#and it had ONE like that maybe maybe maybe could have been about Greg and was a little gay

[hood-ex]

i am SO glad you mentioned dick/helena because their dynamic had so much potential and could've been so intriguing in the hands of the right people, in fact it WAS - greg rucka briefly touched upon it in his novelization of no man's land and even that llittle bit was incredible. how she, dick, and bruce all witnessed their families murdered at age 8, how they knelt in a pool of their mothers' blood, how they're all filled with so much love and grief and hunger for something better and the desperation to make the pain to Mean Something...

specifically in NML i love when bruce drops in on helena after she failed miserably as the bat (</3), and he brought nightwing with him as he quietly chastises her - not out of unkindness, not to be cruel or callous, but to push her far, far away from "this life" after he just saw gotham, his home, abandoned by the US government and everything he worked for come to nothing, and he KNOWS how much helena admired batman and the mythos of it but he sees vigilantism as a self-imposed curse and he's determined to martyr himself but no one else and especially not this young woman who admired him so much and whom dick, his eldest son (and new protege, tim), got close to, should be a part of that. but he's so clumsy and wrong about it so ofc helena (rightly) takes it as added insult and humiliation because at this point just the very sight of nightwing makes her feel even more vulnerable, he's the first man she got truly intimate with and close to in gotham as something approaching an equal, and there was a time when she wanted to be like him, both as a hero and as a partner to batman, and she KNOWS batman knows that:

Helena glared at [Bruce], feeling a new humiliation... of course he knew, he knew what had happened in this same apartment over a year ago, and that was why Nightwing was there. So he could see, too, so Batman could show his prodigal son the mistake that had been made, how unworthy she was of him. (~ NML novel)

...like helena basically styles herself as the underdog shounen protagonist to nightwing whom she sees as the established top dog and a goal for her to reach, and she sees them having this rivalry over who gets to serve gotham and batman LOL. having him witness her failure is just something she can't cope with:

“Huntress,” Nightwing said softly. She yanked her wrist free from his grip, not bothering to look at him, glaring at Batman. “Don’t touch me,” she said. Nightwing backed away, silent. For a long moment none of them said anything more, and Helena realized that her eyes had begun watering, that tears were starting down her cheeks, and the humiliation that had, for a moment, been buried behind her rage, reared up again.

... and i love that this is the dick grayson who has just freshly returned to gotham after all the growing up he did at college and with the titans, and he's just recovering from a failed engagement with starfire and gotten betrayed by his teammate terra and seen one of his dearest friends and teammates, jericho, get murdered by his own father, and he just wants something familiar again... like i see people criticize the batman office for "stealing him away" from the titans and i totally get it but if it had to happen i think this was very realistic (and frankly i think this would've been a great time for him to continue college/his studies and interact with a proper civilian supporting cast like he did in the 70s before wolfman decided to make him super emo but whatevs)

it just means so much to me that he doesn't know his place in gotham or in the wayne family's life anymore and he's wondering if any of it was even worth it - i mean a 15 yr old died in his robin costume for goodness' sake - but this young woman is proof that it did mean something to someone, that he and batman were heroes to this woman just like they were to tim drake, and maybe that alone is good enough, but then she's also kinda forceful and angry and desperate for justice and now he's worried that she's gonna get hurt the way barbara and jason and even starfire did!! and even more so, this woman works with children, she's a mentor and a guide to them, just as dick as robin was, and he probably feels like he'd forgotten what that felt like after so many years of having to act as the leader(TM) among even his peers, and he doesn't want her to lose that...

so that's why dick resents that bruce brought him here to witness helena's humiliation but he also can't get angry at him because he KNOWS he does it all out of love and grief even though it destroys himself and the people around him and he knows that deep down bruce is actually terrified of everything like all the time. but it doesn't make it any easier...

“Yes.” Batman paused, and when he resumed, his voice surprised Nightwing, because it no longer sounded the same. It no longer sounded like Batman. It sounded like Bruce Wayne. “I made a mess of it, Dick,” Batman said, softly. “I tried pretending things were the same, that only the terrain had changed. I knew what I was working for—Gotham’s redemption—but I didn’t know how to get there. What’s happened in the last couple months, with Gordon, with Two-Face, it woke me up.”

(...) Bruce would share what he wanted to share, when he wanted to, and that was that. It didn’t matter if Dick was angry or feeling taken advantage of. It didn’t matter that he resented like hell being made to witness the humiliation of Helena Bertinelli. It didn’t matter that he’d known damn well what was up the moment they’d arrived at the apartment, the apartment he remembered better than he thought he would.

like all these conflicting emotions are sooo compelling, i wish writers chose to address the real depth of dickhelena's relationship instead of reverting to the same old boring one-note "we slept together and it didn't work out :(" stuff (looking at you judd winick)

dickhelena anon here - i almost forgot the most important part!! ... which is that both dick and helena love their lil bro tim drake of course <3 it's so funny to me that tim adores both of them like they're his own elder siblings except he has a slightly paternalistic attitude toward helena ("be careful huntress, maybe i should handle it, lemme protect u") vs. his (at this point in canon, in NML) hero worship of nightwing.... for better or worse i think it's realistically how many little brothers see their older sister vs. older brother. and i know some fic/fan interpretations say tim would be weirded out by them two dating but nah i refuse point-blank, like in canon tim has been pretty supportive of all of nightwing's lovers (he's firmly pro-dickkory AND pro-dickbabs) but i think he's got a secret soft spot for dickhelena especially. like at least then whenever he drops by nightwing's apartment he'll also get nice home-made sicilian food!!

Yeah it’s interesting to consider that people like Bruce and Dick inspire other people to be heroes, but at the same time, they’re inspiring others to put themselves in dangerous situations. It’s a double-edged sword.

I feel like Dick could take a step back and see himself in Helena’s shoes as Bruce chastises her. Dick ofc struggles with failure, especially when he thinks he’s failed Bruce, so for him to witness a scene like that, I think he would relate to that feeling of humiliation well. However, Dick has also seen heroes die, heroes he felt responsible for. So while he might empathize with being in Helena’s position, there’s also that part of him that would want her to live a safer life, to not choose the path he went down.

What you said about Tim actually derailed my thoughts a bit to the time in Nightwing (Vol. 2) #112 when Dick asked Helena to let Sophia and Rose lay low with her for a bit. She was the only person he considered at the time. Helena wouldn’t have it, and I think it’s interesting that she knew that even if she wanted to take the girls in, she wouldn’t be able to pry them away from Dick. (Which is really funny when you think about Titans Dick and his… flighty nature at times when it came to Rachel).

But anyway, the reason I brought it up is because you mentioned Helena seeing Dick as the top dog, and you mentioned Tim, and it made me think of how Dick wanted Tim as his equal, and how Dick wouldn’t leave his two charges with just anyone, he’d leave them with someone he thought capable. Someone like Helena. Someone like Amy. But he went to Helena before he went to Amy.

[virfu]

SUCCESSION MUSICAL EPISODE IN MY DREAM, I FUCKING WIN

[theemporium]

blurb request for oscar - maybe he gets jealous/possessive and this is the first time you see this side of him

thank you for requesting! and thank you to @scuderiahoney for brainstorming with me since it's partially her fault i am writing oscar again!!🫶🏽

.

It genuinely didn’t bother him at first. Or at least, not that much.

He had noticed it. He would have been fucking blind to not notice it. In fact, he wasn’t the only one to notice it because Lando had brought it up to him. They had been walking through the paddock, making their way back towards the garage after a press conference when he spotted the two of you in the distance. 

“Does it not bother you?” Lando had asked, pausing whatever conversation they had been talking about to nod towards where you were standing. 

Truthfully, Oscar didn’t even need to follow his line of sight to know exactly what he was talking about. But he did anyway, maybe because some twisted part of him liked torturing himself that little bit more when he found you deep in conversation with one of the intern engineers—Oscar vaguely remembers his name being Greg or something along the lines.

“No,” Oscar told him, and it was only partially a lie. “She’s just talking to him.”

“They seem close,” Lando noted, glancing towards his teammate with a knowing look.

“I trust her,” Oscar had replied. And he did trust you. He trusted you irrevocably. He trusted you with his life and his heart. But that didn’t mean something deep in his stomach twisted whenever he saw you laughing away with Greg. 

“It’s not her I think you should worry about,” Lando muttered under his breath, but they had reached the garage by that point and the conversation never continued.

But despite his trust in you, he didn’t trust Greg—not one single fucking bit.

Because it wasn’t just a passing interaction or a budding friendship. It was starting to creep into something more, something so slow and subtle that maybe other people didn’t notice but Oscar fucking did. He noticed it every single time. 

The second he wasn’t by your side, Greg would jump in. The second he had to get in the car or talk to his team, it seemed like Greg had taken it upon himself to keep you company. The second you were in the paddock after not attending a few races, Greg would be greeting you like he hadn’t seen you in years. 

Oscar tried to push down the bitter feelings bubbling in his stomach. You didn’t look uncomfortable or bothered by Greg’s company, and the last thing he wanted to do was come off as some controlling, territorial boyfriend who dictated who you spoke to. If anything, it should have been reassuring to him that you were making friends in the paddock to spend time with when he was busy with the team. 

He just really wished it wasn’t Greg.

Yet, despite his restraint and promise to himself to keep his mouth shut as long as you were happy, Oscar could only be pushed so far before he snapped. 

It was a good race. In fact, it was a great fucking race. After what seemed like a disappointing qualifying that was setting up a shittier race, Oscar hadn’t had high hopes for the weekend. In fact, nobody in the team did—for either car. But it felt like something had just come alive in the car and the second the lights went out, there was a new buzz that had him speeding through the pack. 

It wasn’t a podium weekend, which was always a gutting occurrence. But ending the race in P4 was more than enough for Oscar when the team weren’t even sure if he would make it in the points. He was buzzed, he was on a high and he felt like some of the stress of this weekend had been taken off his shoulders. 

However, when he made his way back to the garage to celebrate with the team and you, he was confused when he was unable to find you the second he got out of the car. That confusion fizzled into something far more bitter and resentful when he noticed Greg huddled beside you, yapping your ear off as you stood there, nodding and smiling. 

He didn’t even realise he was making his way over until he had saddled up beside you, his arm curled around waist like the touch would ease some of the tightness in his chest.

“Sorry, mate, mind if I just steal my girlfriend for a second?” The words had left his mouth, but the usual friendliness was long gone. His words were sharp, blunt even. And he genuinely couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment as he dragged you away before Greg even had the chance to open his mouth, his body working on pure muscle memory to lead you both to his driver room.

It hadn’t even hit him what he had done until the two of you were finally in the privacy of his driver room, the door locked and the rest of the world shut out. 

“Oscar,” you said his name and the tightness in his chest returned.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before you could even say anything more. “I just…he is always there. He is always fucking there and I just wanted you for myself just once. All I could think about since I crossed that line was hugging you and then I got out the car and I just saw him and—” 

But his rambles died on his tongue when he caught the way you were staring at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. 

“What? Why are you smiling like that?” Oscar questioned, his brows furrowing together. “I just acted like a caveman and you’re smiling.”

“A caveman,” you repeated with a snort, shaking your head before you took a step closer to your boyfriend. “Well, caveman or not, I thought it was kinda hot.”

Oscar blinked. “Huh?”

However, you just shrugged your shoulders. “What? You’re always so calm and collected, it was nice seeing you get a little worked up.”

He watched your expression closely. “So, you’re not mad?”

Your face softened as you reached for the boy, winding your arms around his waist. “I’m not mad, Oscar. If anything, I’m more relieved. He was kinda annoying, like he never shuts up.”

Oscar let out a relieved breath, but his frown remained as he took your face in his hands. “You should have told me if he was bothering you.”

You shrugged again. “It didn’t seem worth the drama,” you admitted. “You should have told me if it upset you.”

“I didn’t wanna seem like a dick,” he confessed with a sheepish expression on his face. He paused for a moment before thinking better of it, pulling you against his chest as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “I promise I’ll tell you next time if you tell me too.”

“Deal,” you murmured as you sunk into his embrace. You waited a few moments, expecting the boy to pull away but he never did. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he spoke, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck. “Just…makin’ up for the lost time he stole from me.”

You snorted. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed innocently.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured the boy, smiling a little when you felt a soft peck against your neck. “But I would really appreciate it if you could go shower first. You kinda stink.”

Oscar snorted. “Geez. Thanks.”

You grinned. “C’mon, caveman, the quicker you shower, the quicker I’ll hug you again.”

.

[velaryqns]

Could you do a House fanfic where after failing at treating a patient, House takes his stress and anger out on the reader? She then considers quitting being a doctor. House is confronted by Dr. Cuddy and his team, causing him to go comfort and apologize to the girl.

Uncontrolled Anger

Gregory House x Female Reader (I took it romantically for fun)

Universe: House MD

Summary: Maybe you should have known better than to question House about his feelings.

Warnings: Patient death, mentions of addictions, angst

You sat silently, your eyes on the dead body in front of you. You had watched as the team fought to help the man, all for it to fail after multiple misdiagnoses and wrong solutions. You, being a doctor, knew what they were going through. You’d gone through it a few times with your patients.

Sighing, you rest a hand on Taub’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. He returned it, then watched you go as you made your way out of the room and eventually wandered to House’s office. When you reached the glass door with his name on it, you stood silently for a moment with your arms crossed. He had one hand in a fist by the side of his head and the other filling out paperwork.

You brought your hand down to the handle, allowing yourself into his office. You took a few paces, then turned your attention to the big yellow chair by his bookshelf. You lowered yourself into the chair, watching him silently for a moment.

“How are you?” You asked gently, not wanting to annoy him while he was in the middle of scribbling on the sheet.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” he muttered, still keeping his gaze away from you.

“You could at least say that you’re okay,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as you shook it. You knew he handled emotions horribly, in ways that often required you to intervene, “Greg—“

He slammed the pen down and looked at you. And you could see why he had been avoiding your gaze to begin with, “You’re not a therapist. In fact, you’re presently the reason I could end up needing one. I just want some peace and quiet because excuse me for not being Doctor Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What —“ You cut yourself off, truly hurt by his words. His blue eyes held no remorse for what he said, and you quickly stood and left the room. You bumped into Chase, but ignored him entirely as you made your way down the hall with the intention of going to the elevator.

As you stood silently in the elevator, waiting to go down to the main floor to leave for the evening, you processed why you continued to try and support the man that. You stared at the metal doors, jaw clenched as you finalized your decision.

You didn’t want to work in the same building as someone like Greg House. Cuddy wouldn’t fire him, he’s too good.

Once you reached the main floor, you went to the clinic, seeing if there was any help you could offer and breathing a sigh of relief when you were able to step in. You dove into working throughout the clinic, waiting patiently to be able to talk to Cuddy about what was going on.

