Latest Posts by pleaseultraviolenceme - Page 2

hi lovely, was wondering if you would be able to write any hotch x bombshell!reader ? maybe before they got together or any scenario/prompt you feel like!

take care of yourself and have a great day!!💝💝

The problem with Aaron Hotchner is that he’s too lovely for his own good. He might not think of himself that way. Not many, if any, of the office would agree. Morgan thinks Hotch is a hard-ass and Elle likes him in her way, but she rolls her eyes when he gets snippy, and Spencer… well, you think you and Spencer are probably on the same page. 

Hotch is kind, and a good man, and if he looks handsome when he’s frustrated that’s just how nature intended it to be. 

“Stop it.” 

“No.” 

“Stop.” Hotch levels you with a look over his computer. You’re surprised he knows how to use it, considering the semi-permanent callus on the pointer finger of his right hand. You must’ve watched him pen a thousand case files, consults and forms in a love letter to the old ways. 

He types slowly, but you’ve decided to keep your comment about it to yourself. “You’re looking at me like you know something I don’t,” he says. 

“Maybe I do.” 

“I’m sure you do. Stop bragging.” 

You lean on your elbow on the desk. He’s got a file open in front of him he’s transcribing for the sake of security. It details a case from a few months ago, and each line of the investigation is printed in Hotch’s neat script, lilting to the left over time. He frowns as he turns a page and realises it’s practically margin to margin with detail.

You want to offer to do it for him, but he’ll say no. You want to slide your foot up the leg of his slacks to see if he’ll blush as he did last Friday when you’d done the same thing, Gideon in the doorway none the wiser and somehow disapproving regardless. 

And Hotch, he’d laughed like a kid when the door closed, not turned on in the slightest but endeared by the guts it took you to try. Then he’d sort of enticed you around the desk somehow —you don’t remember the before of it, only slinking to his side with your heels tumbled on their sides under the desk still, his palms wide and open as you settled on a wooden corner. 

“I’m pretty good on the computer.” 

“I know,” Hotch says. “I authorised your computing and communications technology seminar myself.” 

“I was good at it before the mandatory company training garbage,” you say without heat, wondering how you might entice him over your side of the desk. Flirting aloud doesn’t work. Neither does footsie, and besides, what fun is that for you? But he’d looked at you in this strange way, none of his commanding sternness about him. A smile lingered on his lips; he can’t have known he was smiling at all, or it wouldn’t have shown. He’d left something honest there for you to see. 

Maybe it’s in your best interest to let down your own walls for a minute, too. 

“I could help,” you say. “Perhaps not from the same file, but I can get the laptop and start on the Maryland stuff. If you like.”

He looks at you steadily over the computer. His eyes seem lighter, the suspicious set to his mouth oddly close to smiling. “What do you want?” he teased quietly. 

“Nothing. Just figured it would make your life easier.”

“When have you ever made my life easier?” 

Your smile slips before you can stop it. Immediately, Hotch isn’t smiling either. The, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” almost doesn’t reach you, over that sharp second of hurt. 

“It’s fine.” You plaster on a smile again to save him the trouble. “I know you didn’t.” 

“No, really. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch,” you say, thumbing over his name slowly, “I know. We were teasing.” 

“Flirting,” he corrects. 

Your smile is real, then. “Flirting?” you ask. “That’s rather forward. Flirting might imply we like one another enough to, oh, I don’t know, help each other with our overflowing workloads?” 

He looks at you, all dark and him, steady, strong, all the stupid things that draw you in. You’re not just in it for his arms, however tightly corded they might seem when he’s pulling off his tie after a long day. “You do more than enough for me just sitting there,” he says, holding your gaze with a careful casualness that has your heart tripping in your chest. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Do what? Just sit here looking pretty?” 

His shoe touches your ankle. “Exactly,” he says quietly. “Just sit there exactly as you are. I promise I don’t need anything else from you.” 

Warmed from the inside out, you sit back in your chair. Grinning like a fool. “Why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. Any chance at sounding casual is lost when your voice comes out gossamer thin. 

He looks you over appraisingly. “See?” he says, turning back to his case file. “Thank you, honey. You’re a big help.” 

You swing one leg over the other to get comfortable, crossing your arms over your stomach smugly. “I know.” 

hi uhhh house being a more oral/handsy top bc he doesn’t have to strain his leg or get his old man dick hard. so he'll call you into his office just to plop you in his lap and grope you. pinch you. scratch you. bite you. lick and suck gross tacky hickeys into your neck while he fingers you. and you KNOW he’s a yapper. and he’s mean.

“oh, please, i’m barely touching you. and i KNOW you’re not a virgin. so you’re either just moaning for attention or you’ve never had a half-decent orgasm in your life. which is it?”

“ugh, look how wet you are. got your whore juices dripping down my wrist. you’re fucking pathetic, you know that? you came over as soon as i called you. just couldn’t resist opening your legs for a man twice your age, huh? is that your daddy’s fault?”

“you know what’s fun? if i wanted to, i could just page my team and make them watch you. i could call them in, tell them it’s a really urgent update about a patient, and instead just show them this dumb little whore i have cumming all over my lap. ah-HA! i felt you clench at that, you slut. want me to do it? seems like your cunt wants me to.”

(he slaps you on your clit) “get on the desk and spread ‘em, bitch. i’m hungry.”

Control! Your! Self! - James Wilson

Summary: House knows you (a frathouse’s sweetheart and his favourite patient) have been hooking up with Wilson, despite Wilson’s constant denying. But, he just knows a way to make his friend crack—your sororities fundraiser.

Includes: Readers Nickname is Aelia, (Reader is 28ish), FratSweetheart!Reader, FWB, Nearly Getting Caught, Workplace Sex, Car Wash, Wilson Gets Flustered, Hilson (If You Squint), House Sorts of Gets Off Watching Wilson Get Off? Wilson Pops a Boner!

The bi-weekly checkups (that were scheduled to end months ago) with House since your knee surgery, always ended up with you in James Wilson’s office, the blinds pulled tightly shut and a hefty armchair pressed up against the door.

Wilson’s warm and veiny hands caressed the smooth crescent of your waist, squeezing at the fat of your hips whilst his bucked into yours painfully (but pleasurably) slow as you sat on his desk.

Your connected lips stifled each of your desperate moans, having to keep quiet as Wilson’s doctors and interns walked past his office, unbeware of the Head of Oncology’s absence.

Gosh was it hard.

Ankles crossed around his waist, you’re gripping the hair at the back of Wilson’s neck, fingers coiling around the chocolate waves. You tug every so often, eliciting a hearty guttural groan from the man above you, setting your skin on fire.

Forcing his cock all the way inside of you, tightening your hold around his body, Wilson lets out a deep whine, letting his head drop to rest between your bare collarbones.

“You’ve got to give me some sort of warning… what if House were to walk by and hear that?” Wilson hisses, his index finger tracing below your belly button, it tickled.

“You’re always bringing up House, I’d rather you didn’t with your dick inside me.” You giggled, pecking his lips and shuffling your body closer to the desks edge.

Pressing down on your abdomen, Wilson can feel himself in your stomach, rearranging your insides. His balls tighten, knowing you can take all of him inside your heavenly tight pussy.

“He’s ever-consuming…” he whined as you bite a sensitive spot on his neck, lapping your tongue over it to soothe the bruise, “… just like your pussy, my god.”

Ogling down at where your hips lay flush, Wilson feels tears tickling at his waterline, the sight of your walls inviting his length in never gets old.

The desk begins to rattle, Wilson’s impending orgasm creeping up at him at the sight of you under him.

Your fingers rub at your clit in circles, bottom lip tugged between your teeth and your gorgeous eyes curtained through closed lids—you felt like you were ascending.

Like ecstasy was coursing through your veins, your supplier being Wilson’s raw and passionate thrusts.

“Fuck, James. I’m so close…” trembled past your parted lips, heavy breathes brushing against his bushy eyebrows that are pulled together in deep concentration.

Looking into your eyes, Wilson nods his head frantically, “Good girl, come undone for me.” He ordered and you did.

Your orgasm came in red hot, causing you to shudder and clench around Wilson—who was so close too.

He groaned like he was in psychical pain as you rolled your hips onto his, to be honest he was in pain, he needed the sweet relief of coming soon.

Lifting your hips up as pure bliss came over you like a thick blanket, sweat beads painting your hairline, your toes clenched and your spine tingled as you finally came down from your high.

“Such a gorgeous girl, I’m so lucky.” Wilson said, cradling your face in his large palms, thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek.

“Fucking me so good I might just make you mine.” your fucked our mind spoke for you, gazing at the doctor under hooded lids.

“Yeah?” Your pussy seemed to tighten again (somehow) and Wilson’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he mumbled incoherent nonsense.

“Mhmm, take you back to the frat house, show you off to the boys.” Wilson whimpered as pre-cum drizzled inside of you. “They’ll be so jealous, they all want me but I’m devoted to you, only.

“Imagine House’s face when he walks in on us in your apartment, looking so innocent sat on your lap watching ‘Tivo’, not realising you’re balls deep in me.”

Your dirtiest fantasies tip Wilson over the age, he cums staring into your eyes. His eyes gloss over with pure pleasure, his lazy eye (that you absolutely adore) turns in slightly when he moans.

As his hips jerk, balls pressing against your ass trying to shove his cock as deep as possible, you smile at each other through the haze of your orgasms.

Pulling out, a mix of both of your fluids seep out onto the desk, “Look at that, got me cumming so hard, baby.” You purred.

“And a lot, I think you might need to get checked out.” He tutted, spreading your folds, ogling at your soppy pussy.

If you had been any less sensitive, his mouth would’ve been lapping at your wetness immediately; that was too cruel though, he’d barely touched you and you were already twitching,

“Really, that much? You know any good gyno’s?”

Running his tongue over his teeth, Wilson nodded, “I’d say I’m pretty seasoned in that area, you could always come to me. You might need daily check-up, sweetie.”

Laughing, you slapped his hands away from your core, “But I thought you were an oncologist?”

“Who says a man can’t do both?” Grinning, he softly kissed your neck up to your jawline.

Scooping the mixture with your finger, you commanded Wilson to open up. Sticking your finger down his throat, Wilson suckles on your flesh before pulling off with a pop!

“You’re good, too good. Where’d you study?” You tease, leaning on your forearms against some of Wilson’s papers whilst he cleaned your wetness up with a tower (that he’d brought from home, knowing you had an appointment with House that day).

“I’m a Doctor, Aelia, I know all about anatomy.” He shrugged with a toothy grin, chucking the towel into an empty drawer.

