I’ve run you a bath as well. House stopped me in the hallway and asked if I could. The bathroom is just down that hallway.’ Pointing his thumb over his shoulder he noted the direction she should take. ‘If that’s everything, I best be getting back. It's getting late.’

Just before he left she spoke up, clearing her throat quietly, ‘Oh uh, thank you for everything-’ was all she could stutter.

With a prompt nod and a thoughtful smile he slipped through the front door, shutting it firmly behind him.

It was deathly silent as she slipped through the passageway to the bathroom. She was still studying her surroundings, taking in all of the little nic-nacs, when she stopped by a shelf just outside the bathroom. Huddled amongst the books was a sweet, well-loved teddy. He was only a tiny thing, just bigger than hand. His fur was thoroughly worn, showing darker spots where the threads were visible. His nose was hand stitched and his eyes glimmered in the low light. She turned him over gently in her hands, finding his maker’s mark. He was a Steiff bear, absolutely identical to her own. Hugging him closely to her chest, she felt a wave of comfort fall over her. A kind of comfort that hurts so terribly.

She let a silent tear slide down her cheek, thinking desperately of home. Her dear companion was where she left it, settled amongst her bedsheets battling the biting cold of her bedroom. He would never know where she had gone.

The feeling further gnawed at her heart, her chest burnt with grief. She thought of family, how she’d left them behind, without uttering a goodbye. She thought of her friends and her dogs and finally her fiancé. She let her head tilt slightly back, her flushed lips parted, trying to stop the tears from dripping onto the floor, but they only bled down her neck, stinging as they made their path. Looking back at the bear, she pulled him back from her person, giving him a light kiss on his woolly cheek. Tenderly, she seated him back on the shelf and continued on her path.

She was finally amongst the cold tile of the bathroom. Quietly locking the door behind her, she began to undress, hooking her garments over the showerail above the tub. They might’ve had a chance of drying there.

She sat on the stool in the corner to unclip her stockings. There, she caught sight of a scrape on her knee where she had taken a fall earlier that day. The adrenaline had been overpowering the pain, only now realising how the crimson blood had seeped into the rayon. Peeling the fabric off the wound she set about washing away some of the blood in the sink, hoping that she could salvage the tattered hosiery. She left them to dry like the rest of her clothing and undergarments.

She felt it was only right to leave on her few pieces of jewellery, knowing her tired state, she would likely misplace them otherwise.

Placing a foot into the sudsy water, the pleasant water enveloped her numb limbs. She led down fully, letting the warmth rush over her, finally ridding herself of the dreadful frigidity that had lingered upon her skin. Allowing her eyes to close, she let out a contented sigh. This small pause, where her body was finally in a relaxed state, brought on small waves of dread. Much like the bath water sloshing about in the porcelain, the top of her stomach was sweeping like waves, twisting and pulling in agony.

She hunched over, pulling her knees up to her chest as a form of comfort. Her breath grew heavy, the sense of foreboding setting in. Burying her face into the hard bones of her knees, she struggled against her chest wracking with affliction. The pure anguish of the situation hit her, far worse than it had in the hallway. She desperately clung onto her breath not wanting to make a sound, tears smothering the entirety of her face. Her arms were firmly wrapped about her head, her nails digging into the tops of her arms, clinging onto any part of reality that wasn’t being deadened by her continuous fear.

She suffered a disjointed sob, drawing a further deep breath through her teeth. Her body shook with the deeply embedded desolation.

She hadn’t noticed the figure stood to her right as she continued to sink further into her melancholy, her form violently trembling with mournful weeps.

There was a masculine, pitiful exhale that filled the claustrophobic space.

From the sound, she let one bloodshot eye take a peak above her arms, perceiving a blurry staunch figure who was instantly recognisable.

Embarrassment entangled her as she realised how she might’ve appeared. Her voice sounded broken as she whispered a quick apology, drawing her limbs closer to her torso.

He continued with what he was doing, flipping open the mirrored cabinet above the sink.

All she could do was turn her head in the opposite direction to hide her obvious flushed face and tear stained cheeks. She heard his rusting around but was too humiliated to look.

Hearing his footsteps echoing away and the door closing once again, she turned to take a peek. There was a thin blue and white dressing gown led over the edge of the bath, it hadn’t been there before. She took that as a sign to leave the tepid soak, finishing up in the bath, placing on her chemise and French knickers that were mostly dry. It would have to suffice for the night. She assumed this dressing gown was left for her, delicately placing it upon her person and tying it tight.

She padded down the hallway, taking quick,quiet steps to the living room. Anticipating his presence in the sitting room, she felt she would have to turn back and lock herself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. She couldn’t face him again, she felt completely mortified after he’d seen her in that state.

Perching on the chesterfield, making herself somewhat comfortable, she peered down at the coffee table in front of her, her eyes landed on the patient case file that the other doctor had left. Curiosity overtook her, she took a cautionate glance at the space before flipping open the blue folder to take a peak. She had wondered what the two were discussing earlier.

Her breath caught after taking in the symptoms. It was the usual symptoms of something like influenza, high temperature, fever, sore throat, difficulty breathing and swollen glands in the neck. It was sounding a lot like what her uncle had caught, but how could they not see it was a kind of flu? Was there something else they were missing? There were updated notes too, scrawled in the typical hard-read writing of a doctor.

It was affecting his heart.

‘What have I told you about patient confidentiality?’

‘It's just some.. Reading..’ Was all she could stutter, she was quite lost for words after jumping out of her skin at his abrupt emergence.

His eyebrows seemed to quirk in amusement ‘Can you not see the amount of books on the shelves around you?’

‘Yes I know, but, Dr Wilson was urging you to read this and you still wouldn’t. I thought I might have a look to see what you were avoiding. Well, I can see why...’

‘It's not the flu.’ House stated bluntly.

She sighed at his forthrightness, she was quite familiar with it now. ‘I was just…Starting to see the similarity it had to a relative’s death..’ She couldn't stand looking him in the eyes after her confession, she felt he might just laugh in her face.

His questions were quick and direct yet her willingness to answer was becoming restrained ‘What did they die from?’.

‘Distemper- no, uh? I can’t remember - I don’t like to think about it.’ Her eyes were visibly glazed, her eyes squinting when racking her brain for the given name of the illness.

He pushed further ‘You can’t remember any symptoms?’

Swallowing gravely, she continued ‘Well, they found a grey coating in their throat after they died. The doctor was too late to see it before. Their um.. Heart was weak from birth, so we barely saw symptoms before they passed. But it-it was like your patient…The um, cough and fever..’

His eyes seemed to focus on a point in front of him, his pupils constricting. His mind was whirring, connecting dots.

‘A Pseudomembrane. So it was bacteria?’