You filed patients in and out of the room you were using, only stopping for nurses to clean and sterilize everything between each patient. However, your consistent flow was ruined by Foreman's sudden intrusion into the room. You stared at him.

"Do you need something? Because I would like to treat my patients," you informed him.

"Just checking on you," he shrugged, tucking his hands in his pants pocket and leaning against the door, further preventing you from leaving the room, let alone treating your patients.

"I am fine," you muttered, tossing a file on the counter and crossing your arms. You leaned against the counter, "I am tired of him behaving like a child; I never thought I'd consider leaving my position because Cuddy refuses to fire House."

"I can talk to her for you,"

"Not worth it," you shook your head, "Now can you please go?"

Foreman was reluctant for a moment, but then nodded his head and walked out of the room. Your next patient came in, and you returned to your job.

Little did you know, Foreman was taking matters into his own hands despite your protests. The team liked you, there was no denying it, so of course he turned to Cuddy because of what you'd said. It was hard to believe, especially when you typically had a strong relationship with House, even when he was being childish.

House was in his office when Cuddy went search for him, her hands on her hips. He stared blankly upon her arrival, a frown on his face as he waited for what she had to say.

"You're going to make her quit,"

"Her?" House asked, shaking his head and shrugging as he waited for an elaboration. He looked toward the office door to see the team staring at him with disapproving looks, which caused him to sigh and roll his eyes, "Y/n's choices are not my fault."

“You’re pathetic,” Cuddy muttered. House shrugged. To him, there was no point in denying it. Cuddy clenched her jaw, “I thought you liked her!”

“She’s ear grating, like you,” Lisa frowned and House shrugged once more.

“I can’t lose another good doctor because of your antics, House,”

She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving House to his own thoughts.

It was early in the evening, you’d showered and done some dishes, when there was a knock on your door. You were less than enthusiastic to open it, especially after peering through the hole to see House on the other side. He leaned on his cane lazily, a bag of what was clearly takeout food in his other hand as he looked down at you.

“What do you want?”

“I come bearing food,” he held the back up to emphasize his point.

You rolled your eyes and moved to slam the door in his face, but it made contact with his cane instead. House let himself in, limping toward your couch and plopping on it. The smell of the Chinese takeout hit your nose, making your mouth water as you pushed the door shut the rest of the way and turned to face the man on your couch.

“What do you want?” You repeated, less than enthused and lacking the emotion you usually had when speaking to House.

“Not a lot of hospitals would be willing to take you,” he spoke matter of factly. He dug into the brown paper bag, pulling out bulls of food and beginning to eat out of his own, “Foreman struggled to get a new job when he had to leave—“

“Foreman was accused of malpractice, and caught,” you reminded House.

“Malpractice is a common occurrence in this hospital, you think any other Dean would hire someone who’s worked with me? You’re poorly mistaken, Dollface,”

“You’re a piece of shit,” you spat, shaking your head and storming into the kitchen, “You know that?”

“I just call em like I see em,”

“If you don’t have anything genuine to say, then leave,”

There was silence, and then you heard your couch creak as he got up. Good, he got the point. That was what you thought until you heard his cane moving across the linoleum floor of your kitchen. You turned to see Greg House standing over you, and you gulped.

“What do you expect me to do here?” He questioned.

“Oh I don’t know, apologize?” You countered, side stepping him to grab a glass from a cupboard, “I was helping you. Making sure you were okay and not going to do something stupid after losing a patient — but apparently that wasn’t good enough, hm?”

“Y/n—“

“No, all I wanted to do was help you,” you faced him, “everybody in that damned hospital does what they can to help you, and this is how you repay us? That’s real shitty, House.”

House. Unlike everyone else, you rarely used his last name when talking to him. When speaking of him, sure, when in professional settings, almost always. But never in the privacy of you two or amongst friends. That’s when he realized the reality of what he’d caused.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he spoke, taking a step toward you. He leaned his cane on the counter and placed his hands on your waist. You didn’t move your arms from your sides, merely looking into his blue eyes to see if he was being genuine.

It seemed too good to be true.

“Accept the apology before I’m forced to take it back,”

And there it was.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you muttered, moving your hands to rest on his biceps. House squeezed your waist, knowing that he got what he wanted. You rose to your tip-toes, your lips just barely touching his before you pulled away, “Now come on: that take-out is calling my name.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

More Important (Greg House x reader x James Wilson)

Summary: you not feeling well is far more important than work in your boyfriends' eyes

Warnings: the reader is sick/doesn't feel good but it isn't specified the reason why so it's pretty much up for interpretation, House and Wilson are both loving and worried boyfriends, kind of hurt/comfort given the themes, brief and mild swearing, they/them pronouns are used to refer to the reader one (1) time in a gender neutral manner

A/N: I felt awful when I woke up the other day and when I went back to sleep I had a dream with House and Wilson that ended up inspiring this fic

When you woke up that morning, every muscle in your body ached as if someone had dropped a sack of bricks on you while you slept. As much as you wanted to just stay in bed, you unfortunately had to get up to use the bathroom.

House was still asleep next to you, letting out the occasional peaceful snore despite the time indicating he'd be late for work if he didn't wake up soon. Not that he cared.

Wilson was already up and ready, from what you could tell. That assumption was later confirmed when you stumbled to the bathroom, the sight before you making it seem as though your boyfriend was being serenaded by the sound of the blow dryer as he fixed his hair.

"Are you almost done? I need the bathroom," you mumbled groggily, leaning up against the side of the doorframe while you waited for him to finish.

"Well, good morning to you, too," He responded in a voice that was far too chipper for your taste given how early it was. "And yeah, almost." He shut off the blow dryer and turned to face you, his big brown eyes studying you with a slight look of concern. Being a doctor, of course he could recognize when something was physically wrong.

"Are you okay?" He tentatively asked, trying to approach the subject in a delicate manner. After all the time he'd spent with House he knew not everyone wanted to talk about their feelings or even admit when something was wrong.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Jus' have a slight headache." Technically it wasn't a full lie, as your head did hurt, but you were greatly underexaggerating the pain level in hopes he wouldn't worry.

Big mistake. Almost as soon as you shut the bathroom door did Wilson turn and head towards the bedroom with the full intent of waking up your other boyfriend.

By the time you were done, both House and Wilson were standing close together, presumably discussing your supposed symptoms, even if you couldn't hear what they were saying.

"I know you guys are talking about me," you grumbled out the accusation while shuffling back over to the bed. Wilson looked a bit guilty to be talking about something involving you behind your back, but House just seemed amused you still had the energy required to dish out snark despite not feeling good.

"Whatever led you to that conclusion?" House asked rhetorically. "We very well could've been discussing what traffic will be like on the way in to work, or our favorite romantic movies." At that, Wilson rolled his eyes in annoyance. House ignored him, finishing with, "Not everything is about you, y'know."

"Don't play dumb with me," was the only thing you could manage to get out as a response given how tired you were. Collapsing onto the bed, you curled under the covers in hopes that maybe all you needed was a couple hours of extra sleep.

Too exhausted for your brain to work properly, you only picked up bits and pieces of their conversation. From what you could tell, they were trying to decide whether or not they should stay home from work to look after you, and if so who it should be out of the two of them.

"I'll stay here with them. Just tell Cuddy I can't come in today because of a medical emergency," House offered while glancing over at your blanket clad form. As much as he acted like he didn't care, he didn't enjoy seeing you in pain, even if it was over something small.

"Are you sure?" Wilson questioned, just to double check in case he wanted to change his mind.

House nodded his head to confirm, uttering "yeah, I'm sure" in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching, feeling as Wilson leaned down to press a kiss to your face, murmuring the words "I have to go to work, but I'll be back soon". You just nodded, too weak to say anything more than a quiet "love you".

After he left, House made his way back over to the bed, gently nudging what he assumed to be your leg with his cane. "Move over," he commanded in his usual gruff manner that led little room for argument.

Obliging, you shifted over on the bed, giving him the space to lay down in his normal spot. "Sorry."

He let out a sigh as he got on the bed, feeling a little bad he was so rude given just how pathetic you looked. "It's fine."

The two of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke up again, your voice sounding a little hoarse. "I'm sorry you got stuck here with me. I'm sure you'd rather be doing anything else other than this."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, hearing you say that hurt his heart a little. Then again, he couldn't necessarily blame you for thinking that. "Not true. Why would I want to be in a hospital full of sick people I don't even like when I could be with only one sick person I can at least tolerate?"

You let out a snort of laughter, fully recognizing the jest in his tone. He obviously cared, the grumpy bastard, even if he didn't show it very often.

He felt accomplished when he heard your laugh, continuing in a softer and more genuine tone. "Besides, some things are more important, anyway."

"Mhm." Humming softly in agreement, you moved closer to him on the bed until your head was resting against his shoulder, making sure to give him the space to get up and stretch his leg if he needed to later on. "I love you."

A faint smile formed on his face at your words, one of his arms reaching over to wrap around you protectively. "I know." It was his own way of showing his love for you without having to say the words.

Feeling comfortable and safe in his arms, you must've dozed off because the next thing you remembered was being woken up by the sound of a door opening and shutting.

"Could you be any louder?" House's irritated voice rang out through your ears, the sound not being entirely unpleasant even if it did manage to wake you up more.

"Sorry," you heard Wilson apologize in a hushed tone. There's no way it was evening already, which meant he must've gotten off work early.

"What are you doing back here?" You called out, your voice sounding tired yet curious. "You're supposed to still be at work."

"I couldn't stay knowing you were home sick," he responded as he slipped under the covers next to you, not even bothering to change into more comfortable clothes first.

"Oh, sure, just forget all about me," House complained in mock offense, something that Wilson chose to outrightly ignore.

"But the hospital- I mean, you're the head of oncology, you can't just-"

"Some things are more important," Wilson gently cut off your worries, his hand reaching out to rest on top of yours.

"Hm, that sounds familiar," you muttered while giving House a look that said 'I know you two have been talking about me again'. He looked back as if he had no clue what your deal was.

"Go back to sleep, honey. We'll both still be here when you wake back up." It was hard to ignore the command of the oncologist next to you, especially when he spoke in such a low and soothing way.

"Okay," you agreed without a fight, snuggling comfortably into the arms of your two boyfriends as you closed your eyes and allowed sleep to overtake you yet again, starting to feel a lot better already.

End notes: I feel like I'm not very good at writing fics with poly couples which is a damn shame because I really love doing it </3

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[disaster-writer]

Teenage Dirtbag (Part 2/3)

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Summary: You and Rodrick Heffley grew up right next door to each other. You’re best friends and nothing could ever change that… at least that’s what you’ve always thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I broke part 2 up into two so there will now be three parts to this fic

Part 1

“This is so weird,” Greg whispered to David and Rowley, both currently sitting on either side of him, all three of them crowded around the TV as Greg played Twisted Wizard “Are they still doing it?”

Rowley glanced behind him, “Yeah…” he answered uneasily, “Did something happen?”

"Not that I know of," David shrugged.

"Me neither."

All three of them turned around again, the sight sending a chill down their spines.

It should have been just like any other Saturday. Rodrick grounded as usual. You coming over to hang out with Rodrick despite his punishment. Greg and his friends playing video games. And both parents out with Manny.

Only it wasn't like any other Saturday. Because instead of choosing to hang out in Rodrick's room or torturing the kids (which tended to be your only hobbies you could think of when one of you was grounded), both you and Rodrick were sitting on either side of the couch, an entire cushion apart and stiff as a board. You guys weren't talking-- in fact Greg could have sworn you guys haven't even looked at each other since you showed up. All you two were doing was watching the video game as well. It was so out of character for you both that the boys were completely creeped out... they were starting to wish you two were all over each other like usual just to have that sense of normalcy... even if that meant hunting them down and beating on them or making fun of them.

It was your fault really. You thought you could just show up to the Heffley's and hang out with Rodrick, pretending that nothing happened last night.

Turns out a teenage boy can't just pretend that they didn't witness their best friend dancing around completely naked. And turns out you can't just pretend your best friend didn't see you in all your glory.

You played with the rings on your fingers, fidgeting to try and distract yourself from the elephant in the room. Should you bring it up and try to laugh it off? Try and carry on as if he saw nothing? Maybe a subtle joke about making sure your blinds were closed before getting changed?

Fuck-- nothing this mortifying has ever happened to you before. 

You and your friends were practically known for being too stupid to be embarrassed about anything. There was nothing that you guys ever did that kept you from showing your faces around school. Not the time that Rodrick made a complete fool of himself at Heather's Sweet 16 and still having the audacity to ask her out right after, not the time you and the rest of Löded Diper were hanging out backstage during an assembly and you told the guys you thought Mr. Andrews was hot without knowing that the overhead mic's were on and the entire assembly heard you, and not even the time you and the guys delivered a presentation high out of your fucking minds.

But for some reason, even though Rodrick was the only other person involved, you felt liked you'd never be able to live this down.

"Cool!" David exclaimed, "My mom just texted me that she can take all of us out for ice cream right now!"

"Really!?" Rowley shouted excitedly.

"Awesome! Let's go!" Greg said, pausing the game and throwing the controller on the ground as the boys then ran for the door and got their shoes on before running outside to meet your mom.

And now... that makes two.

You both continued to sit awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs and shifting in your seats.

You don't know how much time passed before Rodrick was the one to break the silence.

"So..." you pursed your lips, waiting for the bomb, "You never told me you had a tattoo on your hip."

At that you folded in on yourself, burying your face in your hands, "Let's not do this," you groaned out, words muffled by your hands. "It's too embarrassing."

"It wasn't that bad," Rodrick tried to offer.

"Yes it was. That was completely humiliating last night."

“It could’ve been worse.”

”Yeah? How?” You grumbled into your hands.

”I mean…” he trailed off, picking at a pink thread from his jeans, “You could… have the body of a sixty year old…”

You paused, “How would I— y’know what? Nevermind,” you stood up, “I’m gonna go. It’s too weird, maybe when we’ve both had some space—“

”No!” Rodrick grasped your wrist, stopping you short, “You don’t need to leave— I’m telling you it wasn’t that bad!”

You set your jaw, looking down at him. The sudden nervousness that radiated from him was palpable as he broke eye contact, glanced down at where his hand wrapped around your wrist and quickly let go.

”See! Right there!”

”Right there what!?” He yelled back, staring at his lap with a growing blush.

”This is weird and I’m going—“ 

Just as you took another step Rodrick shot up from his seat, “No it’s not! We just need to do something normal—once we hang out like normal we’ll forget all about it!”

”Like what?” You crossed your arms, looking at him skeptically.

”Like- like,” you watched as Rodrick frantically searched his brain for an idea, “We can go to the arcade!”

”You’re grounded dumbass,” you rolled your eyes.

”Susan’s not gonna be home for at least another three hours. We can go for two and be back and she’ll never know!”