Pulling his boxers over his hips and buttoning his slacks up (biting his tongue when the fabric brushed harshly against his worn out cock), he sat back in his leather chair, patting his thighs.

Eagerly dropping yourself into his lap after shuffling your tight shorts back on, you pressed a tender kiss to his Adam’s apple and then his cheek.

“I’m also a married man, twice divorced. I know how to please a woman.”

“You sure do, Peepaw.” Gasping, Wilson tickled your sides, ripping an almighty giggle from your throat.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain Head of Diagnostics, hobbled by. After trying to escape from Cuddy who was adamant on forcing clinic hours on the doctor.

He also was going to steal Wilson’s lunch, ergo why he stopped right outside.

House’s ears perked up at the sound of sweet giggles. Sure, Wilson had a nice laugh, but it was never that high-pitched.

And then, when he tried to burst in but was blocked by a heavy force pushing against the door, he knew something was up.

Eyes wide, you watched in shock as the handle to Wilson’s office rattled furiously. Facing the oncologist, he squeezed your hips and lifted you up onto your feet.

Passing you your little handbag and sweater you arrived in, he motioned towards the large windows adjacent to his desk.

Furrowing your eyebrows you shook your head rapidly, there was no way you were jumping out of that into the bushes below—you had dignity!

Tilting his head tentatively, Wilson clasped his hands together in a begging motion. “One minute House, the doorknobs going to fall off if you shake it any harder!”

“Another knobs going to be removed if you don’t let me in here, now!” House shouted, banging his fists on the wooden door.

Sighing deeply, running a shaky hand through his hair, Wilson rushed over to you and directed you towards the open window. He hushed you as you began to retaliate.

“Please just do it, I’ll stop by later and make it up to you.” Wilson promised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the back of his finger along your cheek.

“You fucking better James Wilson. I’ll tell one of the frat boys to let you in.” Straddling the window ledge, Wilson gave you a pitied look and you rolled your eyes playfully.

Leaving him with a linger peck on the lips, you slid out of his office and landed on the soft grass—thank God he was situated on the bottom floor.

Otherwise you’d have no more legs for him to make weak.

Slicking his frizzy hair down, Wilson pushed the chair away from the door, allowing House to barge in like it was his own office.

He didn’t say a word as he leant on his cane, narrow his eyes, scanning the room for anything suspicious. He stopped when he reached the open window, the blinds fluttered in the Summer breeze, almost too much.

“Somethings fishy here…” House decides, plopping into Wilson’s chair and rifling through a draw pulling out a plastic container—his lunch.

Hiding his chuckle behind a cough, Wilson picked up the messy files that he was reading before you had strutted in. Legs for miles on full display, nipples perked that pierced through the hoodie—safe to say, he had gotten a little distracted.

“I’m not entirely sure Aelia would be too pleased with that statement…” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”, “Nothing.”

“No, I mean what is that?” House’s nose scrunches up, not in disgust, but in confusion.

Jutting his bottom lip out, too confused, Wilson turns and is greeted to a discarded blue lace bra, hanging off a picture frame. Oh.

That must’ve been hanging there since your entrance. Flung off and forgotten about in the midst of a passionate make out session, before Wilson received a soul sucking blowjob that left his teeth chattering.

Heart dropping to his stomach, Wilson reaches out to snatch at the bra, shoving it down his trousers, “There are the sneaky things.”

“Have you started wearing ladies lingerie, Wilson? Was part of the special dessert you were making for us tonight?”

Running a stress hand over his face, Wilson had to think fast, “No, those are my wife’s. Well they were until they went missing. Don’t know how they’ve ended up… there…”

“Can’t of been your wife’s, wayyy too big to be hers.” Wilson glares at House, whose face scrunched up in a devious beam.

Dropping the smile immediately, House began to poke at a cupboard with his cane.

“Aelia, I know you’re in there, come out. You’re busted.”

Scratching his head awkwardly, Wilson stuck his bottom lip up and shrugged, “She’s not in there, I haven’t seen her since her last checkup.”

Huffing, House shook his head and rolled his eyes sassily—like a deranged teenage girl—tutting at his best friend’s serious expression as he opened the cupboard door.

“I can assure you. Why would she be in my cupboard anyway?”

“Because, my dear friend… I have eyes and ears. You’re hooking up with my patient!” chewing on his lip, Wilson placed his hands on his hips and whispered.

“You’re right…”

Eyes widening, lips curling upwards ever so slightly, House’s voice dropped an octave, “You are?”

“No.” Wilson deadpanned, shuffling through his files and placing them neatly on his desk, grabbing a pen to sign off some patients further-going treatment.

“That’s it.” House banged his stick on the carpeted floor (for dramatic effect), Wilson raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to weasel it out of you.”

Pulling a rumpled flyer out of his blazer pocket, slamming it down in front of Wilson on the desk. Grumbling (because he now actually had work to do), Wilson unenthusiastically pickled the paper up, pinching the corners with his thumb and index finger.

“Sorority Fundraiser?” Wilson questioned, flicking the leaflet over, he was greeted with a group photo of a nearby sorority.

His eyes immediately gravitated to you, you were so much prettier than the others, a large cheesy smile gracing your features, sticking your tongue out cheekily, long hair cascading down your back as you leant your head against a friend’s.

The throbbing in his trousers he was so familiar with that day returned too, scoping your outfit; a bralette with tiny denim shorts.

“No… House, please.” Wilson pleaded, folding the leaflet over and shoving it into a drawer (the one with the sticky towel hidden in) for later use. “How’d you even get this, because I know Aelia wouldn’t invite you to this.”

“‘Course not, that’s like inviting your uncle to your strip show. I nabbed it off the Aussie Ken-doll, Aelia had slipped it to him before her check-up.”

Heat stirred in Wilson’s belly at the revelation, he was fired up with jealousy; why would you invite Chase and not him?

He must’ve been speaking his thoughts aloud as House tsked. “Maybe she needs someone less pre-historic?”

Chomping into (what was Wilson’s lunch) the bell-pepper with spicy rice and cherry tomatoes, House crunched onto a tomato, purposefully sending seeds flying all over Wilson’s clean shirt

Pulling into the car-park outside the sorority house, a crowd of girls circled House’s beaten down Dodge Dynasty.

Their tits squished together and pushed up through their tight bra’s, skin partially covered in soapy bubbles that overflowed from nearby buckets.

Hair tied back with multi-coloured scrunchies, lips pouty as they seductively rinsed sponges off over their collarbones—it was like a scene straight out of a 80’s porno.

Wilson had never seen his best friend’s grin so wide as a college student knocked on the window, House’s fingers trembled, placing a crisp 20 dollar bill in the girl’s palm.

“Girls look! It’s that hot doctor.” A close friend of yours, Estella; a bubbly girl whose wild curls matched her personality; shrieked from across the parking lot.

Pointing a manicured finger in Wilson’s direction, House swivelled to face the oncologist incredulously, who was slowly sinking further into the passenger seat, hands pressed firmly over his eyes.

“My, my would you look at that! You’re like a ol’ regular around here, you perv.” House nudged Wilson’s side.

Resting his forearm on the windowsill, House whispered something to one of your sorority sisters, handing them another 20 bucks before they hurried off towards another car.

“W-what did you do? 40 bucks, House that’s insane!” Wilson babbled, loosening his tie from around his neck that seemed to be suffocating him.

Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, House leaned back in his seat, slowly raising his sunglasses over his eyes.

“Paid a little extra for a select cleaner, and what’s the harm? It’s for the greater good of society.”

“I’m not sure practically prostituting these sorority girls for your sick entertainment is for the ‘greater good’, House.” Wilson scoffed.

“Hah, don’t lie. You’ll love it!”

That’s when you come skipping over, sporting a string bikini, tied loosely in bows at your hip, and… god does Wilson hate when House is right.

“Woah…” House voices Wilson’s thoughts, eyes trained on you as wiggle your hips in excitement at Tina (who was now wafting herself with the 2 20 dollar bills), beaming at the hot doctor’s special request.

Winking at your friends, they all wiggle their eyebrows towards each other, going back to cleaning the other cars to keep the other men waiting patiently with their tongues hanging out entertained.

Wrapping your finger against Wilson’s window, chewing on your bottom lip to hide your knowing smile, he smiled back weakly.

“Well morning, James.” You giggle after House rolled the window down, leaning into the car and purposefully pushing your tits together into the doctors face.

He can House stifle a snort beside him, “Ah! Aelia, fancy see you here.”

“Likewise, doctor and… other doctor.” You wave at House who waves back, body shuddering with laughter at Wilson, who was not-so discreetly averting his gaze from your breasts to your face every micro-second.

“We’re just in great need of a thorough wash, nice and soapy.” House drawls.

Quirking an eyebrow at Wilson, his face is steaming hot and you can tell he’s mortified. He’s sweating through his t-shirt and sporting a growing bulge in his trousers, something you’re now all so familiar with.

“I see, anything for my favourite doctors.”

As you move with purpose over to a discarded bucket of water and soap, Wilson slams the window switch and groans at House’s laughter.

“I get this is a whole thing to stitch me up, but this is plain humiliating, House!” He seethes, chest rising and falling dramatically as he catches a glimpse of you.

Leaning over to pick a sponge up, giving him a perfect outline of your sodden bikini bottoms, he lets out a shaky breathe.

“See, this is what happens when you don’t tell your old man things.” House shrugs, “I could get used to this you know.”

He adds, leaning against his hands, leaning into the drivers seat, watching his favourite client begin to scrub at the bonnet of his car.

Wilson grits his teeth in frustration, but his jaw falls slack when you make eye contact. When you tilt your head tentatively at him, flicking your braids sending them cascading over your shoulder, careful not to graze them with the soapy water, Wilson knows he’s a goner.

Pulling his right leg to his chest, he tries to hide his impossibly hard erection from his best friend, who stares at him like he’s insane.

“What are you doing?” House questions, fussing with Wilson’s knee to push it back down but he’s met with a whole body’s worth of force.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Wilson responds, squinting as he tries to find your blurry figure through the windshield, now covered in soapy water that you’d thrown onto the car.

“So you admit it?”

“Admit what?” Wilson sighs deeply, carefully palming himself through his trousers, praying House can’t see his desperate actions.

“That’s you two are… hooking up, having sexual intercourse, riding the flagpole? Fucking, shagging, doing the devil’s tango, indulging in a bit of hanky panky—“

“God, alright! Jesus House.” Wilson covers his ears with his hands, face scrunching up in disgust at his friend’s words, “We’re hooking up.”