She looked clueless, wanting to shake her head in apprehensive confusion. He went on to pull a small rectangular silver case from his pocket, snapping it open and tapping a couple buttons on it, eventually holding it to his ear.

‘Corynebacterium diphtheriae. Have you checked inside the patient's nose? I think you'll find we're dealing with bacterial disease instead of a virus.’

There was a pause before he interrupted the murmur coming from the other end ‘-then dose him up on antibiotics and monitor his heart damage. Yes, I know you’ve found it’s myocarditis, so put him on anti-inflammatories and any other pain killers he’ll whine for. He’ll survive.’ Flipping the silver item, supposedly a phone, closed after rambling to the person on the other end, he examined the lady before him. Other than the slight scrunch about his eyes, his visage appeared completely blank.

Gasping as if he were to speak, he held his tongue to look upon her, further studying her face. He sat on the other end of the settee, lowering himself down slowly, holding his leg as he did so. Making himself comfortable, he placed his cane upon the table in front of them.

‘Who was this relative then?’ His words seemed to strike a nerve. She seemed to render a sorrowful glint in her eyes. ‘Who was it?’ He pressed.

‘My brother, the oldest.’

‘You have a brother?’ It wasn’t like he already knew, after reading up on her all day, he just wanted to hear it from her. He cruelly wanted to see if she had rehearsed the entirety of the historical documents he had found on the web, pitilessly trying to trip her up.

She only nodded, she was hesitant to give away any more information on her personal life, but she still stated that she once had four male siblings.

‘I’m sorry.’ Stating it unremorsefully, he still exhibited an unreadable blank expression.

He didn’t remain seated for long, making his way back to the kitchen in his usual slow walk. He returned, after a bit of rusting in the other room, carrying glasses and a bottle of unidentifiable amber alcohol. Pouring about an inches worth into both glasses, he passed one over to the accompanying female who took a reserved sip, brushing her tongue along her lip to identify the taste.

Reaching into her chestnut coloured handbag, she pulled out her ornate cigarette case, opening it to offer one to House who was sprawled out on the sofa.

‘I don’t smoke.’

Pulling an inquisitive grin she spoke ‘If you don’t, then why have an ashtray?’.

‘Decoration?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.

She chuckled lightly at his comment. He did indeed take a straight, placing it at his lip as she sparked the metal lighter beneath it.

Doing the same for herself, the room became slightly hazy with the wispy smoke.

He appeared content with the taste ‘What are these then?’

‘Fribourg & Treyer, I have them when I'm in London.’ She gave a frolicsome smile ‘I’m not actually allowed to smoke, my father prohibits it.’

He made a humming sound, prompting her to continue. His interest was getting the better of him.

‘He’s a little old-fashioned, doesn’t believe women should smoke, he believes I’m starting to resemble the scandalous city girls. Not very fair considering my brother’s are happily welcomed to, and in his company. I mean one smokes a pipe, one does snuff for Heaven’s sake!’ Lamenting on the disparity of it all, she still displayed an impish grin.

His lips seemed to curl into a sort of smile as she spoke candidly.

‘What happened to your knee?’ He kept firing questions, one after the other.

She glanced down, finding the dressing gown was revealing the skin just above her knees. Readjusting the fabric she formed a response; ‘It's just a scrape, there’s nothing special about it. Anyway, are you ever going to stop interrogating me? I mean, you haven’t given me the chance to ask my own questions yet.’

‘Looks like you’ve been running, it’s elongated.’

She paused to flick her head away, looking back at him quickly again in discomfort, sharply stubbing out her cigarette.

‘Yes.. But that doesn’t matter.’

Regardless, he persisted ‘Who were you running from?’

‘I was just scared, alright?’ She exclaimed, nervously holding an odd smile.

It was deathly silent between them. The cars on the street outside echoed noisily throughout the front room.

‘Go on then, what were you going to ask me? No doubt it's going to be about my leg.’

She shook her head ‘That’s not for me to ask. I wanted to know what made you want to become a doctor?’.

‘I was greatly and passionately inspired by Patch Adams.’ He sounded dreamy, but she unperceived the underlying sarcasm.

‘I’ve never heard of them before? Did you know them?’

Bursting with an obnoxious laugh, he looked upon her as she rolled her eyes. There was no point trying to get any information out of him, House always found ways to deflect.

Leaning forward he forced himself to stand, hastily swallowing the rest of his nightcap, he began to stagger towards his bedroom. He gave one last comment before departing for good;

‘I know what you did.’ It was ominous. His back was still facing her.

‘I didn’t think you would have it in you to steal.’

-----

I hope you are enjoying it so far! This is going to end up being chock-full of metaphors XD

'Who Are You' - The Who 1978

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Tag list:

@indestructeible @suziek415

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~ I really have enjoyed my stay, but I must be moving on ~

#house #house md #housemd #drhouse #dr house #greg house #greg house x reader #gregoryhousexreader #housexreader #house md x reader #house x reader #1920s #1920s fanfic #historical fanfiction #dr house x reader #x reader #reader insert

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gumnut-logic · 2 months

Text

Sweetapple Slices - Slice 3

@idontknowreallywhy asked:

What is a childhood meal your character cherishes?

...and this happened.

Many thanks to both @onereyofstarlight and @katblu42 for both the inspiration and for editing help :D

This one is based before @womble1 's Extra Sweetapple and leads up to a small mention made in that fic. Thanks for the staring point :D This also means this is based before these two knuckleheads became a couple. It's also a little bit crack.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Virgil reached around Alex’s back and nabbed himself a chocolate.

He’d held off as long as possible as really he needed a full meal, planned to have one, and snacking, while a staple in the field, was something he had a tendency to control when it wasn’t needed.

But he’d dropped in on Alex today, straight off a rescue with an idea. It wasn’t a major one, just a little one that might help fix the issue Alex had been having with the micro-plastic contamination.

That had been an hour and a half ago and several eureka moments since. Now it was the middle of the afternoon, after a far too early morning - thank god for the coffee kit on Two - and really, his blood needed sugar, after all.

Alex himself was well into his creative zone and Virgil couldn’t help but smile.

But then he had been engrossed himself not thirty seconds ago and it was only his lunch deprived stomach that was distracting him.

Alex usually had something lying about somewhere. The engineer had offered him some of the chocolates earlier, but Virgil thought he would be okay.

Apparently not.

So he nabbed one and threw it into his mouth in the hope it would shut his stomach up long enough to finish the calculations that might, just might lead them both to a solution.

The chocolate melted in his mouth and his shoulders relaxed just a little.

But then whatever was inside the chocolate touched his taste buds.

It was a chemical. That was all he could think of to describe it. Rubber? Some kind of soft plastic? In any case, whatever it was, it was revolting.