You shifted on your feet, weighing your options. You could both get in trouble yes, but it did beat being bored at home or spending the next three hours in uncomfortable silence.

And you suppose he had a point. The event was still fresh and was just weighing heavily on your minds. Time would heal the awkward air and getting back into the swing of things would hopefully ease the awkwardness.

Pretty soon you’d both forget the entire thing even happened.

——

”What are you doing?”

Rodrick had pulled away so quickly from his blinds you would have thought they had burned him.

”Nothing you little shit— what are you doing in my room!” He had spat at Greg who stood awkwardly by his steps.

”Mom says dinner is ready— are you spying on (Y/N) or something?”

”No,” his voice cracked to which he quickly cleared, “Get out!” He scrambled to yank his shoe off which he had then chucked at his younger brother.

”Okay!” Greg yelled before stumbling down the stairs.

Rodrick Heffley was convinced that he was losing his mind. 

It had been five nights since he had witnessed you dancing around naked in your bedroom. 

In other words, it had been five nights checking to see if he could catch you dancing around naked again.

He couldn’t help it. He was a teenage boy that had never seen a girl naked that wasn’t in a magazine or online.

And until recently he didn’t even believe you had all those same… parts as the girls he stared at.

But you did. And he saw them. And he came to the fast realization that he wanted to see them again.

And gingerly, for the umpteenth time that night, he had stuck his fingers into his blinds and pulled it down to peak through them.

You were still sitting in bed in your Löded Diper t-shirt, trying to catch up on what he assumed to be late homework.

He had truly fooled himself into thinking things could go back to normal. You had always been one of the guys— an honorable member of Löded Diper, you were practically the manager at this point. You had both grown up together and probably spent more time with each other than with your own respective siblings. 

It’s been five days, he should be past this by now.

But he wasn’t.

Instead he started to notice all the things that made you a girl— an actual breathing girl that wanted to talk to him.

He had never noticed just how girlish your laugh was, it typically ended with a snort to which he would always scrunch his nose at but as it turned out the melodic laughter that preceded those snorts was actually quite… cute— in a way.

Even the simple gesture of you brushing your hair back behind your ear had made— what was the saying? Well, whatever it was it made him feel like moths were chewing at his stomach lining.

Or even—

“Rodrick!”

His blinds snapped shut upon removing his fingers, “I’m coming!” He called back in annoyance before stomping downstairs.

Making his way into the dining room, he found his family had already started eating without him— not that he really gave a shit. He wordlessly plopped down in his seat and picked up his fork.

He stabbed the meat on his plate and took a bite out of it, not bothering to cut it, instead opting to let the rest hang off the fork.

His mom had served chicken francese tonight.

Chicken francese was your favorite.

Rodrick grimaced— even chicken was making him think of you.

”What? You don’t like it?” Susan asked with a huff at Rodrick’s reaction.

”What? No—“

”No I don’t want to hear it. If you don’t like it that much then you might as well take it to (Y/N). At least she appreciates my cooking.”

“I can go over to (Y/N)’s? Even though I’m grounded?” He suddenly asked with a mouth full of food and an eagerness that was making Frank raise his eyebrow. He looked about ready to jump out of his seat and run out the front door.

“No!” Susan snapped, affronted, “Eat your dinner. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Rodrick seemed to deflate, picking up the fork he had dropped onto his plate and taking another bite.

A silence fell over the family, the sounds of metal scratching against ceramic and chewing filling the space.

That was until Frank cleared his throat, “So, uh, speaking of (Y/N)…” Rodrick’s head snapped up towards his father in terror, and he shifted nervously… there was no way he actually knew what had happened right? “You two seem closer…” he trailed off awkwardly.

Rodrick glanced at Greg who started snickering— did he know something? Did he tell their dad he had seen you naked? Or maybe that he caught him peeping on you through his blinds before?

He kicked him hard under the table, making the plates and cutlery rattle atop the table.

“Ow!” Greg cried.

”Rodrick!” Susan reprimanded.

”We’ve always been close,” Rodrick answered, ignoring his mom, “Everyone knows that,” he said with an awkward laugh.

”Yeah, but l mean recently—“

”Recently what? Nothing’s changed recently, everything’s the same,” he rambled, scratching the back of his ear with a blush he prayed no one saw.

”Okay, look,” Frank lowered his voice, leaning towards his son, “I wanted to have this conversation in private but your mother—“

”(Y/N) is like family so I think this should be discussed as a family.”

Rodrick’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, he glanced at Greg who looked like it was Christmas morning.

”Are you and (Y/N) dating?” Susan asked.

Greg immediately started laughing.

”What? No—“ he looked back and forth between his parents, “It’s (Y/N)— that would be gross, y’know, ew—“ he spluttered, though not as convincingly as he would have a week ago.

”Are you sure?” Frank asked— he clearly wasn’t buying it. “Because your mother brought up a good point the other day. Did something happen between you two over the summer when you went on vacation with your friends?”

Okay, now he was confused.

”Huh?” 

“Because it’s okay if it did,” Susan interjected, “We all love (Y/N), right Greg?”

”Yeah, I guess,” he grumbled with a shrug, stabbing his own chicken.

”Nothing happened on vacation,” Rodrick answered honestly— why would they even think that?

”You’re sure?” Frank asked, “Because you two seem to be a lot closer since that trip.”

Rodrick had to disagree. Nothing happened on that trip. It was mainly spent at Ben’s family’s lake house where you all spent every night getting drunk and every morning hungover. And sure maybe he learned a lot about you and his other friends during that trip as everyone had loose lips due to the alcohol— and okay maybe there was that one really drunken night you and Rodrick ended up getting stuck in the bathroom because the door got jammed but neither of you could remember that night anyway, it was mostly the morning when you both woke up cuddling in the bathtub that—

Rodrick’s face flushed with the memory. 

And that had never happened before, but now the thought of you cuddled up to him with nothing more than a few layers of clothing separating the two of you…— and now he was thinking about you naked again.

Frank looked to Susan at his reaction. It seemed he was getting somewhere.

”Rodrick?” He questioned, trying to get his son to look at him.

His eyes snapped to his father’s as his mouth gaped like a fish, he suddenly shot out of his chair.

”God— what’s with the third degree! We’re just friends” He exclaimed, shrilly, grabbing his dinner and fork, “I plead the fifth!” He was then running back upstairs to his room, leaving his family in stunned silence.

Susan nodded, sure of herself now, “Frank, I think it’s time you had the talk with him—“

”Uh, can I go?” Greg asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

”No, finish your dinner.”

”But Rodrick left—“

”He’s going through a lot of emotions right now, you’ll understand when you’re his age,” she turned back to her husband.

”I’m pretty sure the school gives those talks now, honey,” Frank said uncomfortably.

”Yes, but it’s different when it’s coming from the parents. It might actually be best if we talked to her parents as well and sat the two of them down all together.”

Frank stared at his wife in utter shock… the ideas this woman comes up with…

* * * *

Rodrick ran upstairs, slamming his door shut before landing on his bed and shoveling the food on his plate into his mouth with a sneer as his parents words chirped endlessly in his head.

You and him have always been close, there was zero change in that after that trip. They were just delusional.

Just like there was zero change in your relationship after he saw you naked. Like yeah, maybe he did want to see you naked again but that wasn’t any indication that your relationship changed—

There was a tap at his window.

He dropped his plate on top of his bed, getting green beans and sauce all over his blankets, before practically stumbling over his own two feet to get the blinds up.

There you were, sitting on your roof with a handful of thumbs tacks that you used to throw at his window.

You jumped at his abruptness, hand already poised to throw another thumb tack.

He opened his window, “What?”

You ignored his odd behavior, he was always a weirdo anyways. 

“Bill invited us to go hang in his basement.”

”But I’m grounded.”

”So?” You scoffed.

”Right now? My family’s still up.”

”We can sneak out in like an hour then,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m going whether or not you’re coming.”

”Alright fine,” he hissed, “We can go in an hour.”

”Nice.”

After an hour of waiting and listening to his family get ready for bed from downstairs, Rodrick threw on a hoodie and slipped his sneakers on, and found himself climbing out of his window and onto the roof.

You hadn’t been far behind, not bothering to change out of your pajama shorts and Löded Diper t-shirt, instead adding your own sneakers and a zip up.

Rodrick climbed down the tree between your windows before you did, grabbing onto your waist and helping you down the rest of the way like he has many times before.

But his hands had never burned at the touch before.

”Okay, let’s go,” you said, grabbing onto his wrist and tugging him towards your car.

He stared at your hand wrapped around his wrist.

Have you two always touched this much?

His cheeks felt like they were on fire from all the blood rushing to his head.

Rushing into the car you slammed your doors shut and turned it on, before peeling out of the spot you were parked in in front of your house and down the street.

On the way to Bill’s you almost crashed twice, which was less than usual so you considered it a pretty decent drive.

Parking in front of Bill’s you went to the side door that led straight into the basement he lived in.

His parents must have been out because they always hated when he invited you guys over— something about Bill hanging out with high schoolers not being appropriate.

You skipped down the steps with Rodrick in tow.

”Hello losers!” You greeted, making the others say their own hello’s.

Ben lit up, “Hello, legs,” he said in awe, seeing your bare legs descend the steps before seeing the rest of you.

”Ew,” you rolled your eyes, jumping on Bill’s couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table, reaching over for the open bag of chips by your feet.

Bill had been laying in his bed while Ben and Chris sat on the floor playing some card game.

Rodrick sat beside you, reaching a hand into the chip bag you offered him.

”So what are we doing?” Rodrick asked.

Bill shrugged, “Dunno. I was bored and my family’s out.”

”So you invited us to be bored with you?” You asked, raising a brow.

”Nooo,” he dragged out, “I invited you to entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes, standing back up and making your way to his mini fridge, “Got any beers?” You asked, pulling the door open. Your eyes lit up as they landed on his stash.

Turns out he only had beer. 

You took one out and cracked it open, you grabbed another and tossed it to Rodrick to which he fumbled with a couple times before catching it.

”You didn’t tell us you had beer,” Ben said excitedly, scrambling from his spot on the ground and grabbing the two beers for him and Chris you handed him.

”You saw me drinking for the last hour,” Bill furrowed his eyebrows.

”So how’s the grounding going?” Chris called over his shoulder, taking his drink from Ben as he sat back down.

You took a swig of your own, plopping back down besides Rodrick.

”Well I’m here right now so I’d say it’s going pretty great,” he muttered.

”Susan’s been micromanaging him all week,” you also answered, “So we probably only have about an hour before she goes to check on him.”

”That blows,” Bill said, “Hey,” he suddenly said, getting an idea, “Maybe you should try getting grounded less.”

”Yeah, I’ll work right on that.” 

The next fifteen minutes were filled with idle chit chat about the band and a couple parties that were coming up.

“Again?” Ben scoffed, throwing his cards down. “This is rigged,” He got up from his game.

”Or maybe you just suck,” Chris laughed, grinning as he won yet again, sprawling out on the floor as it seemed they were done for the night, but not before taking a drink of his beer.

Ben made his way over to you, squeezing himself in the tight space between you and the arm rest of the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, scooching over towards Rodrick a bit.

”Soooo,” Ben said, dragging the word out.

”Yesss,” you mimicked.

”I saw you talking to Heather Hills today, what was that about?”

”Oh that?” You scoffed, “I have to work with her on some stupid project. She was telling me I have to pull my own weight on it because she’s not risking a bad grade because ‘I don’t take shit seriously’ or whatever she said— but I don’t exactly see that Princess studying and working hard either so I don’t think she has any right talking to me like that. Glass stones, y’know.”

”Uh-huh,” Ben said, clearly ignoring your rant, “So you’ll be seeing and talking to her regularly?”

”I guess so, we’re working on it in class.”

”Any chance my name can come up in these talks?”

Oh right, that’s where this was going, cause every fucking male in this goddamn school had a hard on for the brat. 

“Slim to none,” you answered, “Besides, I promised Rodrick here,” you slapped his knee, making him jump at the touch to which you ignored, “That I’d wingman for him if the opportunity ever came up.”

”He doesn’t mind! Right Rodrick!” He leaned over you to look at his best friend. He didn’t respond, “Rodrick?” He followed Rodrick’s gaze right to your legs, “Hey! Are you staring at my girl!?”

You scoffed, pushing his head back, and moving away from him and towards Rodrick, “How are you already drunk? Knock it off with that ‘my girl’ crap.”

”He was staring at you! Why am I getting yelled at!?”

”I wasn’t staring!” Rodrick yelped, voice cracking a red blush covering his face.

You looked back and forth between the two boys before standing up, your mood souring, “I’m gonna go pee, both of you cool it with the testosterone or I’m leaving.” You grumbled, marching out of the basement and to the bathroom upstairs. The one in Bill’s room was disgusting.

“What’s up with you,” Ben asked, looking at Rodrick peculiarly, “Why the fuck are you so red?”

”God— it’s nothing,” he grunted, “It’s a sunburn.”

”Bullshit,” Chris called out, “You’re blushing!”

“Oh I see,” Bill said with a laugh, “He’s finally coming around to (Y/N). Don’t see her as one of the boys anymore, do ya?”

”Will all of you just shut up,” Rodrick snapped, “I don’t like her like that.”

”No one said anything about liking anybody.” 

“But now we’re all thinking you do,” Ben said, raising a brow before an idea popped in his head, shooting up from his seat and pointing an accusing finger at him, “Something happened between you two!” A wide grin stretched across his face.

Bill and Chris were sitting up now.

”I knew it!” Bill laughed, “You two follow each other around like dogs.”

”What happened?” Chris pressed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck— he knows he shouldn’t say anything—

“I saw her naked,” he blurted, his own mouth out of his control.

Well fuck—

Chris and Bill shot to their feet as well, with exclamations on all three of his friends lips.

“How!?”

”When!?”

”Did you have sex!?”

”She forgot to close her blinds a few nights ago.”

Why won’t he shut up.

He guessed it was only a matter of time he’d eventually explode with this information as it was getting harder and harder each day to put it behind him.

”Is she hot!?” Chris exclaimed.

All Rodrick could do was nod guiltily as he continued to divulge more and more information.

All of them cheered again, Ben and Chris practically tackling him as they clapped his back and ruffled his hair in praise.

”What was she doing? Getting changed?” 

“She came out of the shower and was dancing to whatever music she was listening to while looking for her pajamas.” Starting to grin slightly at the praise he was receiving.

Ben fell to his knees at that, “So you saw,” he swallowed, “Her,” he gestured to his chest area, “Jiggling?”

”Yeah,” he said breathlessly at the memory.

”Does she know?” Bill asked.

”We made direct eye contact.” 

”What’d she do?” Chris now asked.

”As soon as our eyes met we both kinda screamed and I ran out of my room. But we talked it over the next day and everything’s all good.”

”Everything was all good.”

All four guys snapped their sights towards the staircase where you stood with your arms crossed.