Placing his foot back down on the mat, exposing his covered erection, House whistled lowly and scoffs. “My goodness, you hiding one of my canes down there?”

Groaning, tugging at the roots of his hair, Wilson pleads, “Not now, what am I supposed to do?”

“I say just rub one out here, no one will notice. It’ll match in with the soap Aelias using anyway.” House shrugs, the outside world would never know considering the car was covered in a thick layer of bubbles.

“Anyways, I’d dig it.”

I wrote the entire end of this in one go and Tumblr didn’t save it, so it’s extremely rushed I apologise 😭

James Wilson Has A Superiority Kink

Reader is written with AFAB Transmasc people in mind.

Do not read if you are under the age of 18 as there is SEXUAL CONTENT WRITTEN UNDER THE CUT

Content Warnings: Wilson talks about fucking a baby into the reader but it’s just horny talk, Wilson cures his whiskey dick by getting good head apparently, Wilson begs to cum, Wilson is called “Handsome Boy” and “Good Boy” as well as “Baby”, Wilson is intended to be so subby and brain dead during horny hours it’s basically pathetic, Last paragraph is kinda cum eating depending on how you look at it.

Word count: 690

Authors Note: this is legit just James Wilson being a submissive, pathetic man that’s drunk off getting touch his partner (but specifically when and how they tell him to) brainrot because i wanna do unspeakable things to this doctor and it’s gonna be y’all’s problem

James Wilson has a superiority kink and i know it (i thought about it and i like the idea).

James Wilson who gets gets rock fucking hard when you boss him around. But use that specific tone of voice, the tone that sounds like you’re holding back from running your fingers through his hair while you shove a hand down his pants. The tone of voice that sounds like you want to devour him whole but haven’t decided if he’s earned it yet.

James Wilson who has cured his whiskey dick simply by bedding the Head of the Psychology Department (there’s quite a few more mental health cases running around than there are cancer cases so technically Psych is a higher position and YES. It does still confuse James as to how cancer isn’t upmost priority but neither of you get paid enough for that). That’s all it took. Just him having his superior looming over him after pulling away from a kiss and caressing his jaw. All you had to do was touch him and he started acting like a schoolboy.

James Wilson who could barely feel his face when the aforementioned Head of Psych had their nose pressed to his pelvis with his cock so fucking far down their throat. You had him gripping the sheets in effort to keep from splattering your face when you told him if he kept being good you’d let him cum wherever he’d like. Please, you know how much he likes getting to leave his mark with his release (he was slightly possessive when it came to his partners).

James Wilson who is moaning into the back of your neck, pistoning his hips almost furiously into yours as he has you on your hands and knees. He wants this release so bad he borderline needs it. He barely got through you edging him, he nearly came too many times but now he was so close. “Please le’me cum.. wanna fuck,” He pushed you down onto the bad with a hand in between your shoulders, “wanna fuck a baby into you please.” He sounded pathetic but in an oddly hot and sexual way. “I’ve been so good, please just let me cum inside. Need it so bad.” He’s babbling horny nonsense now. “James, baby, you wan-“ You were cut off by him giving a series of harder thrusts, strangled moans slipping out. You couldn’t help it, he knew what he was doing far too well (it made you jealous sometimes knowing that other people have also received dick from this man). “Fff-fuck yes! Go on, cum, my handsome boy!” It took a second to finally get the words out due to James not halting his thrusts in the slightest but he didn’t care at the moment.

“Fuck thank you, thank you…” He was beginning to whine out his thank you’s as he felt his dick twitch. He hasn’t came in at least an hour and has been rock hard the entire time. He was aching for this orgasm, even his cockhead was an angry reddish color matching his flushed face. You knew he was biting his lip, hazy brown eyes half lidded and lightly crossing, his eyebrows pinched together, and sweat likely dripping off his nose at this point. He always looked beautiful when he came undone.

Finally, a high pitched gasp and a long, drawn out whiney moan came from the man behind you. He hunched over you, hiding his face in your neck in an attempt to muffle the embarrassing sounds coming from him (it didn’t help at all and it made those debaucherous sounds enter your ears in high definition) as his hips were moving sloppily and barely holding together a rhythm. You could feel your legs beginning to shake as the sounds coming from him finally sent you over. “G’ boy, sucha good boy f’me,” you choked out.

You nearly jumped when you felt James’ breath fanning over your sex, your legs still shaking from the orgasm you’ve barely started recovering from. Then, you nearly squealed when you felt his tongue lick a broad stripe from top to bottom.

Kinktober Day 2: Edging with James Wilson

Warnings: Dom!Wilson, Sub!reader, Fem!Reader, edging, vibrator, pre-established dom/sub relationship, slight public sex

Taglist: @flowercrowns-goodvibes @hurlonsororitygirls

Kinktober Masterlist Other Masterlists

"Please..."

"No." James's voice was firm as he squeezed your hand gently. It was meant to be comforting, but with the vibrator he'd shoved into you before leaving the hotel that morning buzzing against your clit you were in no mood for his comfort.

You were at some medical conference with him, and he had gotten tired of listening to you say how board you were the day before. So, to keep you distracted he made you wear a vibrator all day, on just high enough to make you squirm but not high enough to make you cum.

"James, please. I need-"

"I said, no." He snapped, pinching your hip lightly before walking away to get you both a drink.

You shifted slightly on your feet, trying to find a comfortable stance without making it obvious that something is wrong.

"Y/n!" You turned slightly, seeing Cuddy walking towards you. You gave her a strained smile as she got to you. "Have you seen House anywhere? He's supposed to give a speech later, and I need to give him the que cards-"

You tuned your husband's bosses' voice out when you felt the vibrations go up for the first time all day. You had to dig your nails into your hand to keep from making any noise as you felt yourself quickly approaching a high.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Cuddy pulled your attention back to her with a concerned face. "You look very red."

"I-um. I'm a little warm." You fanned at your face, trying to discreetly squeeze your legs together. Cuddy stepped forward to push the back of her hand to your forehead.

"Did you have a fever today? You feel like your body is trying to break one- oh!"

You felt you knees buckle lightly, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist to stabilize you. "I've got you." Your husbands voice slid into your ear, and you quickly hid you face in his neck.

"Gonna..." You warned, and by a miracle the vibrations turned down. As much as you wanted to cum, you didn't necessarily want to do it in front of your husband's boss.

"I'm going to take her back up to the hotel room." You heard him telling Cuddy before a hand on your back started leading you towards the exit.

Once alone in the elevator, James tilted your head up, pulling you into a kiss. You gripped his shoulders roughly, pulling him closer to your body as you tried to ground yourself.

"Fuck you, James." You mumbled against his lips, making the man frown.

"You should be thankful that I'm taking you up now. I could make you sit through House's speech." He threatened, but you knew it was more bark than bite.

"You wouldn't. He would put together what you did in seconds of seeing me-ahh!" The end of your sentence was cut off by a cry when James upped the vibrations. "Screw you!" James just smiled at your words, stepping away from you as the elevator approached the floor.

"James, I can't walk." You panted, leaning against the wall.

"I believe in you." He promised with a big smile which you responded with a glare.

Just before the door opened you were able to push yourself off the wall and stand up fully. James didn't turn the vibrations down as you walked to the room but did offer his hand to keep yourself steady. Thankfully, no one else was in the hall during the walk, and once in the room you collapsed on the bed.

Your legs were spread slightly as you laid there, still panting from the constant stimulation. James walked over to stand between your legs.

"Keep them spread please."

You babbled something that even you weren't sure what it was meant to be. James spread them just a little more as he pushed the dress you were wearing up and pulled your soaked underwear down.

'You're dripping all over the place, surprised you didn't leave a trail behind you." He pulled the toy out of you, and you let out a loud moan at the feeling of no longer having constant vibrations. But you still wanted to cum.

"Please..." You whimpered, making James lean down and run his hand over your hair.

"What, you want to cum?" You quickly nodded, whimpering before he shushed you. "Too bad. You're still in trouble from yesterday, and I have to go down for the speech. Now stay here, rest up, order some food if you want, I'll be back later. And don't even think about touching yourself, because I will know." A few tears ran down your face as James walked towards the door, leaving you alone in the hotel.

❪ 小薇 ❫ I’M NOT A BAD MAN : I’M JUST OVERWHELMED

— 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝚑𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝚑𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 .

𝓘ames wilson ੭୧ f! reader ┇ p in v ⋆ somno ⋆ non-con

JAMES WILSON’S larger frame drapes over you, pulling you close in your unconscious state. His warmth envelops you like a blanket of fire, the heat of his body melding into yours in a way that makes your pulse spike before your mind can even catch up. The room is hushed, every sound muted by the gravity of his presence—except for his breaths. Hot and uneven, they tease the shell of your ear, stirring the hair along your temple with a hunger that feels barely leashed. His hand tightens on your hip, fingernails leaving a trail of crescent-shaped imprints into your flesh, as if his very skin demands yours.

His cock stirs, painfully hard beneath the confines of his pants, the dull throb of arousal building into something that demands attention. Each rapid thump of his heart feeds the tension coiling tighter in his core, a steady pulse of white-hot need spreading from the pit of his stomach down to the ache between his legs. He bites down on a groan, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, but the sound still claws free anyway—a feeble, borderline pathetic noise that makes him feel as though he's coming undone, thread by thread.

The image of him plunging his cock into your tight little cunt plays on an endless loop in his head, delirious and unrelenting, like the world’s worst porno he can’t turn off. It’s agonizing, this carnal itch he was powerless to soothe, a hunger gnawing at him from the inside out. And it’s your fault—cruel, unknowing, perfect you. Why did you always have to look so devastatingly, effortlessly fuckable? Even now. Even like this. He's supposed to be better than this. He swears he is better than this. Or at least, he was. But you're ruining him, turning him into something base, something unrecognizable—a mutt in heat, panting after scraps of you like his life depended on it.

With trembling hands, he shoves his pants down just enough to free himself, a stinging hitch of breath catching in his throat as the cool air hits his angry, leaking cock. It stands thick and flushed in a mess of brown, slapping against his belly with a humiliating, wet sound that reminds him of how far gone he is—and yet it only spurs him on, the tingling buzz in his ears swelling akin to static, drowning out the last whispers of reason.

His jaw locks as he carefully eases himself between your legs, gliding the slippery head of his shaft over your folds with a slow, surgical precision only a doctor could have. A weak moan betrays him when your entrance flutters helplessly, involuntarily clenching around the aching emptiness he’s yet to fill. It's a maddening kind of torture, one that leaves his knees jittery and his resolve fractured.