“You okay?”

Virgil nodded while trying not to choke on whatever the hell was in his mouth.

Alex frowned at him even more.

Okay, whatever it was, it needed removal. He shot to his feet glanced around the room until he found a box of tissues, grabbed one, and turning his back to Alex, spat it into the tissue.

Wiping his mouth and running his tongue over his teeth, he chucked the wad of tissue into the bin and grabbed the remains of his cold coffee, shoving it down his throat.

Alex by this time was on his feet, worry in every movement. “Virgil?”

“I’m fine.” He needed more coffee. He could still feel that weird texture in his mouth. “Want some coffee?”

Alex opened his mouth-

“I’ll go get some. Back in a minute.” He didn’t flee the room. No, he walked calmly to the door and exited quietly, in no way indicating he wanted to scrub his mouth out with a wire brush.

A short trip out to Thunderbird Two and a quick mug of coffee while he waited for a couple more to brew, and he was back in the lab with some steaming liquid of the gods in no time.

Unfortunately, Alex was still staring at him.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” He hid behind his coffee cup.

“That?” Alex waved at the door.

“I got you some coffee.”

Alex was still staring at him.

“What?”

Alex’s eyebrows dropped into enough of a flat-eyed ‘I’m not an idiot’ glare, that yes, Virgil had to own up.

“Your chocolates, what are they?”

“Huh? Oh.” Alex reached over and grabbed them, offering the bowl to Virgil. “Pineapple lumps. Want one?”

Virgil held up his hand. “No. Thank you for asking.”

Alex shrugged, grabbed one and threw it into his mouth.

Virgil didn’t wince. No, he didn’t.

“You don’t like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.”

The bowl was offered to him again. Now he was smelling whatever they were made of.

His stomach twisted.

“You don’t like pineapple lumps?”

He forced a casual shrug. “Not my thing, I guess.”

“So you’ve tried them?”

“Yeah.”

To his dismay, Alex threw another one into his mouth. “They were my dad’s favourites. Bit of a tradition, particularly now he is no longer with us.” Alex shifted where he sat.

Virgil looked down at nothing in particular. “Yeah, traditions are important.”

There was silence a moment while Virgil thought of things that had kept his family afloat while Dad had been missing.

He looked up at Alex. “Are they your favourites?”

Alex looked down at the third pineapple lump in his hand. Virgil tried not to shudder.

“Yeah, I like them.”

Note to self: buy some pineapple lumps for Alex.

“But honestly, I prefer real pineapple.”

Note to self: buy pineapples for Alex.

“And the ultimate is really pineapple ice cream. Now that, that’s my favourite.”

Note to self: find and buy pineapple ice cream for Alex.

“So you’re a pineapple on the pizza kind of guy?”

Alex’s expression shifted to one of horror. “Pineapple on a pizza? You speak blasphemy!” But then Alex was smiling. “No, not my thing. You?”

Note to self: never put pineapple on pizza ever again.

“Of course not.”

“You’re sure? I’m sensing a little Hawaiian vibe here. No shame if you’re on the other side of the debate. You can still be my friend.” Alex was grinning.

Virgil liked the idea of being Alex’s friend. “No pineapple on the pizzas. Got it.” He returned the grin. “Just don’t tell Gordon.”

“Uh oh. You mean-“

“Yes, he’s pineapple all the way.”

“Weirdo.”

Virgil smiled. “Definitely.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #virgil tracy/alexander sweetapple #romance

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leclerced · 4 months

Note

FRAT BOY LANDO x ENGINEERING NERD OSCAR x LITERATURE NERD READER PLEASE OMG (i saw pics of oscar in a tux and lando with the backwards hat)

ummmm this was in drafts and it kinda goes w some other asks i got the other day ab frat boy lando and engineer oscar so im gonna go on ab oscar and reader meeting in the library.

oscar and reader meet in the library when all the other tables are full so he asks to sit with her, but she doesn’t hear him. she’s got like three books open along with her laptop and a ton of pens and highlighters, sticky notes and tabs all over the pages so she can add notes and save pages for later. it looks like a scattered mess to him, but she looks perfectly calm as she scrawls pretty cursive onto a sticky note and then carefully places it underneath a specific line. she looks up and jumps when she sees him waiting there, removes an airpod and apologizes for not noticing him. he would laugh it off and apologizes for standing there, then repeats himself. she agrees and pulls her books closer, reorganizes her pile of writing utensils and note pads so he'll have more room. he takes the invitation to set his stuff down and pulls out the seat across from her.

her airpod goes back in and he's relieved he didn't get stuck with w chatterbox because he really needs to work. the next few days follow that pattern, the library being full and him joining her at her table in the back corner after navigating his way through and not finding his own. after a week, he gets into the habit of going straight to her table and it becomes a kind of ritual. he doesn’t even ask anymore, she somehow sees him coming each time and shuffles her possessions around to make room for him and they study in silence until one of them leaves.

after a few impromptu silent study sessions he’s noticed she always carries snacks with her, and he’s buying himself a snack from the vending machine and sees the last of her favorites and buys it without thinking. when he gets to the table, pulls a candy bar from his backpack and slides it across the table, says it was the last one and he knows it’s her favorite. she’s like, “i’ve never told you that?” and he tells her she has one with her every time and he just saw it and got it for her. she’s trying not to swoon because they’ve hardly talked and he’s paying attention to her? knows what candy bar she eats mid study session?

then, he gets there after a month of perfect silent study sessions and there’s someone sitting next to her, clearly distracting her from her work. he stops in the aisle, a dozen paces from them and watches as he tucks her hair behind her ear and she bites her lip. it irritates him, watching the interaction. this is a library. meant for studying. not flirting. he suddenly steps forward, purposely slapping the sole of his shoe onto the ground so she’ll hear. like a dog hearing a whistle, her head jokes over and she grins, automatically rearranging the table for him. she speaks to him for the first time in weeks, “hey! i hope you don’t mind, we have a project together.”

oscar waits until lando leaves an hour later to ask if she wants to hang out some time, and she’d tease him about being jealous. he insists he was already going to ask her when he arrived but they’d been interrupted. she’d ask what he wants to do and he’d shrug and say, “i dunno, movies, dinner? a picnic? bowling? we can do whatever you want.” the hang out certainly sounds more like a date, so she teases him a little more, “are you asking me out on a date, oscar?” and he rolls his eyes and nudges her foot with his under the table and says, “yeah, yeah. whatever. friday?” and she kinda winces and says, “actually, i’m supposed to go to a party at lan’s on friday- you could come too though!”