”Really Rodrick?” You scoffed, clearly hurt. “What the fuck?”

”(Y/N)!” He stood up now. “I— uh,” he struggled to find the words.

You looked to each of your ‘friends’. “You’re all fucking assholes. Especially you Rodrick, have fun walking home.” 

With that all four watched you climb the rest of the stairs before slamming the door shut behind you.

Rodrick groaned.

”Shit.”

————————————————————————

Part 3 Coming Soon…

Taglist: @maggiecc @corpsebridenightamare @simpingforthe80s @werewolf-witchboy @brunnetteiwik @athenalive @exploringalaxiesfarfaraway @momokosthings

[agaypanic]

Hi!! I saw you were writing for Rodrick and thought I could give an idea if you would like to write for it! So here's the basis, at Rodricks party (or just a party in general) the reader gets flat out wasted and doesn't realize that Rodrick is their boyfriend and says like 'my boyfriend would beat you up if he found out about this' while Rodrick is trying to take care of them. Preferably feminine or gender neutral pronouns. I hope this made enough sense. Have a great rest of you day :)

Blame it on the Alcohol (Rodrick Heffley X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your boyfriend Rodrick tries taking care of you while you’re drunk, and you seem to forget that he’s your boyfriend.

A/N: warning for underage drinking

***

As soon as Rodrick’s parents were out of the house, he knew he was gonna throw a party. He didn’t care that his brother Greg would be there; he’d take care of him later. Maybe make him sleep over at Rowley’s or lock him in his room.

Rodrick threw himself on the couch and called you, wanting you to be the first to show up to his party. Then, after the call, the two of you texted all of your friends to come to Rodrick’s tonight.

A few hours later, the party was in full swing. Rodrick ended up locking Greg in the basement so he could focus on having fun with you without worrying about his brother ruining his party. 

“So, when are your parents coming home?” You asked your boyfriend before taking a sip of your drink. You didn’t really know what was in it; your friend had made it for you, but it was definitely giving you a bit of a buzz.

“Monday or something.” Rodrick shrugged, his arm wrapped around you, keeping you close to him. “We have the whole weekend to ourselves.” He said with a smirk.

“Isn’t Greg here?” 

“Yeah, but I can keep him in the basement.”

“Rodrick…” You pointed to the front door, where you saw Greg’s friend Rowley looking around in wonder. “What’s he doing here?”

Rodrick cursed, his wide eyes accentuated by the eyeliner that you helped him put on before people started coming to the house.

“I’ll be right back.” He said, handing you his red solo cup before racing over to the little redheaded boy and grabbing him by the back of his shirt. You snorted, taking another sip before going to find your friends.

It was a long while before you found Rodrick again. You were close to plastered, hanging onto one of your friends who was definitely more sober than you were. After a brief silence in the house, where apparently Susan had called to check up on Rodrick and Greg, your boyfriend let the boys out of the basement, and the party became livelier than before. You screamed along to music, dancing in a way that looked like uncontrolled thrashing, and drank until your friends decided it was time to cut you off and hand you back to your boyfriend.

“Finally! We’ve been looking for you for, like, forever!” One of your friends said with a giggle as she spotted Rodrick in the kitchen. 

“Who’s he?” You asked, pointing at the boy. He looked at you and then at your friend, growing confused.

“She’s wasted. Good luck.” Then you were pushed into his arms. Luckily, he caught you, or else you probably would’ve stumbled into something.

“Gee, thanks!” He called out to your friend before looking down at you. “Hey babe, feeling okay?”

“Who are you calling ‘babe’?” You asked incredulously. Rodrick snorted.

“Yeah, let’s get you to bed.” 

Luckily for Rodrick, the party was starting to die down a bit. He quickly kicked everyone out of the house, grabbed a bottle of water, and told Greg and Rowley that they could do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t bother him before he took you up to his room.

“You better hope my boyfriend doesn’t find out about this.” You said in a bit of a slur as Rodrick sat you on his bed. “He’ll beat you up.”

“Y/n, I am your boyfriend.” Rodrick snorted, and you furiously shook your head.

“Nuh-uh.” You said, leaning back on your elbows. “My boyfriend’s prettier.”

Rodrick felt jealous for a minute before remembering that he was being jealous of himself.

“Oh really?” 

You nodded, watching Rodrick pull out a shirt from his dresser.

“He’s in a band.” You said with a smile before seeing the shirt’s design. You gasped, pointing at it with a grin. “That’s his band!”

“Yeah?” Rodrick asked, mirroring your enthusiasm. He figured it was better to play along by acting like he wasn’t your boyfriend right now. “I’m a big fan.”

“Well, I’m a bigger fan.” You smirked, flopping back onto the bed. You stretched your limbs, feeling fuzzy and warm all over. “I’m tired.” You said with a sigh.

Rodrick figured now would be the best time to get you changed. He pulled you back into a sitting position and held the shirt in front of you.

“Wanna put this on?” He asked in a tone that one would use with a baby. Seeing the name of your boyfriend’s band on the shirt, you nodded and snatched it from his hands. Rodrick turned around as you got changed, throwing you some shorts from one of the last times that you stayed over. 

By the time Rodrick was changed into his own pajamas and had turned around, you were sprawled out on his bed, the clothes you were previously wearing scattered around you.

Letting out a small laugh, Rodrick gathered your stuff into a small pile. Then he gently grabbed you, pulling you closer to the head of the bed. Rodrick opened up the water bottle he brought up and nudged you awake.

“Drink this.” Your eyes opened the slightest bit to see the bottle, which you grabbed and chugged. Rodrick’s eyes widened at the speed at which you drank, the bottle being emptied in just a couple of seconds.

“Thanks.” You say, crushing the plastic bottle and giving it back to Rodrick, who just tossed it over his shoulder. “You know, you’re really nice.” You grabbed one of Rodrick’s pillows, clutching it close to you and smushing your cheek against it. “But don’t try anything, because my boyfriend will kick your ass.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Rodrick laughed, brushing some stray hair out of your face. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight.” You yawned, quickly falling into a deep sleep. When he knew you weren’t going to wake up, Rodrick laid back and closed his eyes, staying close to you as he fell asleep.

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit

[balteredsworld]

negotiations. gregory house

🥼🩺 | house would rather fight you, but negotiates a date to a gala for a truce.

masterlist : greg house n all

tags/warnings! house being house, lawyer!reader, drugs, not enemies per say but there's def something there, reader is stacy's apprentice of sorts | gifs by @propertyofjameswilson

author's note: this was one of the first requests i got in my inbox! i accidentally deleted it omg but i hope this finds you <3 lemme know what you guys think!

"if this is an ethical boards issue, file the report over there," you spoke, eyes never leaving the monitor screen.

you already knew it was house from the way a constant thud crept its way to your office. that, and you could see his figure from your peripheral, so really you didn't need to look up.

"it's adorable that you automatically know it's me," he noted, obviously humoured. "if i didn't know better, i would've pegged you down as a secret admirer."

still, that didn't inspire much of a reaction from you other than a short glance. the two of you have been veering on this lane since you replaced stacy seven months ago. you were much colder than she was, and so much less accommodating to his devious needs.

house often wondered how stacy even took a liking to you, but then again she was also ruthless when he first met her. by that logic, you didn't fall from the tree. you were your mentor's very picture, but oh were you much icier. it was annoying, but he liked drilling you.

unfortunately for him, you were several inches thick. so he considered you worse than cuddy in that regard. at least she entertained his whims, but you... you didn't care nor bat an eye.

you said all the appropriate, correct and right things.

"well?"

"i need you," he admitted ominously.

your brows knitted, "right...?"

a silence broke between the two of you, causing you to finally look up and meet his eyes.

"house, if this is an ethics question, you have cuddy to advise you," you sighed. "i only deal with court and legal processes."

he shook his head. "i need you."

you sent him another worrisome look, before finally giving in. "what for?"

"tonight's the gala. i need a date."

:..don't you have hookers for that? i'm sure they would like the pay," you told him, voice and tone slow, still unsure what the gimmick was with this request.

if you had learned one thing in your seven months here at princeton was that everything involving house was some sort of mind game. you'd dealt with him enough times to know that, and seen him through three excruciating court appearances because the man couldn't and wouldn't shut up.

house was stupid in the way he was careless.

he plopped himself on your client chairs, hands wrapping the knob of his cane like he was considering some great philosophy or debate in his mind, surely one about the manmade idea of a god.

"hmm, good point. hookers do have their perks-less backtalk, more enthusiasm," he hummed, pretending to think, brows raising as he offered the explanation to his request. "but, hey, i figured slumming it with you might be an interesting change of pace."

despite his nonchalant closing of the question, he was still there. the proposition hung heavy in the your silence, piercing through the airy creak of the floorboards from the wobble of his cane.

you cocked your brow, asking, "so you want me to be your entertainment?"

at that house scrunched his face.

"entertainment? that's putting it generous," he remarked, looking at you with incredulous eyes as he leaned on the chair's backrest to take a vicodin. "i was thinking more like a reluctant accomplice in a dull evening. but who knows, you might surprise me."

he wanted you to bite. if you were cameron, then maybe you would've then and there, and entertain house's wild fantasy of taking you to the gala to stir up hospital gossip. but you still didn't know the caveat to your compliance, not to mention the sea of paperwork you'd been made to deal with due to his merry malpractice.

it was like this every other week, somehow piling larger because you had to justify house's forgeries on paper.

"well, i'm flattered at your proposal, but alas i'm swamped from your court hearing last week," you straightened up, gesturing to the piles and piles of folders and legal binders littering your desk. "i have you to thank for that i believe."

your dry remark elicited an impatient huff from house, all but crass and lax about administrative affairs of his hospital job.

"the perks of my charming personality. you're welcome for the excitement," he told you, leaning back toward you to flick through the papers on your desk.

"what's the gimmick?"

"no gimmicks. just you and me surviving the god awful gala, and you can have tickets to whatever show you want. what do you say?"

he looked at you innocently.

"there's always a gimmick with you, house. it makes your puzzle for your team to figure out. so what's the puzzle here?" you query, locking your hands together.

more than anything, this was negotiation. anything was negotiable with house: rules, conduct... the law.

anything was remotely subjective was up for his objective debate, all to prop himself up with more advantage to do whatever he wants in the hospital. even though he makes up for it with his rightness, it's made up more work for you

"you on my arm; i need to quiet down cuddy," he finally reveals, pursing his lips. "she's antsy about our squashbuckling. personally think it's great pr, but mommy says otherwise."

you let out a breath, considering the argument. he was right, of course. the times the two of you went to court, you looked like you could barely control your client even with your stern voice and threats. your threats were empty in house's books. so long as he proved himself on principle, consequences were an afterthought to him.

his integrity made him a man easy to admire, but he would rather ruffle your feathers to see how far you'd go. it infuriated and vexed you. but, if this was really a chance to call an armistice, then his proposition was more than an attractive offer.

"okay," you agreed.

house bobbed his head, appeased with your agreement, "great."

"but i don't want tickets."

he edged his head, encouraging you to go on. eyes wary, nonetheless.

"i want the next case without a pile of files for me to review."

a beat.

he blinked.

then he uncontrollably laughed. the fucker laughed.

"that's cute, y/l/n," he chortled, sinking into the backrest completely. he was smug, face dancing with amusement and disbelief like you believed he could really do that.

"let's see, you want me to diagnose a complex medical case discarding my process and adhere to standard protocol. wow that's really cute."

"well, fine then. appease cuddy another way," you waved him off, letting your eyes fall to your monitor to go back to work.

sensing this, house groaned a sigh, exchanging his previous amusement for your veering annoyance. he took his fingers and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"alright, you want a break from my malpractice masterpieces? fine. i'll keep it clean the next time. but if i manage to save a life without a single piece of paper, you owe me more than the gala."

you stared back at him, mildly bewildered, "are you asking me out on a date, house?"

"my diagnostic powers deserve more than a gala."

so it was a yes, then. part of you wanted to beam, but that would betray your icy façade. so instead you settled for cool nod, won by the whole proposal. you knew he wouldn't resist a challenge if you posed one, and if it meant less work for you, then you'd let house take you out.

house also owed you more than a date after the last seven months of putting up with his shit.

"wear a nice suit," you accepted, weathering a ghost of a smile. "pick me up at my apartment at 8."

[di-writes-stuff]

loml

Greg House x Reader

A/N: So, I haven’t written anything in months. Whoopsies! (I have no excuse, I just didn’t want to.)

TW: It’s House. There’s your trigger warning. (Drugs.)

“Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?”

This is a mistake.

That’s the only thought that runs through your head as you sit in the sterile examination room, the chair under you hard and entirely uncomfortable. It’s fitting, nothing about this will be pleasant, you knew it going in.

And yet you still did. You walked into this damn hospital, snuck around like some criminal, praying that you wouldn’t run into him before the time was right. If it ever is, it never really has been with you two. Maybe it never will be, maybe the world is trying to tell you something you’re just too stubborn to hear. How many times can you keep going back to the same broken thing?

Apparently you haven’t hit your limit yet, considering where you are.

It’s like every nerve in your body spurs to life as the door slides open and he walks in. Him, House. His eyes are glued to the chart in his hand, not really bothering to look at you. He’d treat his patients through the door if he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a way that’s so typically him you almost roll your eyes. Abrasive, cold, these should be red flags. They are, you just don’t care.

Maybe he had a point with all the masochist jokes.

You quickly refocus, clearing your throat and waiting. For what, you’re not sure. Obviously he’ll look up, recognize you as, well, you. His ex, but that’s not even close to covering whatever twisted role it is you serve in his life. On and off for…how long? Years, you know that. Two, at least, maybe more. There’s always something wrong, something ruining your chances. The drugs, the painfully obvious emotional unavailability. The same one you ignored the existence of when you decided to come here.

Then there’s you. The constant desire you have for more. More devotion, more love, more than he’s willing to give.

Or more than he can, you refuse to explore that option.

You’re fucked, simply. There’s no possible way that you two work. It’s too much conflict, more than a mouthful of pills or some hate sex can solve.

His eyes flick up and widen as he freezes. Speechless. In another circumstance you’d be proud of this. It’s an achievement after all, he never does know when to shut his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting you, not for a second. Maybe he should’ve. You’ve always been stubborn, a trait you both share. It made for some agonizingly long arguments, and some wildly good make up.

That’s the issue with you two. You are eachother. It’s why you’re so chaotic together. It’s also why you can’t be with anybody else.

“Hey.” You say weakly, and the word feels stupid as it comes out of your mouth. You’re long past pleasantries, which is exactly why you receive silence in return.

You knew he’d be like this.

You feel your face heating in humiliation anyway. At the very least, you won’t cry, you won’t let yourself.

The stinging sensation in your nose is persistent as ever.