He hesitates, guilt rising like a bitter, choking weight in his throat. This is wrong—he knows it's wrong. You're asleep for god's sake. Sweet, innocent, and unaware, probably lost in some dream about kittens and puppies with that peaceful smile gracing your lips. But as the shame churns deep in his gut, it's quickly eclipsed by something much worse: the ugly truth—he doesn't care.

However, even at his worst, there is this tenderness in the way he moves that refuses to vanish. He wants to make you feel good—needs to, as if somehow, this could be something you’d never hate him for, no matter how far he falls. It’s a twisted kind of redemption, one that only someone like Wilson can dream about.

Slowly, he grinds into you, inch by torturous inch, flesh to flesh, your slick depths stretching to welcome him in. A shuddering sigh flees his lips as he buries himself to the hilt, reveling in how the gummy walls of your cunt clutches onto his member with an almost suffocating grip, squeezing so tightly it was as if your sleeping body wanted him here in the first place.

"Mmm... holy..." he breathes, the words faltering as they leave his lips, fragile and barely formed. "…'m sorry... I didn't want this... didn't m-mean to..." his confession splinters in the air, equal parts of guilt and lust tumbling out in hoarse murmurs, dissolving into the void with every stuttering thrust of his pelvis. Each stroke feels a perfect contradiction—a prayer answered and a sin committed, tightening his chest and clouding his mind all at once.

And then there’s you—silken, wet, and impossibly tight—wrapping around him like a second skin. Your fleshy insides mold to every pulsating ridge and vein of his cock, sucking him deeper in with the unknowing shifts of your hips. His nerves flare with a sizzling anticipation, the lewd squelch of him violating your cunt eating away at the edges of his crumbling resolve. Still, as futile as it is, he desperately clings onto what’s left of his control behind squeezed eyelids, and it takes everything in him not to spill right there—but the way his dick twitches within the deliciously, spongy muscles of your sex suggests that everything might not be enough.

After all, he's deathly afraid of crossing that final line. But in the hollow, aching pit of his chest, he knows...

He already has.

New Year’s Day

Greg House x Reader

A/N: you know when people say something is a shot of dopamine? yeah, this is the opposite.

TW: house going through withdrawals, you taking care of him. you can figure out what that entails. fluffy ending, if you can call it that. hurt/comfort for all my fellow enthusiasts.

“Don’t read the last page.”

You’d been on a date when he called. Stupidly, foolishly. As if you didn’t know it’d never work. As if you didn’t know he’d haunt you the whole time, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you the man you sat across from would never be him. Mocking you, ridiculing you as you make polite conversation in a nice dress.

You really shouldn’t be into that. Despite that truth, you don’t dwell on the fact, there’s more important things to focus on right now. Like his weak, gravelly voice sounding from the other end of the phone as you stand outside the restaurant.

“I need you.” He sounds desperate. You’d be satisfied at the sound under any other circumstance, the tone so rarely heard from him. Instead it just makes your heart clench in your chest, your face fall in a look of heartbreak you wouldn’t have thought you could muster.

“I’ll be there soon.” The words fall out of your mouth as quickly as the twitch of a muscle, the thought going into them imperceivable to even yourself. Of course you’ll show, it’s House, after all. The second his voice hit your ears you didn’t have a fighting chance of saying no. He needs you, there’s no denying him.

You rush back into the restaurant, scrambling to pull a twenty from your wallet and sliding it onto the table, giving a haphazard explanation for your sudden departure.

“No, it’s not you.”

“No, you didn’t upset me.”

Fuck’s sake, this is annoying. His voice is pathetically hopeful as he calls after you. “Call me?” He asks, his eyebrows knitted upwards, his eyes glittering with something like awe. You pin it as lust.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Your lie was about as convincing as a kid elbow deep in the cookie jar, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You were never gonna do it anyway, even before House called.

You walk out of the restaurant, weaving between waiters and bidding apologies you don’t really mean to the people you bump into. Your heart is hammering in your chest harder than it should be, you know what’s going on, even if the absolute agony in his voice scared you.

He’d been particularly on edge all day, an iron grip on his leg that’s only there when the pain is especially bad. Add an ever present sheen of sweat and the painfully obvious dark bags under his eyes, it wasn’t too hard to figure out from there.

He was withdrawing. Why he decided to up and quit you don’t know, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter now. He’s trying, that’s good enough for you. Good enough to keep holding onto the ridiculous hope he can actually change.

You white knuckle it the whole drive to his apartment, praying you don’t pass by a cop as you push down on the accelerator harder and harder, zipping through side streets far faster than you should. It’s stupid, you know. It’d be better to show up a few minutes later than the next morning with a new addition to your criminal record, but you can’t help trying to get to him as fast as you can.

As you reach his apartment building you come to a skidding stop, cursing as you lurch forward in your seat, immediately knowing you’ll have a neck ache within the hour. You get out of your car quickly, a string of expletives falling from your lips as the heels you’re wearing nearly make you trip on the curb.

You rush up the stairs to his building, knocking on the door and rocking on your feet nervously as you wait for him to answer. What if he’s unconscious? He could’ve passed out from the pain, hit his head. Or maybe he overdosed, or what if he-

“Fuck…” You whisper sharply as he opens the door, looking like hell. His clothes are clinging to his body with sweat, his hair damp and the circles under his eyes prominent as ever. He looks…haggard. Weak, as he leans against the doorframe, veins running up his arm that your eyes would be glued to in any other situation.

He rolls his eyes, stepping aside and holding onto his thigh tightly as he grunts in pain at the slight movement. “Thanks.” He mutters sarcastically, his voice gravelly.

You walk in with a guilty grimace on your face. You really hadn’t meant it like that, but…well, he looks awful. You turn to him, your eyebrows knitting up in a look of concern as he stands in front of you, his chest heaving with tortured pants as he blinks rapidly, keeping the tears forming in his eyes at bay the best he can.

“What can I do?” You ask quietly, trying not to worsen the migraine that’s probably wracking his head right about now. He just sighs through his nose, rubbing his temple and limping back to his couch.

“Nothing.” He answers, and it’s true. You can’t fix it. You can’t make the pain better. The only thing that would is drugs. So, you just opt for following him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder that he quickly shrugs off, stubborn as ever despite the misery he’s in. Once he’s seated you walk into his kitchen, slipping off your heels on the way and grabbing a rag, running it under some water and ringing it out before returning to the couch, sitting down beside him as softly as you can.

As you swipe the rag over his forehead he leans his head back against the couch, his breathing shaky as he inhales through his nose. His jaw is clenched tight, a vein popping from his forehead as he keeps his eyes tightly screwed shut.

The silence in the room is stifling, but you’re not sure what to fill it with. Telling him he’ll be okay will just tick him off, and there’s no chance you’ll say some dumb shit like “just breathe.”

You can’t really do anything. All you can do is wait. Wait for him to need something, something he’s willing to put his pride down and ask for.

Suddenly he inhales sharply, a gasp more than anything as his whole body stiffens, his hand flying down to clamp over yours, squeezing it hard enough to hurt.

You don’t say a word.

“I know, I know.” You say softly, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as he stares at the ceiling, breathing rapidly, heavily. His grip eventually eases up, the pain subsiding the tiniest bit. You expected him to pull way immediately, but he stays put, lolling his head to look at you, his eyes bloodshot.

“You were on a date.” He says tiredly, and you roll your eyes at the observation. He’s still House, even in this state. Always picking things apart, dissecting, watching, gleaning every bit of knowledge he can use to his advantage.

Again, you really shouldn’t be into that.

You laugh a little, shaking your head. “He was boring anyway.” For a moment you consider telling him more, trying to distract him, but he’s too smart for that. A story about a relatively uneventful night won’t be stimulating enough to distract him from the pain, not nearly.

For a second you consider the option that would be.

You quickly discard the thought. Not the time. Not the night.

He just nods, but you can swear for a moment you see the slightest smirk on his face. Like he’s pleased you didn’t have any interest. Relieved, almost.

Again, you discard the thought.

It’s not quite so easy this time.

Quickly his face morphs back into an expression of agony, his brows knit together, his breaths now coming out in shallow gasps. “What do you need?” You ask softly, stroking his hand.

“Bath.” The word comes out strained and you nod. You’ve heard of physical therapy patients using hot water for pain relief, so as you slowly enter the bathroom—House trailing behind you—you turn the water as high as it can get without burning him.

You turn around, and a silent question lingers in the air. It’s not like you can just leave him…but with your history? The constant flirting, the line that’s nearly been crossed far too many times for professionalism to remain. The gray area that’s grown far too wide.

“Come here.” You say softly, and for once in his life he doesn’t argue an order, just shuffles towards you and watches as your fingers slide up his shirt, his breath hitching in his throat as you pull it over his head.

The strangest part is, it’s not sexual in the slightest. Intimate, sure. Wildly so. But not sexual, not heated or lazy or rushed. He’s never been handled with gentleness like this. Movements this slow, touches this soft.

You’d certainly had a different image in mind for the first time you took his clothes off. Teeth gnashing, lips colliding messily, layers shed sloppily, hands roving freely. Still, there’s time for that. This isn’t it.

You unbuckle his belt, pulling it out of the loops slowly, the clanking of the metal the only noise beside his breathing in the otherwise silent room. A strained whimper leaves his lips as he has to lift his leg, followed swiftly by an apology from yours.

You avert your eyes as he sheds his boxers, focusing anywhere except, well…there. He leans on you as you walk towards the tub, helping him lower himself down into the water, a groan falling from his mouth as the warmth hit his leg. For a moment you think how’d he’d sound under a different circumstance, just how similar it’d be.

God, you’re awful. He called you over here to help him, not use his suffering to fuel your fantasies.

Then again, knowing him he probably wouldn’t mind. Quite the opposite, actually.

You snap out of it as his head hits the wall with a thud, a sigh escaping him as he feels a hint of relief for the first time in hours.

Without thinking you reach out, brushing away the hair that’s started to stick to his forehead from the sweat, letting your hand slide down the side of his face to rest at his cheek for a moment. A part of you thought he’d push you away, and not for a second did you think he’d do what he did. Lean in, slightly, the action impossibly minuscule. If you hadn’t been so tuned into his every move you probably wouldn’t have noticed.

You let your thumb slide back and forth over his cheekbone, testing the waters. He’s never once been like this. Been vulnerable in the slightest.

“Why’d you call me?” Your voice comes out all exhale as you finally ask the question that’s been dancing in the back of your mind all night. Not exactly his motives, those you can guess. He didn’t trust himself not to give in, not to just take the pills. Like always, he needed someone to temper him, keep him in check.