oscar huffs out a laugh and says, “you’re inviting me to a party he invited you to? i don’t think he’d want me there. parties aren’t my scene. saturday?” she instantly nods and agrees, and they make plans to go see a movie and get dinner. oscar ends up going to the party even though he hates them, tells his friend logan about his date and logan drags him to the party because he’s convinced lando invited her to fuck and if he leaves her alone with him friday night there’s no way he’s getting his date. logan seems to be right because when he finds reader she’s with lando and he has his arm around her shoulders as he pours a drink into her cup. oscar interrupts by asking what she’s drinking and she’s on her third drink, hears his voice and gets too excited. she spins away from lando as he’s still pouring, the vodka spilling onto the tile as her cup moves with her and she wraps oscar in a hug. she’s telling him how happy she is he decided to come, lando's glaring at him and he's genuinely thankful his best friend dragged him to a party for once.

lando tries to steer her away from oscar numerous times, grabbing her wrist and pulling her with him, resting a possessive arm over her shoulder and walking away with her. each time she finds oscar again and they chat until lando finds her and grumbles that he thought she was getting a drink, or peeing. she's like "ohhh sorry, i saw oscar and got distracted!" oscar brimming with pride that she saw him and forgot what she was doing, forgot about lando. but then lando's steering her away again and he's watching them go, hoping she'll find him again soon.

she lets it slip where they're having dinner the next night, and lando conveniently shows up and joins them at their booth before either of them can stop him.. lando’s never felt better than when oscar’s jaw clenched as he slid into their booth, and dropped his arm over her shoulder like it belonged there, and asked it they mind him joining. oscar snaps that they do mind. but lando ignores him and asks her what they’re doing out together, like it isn’t painfully obvious they’re on a date. they’re both a little more dressed up than normal, wanting to impress the other, and he had seen the soft look she was giving oscar before lando appeared behind him and then sat next to her. it’s definitely awkward and lando is happy with the uncomfortable tension, smirking when the waitress comes over and says she didn’t know they had a third, and asks what he would like to drink and if they’re all ready to order.

#ask #anon #frat au

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the1975attheirverybest · 7 months

Text

Education

Lesson #6: Mistakes happen

A/N: This was meant to go out earlier. sorry. ONLY TWO MORE TO GO.

Warnings: kinky smut

-----

Amelia felt her breath hitch in her chest at the sight of him. Across the room, she spotted Matty walking into the party space of the hotel, in his signature leather jacket, his curls slicked back, a faint smile dancing on his lips as he spotted someone — a sound engineer from the studio, probably— and went over to say hello. He leaned forward to give his friend a hug, the chain around his neck sparkling, like a shooting star, underneath the warm glow of the party lights. She thought back to the last time that she’d seen him, the memory of him, naked, on top of her, rushed back to her mind like a current, making her knees wobble. He wasn’t wearing any necklaces then. She would’ve felt the cool metal against her bare skin if he’d worn one. Must be a new addition. The US always did bring out his edgy side.

Her eyes couldn’t bring themselves to look away from him. He looked good. And she’d missed him. Her hand reflexively raised to adjust the sleeve of her dress. There was nothing wrong with it.

“Don’t do it, love.” A voice whispered into her ear.

Amelia jumped, startled at the intrusion. She turned around to see Charli giving her an admonishing look. “Remember what we talked about? C’mon, you need a drink.”

Before Amelia could protest, charli had grabbed her wrist, pulling her along.

She thought back to the conversation that Charli was referring to, her heart sinking immediately.

She’d spent the first two days following the release of those pictures of Matty and his model pal, pathetically sobbing in various corners around her apartment. Nights were especially difficult. Time seemed to slow down when everyone else would go to sleep and she was left to her own devices. Without people to distract herself with or errands to keep her schedule busy, her mind would inevitably find its way back to Matty. She would indulge her emotional masochism, scrolling through her phone for photos she’d taken of him throughout the years. It hurt to look at him. Up until now, he’d been a grounding presence in her life. It was impossible not to feel good around him. He was kind, and gentle, and one of the funniest people she knew. His boyish laugh always made her feel warm on the inside. Despite everything that he’d been through over the years, and even with his life growing increasingly public, his privacy shrinking little by little, he’d somehow managed to remain the same sweet and innocent young boy that she’s always known him to be. It was awe-inspiring to witness. He’d put on a front— flippant, sardonic, larger than life, keenly aware of each and every person watching him— moving from dispensing cutting critiques of culture to making dick jokes, giggling at himself and making references that felt like inside jokes between him and every single fan in the room. No one could see that and deny the maturity, resilience, and self-control that it took to make it all feel so effortless. And yet, in perfectly ordinary moments, sitting across the kitchen table from him, jet lagged and sharing a packet of stale cookies that he’d found in his carry-on, she’d look into his red-rimmed, sleep-deprived eyes, and he would smile at her— and just like that, the myth would melt away and he’d be the same idealistic young kid who gets moved to tears by great music, or the stories of fans discovering the band for the first time, or if he thought for a bit too long about the series of contingent events that had to happen in order to bring him and his three band mates together nearly two decades ago for his whole life to turn into what has now become.

she could no longer see any of that when she scrolled through the photos. The face that stared back at her was that of a complete stranger. She felt like she no longer knew him. She’d concocted this intimacy, this history, this idea of him. It was merely the fact that his soft way of being in world tended to make everyone around him feel special. It wasn’t difficult for him to forge connections with people, even fans who’d met him for two minutes, on the streets, and asked for a quick photo, could attest to this. Matty always addressed everyone like he knew them. Like they knew him. She was no different than complete strangers across the world, scrolling through their own phones, taking in whatever aspects of his life had been made public, and piecing together an idea of him in in their minds.

The realization that she had no idea what was going on inside his mind all this time did nothing to free her from his hold. It was easy enough to tell herself that he’s just a guy: deeply flawed, perpetually horny, and riding the waves of his new infamy straight into the beds of various beautiful, rich, and sexually experienced young women just for the hell of it, whenever he wasn’t around. Whenever he’d take too long to call, or text back, she'd remind herself of all the things that she found infuriating about him, all the flaws that proved him to be emotionally immature and impulsive. She'd reduce him to the worst version of himself and remind herself that she wasn't unique in that regard. If she wanted to be with an emotionally stunted man child who passed the time by sliding into the dis of women a decade younger than him, she'd go on any dating app and have her pick.Finding an equally attractive man to replace him with while he was busy gallivanting around the world wouldn't be hard, but deep down, she knew that this abstract idea of the man-child-rockstar that she could pin all her grievances on and flick away like a fly in order to regain her self-control was unfair. It wouldn’t hold up to the reality of him when, sooner or later, she found herself in the same room with him again. Matty's undeniable. And that broke her.

On the third day of carrying on her routine of crying around the apartment and marinating in self pity, her scrolling through old photos was interrupted by a text notification.