He slowly crosses the room, sitting down in the chair next to you, a small creaking noise filling the otherwise empty silence. A thick swallow from you, the awkward drumming of fingers from him. This is painful, and for a second you hope his pager will go off. He’d bolt with an excuse, you know he would. And because you’re the same, you would too. And then you’d be back, in a week, maybe a month, and it’d be even worse.

You’ve always had a knack for self-destruction.

You both know how it ended last time. All over a stupid bet. Cuddy thought he couldn’t make it a week without Vicodin, he thought he could. Back when he was still adamant about denying his addiction. Halfway through it might as well have been torture. Deep into detoxing, and still, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen as you begged him to stop being so childish, so stubborn. He wouldn’t even let you come near him, let alone help. He said it’s cause he didn’t need your pity.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to see him like that. Nobody would. Every inch of his pale, shaking frame was covered in sweat, bags under his eyes and a bloodshot gaze had him looking damn near dead.

He was sick, and he hated having to face it more than anything. The Greg House being forced to admit he was wrong. Sometimes you wondered if he’d rather die than say it out loud.

Neither of you handled it well, you never do. He was too stupid to see the obvious, see that he needed help. Needed you. And you, you were too sensitive to let it go. Let him go. Give up on any hope that this could go anywhere.

You still are, and you feel it keenly as the two of you sit in silence. His eyes are trained on you, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think the look in his eyes was judgement. But no, it’s a myriad. Confusion, anger, guilt, longing. All things he’d never admit. That’d be far too human.

“Say something.” Your voice comes out pleading, a tone you loathe on yourself.

He turns to you, his eyes tracing over your every feature like he can’t decide which one to settle on. How many times has he seen you like this? Desperate, vulnerable, because of him. He loses count. He wants to forget it, but you have to go through the motions. Pretend you’ve worked through your issues so you can live in a momentary state of bliss. Maybe it’ll last a few months this time. Could be less, if he really screws it up.

He’ll take what he can get.

“What do you want me to say?” The words come out harsh, cold, and for a moment he expects you to turn away. You don’t. Of course you don’t.

You sigh heavily, you expected it, the ice you’d be met with. You know him intrinsically, predicting his moves like the plot twists of a movie you’ve watched one too many times.

“Something, anything.” This is sad, pathetic, even. You always do this. Go back to each other, pulling out a past that’s probably better off left in the dark closet it belongs to. Still, how can you just forget? The idea feels foreign after all this time weaving in and out of one another’s lives.

Still, this is familiar, comfortable, in a way. The feigned indifference, the cold tone, the need to pretend neither of you care nearly as much as you do. It would be easier, less painless, to just move on. Have lives separate from each other.

But he’s starting to think he lives off pain. Physical and mental. It’s all he’s known for years. Why change a routine that’s become so commonplace? And even with the pain, he’s never been happier than he was with you. You understand him, and the part of him that hates that kneels to the part that needs it.

The break ups, the separation, it’s all just a low between highs. Ones he finds far more addicting than the pills sitting in his pocket.

He begins tapping his cane on the floor, a restless rhythm. “I miss you.” His voice is deadpan as the words come out, and you know why. He’s being honest, his tone can’t betray how hard that really is for him. He leans his head back, letting it thud against the wall behind you in a way that makes you flinch.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s just saying what you want to hear.

You quickly remember who you’re talking to.

He lets his knee fall sideways, brushing against yours. It’s tiny, imperceivable, almost. If you weren’t so clued into everything he was doing, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, your eyes flicking down to the point of contact. It feels dangerous.

“I missed you too.” Your voice is shaky, quiet, pathetic. To you, at least. Most might see this as normal. A healthy display of vulnerability. You, though. This is hell. It is for him too. It’s also necessary. Maybe this is your twisted way of proving yourselves to each other, giving evidence to your devotion.

“This won’t end well.” He says, pragmatic as always. Cold, sensible. Too smart for hoping, waiting on change that’ll never come.

“I know.” And I’m here anyway. Words go unspoken, you’ve had enough honesty for today.

He sighs, and the noise is too tired. For a second fear settles in that you’re the one doing this to him. That trying to be decent. Trying to be suitable for a relationship is just too much for him to handle.

“Then why are you here?” He knows the answer, he’s not stupid. Maybe he just needs to hear it, and then he’ll get the common sense to tell you to leave. To give up on this, spare both of you the inevitable pain.

You sigh, the idea of having the explain worse than just letting the truth linger unspoken. “What if it works this time?” You know it’s stupid, and you know he’ll tell you just that. For a second you remember something your therapist told you. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’d rolled your eyes, told her this wasn’t anything like that. That people can change, you can change.

You stopped going to your appointments after that.

You just look at him, watch as he closes his eyes, running a hand over his face before looking to you. “For how long?” For a second, you think there’s hope in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to lie to him, say this can last forever. It probably will, you think. On and off for the rest of your lives, never stable.

“We can find out.” The words are an invitation, a reckless one. You’ll let him back in, and it’ll end poorly, and you won’t be able to be mad. You knew how this would go from the start, how can you blame him for the inevitable?

He looks to you, and you can tell he’s given up. It was always gonna happen, you wouldn’t stay away forever. No use in wasting time waiting.

“I hate you.” The words are empty. It’s his last ditch effort to push you away. He has to do it, he has to know he didn’t just let you in. Something in him has to hold onto the false belief that he doesn’t need this, that he’s indifferent. That he’s the same cold man he’s always been.

As he mutters the words he reaches out, his hand sliding over your jaw, pulling you in closer.

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the statement. You know him, you know when he’s lying, and he’s never done a worse job at it than he just did.

You’re hardly inches apart now, your lips nearly ghosting his own. Your voice is shaky as you speak, “Love you too.” As his lips brush yours, he just melts, leaning into you with a fervor he used to call lust. There’s no use pretending that’s all this is now.

The kiss ends all too soon as he pulls away, shallow breaths leaving both of you, filling the silence. You almost wonder if you should leave when his voice sounds, quiet, tentative, all things he’s normally not.

“I’m going to screw this up.” The look in his eyes is guilt for something he hasn’t even done. He will, but you ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that says to run before he has the chance. Yes, he’s hurt you. It’s not as if you haven’t done the same to him. You know where to aim when you’re mad, and you’ve turned him to a dartboard more times than you can count.

“I’m okay with that.” For a second, as the words fall off your tongue so easily, almost instinctually, you wonder if your mother would be disappointed in you. This isn’t how she raised you. Offering some man a hundred second chances all because what, you love him? Because when it’s good, it really is so good?

Because at the end of the day, you don’t think you could do it. Leave him, live the rest of your life without him in it. You’d wonder, you’d always wonder what would’ve happened if you just gave him one more chance. And so you will, again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would look like if you’d never met him. Maybe you’d be married, happy with some man who gave you far less trouble than House ever did. You curse the way you find the thought boring. He’s awful, but he’s thrilling. You might even have kids, or at least be ready for one.

You know deep down you could have a future like that, and still, all thoughts of it dissipate when he opens his mouth.

“I’m off at eight.” Self loathing drips from each word. He’s a selfish bastard, he’ll let you forgive him, and time and time again, he’ll know he doesn’t deserve it. Still, he can’t turn you down. He can’t leave. He can’t not have you. The one good thing that’s ever come out of his life. He just can’t. Not when you’re offering.

“I’ll be here.” The words are so horribly fitting. Won’t you always? Will there ever be a time he takes it too far? Or will you always go back to him? Will you always turn away from the better life, the happier life you could have without him?

Yes. It’s always yes, because deep down, you stopped wanting a life without him the second you experienced life with him. Everything else became boring, commonplace, once you’d had him. There’s nothing like House. Not a person, or drug, or liquor strong enough to come close to how he makes you feel. Nothing can make the memory fade, and nothing can replace it either.

There’s no good outcome, it’s either life alone or life with him. And so you let his fingers interlace with your own, let the sensation numb the thought that never left your head this whole time, the one that’ll haunt you on sleepless nights you spend in his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms wrapped around you.

This is a mistake.

A/N: thank u to the taco bell fire sauce packet i quoted.

[dollypopup]

I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.

Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?

He could have died on that tour.

Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.

Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.

Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.

Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.

And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.

He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.

Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.

How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?

If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?

He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.

If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?

Who did he become?

Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.

Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.

And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.

[lust4life01]

Hello there! Could you please write a Gregory House smut with a fem reader? I'm good with anything, maybe with a little exhibitionism with Wilson? Anything really, would love a dark House. Thanks!

Hello!! Sorry I took so long to reply <3 I think this is pretty dark but I’m sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted lmao. I havent really written anything dark yet.

Let me put on a show.

(Warnings)18+!! Exhibitionism,almost prositition,smut,older man x younger woman, praise, being watched, darkish smut.

Pairing: Greg House x f/reader x James Wilson

You and Greg had been seeing each other for a little while, not necessarily in secret but private would suit the situation better. This was purely under your conditions as you didn’t want people to assume you were just fucking him to do well within your job or to have some sort of advantage. The only advantage you cared about was the advantage of fucking him almost every night. House on the other hand, he had been itching to brag about his new little toy he could play with, but under your wishes he resisted. Well for a little while. His main focus was keeping you happy, if you were happy he was definitely going be happy.

Despite this, it was clear to everyone around House that he was seeing someone as he was less of a jackass than usual and just seemed even more smug than usual. Which nobody thouht was possible.

“House, come on, I’m your best friend.” Wilson badgered on as him and house sat in the canteen.

In response to this House childishly grabbed a handful of fries and shoved them into his mouth.

“sorwy, moufs kinda full.” He attempted to say, the fries smooshed, breaking his speech.

Wilson rolled his eyes, desperate to know who had been fucking his best friend.

“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me.” He threw his hands up in annoyance.

House continued to stare at him with a blank expression, clearly trying to wind Wilson up.

“I’ll buy you a drink after work if you tell me.”

House tapped his face with his finger mockily pretending to think before answering, “um no.”

Wilson who was almost defeated but also driven by curiosity let out a sigh. “$100.”

Houses face lit up as Wilson placed the note in the table.

“Sold. Thank you sir” House happily snatched the note from the table and shoved it into his pocket.

“Alright fess up. How’s been ya know…” Wilson asked eagerly

“Emptying my balls?”

Wilson scoffed in disgust but nodded his head.

“The babe with sexy eyes, ya know the one working down in the maternity ward.”

Wilson cocked his eyebrow, clearly needing more information.

House rolled his eyes. “The one with (your hair colour) and she’s about yay high. Nice legs”

Wilson thought for a minute before a puzzles looked crossed his face. “Wait. You don’t mean (y,n?)

House smirked “thats the one.”

Wilson let out a loud laugh. “Yeah okay House. And I’m fucking Jennifer Aniston. Seriously tell me. I just gave you $100.”

House looked Wilson up and down in offence. “What you don’t believe me?”

“No. Of course I don’t. You’re a handsome guy House but a girl like that gets fucked by men like Chase.”

“My mature and stern demeanour clearly turns her on. Plus I told her Chase was gay."

“If you seriously don’t believe come to mine at 8pm sharp. Trust me you’ll believe me then.”

Wilson looked at him skeptically but nodded. Wilson wasn’t all hearts and rainbows, despite him not believing House, the thought of seeing you with your mouth open contorted in pleasure was worth the risk of being scammed by House.

———————————————————————---------------

You were stood in Houses kitchen, trying to decide what the two of you should eat.

“Ugh, you can’t have soup again (y,n)” House moaned.

“Why not? It’s tasty, easy and quick.” You shrugged.

House moved in front of you, trapping you between him and the counter and looking down at you.

“That’s funny. I remember you liking it long and hard.”

You scoffed at him, not breaking eye contact.

“Screw the food, I’m hungry for something else.”

He bent down and attached your lips hungrily.

You made out as you slowly walked over to the couch, being mindful of his leg.

You pushed him, his back hitting the armrest of the couch and you gently straddled him.

“Is this okay?” You ask sweetly as you lightly bit his neck.

“Perfect.”

House grabbed your hair into a make shift pony tail and brought your lips to his.

As your lips were glued to one another’s House took the time to peer over at the clock which read 7:55pm.

He slowly undressed you, taking off your top and admiring the way your tits sat in your bra.

“Fuck so pretty.”

He unclip your bra with one hand and it wasn’t just his smile that grew bigger.

“Even prettier.” He smirked, looking at your exposed chest.

You giggled and started to take off Houses shirt as he slipped his fingers under your skirt and panties.

“Mhm nice and soaked for me baby, good girl.”

He circled your clit with his two large fingers and you practically cried out, desperate for more. You started to grin onto his hand and let out a pathetic whimper.

House looked back over to the clock- 7:59pm-

Show time.

He unbuttoned his jeans and waisted no time in entering you. It was sudden, he didn’t even take off your skirt or panties, just moved them to the side.

You let out a pornographic moan as he push up into you so suddenly and started to bounce up and down, your eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung open.

“Say my name baby.” House ordered you. Knowing he wanted Wilson to know exactly who was making you feel this good. He wanted Wilson to know he was in fact the one who could make you cum whenever he decided to.

It was exactly 8pm as Wilson stood outside House's apartment door. He was hesitant to enter. He could hear the sounds of two bodies slamming against one another and the chants of his best friends name over and over.

Fuck the idea of seeing you on the verge of cuming made his blood rush to his pants.

He open the door carefully, the sounds of you already becoming louder.

House heard the door and circled his fingers around your clit in hopes you would become louder.

Now Wilson could see you in all your glory. Your face contorted in pure pleasure.

“Fuck. House gonna cum. You fuck me so good.” you whined.

Wilson stared with his mouth agape completely in awe of the way your body moved and the sounds that graced your lips. He felt like such a creep, but he couldn’t stop watching.

“Cum for me baby” House grunted out whilst peering over at Wilson.

Your head jolted back, exposing the veins in your neck as you reached your peak. You let out a pathetic whimper as House continued to fuck your overstimulated cunt.

Wilson couldn’t bear it any longer. He swiftly made his way out of the apartment completely horny and with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Little did he know, you knew all about this little arrangement.

House had told you before hand and showed you the crisp $100 dollar bill he’d received if you put on your best show. You were hesitant at first, but your were a broke trainee and $100 is $100. You could put on a show. Make the dirtiest moans you could.

Once House pulled out of you, you both stared at each other and began to laugh.

“Well how was I?” You asked, feeling pretty proud of the performance you just put on.

“Excellent. You could be a real porn star.” He smiled at you.

“How do you know I’m not” you cocked an eyebrow.

“ I would have seen it by now.” he mocked

You both laughed and sat for a while.

“Okay on a real note I am actually very hungry can we get food now please?” You whined as you began to dress again.

“After that show, how could I refuse” House grabbed the $100 and placed it into your bra.

[dark-vader28]

before I start I love your work you’re literally my favourite writer on tumblr atm :)

(I never do requests so I might be a bit stiff 😭)

I was wondering if you could do something where the reader is Rodricks neighbour and one of his best friends. And it’s like friends to lovers?