Just…why you? There’s always Wilson. Hell, even Cuddy. Sure, the two of you flirt, obnoxiously. Some might even call you friends. You’re not sure what to label it, you just didn’t think he trusted you this much. For him, showing a shred of weakness, of humanity. He might as well have handed you a blade to his neck.

He gives you a look that you can read like a book. A perfect mix of condescension and annoyance. “Hookers are getting expensive. I was hoping you’d put out.” He answers sarcastically, earning a smirk and an eye roll from you. As much as you pretend to be annoyed, you’re relieved to hear him acting like himself for a moment. Not so overwhelmed by the pain he can’t even think of a snarky remark, let alone get the words out.

“I’m outside your price range.” You respond, easing back into your regular dynamic. He smiles lazily for a moment before grimacing again, slumping further into the water, rubbing the palm of his hand firmly against his leg. You look down for a moment before quickly remembering there’s no bubbles in the tub. Just water, very clear water. You flush, looking back to his face with widened eyes, earning a cocky snort from him.

“Like you’d make me pay.” He grumbles out, his voice even lower than usual. You laugh slightly, shaking your head as you let your hand drop to his shoulder, your thumb rubbing gentle circles in the skin there.

You hesitate before continuing, not sure if he’ll ever give you a real answer. “Seriously, why?”

He sighs, and suddenly you can’t place the look in his eyes. Can’t read what he’s thinking. It’s new, it’s…soft. “You know why.” He answers simply, honestly. And the truth is, you do. Sure, you doubt it. You wonder if he’s ever actually cared.

Then again, this is House. If he just wanted sex, he would’ve gotten it elsewhere a while ago. There has to be another factor, another reason he’s still here. Still waiting.

With the way he’s looking at you, you’re starting to get a feeling you know what it is.

You hesitate, feeling a little bolder, a little more confident in your assumption as you ask, “Are you gonna say it?” Your voice is quieter than normal when you speak, a hint to the uncertainty that’s still there.

He pauses, his eyes raking over you, studying you, searching for any clue that you’re toying with him. Any tiny hint to trigger his walls to come up.

He’ll find none.

Eventually he talks, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion, the same thing working overtime to loosen his tongue, make him more human than he’s dared to be in the a long time. “Not tonight.”

You suppose it’s the best you can hope to get out of him, and so you just smile, soaking in the honesty you’re sure will be gone by morning. Your hand slides down to his that’s sitting on the edge of the tub, holding it gently.

“I’ll wait.” You say softly, watching as he smirks slightly, his eyes fully shutting, his breathing starting to even out. “Sap.” He mutters under his breath, earning a tired, amused huff from you.

And yet he can’t help but enjoy believing you.

“But I stay.”

A/N: my niche is writing the most depressing shit on the face of the earth and then sprinkling in a tiny bit of fluff and taylor swift lyrics to make it cute.

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.

I wanna date the cool House.

The House that's funny and sarcastic. Never fails to bring a smile to your face with a cheesy pick up line or a terrible joke.

The House that wears rock band shirts and checks you out when you steal one but has to physically pry it off you to have it back.

The House that's silly and plays on his imaginary guitar (cane) while jamming to a random song to make you laugh.

The House that picks you up from places in affectionally humiliating ways. Stopping his motorcycle right in front of you and saying a made up thing in an unnecessarily loud voice so everyone can hear, leaving you desperately trying to explain to people that, no, you don't have an abnormally hairy right big toe, nor have you created an account on a dating site to search for a sugar daddy.

The House that takes you on late night rides on his motorcycle when you're in a bad mood and buys you a pizza while he's at it.

The House that actually buys you (or already has two) the same band shirt he has so you're matching.

The House that sits with you in an empty bathtub, just eating, laughing, and talking. Spending time with you.

The House that, despite the pain in his leg, tries dancing with you to a song playing so loud he gets a noise complaint just because he wants to see you happy.

The House that happily and proudly wears the matching bracelet you made, shoving it in everyone's faces.

Hi! Firstly, I wanted to say that I adore your imagines! Secondly , I was hoping you’d agree to write an imagine based on s3 e7. Specifically the end of it when he’s sitting on his couch rubbing his fingers the baby touched. Maybe that makes him realize he wants a baby of his own with you? Thanks in advance!!!🩵

what i want ✩ gregory house

🫀- synopsis. Greg knows what he wants, but he needs to know that you want the same thing.

🫀 - warnings. I got a little carried away… SLIGHT impregnation kink. OOC House but i dont care. i hope you enjoyed this, anon!! 🤍

Greg’s mind had been bizarrely silent.

Instead of the regular influx of thoughts that flooded his brain, Greg just heard his heartbeat and his breathing. Well, the T.V. too, but the point is that something was off.

The face of House’s watch read fifteen minutes before eleven o’clock at night, and Greg hadn’t thought if a single thing since the surgery.

The case was an unusual one- as always- consisting of a pregnant photographer who had a stroke. After fainting, House and the team had deducted that the baby (House consistently reffered to it as ‘the fetus’) was killing the mother. Eventually, her organs started to shut down so a surgery was needed to fix the baby to fix Emma.

During the surgery, the unborn child had reached out and clasped it’s tiny hand around Greg’s pointer finger. The baby’s arm wasn’t even the length of Greg’s finger, House noticed. Truly, Greg hadn’t realized how long he had been staring at the baby’s fingers until Cuddy had called his name twice.

Now House thought of that moment in the operating room. He pressed his thumb down lightly to match the amount of pressure Greg felt when the baby held onto him.

Kids were a nuisance. A waste of money, the reason why so many people had heart attacks, and disrespectful. But… they were also cute sometimes and, apparently, wanted nothing more than to make their mommy and daddy proud of them. Well, that’s what Wilson had said when Greg had asked why people wanted kids so badly.

Greg didn’t know if you wanted kids.

You were great with them at any age- infant, toddler, and even those devilish pre-teens. In fact, you seemed to glow whenever someone trusted you to hold their baby. You made sure to look up and find Greg: watching you like he always does. He can’t help but feel a wry smile pull at his lips when he pictures you, your own finger being clutched by your own baby.

Greg was torn; he didn’t know what he wanted.

“I think I’m going to blow up,” you sang as you closed the door behind you. Greg stays still, thumb still pressing on his pointer finger.

You toe off your shoes and start to unbuckle your jeans as you head for your shared room. Greg doesn’t look up when you eventually traipse back out wearing Greg’s sweatpants and and old shirt Greg didn’t know he had. You navigate yourself under his arms and carefully over his leg to lay carefully on him. Greg feels the slow puff of your breath on his neck as you exhale. “Did you eat already, love?”

Greg lets out his own sigh and he let’s his hands rest on your back. “No. Expired lasagna didn’t really sound too appealing to my refined taste,” he replies.

“What’s wrong?” You ask looking up at him.

Greg blinks at you. As he slowly meets your eyes, he starts to feel you hand gently raking his hair back and running your thumb over his prickly facial hair. Just like you always do.

And then it comes to him.

“Do you… want kids?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “I… don’t think so. I don’t- well, you don’t want kids, do you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Greg chided, squeezing your ass. “Do you want kids?”

It takes you a ling moment to answer. So long, in fact, that Greg thinks you may have fallen asleep with your eyes open. “Probably not. I don’t think you want kids so I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

Greg keeps going. “Would you want kids? With me?”

You lay your head back down on his chest. “Yeah. If you wanted them too.”

House doesn’t really know how to proceed with the conversation, so he lets you play with his fingers as you watch the baseball game Greg put on. “I want one.”

Your movements stop. Yet again, you peer up at Greg. This time with unhealthily furrowed eyebrows. One of your hands comes up to check your boyfriend’s temperature. “Are you okay? Do I need to call Wilson?”

Greg looks pained as his hands slide up your body to rest at your face. His thumbs rest on your cheekbones. “I want a baby with you, y/n,” he tells you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. “I want- I want your womb to swell with our kid. I want a little extension of you to put up with when you’re working late. I want you to marry me and I want you to be the mother of my child.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s- wow.”

“Wow,” Greg repeats with an unsure smile.

“I’m not going to lie,” you say, cracking a smile. “I’m pretty turned on right now. I’m just really surprised that you have baby fever.”

Greg groans. “Tell me what you want, woman! I just rather uncharacteristically spilled my guts and you say ‘wow’!”

You snicker and support Greg’s neck with your hand as you lean up to kiss him. As expected, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and reciprocates your passion tenfold.

“We could practice the baby-making for the honeymoon,” you whisper after pulling away from his lips.

Greg’s eyes flutter closed and you chuckle. “I would say ‘race you to the bedroom’, but I think you’re going to beat me anyway,” he rasps. You exhale a laugh through your nose as you start to press kisses from his lips hown to his neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?” Greg asks, humping you pathetically as you kiss him.

“Fuck yeah,” you respond lowly, a dangerous smile in your face.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — It was never Reader's plan to be a single mother to a newborn child, but a longtime friend steps in and before long they both have the family they've always wanted, the only catch: they're still just friends

WORD COUNT — 13.6K

WARNINGS — mentions of pregnancy and birth, breastfeeding (like non descriptive? does this need to be a warning?)

NOTE — Okay this fic has been in the works for a while and I have been swamped with school so I'm so happy I'm finally able to post something because it's literally been a full-ass month since I last came out with anything ._. hoping once finals are over I can get back into my writing groove and give some of my ideas the attention they deserve!

Middle photo credit goes to @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

“Are you sure this is okay?” you looked back while holding a baby carrier in both hands. 

“Like I told you back at the hospital, and in the car, and then again in the car, I promise this is okay,” James assured you, following right behind, bags under each arm. “You just went through a 40 hour labour, did you really think it would be a smart move to come home alone?”

He was right about that, physically you were exhausted, you were sure how much longer you could keep your eyes open. 

“Go take a shower, I’ll look after her until you get out,” he suggested. “If you had a support person here you would have taken shifts.”

“I know, but you have a life James,” you sighed. “One that didn’t involve your friend getting pregnant and then taking care of her.”

“Would it make it any better if I told you I really don’t mind? I like spending time with you, it’s why we’ve been friends for so long,” he put the bags down by the table and then placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“James, I love you, but I’m going to be brutally honest because my filter has vanished. This is what happens to all your wives, all your girlfriends. I really don’t need that happening to us too,” you said. 

“It won’t,” he pressed. “Come on, just take the shower. I know you want to.”

You sighed, “Alright, but I’m not gonna call for you to come in the middle of the night and every which time of day. If you want to come and see us, do it of your own accord and if you don’t want to then don’t,” you emphasized. “Do what you want, not what you think I want.”