Charli: George says you’re mad at him. I’m sorry he can be such a guy sometimes. We should hang out. Just us girls.

She’s still fuzzy on the details, but the text eventually led her to George’s place. Charli pouring the wine and sampling through the variety of chocolate boxes she’d picked up on her recent trip to Europe. George hovered between them, occasionally attempting to interject, but always shot down by Charli’s reminder that “no one’s asking you.”

“I’m a fool. Just say it. I’ve been foolish.” Amelia admitted as she handed her glass over to Charli for a refill.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, babes- oh, this bottles officially deceased- hold on, let me get a new one.” Charli scoffed and stood up, walking around the kitchen to try and remember where she’d hidden a particularly good bottle that she didn’t want George to ‘waste' on the wrong occasion. Boy troubles, especially Matty troubles, seemed the right occasion. “Look, I love Matty, I do. He’s a sweetheart. One of the most talented musicians I've ever met... But he’s a mess!” She’d located the bottle, stifling a laugh as George realized that she’d hidden it out of his reach. “You need someone who’s - mature. Who knows what he wants.”

“Matty’s mature!” Amelia yelled out, snatching the bottle out of Charli’s hand and popping it open. “It may not seem like it sometimes, but he’s the fuckin best.” She poured herself a drink with a dramatic sigh, the conflict draining her.

“You’re not actually meant to drink that right away, you're supposed to wai- okay you’re just gonna- alright you seem like you need it, so, just… my point is, he’s not ready, yet. He’s in a new girls bed every week!”

“I love him.” Amelia simply stated, the confession came as a surprise to her. but it was true. She could sit here and debate what kind of person Matty was, or what qualities of his would make him a good or bad partner, but it really only came down to one thing: she was in love with him.

Her words hung in the air, feeling even more loaded by the silence that followed.

“Uh-umm…” George cleared his throat awkwardly. “Have- have you- I mean...does he know that?”

Amelia shrugged.

“Amelia, darling, I hate to say this, but" Charli gave her a look that Amelia recognized as pity, "babe, you don’t know him well enough to love him.”

“The fuck I don’t!” Amelia yelled out into the room, slapping the kitchen table assertively.

Charli giggled, “I like drunk Amelia.”

“I know Matty. I’ve known him my whole life. I mean, he rolled me my first joint and taught me how to smoke it.” Amelia’s reminiscent gaze looked past Charli, into the distance.

“You needed to be taught how to do it? That’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Then the boys made a whole thing of it. Like how innocent I was, or whatever. So, I overdid it a little. To prove a point. Anyway, I...got hungry and lost in a grocery store.”

Charli laughed.

“And by lost I just mean I was so high I couldn’t find the cash register. Matty came and got me.”

“Aww-“

"he might have been laughing all the way through, and he definitely filmed the whole thing on his phone and sent it to all of Dirty Hit, but still. He came to help me…he also still has the video. Blackmails me with it from time to time.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I know him. I do." She repeated firmly, "I know that he works hard to remain aware and grateful for the life that his work has given him. I know that he cares so much about people. Even people that he doesn’t know. I know- I know how stubborn he was back when he first started dabbling with drugs- I mean, he never said anything cuz he hid it for quite a while- but- I know him well enough to know that he must’ve been scared. He's not as rough as his exterior sometimes suggests. I know it must've been difficult. But he’s Matty, so of course, he rationalized it to himself. And I know that he’s proud of the band now- how much they’ve grown. I was there, I watched him pick up the pieces of his own life after every set back or break up or relapse, or whatever. I saw all that. I know the great things that he’s capable of.”

Charli sighed. Considering her words carefully, she looked more seriously into Amelia’s eyes, her hand sliding across the table to hold Amelia’s, “I know. But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve always liked him. And because of that, you’ve always kinda- like- seen him through rose-tinted lenses. The way he’s behaving right now? That’s not someone who is ready, or even looking, for a relationship. He’s treating you and the women that he rotates through as if you’re all the same. He doesn’t know how to be alone. If he has a day off, he reaches for a distraction. If he has an inkling of a desire, he’s looking for the fastest possible way to fulfill it. Diving head first into something like this could affect your friendship.”

Amelia was silent for a moment, letting Charli’s words wash over her. In theory, everything that Charli said was true. But the reality was much more complicated than that. Matty wasn't blind to his own shortcomings. For fucks sakes, he makes his shows about them. But it’s one thing to know your blind spots exist, another thing entirely to try and fix them. She understood that writing the show, making the album, all of that was Matty’s way of trying to fix things. Looking for answers. Yet, he continues to indulge himself in the meantime. How was he supposed to find anything new if he’s too busy going through the same cycles?

“What about you, George?” Amelia turned around. “What do you think of all this?” She gave him a nervous smile.

George took a deep breath. “Oh, me? I think….I think you’re both right-“

"Oh, don’t be a coward George-“

“No, no, listen. I think you’re both right. I think it’s possible for Matty to be both things at the same time. And I think talking about him can only get you so far. Talking to him, on the other hand, might help.”

Amelia knew he was right. "mhm."

***

“New dress?” Matty whispered as he tapped her shoulder, seamlessly sliding into the small group of people that she’d been in conversation with. Amelia turned instantly to look at him, his smile making her face tingle.

“No- umm- it’s not new.” She scanned the room for Charli, she wasn’t strong enough to do this on her own.

“Well, I like it. Suits you.” Matty’s hand trailed down her arm as he spoke, pausing at her wrist, and lightly brushing her skin.

“You- uh- you’re back. Howww- was LA?”

“Oh, you know- Sunny, warm, too cheerful- wanna go sit down somewhere?” His fingers intertwined with hers, he squeezed her hand in his. “Looks like your drink could use a refill, we could-“

“N-no!” She spoke too quickly, feeling guilty when he looked disappointed. “I- just mean we’re with people. It’s rude.”

Matty shook his head, laughing softly. “ who cares. Let’s go.”

***

“You ever done it in a bathroom?” Matty asked, an eyebrow raised, as soon as they were no longer within earshot of other people.

“What?”

“Hey, I’ve been gone a while. We’re overdue for a new lesson.” He giggled. “Have you ever fucked someone in a public bathroom?”

“No, of course not. Sounds unsanitary.”

“Look around you, darlin,’ this hotel’s obscenely expensive. It’s a label event not a college stoners house party. We could eat off the floors of the bathrooms here.” As he spoke, Matty looked around the room for signs or directions to the restroom area.

“Don’t musicians do cocaine in bathrooms?”

“And they fuck, too.” He nodded. She felt his arm around her waist, pulling her along as he sped up, no doubt, spotting the right hallway.