Rodrick takes us on drives with his van often and loves spending time with us. And then one day he confesses. (Idk I’m waffling atp)

aww this is so cute i love this idea and tysm!!

a/n: i’m sorry this is so lazy and poorly edited, i’ve just been so swamped with work but i didn’t wanna wait any longer to write this cause it’s such a cute idea.

———

Greg and Rowley were getting tossed around in the back of Rodrick’s van, flying across with every bump in the road. Music blasted through the van and out the open windows as you and Rodrick sat in the front. For a moment you felt bad for the two boys in the back, one of them being your best friend’s younger brother. But you were over the feeling as Rodrick air-drummed along to the song, nearly crashing the car for the millionth time. You’d gotten used to his reckless driving and if anything, you enjoyed it like it was some rollercoaster.

The van slammed to a stop at Rodrick’s house and Greg slammed against the back of your seat, causing you to laugh. You turned to look back at them, unbuckling your seatbelt in the meantime. They both looked horrified, wide-eyed and disheveled clothing and hair, but they didn’t look hurt. No visible signs of bruises or bleeding anyway.

The radio shut off and you hurried out the car and to the back to help Greg and Rowley out. You knew Rodrick wasn’t the biggest fan of either of them but you didn’t mind them and the sinking feeling of guilt started to return as you watched them stumble out the car.

“Guess he shouldn’t have taken out the seats in the back,” you commented, grabbing Greg’s backpack that had been thrown around.

“Ya think?” Greg replied, pissy and sarcastic. Rowley scrambled to his feet, swinging his backpack onto both shoulders.

“Maybe I can convince Rodrick to let me drive next time, alright?” you suggested.

“Only if you’re better than that,” Greg scowled, glaring at Rodrick who was running inside.

“Be nice,” you warned.

“Why?! Rodrick nearly killed us!” Greg defended.

“He’s my best friend like Rowley is yours. Be nice or I won’t do you a favour and ask Rodrick if I could drive.” Greg frowned but kept his mouth shut, dragging Rowley along with him as they ran inside.

You were closing up the back of the van when Rodrick came running back out. You heard his quiet footsteps and quickly turned around before he could try and scare you.

“You know, maybe I should drive next time,” you told him, going to the passenger seat to grab your backpack.

“What? No way,” Rodrick replied without missing a beat. Your backpack hung from one shoulder as you closed the car door.

“Why not?” you questioned.

“My van, my keys,” he said, dangling his keys in the air. “I drive.”

“Yeah, well one day you’re gonna end up killing Greg and Rowley back there,” you added, shooting him a disapproving look.

“So?” he retorted. You pushed his shoulder, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as you hid a smile.

“You’re a douche, you know that?” you laughed, heading towards your house (which was right beside Rodrick’s). He followed after you. He tossed an arm around your shoulder, a gesture he started doing more and more often that you had grown accustomed to.

“Well, chicks dig bad boys,” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes again, pushing him off of you and he laughed harder.

Rodrick stayed over until about 7 that night, leaving when he figured he should go home before his mom had a fit about him missing family dinner. The two of you hung out nearly every night. More often than not, you were at his house, sat in his garage as he played drums or in his room watching scary movies until you were left holding onto him. You often weren’t that scared but watching horror movies at 3am is a different story. The only reason you ever hung out at your house was when Rowley was hanging out with Greg to spare the both of you from being bothered by them.

You and Rodrick had been friends since your family moved to town. The house right beside the Heffley’s was for sale and your father bought it without hesitation. You then met Rodrick at school, around the beginning of 8th grade. The two of you were sat in the back and you made some half-witted comment about how arbitrary and ridiculous the lecture and class was. Rodrick overheard and the two of you spent the next few weeks insulting and cracking jokes about the teacher in that class. Your desks would always scoot closer together and you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laughter and hide the smiles. By the end of 8th grade, you had spent a majority of the year sitting at his lunch table and hanging out after school. You used to go to the park near your house and torment the other kids there; hiding behind play structures and jumping out to scare them. It became more after that, especially when high school hit. You used to spend an afternoon together once in a while but he started to become an everyday thing, taking drives together when he somehow managed to get his license. Fortunately for the two of you, Rodrick’s mom adored you. Which may be why his parents never had a problem with you spending endless nights there.

But, despite what your parents thought at first and what Greg and Rowley think, you never had any romantic feelings for him. He didn’t feel like a brother to you either considering the way you saw Rodrick and Greg relentlessly bicker and fight. You weren’t like that with Rodrick. Sure, you teased one another but never fought in the way you’d watched Greg and Rodrick fight. You loved Rodrick, not in a brotherly way or in a “i’m in love with you, and i know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable” way. Or at least you thought.

Saturday evening rolled around and you sat up against the headboard of your bed, flipping through some old book you’d had for years. Your eyes flicked over the pages, hardly taking in and reading a single word. Your headphones blared music into your ears and you couldn’t help but tap the spine of the book along to the rhythm until you lost all interest in the book’s entirety. You tossed it aside, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. Normally, it would’ve been a day where you and Rodrick hung out but he had never picked up the phone and called you, or came pounding on your door, or even had failed attempts at climbing through your window (considering your parents were a little less fond of Rodrick, calling him a bad influence and whatnot). His absence left your day empty and it felt tedious with how slow the hours seemed to pass.

Around 9 o’clock, when you planned on having an early night due to your lack of things to do, you could hear honking from the front of your house. Then a shout of your name echoed through the house. You pulled on a jacket, covering up your bare arms, and practically flew down the stairs. Your mom stood at the front door, arms folded over her chest with a scowl.

“That boy, Rodrick, is honking outside. I just put your sister to bed and now she’s up, crying,” your mom frowned. You pursed your lips briefly and glanced at the door.

“Sorry, mom,” you mumbled, sliding into a pair of shoes before hurrying out the door. As you closed it behind you, you saw Rodrick hanging out the window of his van, one hand over the horn while the other held him up. His hand seemed to slip and he honked again. You rushed to the car and hit him as he flopped down into his seat. “Quit honking, or my mom’s gonna kill you,” you urged. Despite the darkness of the night, the pale moonlight lit up his face just enough to see the red of his cheeks as he looked away from you.

“Get in then, or I’ll honk again,” Rodrick joked and you rolled your eyes, smiling, before willingly getting in the passenger side.

“I should’ve asked, where exactly are we going?” you asked, turning your attention to him as he began driving. He was driving slower and much more carefully than he ever had before. His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug and he failed to look in your direction.

“I just wanted to take a drive,” he replied simply, sounding a little sheepish, which wasn’t like him. Taking drives with him wasn’t an unusual thing per se, but the way he seemed quieter and damn near stunned around you hadn’t fit his typical demeanor. Quite frankly, it worried you.

“Don’t you have a curfew?” you asked. He tapped the wheel, looking nearly everywhere but you. He nodded cautiously.

“Yeah, 9 o’clock,” he muttered. You laughed a bit, hoping it would lighten the mood or ease the tension that was weighing a ton.

“Well then, Rodrick, I-” but he interrupted.

“Have you ever liked anyone?” he blurted out. Your brow furrowed, stunned by the randomness of the question. His knuckles looked white from the way he gripped the steering wheel and you feared he would break it off.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” you questioned, avoiding answering. He drew in a sharp breath.

“I was just wondering,” he replied. You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitating on your response.

“Why, you like someone?” you asked, still delaying your answer as you tried to conjure up something to say. What did it matter to him? Better yet, why had the question made you so nervous? You and Rodrick told each other nearly everything. Rodrick ran to you asking for advice when he had a crush on Heather Hills. Why was it so different now?

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t,” he added, his voice going even quieter.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t?” you inquired. His jaw clenched and he brought the car to a stop. You looked around outside for a moment. There were no houses. There was nothing at all really. Just empty land.

It was silent except for the distant chirp of crickets. It took Rodrick a moment before he finally spoke. “Y/n, I-” he stopped, finally looking at you. All words escaped his mind and the rest of his sentence trailed off. He averted his gaze as quickly as he had found it and cleared his throat. He shook his head and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He buried his face in his hands and your worry reached its peak. He seemed outright miserable.

“I like you,” he spoke, voice muffled by his hands. Your jaw went slack and eyes went wide.

“What?” you asked quietly, not because you hadn’t heard but because you couldn’t fathom the fact he liked you of all people.

He lifted his face out of his hands and repeated himself, louder this time. “I like you.” Your gaze softened.

“Rodrick,” you began softly. His hands fell to his lap, then raised again and gripped the wheel, running his hands over it. Your mind was going nearly a million miles an hour, trying to sort out his and your own feelings. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest and you could hear the thump of it through the silence. You were hoping he would say something as you tried to carefully pick out your words but your head was just a jumble of all the things you wished you could say.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” he said, sounding defeated. You shook your head and your mouth opened but no words seemed to pour out. When there was a lack of your response, Rodrick jumped in. “I’ll take you home. Forget this ever happened, alright?” He finally met your gaze again and you could see the way his eyes were glassy and on the verge of bloodshot. You felt your eyes start to pool up. He turned his attention to the road and started up the car again.

“Rod, I, um, I didn’t mean for you to take it like that.” You desperately racked your brain for any of the right words that seemed to be forming on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t deliver it properly. “To be honest, I don’t know how I feel.” You let out a light laugh, keeping yourself from the tears about to flow down your cheeks.

You were so enveloped in your mess of thoughts, you hadn’t noticed when Rodrick’s van pulled to a stop right in front of your house. You swallowed the lump in your throat and a hot tear rolled down your cheek. You’d come to the realization you liked him too, and maybe that you always had. It had never made sense to you though; that you felt that way for him. It didn’t made sense now either but it was clear that you did. You both got out of his van and you rushed over to his side. He was heading up his driveway and you stepped in front of him. He stopped, looked down at you through a few strands of his dark shaggy hair that covered his glassy doe brown eyes and you felt your heart stop for a moment. You cupped his face, and moved up to press your lips to his. There was a moment of bliss and ignorance where it felt like the world fell away. But you felt him tense underneath your touch and you slipped away. You let your hand fall away and felt the sinking feeling of regret in your stomach as you started walking away. Maybe if you had seen the dorky bright smile illuminate Rodrick’s face as you walked away, you might’ve felt better but you scurried home and spent the rest of the night thinking you made the worst decision of your life; ruining your friendship with Rodrick in a way that couldn’t be recovered.

The doorbell echoed through the house, startling you awake. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and turning on your side to look at your alarm clock. It was barely 9 am. You yawned and stretched as you sat up, finally getting up as the doorbell rang impatiently again. Your eyes had dark rings and were still red from your night of crying over Rodrick (shamefully and feeling ridiculously stupid for caring so much) but you hardly thought about how you looked as you stumbled to the door. The doorbell rang a 3rd time and you were sure your parents would be mad at you for not answering the door sooner. You swung the door open carelessly, not bothering to look through the peephole first. Despite your tiredness blinding your senses, the strong scent of flowers filled your nose when the door opened and when your eyes focused, you noticed the bright arrangement of colors before you, all blooming and full of life, which you weren’t sure you’d be able to maintain for long.

“My mom picked them, I didn’t know what you like,” the voice mumbled. Your attention flicked up from the flowers to the one holding them. You suddenly wished you looked better; your hair tangled from bedhead, bloodshot eyes, and some old tank top and pajama pants you had for years. Your eyes found Rodrick’s deep brown eyes and messy hair with a crooked smile on his lips. You nearly swooned, gaze softening as you could feel your heart melt.

“Rodrick,” you started quietly. He held the flowers out to you and you took them, a grin spreading across your face. You were speechless. You never took him as the type to give flowers, especially after one impulsive kiss. Not to your knowledge, Rodrick had run to his mom that night and begged her to help him. He didn’t trust most of her advice but took her ideas and turned them into The Rodrick Way. Except for the flowers. That was all his mom’s idea.

“Wanna take a drive?”

———

a/n (again): this was kinda lazy and i hate this but i felt bad for postponing posting this for so long and i can’t keep rereading this and trying to fix it 😭 anyway, i loved the request so much!

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

IM UNSHADOWBANNWD AH. I’ve been so excited to post this story it’s been in the works and it’s the THREE HUNDRED follower special first of all i do not deserve you guys at all thank you for all the support you show me i hope you enjoy this as much as i did hehe MUAH

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

afab reader x Pornstar! ID Leon

Warnings: Smut- just pure porn with a plot. PORNSTAR LUIS TOO HEHE.Slight (very) slight mentions of being obsessed/ watching reader, leon eats pussy (ofc he does) and fucks reader stupid.

Word count: 3,169

———-

knock knock

“What?”

Why did he sound so annoyed? Your fist stalled against the door as you paused your knocking.

“Um- Greg told me to introduce myself. Sorry if you’re busy.”

Just try and sound sweet, don’t be a pushover. You had barely just stepped onto the set, still in the clothes you wore to your psychology class. The room ran silent, your eyes reading over his name on his door continuously before it swung up, your hair moving from the gust of wind.

His arms were so toned, his hand gripping the handle of the door knob as he leaned against the door frame. Incredibly toned, his shirt off and his hair laying against his face so perfectly. His steely eyes scanned you up and down, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he saw you holding your Psych 200 book.

“Leon.”

He mumbled as he watched you scan over his arms. He was cocky; you could tell. Before you could even introduce yourself, the door slammed in your face, your hands gripping your bag as you sighed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

———

“She shot with Sera like a month ago. The video is still up on the front page too.”

Leon’s makeup artist spoke as she rubbed the beauty blender against his forehead. Leon stared at himself in the mirror; he felt terrible for slamming the door in your face. He really did. He has been in the industry for too long, and he has never had anyone come and formally introduce themselves before filming, so seeing you stand there not being able to say a complete sentence to his face just irritated him. He was also just surprised you didn’t know him; he owned this whole set, his manager is the one who makes his booking, or he definitely wouldn’t have picked you of all people.

———

After shooting with Luis, the two of you became very close friends; when you got to your small studio room, you threw your bag and book down, dialing his number on your phone as you pulled your laptop out, sitting on the desk.

“Hello?”

Luis' voice rang through your ear as you sighed in frustration, instantly communicating that something was wrong.

“He slammed a door in my face when I tried to say hi to him, Luis.. why does he have such a big ego? Sure is heavy for a man I've never even seen before.”

Your fingers typed his name into the search bar, clicking on the first link to come up as you listened to Luis ramble about how this is just how it’s going to be and how lucky you were to get him as your first shoot, your mouth ran dry seeing the cover photo of one of Leon’s hundreds of videos, his cock barely pushing into some girl, his hair covering his face so perfectly and his lips parted so slightly.

“Mama, what did I tell you? Do not google.”

Luis scolded as he listened to you close the laptop.