“If I say I will, will you go take a shower?” James asked and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Don’t drop my baby while I’m in there, okay?” you pointed at him. “You still owe me for that vase you broke.” 

“You mean the tacky one your crappy ex-boyfriend’s mom gave you? I think I did you a favour there.” 

“You’re insufferable sometimes, you know?” you said carefully putting the carrier down in the living room and looking down at your resting daughter for a moment before heading towards your room. 

“I love you too,” he said simply, replacing you by her side and keeping a close eye on her while she slept. 

You had to admit, it was a relief to be able to step into the shower, knowing there was someone you trusted outside looking after the small human you were now fully responsible for. At least before dealing with the stress and everything that would come afterwards you’d be able to be clean. 

When you came out of your bedroom after your shower, dressed in the most comfortable clothes you could find lying around, you saw James in the kitchen, the carrier now propped up on the table while he unpacked something from some grocery bags. 

“I was craving Indian, do you want some?” he asked. 

“Of course I do, the food at your hospital sucks, hand it over,” you put your hand out and he gave you a bowl so you could serve yourself some rice and curry. “She’s still asleep?” 

“Woke up once, but I got her to fall back asleep pretty easily. She might get hungry soon though too.” 

“So I should eat while I still have the chance,” you sat down at the island and began munching on the food, turning around the carrier so you could see your daughter. 

It was interesting, she’d been around only for a short few days but you could barely ever take your eyes off her. 

“Did you pick a name for her yet?” James asked, leaning over the table and eating his portion of dinner. 

“I think so,” you nodded. “I was between two when she was born, but now that I look at her she fits one better than the other.” 

“So what’s the winner?” 

“Liana,” you smiled and brushed your fingers along her small curled toes. “It suits her doesn’t it?” 

“I think it does,” he nodded. “You made a pretty cute baby.” 

“I made a very cute baby, thank you very much,” you scoffed with a chuckle. “You think you could do better?” 

“Well I don’t have a uterus so I don’t think we’ll ever be able to find out,” he shook his head. “Shame, I probably would have demolished you.” 

“As if,” you laughed, continuing to eat more food just as Liana began to stir awake. “And there’s my cue.” 

You stood up and carefully took her out of the carrier, cautious of supporting her neck before moving over to the couch where you could comfortably feed her. 

“Once you’re done I’ll burp her,” James said. “So you can keep eating.” 

“Sure,” you nodded. “Got practice from your med school days?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he nodded. “I thought originally I might specialize in working in the NICU so I spent a lot of time in the maternity ward.” 

“What made you change your mind?” you asked. 

“I would have burnt out,” he admitted. “Seeing babies and spending time with them is one thing, but seeing them sick and sometimes not get better? It’s a lot harder than you’d imagine.” 

You hummed thoughtfully, “You would have been good in that department if you decided to go that route. I think at least.” 

“Really, why do you think so?” 

“James, you’ve always been great with kids and parents. Don’t you remember how we met?” 

He chuckled to himself, “Summer camp days. Yeah, you really did have to know your way around both.” 

“You somehow managed, as a nineteen-year-old, to calm a child who was freaking out about staying away from home and dealing with an unhappy parent of a different child. I think your people skills just got better as you got older.” 

“I don’t think there’s much in life that trains you to deal with crises as much as being a camp counsellor.” 

“You can test your skills with Liana and see if you’ve still got the magic when it comes to babies,” you teased, followed by a yawn. 

“Trust me, I definitely do,” he assured you. “Babies love me.”

“And do you love babies?”

“I do, and I think I’m gonna end up loving yours a little more than most,” he admitted. 

“Good, she’s gonna need it,” you sighed. “I’m gonna need it.”

There was a pause for a moment before James spoke up again,

“Have you talked to him since the break up?” he asked and you shook your head, feeling the tears develop in your eyes. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it, not right now,” you whispered, looking down at Liana again. 

James did not peg your boyfriend as the abandoning type, but after he had coaxed the news out of you during one of your visits, he could see how much it crushed you to think of what lied ahead. Not because you didn’t want a child, but because Liana was all you wanted and you thought you were on the same page as your partner, but when it came down to things he couldn’t hold up the mask he’d been wearing any longer. 

“You should talk about it sometime though, right?” James said softly. “Doesn’t have to be with me, but you’ve been so laser focused on getting through the past nine months you haven’t really processed what happened.”

Liana had since finished feeding and you carried her over to the kitchen island, passing James a burp cloth that he could drape across his shoulder before taking her from your hands, after you pressed a small kiss to her forehead. 

“Not sure if I want to process it,” you admitted. “I’d rather focus on her.”

“And I’d rather you take care of yourself so you don’t crash and burn,” he said. 

You knew he was right, but it was nicer to pretend you were alone from start to finish than even imagining the possibility that someone was supposed to be with you through everything. The doctors appointments, the morning sickness, the preparation. 

Instead you ended up feeling like a burden to your friends who had gone out of their way to help you and be there for you. 

“Okay,” you nodded simply. “I’ll do it for you and her then.”

“It’ll end up being for you in the end,” he assured. “But just…trust me on this okay?”

“I do,” you smiled. “Just like I trust you with her.”

You finished eating your dinner while James took care of Liana and even managed to get her to go back to sleep. It seemed that even though she’d only been in the world a short while, she felt just as safe in his arms as she did in yours.

“You can put her down if you want. I have a cot set up in my room,” you pointed. 

“I’m alright like this,” he shook his head. “I’ll hold her until you’re done then I’ll leave you guys so you can get some sleep.”

Considering how hungry you were, it didn't take that much longer for you to finish eating and while you cleared up the dishes, James went and put Liana down in her bed and then gathered his things so he could give you some time alone. 

“I’ll see you around, James. Thanks for coming to help today,” you gave him a big hug and he held you tight in that way he would when he wanted to say something, but knew it should probably wait. 

“Anytime,” he gave you an additional squeeze. “You’re gonna be a great mom. You are a great mom already. I’m really happy for you.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any words in response so you just nodded your head and held onto him tighter. After a moment he pulled away and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Love you, now go get some sleep.” 

“You’ve got it Dr. Wilson,” you saluted him. 

You walked him out of the door and after closing it shut behind him you took a deep breath. It was going to be hard, but you could do it. 

—

A few months later…

“Don’t you have a life?” you yawned, bouncing Liana in your arms to try and get her to fall asleep. 

“I mean I went bowling with House last night and I consistently stay late at work, and that’s about it, so no,” James shook his head. 

“So you figured that coming and bothering me is a good use of your spare time.” 

“I wouldn’t call it bothering,” James gave you a look. “I made you dinner.” 

“Yeah you did, and unfortunately it was really good too,” you sighed. “So you just want to hang out with me and Liana?”

“Yeah, is that so hard to believe?”

“A little considering I always have baby vomit on me now,” you chuckled. 

“It brings out your eyes,” he teased. “Here, why don’t I take her.”

“Last time I agreed to that you riled her up, which I didn’t think was possible for a three month old,” you eyed him skeptically. 

“I promise I’ll put her to sleep,” he crossed his heart. 

“Wrong religion, James,” you shook your head and he laughed. 

“Do you want me to swear on the Torah?”

“It would help,” you nodded. 

“Alright, I swear on the Torah that I won’t rile her up.”

You reluctantly passed Liana over to James and scoffed when she almost immediately stopped fussing. 

“See,” he smiled and kissed her small nose while he rocked her gently, making her eyes slowly close as she fell asleep. 

“You two are in kahoots. She’s fine whenever you’re not around, but when you are it’s like she knows she can get passed off to you if she’s fussy enough,” you laughed a little. “It’s cute though, I like how much she likes you.”

“Me too, why do you think I keep coming here?” 

“So you came to visit, what do you want to do?” you asked. “My plans were to clean the kitchen and do laundry, so not much more exciting than sitting around at home.”

“Why don’t you let me put her down then we can tackle the kitchen together. I mean I did make half of the mess there.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” you sighed and put your hands on your hips. “Okay, I’m gonna throw a load in before you put her down.” 

It took a little bit for James to be confident Liana was fully asleep before putting her down in her cot and then meeting you again in the kitchen where you were packing up leftovers from dinner. 

“Have you had many visitors?” James asked. 

“Well, I do have this one guy that keeps coming around, about this tall, practicing oncology, I think he’s a little bit obsessed with me,” you joked. 

“Aside from me,” he shook his head and went over to the dishes. 

“Yeah, a few. My parents were here for a bit while you were out of town and then some of my friends have come around to help with a few things here and there and to meet Liana.”

“Nice.”

“You sound like you want to say something,” you looked back at him. 

“It’s not too much having me over all the time, is it?”

“No, not at all,” you shook your head. “You know me, I’d tell you if it was.”

“Because I really do like spending time with you both. It’s a lot nicer than going to an empty house at the end of the day,” he admitted. “So if you don’t mind, maybe I can keep bothering you and making a mess in your kitchen.”

“I think that would be okay,” you smiled. 

You cleaned in silence for a bit before James began asking a few questions about Liana. 

“She had an appointment with her pediatrician recently, right? Everything went okay?”

“Yeah, fit as a fiddle,” you sighed. “Thank goodness.”

“Have you decided if you’re gonna use formula yet? Or will you wait it out?”

“I was actually going to ask you about this, whenever I ask anyone I think has an opinion I’d like to hear they say I need to make the decision myself and then everyone I don’t want to hear from seems to have something to say,” you chuckled. “What do you think? As a doctor?”

“I mean, if I were in your situation I might wait a bit longer, she’s still pretty young and there’s no real reason to switch over yet. I think a lot of people start maybe around 12 months and from what I’ve seen that works well,” he shrugged. 

“Thanks for giving me a straight answer,” you placed a hand on his arm. “I also don’t know if I should try and take leave from work or hire a nanny, but I think I probably have to figure that one out myself.”

“Do you have enough savings to take the time off?” he asked. 

“I get a few more months paid leave from the company I work for since I have seniority, but after that I have to figure out what to do. I think I have enough saved to last me some time, but I’m going to have to go back eventually.”

James hummed thoughtfully. 

“Do you wanna come up with solutions tonight or relax now that we’ve finished cleaning?” he asked, motioning his head to the kitchen that was definitely in better shape than before. 

“Let’s watch a movie or something, I don’t think I’ve turned the TV on since Liana was born. I’ll fold the laundry when it’s done while we watch,” you said. “I’ll figure something out later.”

“We should watch, oh jeez what’s that thing we started ages ago and never finished?”

“The really bad soap?” you asked and he nodded, “Oh yes, we’re definitely watching that.”

“Okay, you go get settled, I’m gonna make some tea, do you want some?”