The door slammed shut behind them. Matty waisted no time in pressing her up against it, his lips quickly attached to her neck. With one hand holding her waist, his other roamed along the door frame to find the lock, snapping it closed to insure their privacy.

“Shit- I’ve missed you- missed this.” She let out, unselfconsciously, making him moan in agreement.

Matty’s head gradually dipped lower and lower, moving from her neck, to her collarbone, to the top of her chest, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses along her skin.

Amelia hadn’t realized how long it’d been, or how much she'd needed him, until she felt his touch again. Light as a feather, but always precise, intentional. Like he knew what reaction he wanted out of her and he knew exactly how to get it. His instincts always seemed in tune with her body. He noticed things. Little details that happen in the blink of an eye, like the difference in her moan when his lips touch just the right spot between her ear and neck. Like the way that her entire body comes alive when he’s making her feel good, touching her just above the hood of her clit. Like the rhythm she likes, not quite gentle, but not too harsh. Enough to leave a tingling feeling behind. She liked feeling the place where his fingers had been in the aftermath, liked feeling sore and knowing that his hands had done that to her. And he knew that she did.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be too long before she’d be ready to melt into a puddle at his feet.

She flinched when she felt his hand leave her hip bone and dip lower, hiking up the skirt of her dress. His eyes snapped open, his lips, reluctantly leaving her skin for a moment. “You- uh, you alright with all this?” He was panting, breathless.

“Mhm, please don’t stop now.” She whispered, hotly, her breath against his skin sent a rush through his body.

Matty grinned, her reply egging him on. “‘Please’ ? We’re already begging, are we? At least you’re remembering what I’ve taught you.”

She pressed her lips together, silencing a yelp as the pads of his fingers circled her clothed center. “Oh my god, Matty-“ her words interrupted with an involuntary moan.

“Relax for me.” He whispered. “Close your eyes, breathe, yes, that’s it.” He placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Let me take care of the rest, you just- focus on feeling good.”

His fingers against the fabric of her underwear were steadily building friction, the pressure in her core rising.

“It’s been a minute." he mumbled, seemingly thinking out loud. "what if I’m off rhythm? What if your body doesn’t quite feel pliable anymore?”

She whined in response, her hips thrusting forward to meet his hand.

“Oh, is that so?” The smile palpable in his voice, everything about the motions of his fingers told her that he hasn’t forgotten a thing. “You’ll just take anything, then? Any touch at all?” He moved the crotch of her underwear to the side, finally exposing her bare skin. She felt him slide his finger along her slit, blushing when he'd sensed her wetness.

“Hmm, it’s almost like I was never gone.” He grinned, reveling in his effect on her body.

His now wet finger found the spot just above her clit, exactly where she likes it.

“oh my FUCK!” She gasped, biting her lower lip.

“Hey, hey,hey..what’d I tell ya? Breathe, darling, you’re holding your breath in, breathe for me. Don’t want you to cramp up.”

She found it dizzying how effortlessly he went from taunting her to cooing, gently, guiding her through the intensity of the moment. Her head was spinning, foggy and flooded with him.

“Ma- oh god, that feels so-“ she felt herself sinking and surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, resting her head back against the door, her eyes closed, lips apart and mumbling incoherently.

“So wet for me,” Matty whispered, “god, I can’t not fuck you like this. It’d be wrong not to.” He slipped a finger inside of her, slowly and firmly.

She screamed, a flood of pleasure hitting her, head to toes, she buckled at the knees, no longer able to control her body, but Matty’s free hand quickly pinned her in place, stopping her from falling to the floor.

“S-sorry, I-“ she stuttered, her shaking hands grabbing onto his biceps to steady herself.

Her eyes fixed on his lips, she could hardly see anything else. Not that she wanted to. His lips looked perfect, pink, wet, she desperately wanted to kiss them but she barely had the strength or presence of mind to command her body. It was completely under Matty’s influence now.

“I have a better idea.” Matty whispered, pulling away. she was too caught up to hear a word he'd said, only knowing that the heavenly sensation he’d given her had suddenly disappeared. She cried out, letting herself be moved around by him.

“Okay, I need you to bend over now. Against the sink, okay?”

Her body moved as Matty directed, like clay in his hands, but deep in the back of her mind, she realized this position put him behind her. She was no longer able to see his face. They’d never done it this way before. She wasn’t sure how to feel.

“Good, good, now move your legs apart just a bit more. Perfect. Hold tight, alright?”

She understood why he wanted her bent over like this as soon as he slipped his finger back inside her, suddenly reaching the perfect spot, an electric current jolted through her body.

“Ohhh, yes, yes, yeah right there- fuck- iiii-“

“How’s that, my love?” It was the finger curling inside her and the other rubbing her clit that sent waves of pleasure crashing over her body, but it was his words, his cooing ‘my love’ to her that completely overtook her brain. For the first time in her life, she felt her mind come to a complete stop. Not a single thought, worry, or concern. She wasn’t even processing the sensory feeling of the world around her. She couldn’t think of a single sound, touch, sight, or smell. All that was there was white, hot pleasure. Her body convulsed, matty spoke (but she couldn’t tell what he’d said), and she felt herself scream out his name as her body shook between him and the sink. She was vaguely aware of the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, and the feeling of Matty’s hand pulling tightly at her hair.

“I didn’t say you could stop. Cum again.” He demanded. She wasn’t sure that she could stop even if she wanted to. He’d gotten a hold of that sweet, soft spot deep within her, her body trembled again as a second orgasm hit her, Matty’s grip on her hair grew tighter. Blood gushed into her mouth.

Over the sound of her own panting, and the ringing in her ears, she heard Matty suck on his own finger, pulling it out of his mouth with a wet pop. “You taste amazing.” He placed a gentle hand on her hip when she attempted to stand back up.

Her brain still felt scrambled, she couldn’t form any coherent thoughts or sentences. She turned around, her hand on Matty’s shoulder for support.

“You wanna sit down for a moment?”

She wasn’t listening, her hands, still shaky, were fumbling with the buckles of his belt.

“Amelia, hey, no, wait.”

“Uh-umm” she started at him blankly, her mind looking for the right words. “You don’t want me to- to umm…”

“Not here. Not now. don't want to hurt your knees, plus, I think you should slow down anyway.”

Her face fell, her grip on his belt loosened as she did her best to focus her hazy brain on his voice and take in his words.

“I’m fine.” She whispered, her hands finally letting go of him.

“Let me clean you up before we get back out there.”