“I don’t know, Luis, maybe I should just leave- I have to go; makeup’s here.”

Hanging up on him because of the slight knock on the door. It must have been noticeable that you were in your head, the pretty makeup artist wiping at your cheeks with a light bronzer to grab your attention.

“You don’t need much makeup, and you’re naturally very beautiful.”

She smiles softly as she reaches for the mascara. You smile back at her as she tilts your head around.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”

You laugh as she turns your chair around, smiling as she pushes your hair from your face.

“Gorgeous, they want you in this. Whatever you wear under is completely up to you.”

The beautiful woman rambled as she pulled the light blue sundress from the bag, handing it to you. No matter what they said to you, you couldn’t get out of your own head.

————

The wall had a weird pattern. It wasn’t like standard white paint but was super grainy, you sat further back, watching as the director checked all of his cameras, fixing the lights, and reading over signed paperwork. They never handed you a script, though, which left you lost. Luis’ crew had a script. It was easy to remember, but maybe only Leon had one. Right when you think about him, he comes walking in from the main door, a smug smile on his face as he grabs hands to shake. If he weren’t in the industry he would make a wonderful bodyguard with broad shoulders, strong arms, and confidence. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt accompanied by a pair of dark denim jeans. It sucked; he was such an asshole, he was handsome. It suddenly made you feel so self-conscious, remembering the cover photo you had seen on your laptop. You specifically specialized in actual content, genuine emotions, and honest reactions, and the people love it. You started on your own, only fans, to be specific, and it makes you laugh out of embarrassment when it’s brought up. Your eyes follow Leon as he grabs a cup of water, leaning on the table as he talks to the makeup artist, who, for some reason, points over to you. Your eyes drop to your lap, your legs crossed as you play with the soft material of the dress. Your heart began to race as you saw his shoes directly in front of you. His presence was so heavy. Your gaze shifted up to him, his hand touching the arm of your chair.

“Sorry for slamming the door on you, I’ve had a long week, and I forgot I was shooting today.”

Hearing him talk in a complete sentence now was weird, his voice rough yet deep. You nodded your head as you shrugged.

“I can’t blame you; I would slam the door on me too.”

You smile, but it quickly drops once you notice what he said; how could he forget he has a shot? He just called you easily forgettable. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your thighs, smiling to himself as your leg bounced up and down. The two of you stood in your silence before Greg walked over towards you two, grabbing your shoulders.

“Leon, Y/N, Y/N, Leon. I know this piece of work doesn’t introduce himself for shit.”

He laughed, pointing towards the bed in the middle of the room; Leon’s eyes squinted at the minor insult before both of your eyes shifted to the bed. He had explained some shitty plan that had the two of you bored. He sighed before he looked at Leon, touching his arm.

“Just do whatever you want. Why do you pay me?”

His foot turned to walk away from you two as Leon still stared at the bed in the middle of the room. He turned back to you, putting his hand out, your eyebrow-raising in confusion up at him.

“Leon Kennedy.”

Your hand pulled from your lap, shaking at his, both of your grip on each other strong as you nodded your head.

“Just call me Y/N.”

You spoke sheepishly before he helped you up from the chair. Was he going to listen to what the director said? This was an extensive movie set, the bedroom, and then the small room apart from the bedroom that seemed to resemble a hallway.

“I know we stepped off on the wrong foot, but can you trust me? Just for the next hour?”

Leon leaned down to your ear as the two of you walked towards the hallway set. You nodded your head as the lighting changed to a darker yellow.

Leon’s head turned towards the camera as he put his hand up

“No cuts.”

He yelled out as he turned back to you.

—————-

Felt awful slamming the door on her pretty face.

Leon’s grip on the door handle grew tighter by the second as you rambled on about trying to introduce yourself. The room shook as he slammed the door, a strained groan leaving his lips as he looked down at his sweatpants. You had knocked at a horrible time, Leon’s laptop on display with your video with Luis flashing on his screen. He was obsessed with you. Obsessed with how your lips parted before you moaned or how easily sensitive you were. You didn’t need to introduce yourself. He already knew. So when he called his agent asking him to call your agent to see if you were booking, he was more than excited when they said you were open. He pumped himself for almost an hour, soft moans leaving his lips as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to think about how it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock.

———

“Action!”

Greg screamed, your eyelids heavy as you looked up at Leon. It was crazy how fast you could switch moods like that. Leon's hands were immediately all over you, pressing you into the wall by your waist as he hungrily peppered kisses against your jaw. And suddenly everything felt so much hotter? His hands dragged down your skin, and his lips burned into the soft skin of your neck, a whine leaving your lips as one of Leon’s hungry hands brought your leg to his waist.

“There you go, honey, relax for me..”

He mumbled into your skin as his hands lifted you into his arms. You were surprised at his strength as he held you with one hand, his other pushing the door open. He made you feel so small, throwing you down onto the plush mattress, your chest rising and falling as he softly nipped at your collarbones. You weren’t this nervous with Luis, your hands shaking as you pushed some hair from Leon’s face as he kissed the small space between your chest, his hands carefully rubbing up your thighs, his fingers resting against your stomach as he pushed himself down the bed. He needed more. The way you shook under him only encouraged him, his head nuzzling so perfectly between your thighs, smirking up at you as your eyes fluttered away from you, avoiding his stare. The pressure in his pants grew more intense, listening to the hiss pull through your teeth as he held onto the fabric of the sundress, licking over your pretty black panties.

“Damn..”

He grumbled as he lifted your hips, pulling the panties off you, bundling them up in his hand, and pushing them into his pocket as he moved the dress's material again. Scooting in closer to you, laying your knees over his shoulders as he looked up at you through heavy eyelids, his tongue laying a long strip over your folds. You couldn’t help but squirm in his grasp, his hands flying to your waist as you let out that shaky whine again that drove him fucking crazy. You tasted so unbelievably good on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he hungrily lapped at your folds, pulling you closer like somebody was trying to take you from him. You were so dazed, your back arching as the cameraman squatted beside you and Leon, trying to get the perfect angle. You didn’t even care about his presence, caught up in crying out Leon's name as he repeatedly lapped at your clit, a loud whimper leaving your lips as you sat up, tugging at his hair. Leon could stay between your legs all day, but he needed more. He pulled away from your still dripping core, his face glistening with your slick as he took advantage of you sitting up, pulling the dress over your head. He couldn’t help but groan, finally seeing you bare beneath him, his hands pushing down against your chest, your back laying flat against the mattress yet again as you stared up at him, watching with sparkling eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was sculpted so beautifully.. and it hit you, this is why he’s so popular, he’s a walking god.

“Been waiting on this part all fucking day..”

Leon’s lips parted as he yanked his jeans down, along with his boxers. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock pressed against his upper stomach, his hand reaching down to pump himself as he kicked his jeans off. And suddenly you felt like that girl on the cover of the video you saw, Leon’s hair sprawling perfectly against his face as he leans his body down, tearing your thighs open as his thumb lazily rubs small circles against your clit, smirking as you jolt forward. He continued to pump himself as he reached over, grabbing at the baby pink silk pillow at the edge of the bed before he shoved it under your hips. What a gentleman… you thought to yourself before your thighs were pressing together at the feeling of his cock pressing into you. He was so thick, your walls having a hard time adjusting to even just the tip of him. Leon’s lips pressed together as he let out a quiet “fuck..” His hands holding your legs open as he put more pressure on your clit, your core growing soaked again assisting him in sliding so perfectly into you. If he weren’t getting paid for this, he would’ve just came then and there, watching your pretty face scrunch up in painful pleasure, your legs kicking in his grasp slightly, and your painfully tight walls squeezing him.

“Fuck.. relax, baby, let me in.”

Leon whispered to you as you nodded your head, allowing your hips to rest against the pillow as he cooed down at you, leaning down against your much smaller form and forcing your legs over his broad shoulder. His thumb is still rubbing at your clit to ease the pain of him stretching you out. Leon’s jaw tightens as he pulls his hips back, letting out a shaky breath as he slams back into you, smiling as the small “Mmph!-“ Left your throat involuntarily. So fucking precious. Your soft thighs brushed against his chest as he fucked into you, his body weight lifting off you as he grabbed your ankles, staring down at where he pushed into you. Even the director looked surprised as Leon let out a long moan. It rumbled through his chest as he continued to fuck into you, your hands grabbing at the bed sheets. Leon mumbled a few words to himself before he grabbed at your body, flipping you on to your side as he threw the pillow to to other side of the room. He crawled behind you, lifting your leg before he pushed into you again, causing you to let out a loud whine, your head leaning back into his shoulder as his thrusts somehow became deeper- more meaningful. Leon reached over, pushing some hair from your face as he looked down at you.

“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

His lips touch the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. You were in bliss; he rubbed against your walls so perfectly it felt like your skin was on fire. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at the camera hazily. Leon shook his head, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him.

“Don’t look at them.. look at me… it’s just you and me right now, baby, just you and me.”

He groaned down to you as a loud cry of pleasure left your lips in response, your orgasm crashing through you. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as his hips snapped into you faster.

“That's a good fucking girl- mm.. fuck keep squeezing around me like that, honey..”

Leon felt his hips stuttering as he looked down at you, fucked out in his arms. A shaky moan left his lips as his hips stopped, his cum spurting into you, causing loud cries to leave your lips. Leon laid out of breath before he pulled out of you, smirking as he tilted his head at the cameraman to bring him in closer as he spread your lips, his fingers spreading your folds as his cum dripped out of you, the biggest smirk on his face.

“Cut!”

Was all you heard as the bed dipped beside you, your body still trying to recover as you sat up, your hair messy and your mascara running down the side of your face as Leon laughed, looking over at you.

“You okay, sugar?”

He asked sweetly as he grabbed a water, opening it before handing it to you, pushing some hair from your face as you took a small sip.

“Yeah.. just was a lot.”

You nod as he watches you; he clears his throat, handing you the sundress from the ground as he stands, pulling his pants up.

“Listen. I know you don’t know me, but, are you busy tonight? Let me take you out for dinner.”

He wasn’t asking; it was more of him letting you know he was. Your arms go through the holes before you look at him, nodding your head.

———-

You were the current talk of the industry.

Everyone was so curious how you broke Leon, making him utterly different from any video he’s ever shot.

Your face scrunches as you look at yours and Leon’s page on the front cover of the site, that smirk on his face as he spreads apart your folds. Your knee is pressed to your chest as you scroll through the comments, flinching slightly as you feel pressure at the top of your head.

“Morning.”

Leon grumbles as he sips his coffee after kissing the top of your head. His eyes follow yours, seeing the “uploaded two months ago” in the corner as he whistled

“Gonna win awards for that one.”

He winks at you, your arm swinging at him before you shut the laptop on the table.

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

feral hotch friday!!

ok ok so the song shameless by Camila Cabello the part where it says “there’s just inches in between us i want you to give in”

Imagine Hotch and reader having sm tension like everywhere and there’s like those looks and the slight touches and then one day in hotches office he’s about to walk out she’s walking in and there’s barley space between them and then he’s like fuck it and they kiss 🌚🌚

Tension

Warning: Brief hurt/comfort, pining, making out in Aaron's office 🤭, fluff, slightly suggestive at the end, I think that's all!

Word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

A/n: This feels feral in some soft of sfw way???? And I love it tbh 🤭. This one WAS proofread for a change! This one is sfw<3. Gave this more plot than I meant to but that's okay 🤭. Let me know what you think 🫶.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @cr1minalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

Months had gone by with this tension between the two of you. Something was there and it only grew with time. It was always lingering looks and touches that weren't entirely innocent. They lasted a little longer than either of you would deem appropriate.

You were attracted to Hotch as soon as you met him. He was a handsome man and not only was he good looking but he was smart and that just made him even better. The problem was that he is forbidden. He is a forbidden fruit to you just as you are to him and you both know it. It's why it never went any further than those long looks and little touches in the last six months, though they did become more frequent.

The first time it happened you had been working with the BAU for about a month. It was just his hand bumping yours when he reached for a file you had your hand resting on. It was a case everyone had been working hard on and yet no one could figure out who the unsub was. The team all sitting at a table going through stacks of files and when Hotch reached for the file accidentally touching your hand in the process, he didn't move it right away. You both looked at where your hands were touching and then at each other but after a moment he moved his away, file forgotten. You were both exhausted and neither of you really thought too much of it at the time. Even if you both felt warm and fluttery inside, the other didn't know it.

The second time something of this nature happened was when you were wearing something a little different from your regular work attire. It had been a few months since you'd joined the team.

You, JJ, Penelope, and Emily had all been out for a girl's night when another case came up. You didn't have time to change before coming in so you were stuck wearing a skirt that was a little on the shorter side and a top that showed a little more until you had the chance to get something more appropriate out of your go-bag. All Hotch had ever seen you in was your work clothes so to say he was a bit surprised by your more revealing outfit would be an understatement. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you and he knew you were aware but again neither of you mentioned anything.

Of course you both had other, smaller moments between but these were the ones that were most memorable for the two of you.

The third time was when you sat next to each other on the jet. This time it was after a case had ended poorly. Everyone felt very low. You had been on the team for five months now and the job finally started to crack you a little.

You were sitting in the back alone. It was a more personal case for you. It hit you a little harder than most of the team and Hotch could see that. He didn't know why it did, he wasn't even sure if you knew why it hurt you more. Maybe it was just really dark and it had finally taken a toll on you. Whatever it was, he wanted to be there for you. He wanted to offer you comfort even if you two weren't very close.

In truth, Hotch tried to avoid you sometimes. He didn't want to let his feelings and emotions win. Not when it could drastically change your professional relationship or put one or both of you in a difficult position regarding your jobs.

But seeing you alone and hurting was something he wouldn't let you go through. Maybe he couldn't stop the hurt you felt but he could keep you from going through it alone. So he pushed his feelings aside and sat next to you.

In all five months of being on the team not once had the two of you ever sat beside each other on the plane. Not a single time. Other places where he wouldn't be next to you quite as long? Yes. But never on the jet where it would be much longer and closer. So when he did, it shocked you. You looked up at him and he could see the tears in your eyes. He could see how your shoulders slumped and how defeated you looked. He had never seen you look this way and it broke his heart to see it now.

As soon as he put his hand on your shoulder you melted into his side and he held you close. It was a little awkward but it was still comforting. It was awkward because you two hardly ever spoke unless it was work related and the only touches either of you had ever shared were hands bumping or his resting on your lower back when he was moving around you or ushering you somewhere.

So feeling a bit odd the first time he completely embraced you was understandable. Especially when he hardly ever embraced anyone on his team. He likes you and he has you so close. He's holding you the way he's wanted to since the moment he met you, not with the circumstances he wished for but holding you and comforting you nonetheless. He would kiss you if he thought it could help but this is far from the right time or place for that. You don't need his lips right now. You just need his arms around you and that's what he'll give you.