“Sure, just make me whatever you’re having,” you nodded and grabbed the remote from under the pile of blankets on the couch, turning on the TV and trying to find the episodes you had recorded to watch later. 

By the time James had finished making the tea, you had found the show and were just about to start it. 

“Here,” James passed you the mug. “So what was the last thing that happened?”

“I think the main guy was sleeping with the head nurse, right and then there was the whole thing with her being engaged to the other surgeon and then her sister was in a coma?” 

“Wait, I thought the surgeon she was engaged to was sleeping with one of his patients?” 

“He was,” you nodded. “It was a whole thing.”

“Alright, just start it, I’m sure I’ll remember more as we watch.”

James was very sorely mistaken, if anything he’d gotten more confused and you were absolutely no help because nothing was making sense anymore. 

“What is up with the writing?” you asked. “Like did they just completely forget they had a whole storyline dedicated to this huge procedure and now they’re acting like nothing happened.”

“Don’t get me started, that guy was doing surgery without gloves, like that doesn’t even take much effort to get right. You’d think it was common sense,” James added. 

“Maybe we should turn it off,” you looked over at your friend, “it’s getting us all riled up.”

James pressed his lips together, “I know, but I kind of want to find out who’s the father of Paula’s baby.”

You leaned back into the couch, you had managed to fold all the laundry, and it was still a little too early to go to sleep, you supposed a few more episodes couldn’t hurt. 

“If I fall asleep, just lock up on your way out, okay?” you looked over at him and he nodded as you started the next episode. 

Just as you predicted, about halfway through the second episode you began to drift off, and as soon as James noticed, he stopped the episode already having decided you could finish it together another time. 

He shifted you slightly so you were lying down on the couch instead of in the uncomfortable position you were in before, placing a blanket over top of you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, wishing you a good night before going to check on Liana, and after seeing she was sleeping soundly and the baby monitor was on, he saw himself out, taking your spare key from where it was hidden on the porch and locking the door. 

—

“How’s my girl doing?” James grinned, scooping Liana out of your arms. “I haven’t seen you in so long,” he kissed her nose making her giggle. 

“James, you were here two days ago,” you laughed. 

“And it feels like an eternity.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged. “Just as long as we get to spend time together.”

“Yeah, well she hasn’t napped yet so it can wait until after that,” you reached to take her back but James insisted he could put her to sleep. “James, you just got off work are you sure you don’t want to eat something or take a break for a bit?”

“This is like a break for me,” he assured you. 

“Okay, I’m gonna make a salad, come out and eat when you’re done.”

James nodded and went off to the bedroom so he could sit on the armchair there and coax her to sleep. 

Usually he didn’t need more than twenty minutes to half an hour to put her down, so when you were hitting the forty-five minute mark you wondered if Liana was being fussy, so you went to check in on them, instead seeing James fast asleep on the armchair with Liana snuggled against his chest. 

You bit back a big smile and went to go grab your camera quickly, and quietly snapped a shot of the two of them. 

Not wanting to wake either of them, you made your way back to the kitchen, shutting the door of the room behind you to make sure the sound didn’t travel. 

Figuring it might be a while before James came back out, you decided to eat your dinner, that way you could take Liana from him when they woke up so he could get something to eat too. 

As you had predicted, James exited the room about an hour later, Liana now awake and hungry for her own dinner. 

“Want me to take her now?” you teased and he rolled his eyes while you took your baby from him, sitting on the couch to feed her while he grabbed himself something to eat. “You had a good nap?”

“Great actually, I think I needed it. Been pulling a lot of late nights at the office getting paperwork done,” he admitted. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake me.”

“You looked comfortable, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Well, I appreciate it cause I needed the sleep,” he sighed and came and sat next to you while he began to eat his dinner. 

“James, I…I tried to talk to him the other week,” you said, knowing he would be able to connect the dots back to your ex. “I’d been meaning to tell you, it just slipped my mind I guess.”

“You did…what did he say?”

“God, I’m gonna start crying again,” you let out a humourless chuckle and lifted a hand to wipe away the tears beginning to form in your eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he said. What matters is that it was probably good that we broke up. He wouldn’t have been a good father or husband for that matter when it came down to it.”

“I’m proud of you for reaching out anyways. It takes a lot of guts to do that after someone leaves you.”

You nodded your head, “I’m just…I know I said you should keep coming here because you want to, but I really do like having you around. It just makes it seem simpler. Easier,” you looked over at him. “You’re a good friend Jamie, I love you.”

“Love you too,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, watching as your attention turned back to your daughter as she finished feeding. 

You held her just like that in your arms for a little while longer, watching as she reached out for your fingers and then tried to go even further to grab James. Clearly her attention was addictive because he was ready to put his food down to help burp her, but you made a teasing remark about him hogging her and that he needed to eat his food so you’d take care of it and he could have her when he was done. 

Eventually, you traded Liana for James’ dishes and went to load the dishwasher while he kept her occupied, letting her gnaw on his tie while making all sorts of nonsensical baby noises that James took as conversation starters. 

It was funny to watch the two have what looked like a full blown conversation and you were sure James had been reading some parenting magazine or another that spoke of helping babies develop linguistic abilities. 

“Hey James,” you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want a key?”

“A key to what?” he looked at you confused. 

“The house,” you said. “I just thought since you’re here all the time you can come and go whenever you want and if you forget something and I’m out you can come get it yourself.”

“A key,” he thought about it. “This feels like a big milestone moment.”

“I mean I already have the key to your place, but that was because you refused to have anyone look after you after you got your wisdom teeth removed.”

“Wait, you have my key?” 

“Yeah, I just took yours and had it copied,” you shrugged. 

“I feel like I should be a bit more concerned about this, but I’m not.”

“It’s because you’re friends with House, you’re used to it,” you waved him off. 

“Liana, did you know your mom’s a thief?” he looked down at the baby in his arms and you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you want the key or not?” 

“I’ll take it, and I guess you can keep mine, but I’m never there anyways.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just use it if I need to steal your social insurance card to commit identity theft.”

“Liana banana, your mom’s being very silly tonight,” James picked her up and held her out in front of him before bringing her down to press a few kisses to her face, making her giggle. “It’s okay, we still love mommy even though she’s silly, right?”

“You better,” you flicked his shoulder as you walked by after grabbing an ice cream sandwich from the freezer. 

“Hey, I’ve got something in my bag I forgot to give you, do you mind bringing it over here?” James asked, motioning to the briefcase on the armchair closest to the front door. 

You nodded your head and stood up again to grab it and pass it to him. He rummaged through it with one hand while still holding Liana before passing you what looked like a receipt. 

“Uh thanks?” you looked a little confused. 

“Read what it’s for,” James chuckled. “They’ll get delivered next week.” 

“James,” you put the receipt down. “You didn’t.” 

“You’ve been talking about it for four months, I had to do something,” he shrugged. “And I didn’t get you anything for your baby shower.” 

“Because you planned it,” you laughed. “Seriously this is a lot. I don’t know if I can accept this.” 

“Just think of it this way. I’m here all the time, we like to go out with Liana together and it’s a great stroller with good safety ratings.” 

“Okay sure you’ll use that, but the cot too?” 

“The one you have in there’s been recalled, I was just doing you a favour,” he said. 

You chuckled a little, pressing your lips together. “Liana, my darling, we are very spoiled.” 

“I’ll come over when it gets delivered and help set it up,” James said. 

“I still don’t know what to say, James, this is…really generous of you.” 

“Believe me, right now nothing makes me happier, and I mean that,” he reached out a hand to you and you took it, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

As promised, the next week James was back at your home to help set up the stroller and the cot and you figured it would be the right time to pull out that camcorder your father had gotten you to help record some memories you were making with Liana. 

“Hey, James wanna tell the camera what you’re doing?” 

“Wondering why I didn’t get a degree in engineering apparently.” he mumbled while hunched over some instructions, a pencil behind his ear and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“What does your assistant think?” you moved the camera over to Liana, sitting in a rocking seat that was propped up next to James. 

“That this video isn’t going to be very good for my image in the future. This stuff is worse than IKEA,” he scratched the back of his head. 

“You’re doing great,” you assured him and came to give him an encouraging side hug. “Alright, let me stop this video and we can try and tackle it together.” 

You put the camera down on the bed and looked over the instructions with James, having a bit of an easier time piecing things together compared to him, so in the end you were put on deciphering the instructions while he assembled the cot. 

An embarrassing amount of time later, the cot was completely assembled (only after having to disassemble it all the first time because there was one piece left over and you had no idea what step you had missed using it), and you carefully placed Liana inside to see how it would hold up. 

“You know they say you can be proud of something you built with your own two hands, but I’m afraid this is going to fall apart,” James said. 

“We followed the instructions really carefully, it should be fine,” you said, trying to convince yourself. “And Liana looks comfortable in there, look at her she’s giggling.” 

“I think that’s because we look like we’ve been building a house or something,” he looked between you, seeing your dirty clothes and messed up hair. 

“Who knew putting together a cot would be so labour intensive,” you chuckled. “I think we can safely say we deserve some takeout. What do you want?” 

“Anything, I’m starving,” James sat down on the edge of the bed. “You think this will help her sleep a little better?” 

“Let’s hope so,” you rubbed your temples. “You coming?” you asked, taking Liana out of the cot and carrying her out towards the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” he nodded and you left him in the room, staring at the wooden baby’s bed in front of him. It was a simple thing you had both made together, but for James, it was starting to feel like so much more than just that. 

You built a cot, but what did building a cot mean? What did it mean that he bought it for you without a second question or a moment’s hesitation? What did it mean that he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face every single time he stepped into this house? 

It probably meant a lot of things, but at the moment, to James, it felt like he had a family and he’d hold onto that for as long as he was able to. 

—

As much as you wished it could be, not every day was easy. Today was one of those days at the end of a long week and you wanted nothing more than to collapse and call it quits. 

Something was wrong with Liana, she was never this fussy, but all the doctors would just repeat the same thing over and over again. 

She has colic. 

You have a colic-y baby. 

Your baby has colic. She’s going to be fine.

She didn’t sound fine. Not when she would cry and cry and you didn’t know what was happening or how to make her feel better. It made your heart feel tight and constricted especially when all you could do was bounce and rock her in hopes that it might soothe whatever was going on inside her. 

You were so focused on the sounds of the crying baby you didn’t hear the door unlock as James entered the house. After putting down his bags, he followed the sound of the crying before finding you in the rocking chair in your room, gently hushing Liana to try and coax her back to sleep. 