***

Amelia's foggy brain raced with silent fear. she'd never felt so disoriented before. She felt everything intensely. the lights felt blinding, the air grazing her skin, the sound of the music filling her head. Her every sense was heightened, triggering an unexplainable sense of anxiety, as she walked by Matty's side, the inches off space between them felt like miles. He felt so far away, she had this inexplicable need to be with him, near him, even though she already was. why won't he hold her hand? is he not feeling the same way? does he not want to be near her as much as she does? Was their interaction over now that he'd finger-fucked her in a hotel bathroom? Was she supposed to take the hint and go her own way?

She saw Matty smile as a man, from the other end of the hallway, headed towards them. He seemed to recognize Matty and Matty recognized him. She watched them exchange greetings and begin a conversation that she was too overcome with anxiety to follow. She felt a burning in her chest; a raging jealousy. She did not want to split Matty's time and attention. This stranger had overstepped, intruded on what was supposed to be a private moment, between her and Matty. Tears welled in her eyes, and before she knew it, she'd grabbed onto Matty's arm, burying her face into his side.

"Amelia, you alright?"

To her surprise, though Matty was thrown off, he made no move to pull away. She heard him mumble, excuse himself, and walking away with his arm around her waist.

"Hey, look at me, he's gone, it's just us now. Look at me, Amelia, I need to see your face." He paused, pulling them both into a quiet corner, leaning against a wall. "Hey, what is it, Mia, talk, please."

She was too overwhelmed. Every time she tried, no thoughts came to her mind and no words left her lips. The longer that she remained silent, the more she could see fear in Matty's eyes.

"Sorry- umm, I don't know what came over me." she finally mustered. watching his face relax as he heard her voice. "Guess I've missed you more than I realize...god that was embarrassing." Matty smiled at her confession, making a quick-witted response, but in the back of his mind he wasn't sure if that was the full extent of her strange behavior.

"Let's get a room upstairs, hmm? What do you say?"

***

Amelia had clung to him through the elevator ride, running his hands down his body and kissing his neck. Matty's hands had held her waist steady, his head thrown back. "fuck- you're so good at that- maybe I should go away to LA more often."

He groaned, disappointed, when the elevator bell dinged, announcing their arrival at the right floor. Amelia giggled, unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time, as Matty squinted, reading the room numbers on the walls to find theirs.

They were hardly all the way inside before Amelia returned to kissing on him: his neck, his chest, on hand playfully stroking his right nipple while her mouth kissed and bit on the other. Matty had no idea where this new-found initiative of hers was coming from, but it all felt too good to question.

"shiiittt- Mia, your tongue feels so-"

"tell me something," she whispered, kissing down his chest. "did you sleep with anyone while you were away?"

Matty was caught off guard by her question. he opened his eyes, watching as she looked up at him through her lashes. "what?"

"while you were gone" she said in between kisses, "did you have sex with anyone?"

His head flung back, again, Matty struggled to make sense of what was happening. the fact that the blood was rushing south in his body did not help either. "uhhh..." He swallowed harshly almost losing himself in the feeling of her touch, "y-yeah, was I- umm, not supposed to?"

"how do I know what you are or aren't supposed to do?"

Finally collecting himself, he pushed her body away from his. "what's happening right now?"

"I don't know. I was trying to kiss you and you stopped me." Amelia shrugged, a blank expression on her face.

"I guess- um- I had wondered if- you'd like to slow down, maybe? I could call down for room service. Get us some drinks? some dinner?"

Amelia stood on the tips of her toes, kissing his lips. "no drinks." she whispered. "no dinner." she unbuckled his belt.

***

"right. How's that?" Matty stepped away, admiring his handiwork.

Amelia was not amused by this turn of events. Somehow, she'd found herself bound, using the decorative ribbons that had been wrapped around the hotel towel set, and Matty's vivid imagination, her arms were now tied together, behind her back.

"We're gonna have to be really careful though. If your arms start to feel numb, you've got to let me know. Right away. Do you understand?"

Amelia nodded.

"alright, then." Matty resumed his place on the bed, sitting opposite her, with his back against the headboard, his lengths spread on either side of her. "go on, then, as you were." he gestured.

Amelia hesitated for a moment. Sucking him off with her arms tied behind her back wasn't going to be easy. She wouldn't have nearly as much control. But she desperately wanted to please him. To be a good girl for him. to make him feel good.

"Don't make me ask twice, Mia."

She bent down, her lips wrapping around his tip, slowly taking more and more of him.

"That's- it- fuckkk- good girl."

The praise was more than enough to spur her on. Soon enough, she was drawing the filthiest moans from his lips, holding her breath as long as possible, to get his hips to behind needle thrusting into her mouth. Her back had begun to feel sore, and she was running out of breath. When Matty thrusted his hips particularly harshly, he hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag for breath and pull away.

Matty watched her heave and gasp for breath, her own drool running down her chin, tears on her cheeks. His hand on the back of her head pulled her back onto him by the root of her hair. She hardly had a moment to squirm or cry out, before he bucked his hips to meet her mouth, shoving himself all the way into her. "Perrrr-fectt. Yes, shut up and take it like a good girl. thats it, keep going –fuckkkk."

with his hand over her head, adjusting her pace and position whenever he pleased, Matty was in bliss, and it wasn't long before she felt her mind slip back into that dizzying haze.

She felt tears roll down her face as Matty pulled her off of his cock and helped guide her onto his lap. As he helped her sink down onto him, she realized, somewhere in the back of her mind where thought were struggling for coherence, that she'd never ridden a guy before. In fact, she had no idea how to do it. But that's what all this is for, right? Matty showing her how to do things. Was she meant to bounce on her knees? move back and forth? There was no way this would be fun for him. And he's definitely experienced fun. Other girls had probably given him mind-blowing orgasms before. Better than he'd ever feel with her. She stared, blankly, at the top of her chest. Where she desperately wanted to lay her head; to wrap her arms around him and feel her chest against his. But she couldn't even touch him with her hands bound and behind her back. She couldn't adjust her position either, or control her movements, she felt isolated and far away from him. She was literally sitting on top of him but could barely feel his body against hers. this wasn't how it was supposed to be. none of this felt good for her, and she was sure it didn't feel good for him either. panic filling her chest, she began to lose her breath.

"r-re-red. Matty, please, red. I- I don't- I wanna stop. I said red that means it's over, it's stop. Please I want to stop,"

Matty's neck snapped forward with a loud and painful crack. "wait?" his eyes widened, " yes. Of course. We're stopping. Immediately." He put his hands up in the air where she could see them. "I- umm....Not touching you, okay? but-I would like to. If- if you'll let me? hmm? to-untie you. Nothing else, I promise. May I do that? please?"

He sprung into action as soon as she nodded, his shaky hands making it unnecessarily difficult to undo her ties.

"How-how do your arms...i mean, are you okay?"

Amelia used her now freed limbs to roll herself off of him. When he offered her his hand to help steady her, she slapped it away, and jumped off the bed, hearing him hiss when she separated her body from his.