From there the touches only continued to grow. To linger more and more. Happening more often. As would the looks. Everything between you two was tense but also...a sort of love story. Someone you want but can't have. Someone you need but is forbidden to you. It's not fair. There is clearly something there. It's clear to most but surprisingly no one has commented on it.

Hotch made it a point to leave the office a little earlier more often because he knew it meant running into you on the way to his car. Normally he would be there so late that everyone else was gone before he left. He tried to time his departure from his office just right so he would get to walk with you as you left. When you walked to your separate cars he would watch you for a moment before finally leaving.

You wouldn't say it was a routine for him to walk you to your car because it wasn't every single day. More like once or twice a week when there wasn't a case. And technically he didn't walk you to your car but rather walked beside you until you stopped at yours and he kept walking until he reached his. You always waved goodbye to him once you got to your car though. It always made him smile.

Or the number of times he brought you your favourite coffee. He would make sure to hand it to you instead of setting it down next to you. This way his fingers were bound to brush against yours as he transferred the cup to your hands from his. The way you always smiled at him and looked into his eyes as you thanked him. It brightened you up and in turn it did the same to him. He would always return your warm smile with one of his own. Of course watching you enjoy your first sip before telling you to have a good day and leaving to busy himself in his office.

He always did it during cases because it helped you relax when you were stressed. Knowing he was there and thinking of you. It may have eased the tension from the case but it only added to the weird little thing you two had going.

Today you had to drop something off with Hotch before heading out for the day. When you got to his office door you knocked before walking right in and to your surprise, Aaron was trying to walk out. You nearly collided with each other. Aaron gently gripped your arms to steady you after you had stumbled slightly.

Your faces so close together. Closer than they ever had been. Even when he held you on the jet your face wasn't this close to his. You could feel his breath fanning across your face and he could feel yours.

"Hotch! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-"

You start to explain and apologise to him but before you can finish getting your words out you feel his warm chapped lips pressing against yours. For the first few seconds it is timid but once you realise what is happening and you are able to find your footing again, you kiss him back. It quickly fills with passion. You can feel the need and desperation as you both move your lips together. When he swipes his tongue across your lip and you allow him in you can feel the desire grow more and more.

The kiss only builds. Everything you and Aaron have been pushing down for months now finally coming to the surface. Your hands tangle in each other's hair as you both try to deepen it. One of his hands reaches around to your lower back and presses you against him more firmly before breaking the kiss. You both needed the break to breathe. All either of you can hear is the panting coming from each other.

He leans in and kisses you briefly before parting again and pressing his forehead to yours. Both of you are still trying to catch your breath. When he speaks you can feel the warmth of his quicker breaths against your lips and it makes you tingle.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that, y/n?" Another chaste kiss to your lips.

"No. But if it's as long as I've wanted you to then it's since we first met." He chuckles a little and kisses your cheek and then forehead. "That sounds about right."

"I wish you had done it sooner." You smile at him and he grins.

"Well, you have me now. Maybe we should get out of the office and see what else we've been missing out on?" He raises his eyebrows and smirks slightly. He still has you pressed against him. "Let's not waste another second."

[itsmarsss]

The World-Famous Annual Heffley Puppet Show [Rodrick Heffley x Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(~from the vault~)

Susan invites you to watch one of the Heffley's weird annual traditions, and you're expecting anything but this.

Word Count: 1,479

[...]

Dating Rodrick Heffley was… an experience. Not in a bad way at all, it was only that it could be… weird, for lack of a better word to describe it, at times. Like right now, for instance, when you were sitting in his living room while his parents told an extremely over-complicated story through… puppets.

You weren’t exactly sure how you'd gotten yourself into this situation. Okay, well, that was a lie, actually.

Susan had been incredibly persistent about you coming to the ‘World-Famous Annual Heffley Puppet Show’, as she made sure to announce extravagantly, adamant about you being present to witness the oh-so-great performance, and, despite Rodrick´s ridiculous attempts at making faces at you from behind her that quietly told you to not, in any occasion, agree to it, you just couldn’t get yourself to say no.

“Why would you say yes? You could have just said your grandma just died or something!” Rodrick questioned you, exhasperated.

“Dude! Don’t say that about my grandma!”

“Okay sorry. But you could’ve said absolutely anything! Anything!"

“I tried! She kept finding solutions! She even said she’d move the date up.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah. Why?"

“Shit. She’s never moved the date before. She really wants you to go.”

“Why is that?"

“No idea. I think she just really likes you."

“Why do you sound so shocked about that?”

“She’s never really liked any of the girls I went out with.”

“Okay, James Dean. You’ve gone out with like one girl before me when you were like sixteen.”

“Hey I got laid! Occasionally.”

“Ew."

“It’s true!”

“Yeah right.”

“Fine. I got laid twice. Happy?"

You shrugged, grinning at him as you poked fun at him some more.

"Well now that you said yes to her I guess we’re gonna have to go.”

“It can’t be that bad!”

It could. It definitely, 100%, without a doubt, could. The ‘performance’ had been going on for about half an hour now, and it didn’t look like it was heading towards an end any time soon. You were all sitting in chairs, which were lined up in front of the couch, your seat between Rodrick's and Greg's, with Rowley by Greg’s left and Manny by Rodrick’s right.

Okay, yeah, maybe this time you should have listened to Rodrick.

You really, really tried, but you could not, as much as you desperately wanted to, figure out the plot of the story Mr. and Mrs. Heffley were trying to tell. It had something to do with dragons and fried chicken and at some point you could swear there was a clown. How any of that tied up together was beyond you, and, as you could see, Rodrick and Greg too.

The only ones who seemed to be having any fun at all were Manny, who was standing up and clapping like crazy throughout the entire thing, probably props to the very questionable voices his parents were making for the ridiculous amount of different characters that seemed to progressively look worse in appearance as they showed up, and Rowley, who also didn’t seem to understand any of it, but looked entertained nonetheless, occasionally even shooting Greg a few comments, to which Greg just smiled and mumbled something incoherent under his breath in response.

You leaned over to Rodrick, who was wide-eyed at this point, looking borderline terrified at the scene that unfolded in front of him. “You said it was bad, not that it was gonna give me nightmares!” You whispered.

He looked genuinely embarrassed, and for Rodrick Heffley to be embarrassed of something, oh that was something. “I tried to warn you!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Greg whispered too, making himself a part of the conversation.

“Shut up dickhead,” Rodrick let out under his breath, to which Greg replied by sticking his tongue out at him, earning a middle finger in response. Oh, brothely love.

“Do you guys really have to go through this every year?”

They both nodded. “It’s like it gets more terrifying every year,” Greg commented, and you took a quick glance back at the couch, where Mr. and Mrs. Heflley were crouched behind. Apparently a pig who was wearing a bow tie was hunting down a rabbit for sweets now.

“Do you guys think they’d notice if we left?” Greg asked and you pondered on it. Then you had an idea.

You turned to face your boyfriend. “Okay look. You gotta be fast alright? And you can't let your mom be upset at me."

“What?” Rodrick questioned you, finally managing to look away from the trance the puppet show had kept his eyes in.

“When I say I gotta go you say you’re coming with me.”

He nodded, though he hadn't really gotten the gist of where you were going with that.

“Wait can I come?”

“No,” Rodrick promptly replied.

“Come on give him a break," you nudged his arm, to which he rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh.

“Fine. But only ‘cause she asked.”

Greg smiled, looking at you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Alright we gotta get out fast. Just grab Rowley with ya.”

Greg nodded in understandment.

“Hey Mrs. Heffley?” You spoke up.

The voices stopped. You were already grateful just for that moment of silence. Susan’s head appeared from behind the sofa. “Yes dear? Something wrong?”

“I'm really sorry, but um I really need to head home, I think.”

“Oh but we’re only halfway through-”

“I’ll take her home!” Rodrick exclaimed at lightspeed, yanking you by your wrist and sprinting towards the front door.

“We’ll come with!” Greg yelled too, doing the same with Rowley, leaving only Manny as an audience for the remainder of the story.

“But-”

“Bye! Thnak you for inviting me!” You yelled over, already out by the front yard.

“Uh- bye sweetie!”

You got to Rodrick’s van, which was parked on the street, all panting and out of breath from running so fast.

“Okay, get in demon spawn.” Rodrick unlocked the back door and waiting for the boys to enter.

“Hey!” You exclaimed in feighened offense.

“Not you. You’re a… sexy little demon...ess,” he smirked, knowing he’d get a laugh out of you.

You could hear Greg and Rowley say ‘ew’ from the back as you got in the car.

“I agrre with them, ew. I think I prefer demon spawn.”

Rodrick got in himself, turning the engine on. “Okay any ideas?”

“Can we go to Chipotle?” Rowley asked.

“No we should go to Taco Bell!” Greg yelled, and they immediately started arguing about it, talking over each other so loud you couldn’t understand a single word they were saying.

“Hey! Dickheads! Shut up!” Rodrick yelled, and, surprisingly, they did. “Y/n chooses.”

“What? Why?” Greg asked, offended.

“She has girlfriend privileges!”

You laughed at Greg’s angry expression. “Well I think we should go to Subway.”

“We’re not going to Subway." Rodrick deadpanned.

“What? You said I had girlfriend privileges!”

“Not if you choose fucking Subway!”

“Fine. Domino’s?”

“That's a decent option!” He smiled, and started driving.

You got yourselves a large pizza, Greg and Rowley quick to leave the table and go chase after each other around the place.

“You have grease on your chin,” you informed Rodrick when you looked at him. He wiped it off, his mouth full of food. He tried to say something, but quit as soon as he started, the sound muffled.

“Dude swallow the pizza first, that’s gross!”

He did so before trying again. “I said thank you.”

“It was looking all greasy and gross!"

"Oh shut up," he smiled at your teasing. "I meant for saying yes to my mom. She was actually like super excited about it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together, confused. “Wait I thought you wanted me to say no.”

“Well yeah. But she clearly liked that you did go or whatever. She likes you.”

“That good?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess. Maybe he won’t be so up our asses if she likes you.”

“Well you’re very welcome. Cause that was… something.”

He laughed. “You thought that was bad? You should see the Christmas one.”

There was no way. “They do a Christmas puppet show too?”

“Oh no it’s much worse. They actually act in it.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. And you’re officially invited by me.”

“Oh no don’t bring me into this again-”

“Too late! I-” he took a sip of his soda- “will be telling my mom you had a wonderful time today, and you were so, so bummed you had to go home early!”

“You’re a jerk!”

“What's that I hear? You’d be thrilled to attend the Yearly Heffley Christmas Play?"

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

You smiled. You supposed you signed up for weirdness the moment you said yes to dating Rodrick Heflley of all people.

“I do, actually!”

He smiled at you. No, you don't.

[. . .]

A/N: heyy rewrote some thingies but its mostly the same as when i first wrote it. so here ya go with some more rodrick content! :)

[thefunkyspoon]

Humans are Weird

Ok, so everyone's talking about humans being super freaky to aliens, but what about neuro-divergent humans? Like, an ADHD-er is sitting in their room, completely still, while they have a task to do. Not a hard one, and certainly one they could easily do, but their brain just *won't let them.* Because executive-dysfunction sucks.

And like, an alien (let's call him Quĺ) walks in, and is super confused.

"Human Emma? Why have you not cleaned your pod, are you sick?" Quĺ asks, his one eye furrowed as he peers at the human lying on the ground.

"Are you sleeping? I'm aware that is a thing humans do, though I didn't know they did it with their eyes open." His confusion increases, as Human Emma sits up, and lifts her lips up, which is apparently a form of greeting to humans, though it was a bit horrifying to the aliens.

"Hm? Oh, hi. Er...yeah, that." Human Emma says, her cheeks tinged with a slight pink. "Sorry. I haven't been able to do it today." She mumbles, and looks around her messy pod.

"What do you mean, 'haven't been able to do it'? You're not injured, yes?" Quĺ inquires, examining Emma with a concerned look. To his surprise, the human laughs, a distraught sound to Quĺs.

"Oh, no. It's just... a thing some humans deal with, I guess? It's odd." She explains.

This confuses Quĺ even more; he wasn't aware humans just...couldn't do things sometimes, even if they *could.*

"I'm not sure I understand. Are you feeling well?" He looks really confused, as this wasn't a thing he was aware of. For aliens, this was an unheard of concept. If they had a task, and had all means to complete it, they did. And he had seen humans do the same thing, so why was this different?

"Yeah, I'm fine." Emma reassures him.

Quĺ decides to ask another human what's the issue. He calls out to Human Greg, an older human. Maybe he could explain?

Human Greg walks to her pod upon request, and asks what's needed of him.

"Well, Human Emma was given her weekly task of maintaining her pod, as we all are. Though, it's been all day, and it hasn't been completed. Is there a reason humans do this?" Quĺ asks, still unsure what was wrong.

"Well, is Emma feeling well? Emma, are you sad?" Human Greg asks Emma, and sits on the floor beside her, giving her a reassuring smile. This only made Quĺ more curious. What did that have to do with anything? It's a feeling, but she could still complete it, right?

Emma shakes her head, a movement that means "no" to humans. Quĺ had learned it was best to not question humans odd behaviors, but sometimes he couldn't help but ask.

"No, my ADHD is just acting up. Sorry, I could've explained this to Quĺ." Human Emma says, and Gred smiles and nods understandingly. But this made no sense to Quĺ, and he was concerned by now. What was ADHD? Was it an illness? Could he catch it? Was she sick?

"ADHD??What does that mean? Do all humans have it? Are you okay??" Quĺ was increasingly dumbfounded, and required an explanation ASAP.

"Oh, do you aliens not have a similar thing? Here, let me explain..." Emma explains what it is, and how it affected life, and how not all humans had it. Apparently, it was a 'neuro-divergent thing', which was something that also needed to be explained to him. He was reassured (again) that everything was fine, and she would try to do it soon.

Quĺ eventually understood, or got enough info to not worry, though it was still a confusing concept. He was not aware Human Emma had this "ADHD", and wondered on who else had it. He asked Greg, who denied it.

It was also quite odd for him, because some other humans, such as Human Sophie and Human Nick acted just as confused and even uncomfortable with her, even though it was nothing new to them. Why was that? Quĺ eventually left, feeling a bit better now that he had an explanation. Everytime one of the humans acted rude to Human Emma because of her "ADHD", they would get glares from most aliens, who were notified of the situation. They also made accommodations to Human Emma, as she could get overestimulated easily. They did this by acquiring soundproof headphones for her, and a sensory room where she could calm down. Human Emma was confused as to why they did this, as she was not used to people simply normalizing it, and treating her normal when discussing it.

This angered Quĺ, as it seemed like common sense to him and most other Quĺs.

Human Greg helped Emma clean her pod after an hour, assuring her it was no big deal. This made Quĺ happy, and returned to his station as a mechanic.

The End! <3 hope you enjoyed it