"Amelia wait- where are you going? Please let me-"

she slammed the bathroom door shut, startling Matty enough to rock the bed.

What, the fuck, had just happened?

#matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x oc #matty healy fic #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy one shot #matty healy angst

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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– – –

The mission falls apart.

Keith wishes he was surprised.

They lose communication with Hunk right from the get-go, following a giant explosion that collapses a good third of the entire base. Keith feels the panic begin to grow, then – not Hunk, not Hunk, we can’t lose Hunk, our support, our nurturer, our engineer, our friend.

“Keith, focus! He’s fine! Explosions mess with the comm’s radio waves, you know that!”

Keith forces himself to swallow, to focus on the very real threat of armed Galran general in front of him. His focus is fucking shot, today, it’s ridiculous, he’s usually better than this.

But something does not feel right.

Keith continues to provide the main distraction in the control room, double blades slashing and stabbing anyone who comes close. Lance is perched somewhere above him, firing shot after shot and never once missing.

Keith forces his hands to stop shaking, to hold the blades steadily.

Shiro is covering Pidge. They’re sending updates. They’re both fine. Allura is ripping the entire experimental warfare department apart with her bare hands. (These fuckers have nothing on her superstrength.) Coran is shooting down every single reinforcement fleet and keeping the pods up and running. Hunk’s radio waves are simply blocked, he’s fine.

A blue laser flies millimetres away from his ear, nailing a soldier in the head right before they lift their blaster to blow Keith’s head off. Keith smiles despite himself.

Lance is fine, too.

“I’m done here. Who needs help?” Allura doesn’t even sound like she’s broken a sweat, which is entirely like her and also entirely unfair. Keith is suddenly aware that his undersuit is drenched, which is disgusting and also distracting.

“We’re good. I’ve managed to take care of any soldier to come close to us – there haven’t been many, Keith and Lance have been handling most of them; great job, guys – and Pidge is almost done.”

“Alright, Shiro. Lance and Keith, I’m coming to you.”

Keith stops listening after that. Not that there’s much to listen to, he doesn’t think. He lets his brain settle into the rhythm of the fight, synching his breaths with every slash of his sword, matching every turn and flick of his eyes to his heartbeat. He is, in some backward way, grateful for a routine he is familiar with, even if it’s stressful and kind of horrible. He notices when Allura finally makes it into the fray – his whole job is noticing everything and reacting to it – because it is, honestly, kind of hard to miss her ear-splitting battle cry and the sound of her massive axe helpfully removing the burden of several Galran soldier’s heads from their bodies.

Time passes, or it doesn’t. Keith’s not a hundred percent sure. All he knows is that just when he thinks he and the rest of the team – who trickled in eventually, Hunk’s arrival especially drawing several cries of relief – think they have finally thinned out the room, a new surge of soldiers and sentries crowds the room and they have to drag themselves alert again lest they literally die.

A myriad of curses fill the comms at a new wave, the bridge they’re fighting in become more crowded and more dangerous.

That is not what worries Keith.

He has three soldiers and four sentries turn to him at once, weapons bared, danger attacking him from all angles. He barely has the time to react, and fully misses a shot from one of the sentry's blasters, burning a hole into one of the unprotected parts of his armour which stings like a swarm of wasps.

That is not what worries Keith, either.

Quietly, almost silently, in fact so slight it might be a figment of Keith’s anxious imagination, there’s a breathy noise over the comms, a sharp inhale. And Keith realises he has not seen blue laser fire flashing steadily, knocking down adversaries one by one with ease.

That is what worries Keith.

“Lance, status report,” Keith orders immediately. He immediately notices the sudden stiffness in Shiro’s shoulders, right next to him, and hears Hunk echoing Keith’s worry. Matters are made worse by the several minutes that pass before Lance replies.

“Um, could be better,” Lance says quietly, clearly out of breath. “Really wishing I was a flounder right now. They can move their eyes to the back of their head, you know. Real useful skill. You guys are going to need it.”

“Lance, darling, the point,” Allura says, voice short and more sharply space-British than usual. “You need to get to it.”

There’s another moment of hesitation, and Keith can practically hear Lance’s thoughts, desperately hoping he can resolve the situation on his own before asking for help, because Lance hates being vulnerable although he’d rather die than admit it. Keith is genuinely better at asking for help than Lance, and Keith has never been out-stubborned in that particular avenue before.

“I got shoved off my perch,” Lance admits eventually. As soon as he says it, Keith realises it’s not his usual laser-focus that is making his breathing so heavy, nor is it frustration, but an injury from falling twenty-six fucking feet.

“Lance,” shout several frustrated voices in unison, including Keith’s.

“Injuries,” Pidge snaps. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith watches her whip her bayard forward with particularly brutal strength, perfectly calculated to knock out an entire squad of sentries. “List them. Now.”

“Nothing fatal,” Lance assures. “In fact I might not even bruise.”

“Lance,” Allura warns, again. Keith wonders if Keith is going to hear Lance’s name echoed in his nightmares, voices of the team tinged in panic, calling for him again and again and never getting a straight answer. Keith has always admired Lance’s ability to lighten a room, but it scares him, sometimes. He wonders against his will if Lance will die laughing, with his final joke still hanging in the air like a noose.

The thought makes him gag, stomach twisting painfully and violently. He doesn’t want to even imagine it, and hates himself for imagining it anyway.

“It’s fine,” Lance says eventually. “I didn’t fall on my head, or anything. And the armour held up pretty well, so any and all damage to my extremities is contained.”

“Lance!” Keith shouts, and it echoes over and over in his head. “Please, for the love of God.”

Lance laughs, high strung and pained, the first cracks in his faith and his fearlessness and his hope. “I can’t move,” he says, and he almost sounds giddy, and he laughs again, and the panic floods through. “I sprained my wrist. And. Um. You know how the knee bends one way? Mine bends the other, now. I’m stuck. It’s funny, kind of, huh? ”

There’s a beat of hesitation before the entire team whips to face Lance, everyone’s mouth dropped at the same time, same terror written on their faces, same shouts pushing their way past their throats.

Keith sees as Lance’s other leg, not bent grotesquely, finally gives out. He sees as Lance’s back hits the wall. He sees the shattered glass of Lance’s helmet. He sees as his face crumples in pain and he drops his gun. He sees Lance look up, brown eyes clouded in panic, locked with Keth’s. He sees Lance’s mouth open, hears an aborted ‘k’ sound over the comms.

He doesn’t see who shot the bullet. But he does see the perfectly circular hole that burns through Lance’s forehead. And he sees the light die from Lance’s eyes before he can finish begging Keith to save him.

– – –

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