“James,” you tried to stand up when you noticed he was there, but he rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder and encouraging you to sit back down. “I’m afraid we’re not really having a fun day today. You might want to just go home and rest,” you suggested. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“James, I’m serious I-,” 

“Hey,” he said gently, quieting you as a hand came to hold your cheek. “Talk to me, mom. What’s happening?” 

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. 

“I don’t know,” you let the tears spill from your eyes, just as they were for Liana, but you basked in the comfort James’ simple action offered. “She just keeps crying and I don’t know what’s wrong. T-They kept saying she has colic, but this isn’t colic, James.” 

He nodded his head and wiped away your tears while trying to think of a solution to the problem in front of you. 

“I have an idea, just give me a second, I’ll be right back.” 

James went off to the kitchen and came back with a bit of a white powder on his finger. He helped you sit Liana up before getting her to eat a little bit of it. 

“What is that?” 

“Just baking soda. I saw this in a few babies. Doctors think it’s colic, but it’s reflux. Have you been eating anything different from usual?” he asked. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, it might be something she’s allergic to getting in the breast milk,” he explained while rubbing Liana’s back. “Here let me take her so you can have a break. Go to the kitchen, get some water and write down a list of what you’ve been eating recently and we’ll go over it and see if we can find anything that lines up with her fussiness.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ll survive,” he nodded. 

You passed over your baby to him and made your way out of the room, following James’ suggestion and noticing how with a little bit of time her crying had quieted down and instead was replaced by softer sniffles and a much nicer sound. It drew you away from the list you were leaning over and back to the door of the bedroom where you leaned in the frame and watched and listened while James, with his back turned to you, sang a soft lullaby to Liana. 

I love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

Over and over like a prayer until Liana’s sniffles had faded and there was only silence. 

He carefully put her back in her bed, waiting a few moments to make sure she was really sleeping, before turning back and seeing you standing in the doorway. 

When he made his way up to you, you reached out and pulled him into as tight of a hug as you’d ever given him. You held onto the sleeves of your shirt while one arm came under his and across his back with the other around his neck, holding him as close to you as you possibly could. 

“You okay?” James asked and you nodded your head, silently while a few more tears streamed down your face. 

“I will be.” 

“I-,” James faltered for a moment, but he said it anyway. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Three words he had said so many times, that had meant a particular thing when he said them to you, but now he couldn’t help but feel like they meant something a little different. 

You both stayed like that a moment longer before you pulled apart, wiping away your tears and going back to your list to see if James’ theory could be correct. 

“Maybe try cutting these ones out of your diet,” he suggested. “See if she gets any better and if not call me and I’ll get her an appointment with one of the pediatricians at the hospital.” 

“Okay,” you nodded. “I just don’t get why they kept saying colic like is that just some doctor term for I don’t know what’s wrong, but your baby is fussy?” 

“I don’t know,” James shook his head, “but don’t ever let anyone bully you into not trusting your gut. She’s your daughter and you know her best.” 

“You seem to know her pretty well too. You took one look at her and managed to help her when I couldn’t,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Coincidence,” he patted your shoulder. 

“Give yourself a little credit. You’re with her a lot too, it’s part of why I trust your judgement so much when it comes to her. I know you’re not just going to tell me some medical mumbo jumbo you…you’re with her, you see how she is, you know.” 

“I don’t know how you managed to hold it together so well,” James said. “I was in there with her for twenty minutes and I wanted to cry right with her.” 

“It’s so hard,” you shook your head. “You can tell she’s uncomfortable, that something’s wrong, but she can’t tell you what.” 

James nodded his head, “Before you know it she’ll be walking and talking and hopefully it’ll be a lot easier to understand what she needs.” 

“It’s hard to imagine that,” you chuckled. “She is growing so fast though.” 

“And you’re doing a great job,” James wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you took a deep breath. You wanted to correct him and say ‘we’re doing a great job’, but everything about this felt so delicate. It wasn’t his responsibility to parent Liana and you didn’t want to pressure him into thinking that it had become that, but regardless you felt like he’d been around so much it would be wrong to give yourself full credit for everything. 

“It takes a village,” you settled on saying, extending your arm so it was wrapped around him as well. “Speaking of a village, I need to hire a nanny.” 

“So you’re going to go back to work?” he asked and you nodded. 

“Just part time for now. Pay is good enough. I should be fine with that for a while.” 

“Good,” James nodded. “Do you need help going through resumes?” 

“Nah, Janine is taking care of that for me, her boyfriend works with the police so free background checks. She’s gonna send me a short list and then I’ll interview them.” 

You looked up at James and chuckled, 

“You seem surprised.” 

“I didn’t know you outsourced to other people too,” he teased. 

“Are you jealous, Jamie?” you tickled his sides a little bit. “Come on, you know you’re my number one. Can you seriously tell me you could have gotten police-level background checks on nannies?” 

“I could have tried.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m gonna save you from this job so you can help me with other stuff, okay?” you turned him around and patted his chest. “I love you, James, but you can’t do it all. I have to look out for you too.” 

“You don’t have to look after me,” he assured you. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, I can take care of myself.” 

“James, that’s the whole point of this,” you pointed between you. “I’m not about to let it be one-sided.” 

“Is that why you keep packing me lunches?” he asked. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “And it's kind of fun leaving you little notes.” 

“House thinks I’m seeing someone because of what you put in the last one. He steals my food, you know.” 

“I’ll just pack double next time,” you laughed. 

James smiled at the sound of your laughter, savouring the moment of levity he was able to bring you after a long and hard few days. 

You looked back up at him once your laughter had died down and filled with a quiet sense of gratitude, you could help but lean into his side, sighing contentedly and it made you feel warm to the touch when his arm wrapped around you and pulled you in closer. 

Things may not have been simple or easy, but at least they felt right.

—

James was just about to leave his office to get some food in the cafeteria when he heard the phone ring, keeping him seated at his desk so he could answer. 

“Hello, Oncology Department. Dr. James Wilson speaking.”

“James, it’s me,” you said quickly, almost like you were in a hurry. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing dire,” you sighed. “My nanny got sick and my backup nanny is out of town and I have this huge meeting at work I cannot miss, but I-I don’t have anyone to look after Liana. I hate to ask this, you know I wouldn’t bug you unless it was a real emergency, but can I bring her by? Just for two maybe three hours tops. Then I’ll come grab her and she can be in my office with me for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, of course, bring her over,” James nodded. “I have a few patient consults today, but nothing too strenuous or contagious for a small baby.”

“James, are you sure? I feel really bad asking-,”

“It’s fine. Today was going to be boring anyway, I could use some Liana time to spice things up.”

“James, I love you, you’re a lifesaver,” you breathed a sigh of relief. “I owe you one okay? Cash it in whenever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna go grab a quick bite to eat. I’ll meet you in my office when you come.”

“Great, see you then.”

You both hung up and when James came back upstairs you were just arriving at his office with Liana strapped in her car seat and a bag slung around your shoulder. 

“Okay, I’ve got snacks, and a carrier, and her toys, and-,”

“Goodness, take a breath,” James chuckled. “We’re gonna be fine, I’ve looked after her before.” 

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous about this meeting and rushing around to get everything prepped and then the nannies fell through,” you took a deep breath to try and slow your heart down and James put a hand on your shoulder assuring you everything was going to be alright. 

“You’re gonna kill it at that meeting, alright?” he pulled you in for a quick hug. 

“Thanks again, I seriously appreciate and love you and your big fat heart.” 

“Thanks, I think,” he chuckled again. “I love you too.”

You kissed your hand and tapped it on his cheek before doing the same for Liana who smiled and James took a moment to stare out the door and watch you as you left the room, still feeling his heart beating a little faster after having said I love you. 

Ever since the day he came over when Liana was having a hard time, his heart would race and his palms would get sweaty every time he’d say those three words, knowing he meant it in a different way than he had been saying it all these years. 

“Liana banana, what am I gonna do,” James sighed and bent down so he was at eye level with her. “Do you think your mom knows?”

Liana babbled a response. 

“Me neither,” he sighed. “It’s okay though, cause we’re gonna have a fun day right?”

He unclipped her from the seat after fastening the baby carrier to his back to begin with before propping her up and clipping her inside. 

Once he was content with that, he checked the time and noticed he was almost late for a meeting with a patient who was staying at the hospital for treatment. 

James made his way down the halls, knowing not many would question him about the baby on his back, that was aside from his boss who now seemed to be walking directly towards him. 

He quickly took a detour into an empty room and thinking he lost her, let out a breath only to be startled when the door opened and Cuddy was standing in front of him. 

“Wilson,” she started. 

“Mhmm.”

“What’s on your back?” she asked, trying to get a better look, but James simply turned around.

“Oh it’s just a backpack,” he lied, only to be immediately ratted out by Liana’s nonsensical sounds. 

“You have a talking backpack?” Cuddy looked at him skeptically. 

“No, it’s a tumour. I’m dying,” he lied again, even more poorly than before.

Cuddy sighed, “Are we gonna get sued for it?” 

James pressed his lips together and shook his head. 

“Will someone get mad at you for it?”

He shook his head again.

“Is House involved?”

A third time. 

“Okay,” she nodded slowly. “I won’t question your…talking backpack tumour.”

James nodded his head and Cuddy left the room which hopefully meant he was in the clear for the rest of the day. 

Liana had other ideas and decided she didn’t like being in the carrier on his back anymore and began to cry. James wondered what was different, he’d done this with her before, but perhaps it was the new environment and she just wanted to be where she could see him.

So after some maneuvering, he changed the positioning of the carrier and put Liana back inside and she seemed much more relaxed afterwards. 

When he got to his patient he apologized for being late, but they were more focused on the child that James had yet to introduce. 

“Sorry, I’m a little all over the place right now,” he chuckled. “This is Liana, she’s going to be joining us today.”

“Is she your daughter?” he asked, seeing the way James smiled and held her when he introduced her. 

“No,” James shook his head. “She’s the daughter of one of my close friends. I’m just doing her a favour today.”

“Either way, it’s always nice to see someone smiling and happy around here.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” James nodded. 

“How old is she?”

“Six months as of two weeks ago.”

“They grow fast, don’t they?”

James smiled and nodded, “They sure do.”

They continued their consult, and before long James wrapped things up and headed back to his office to meet with another patient. 

This time around he was feeding and burping Liana throughout the meeting and it felt so much like second nature to him, it didn’t take him away at all from the questions the patient was asking, and much like he expected, having a baby in the room was a nice distraction from the heavy subject matter. 

He got through the next few patients with ease, and he felt lucky that House only decided to come in after all his meetings were over. 

“Is that a baby?” House squinted, looking at Liana who was calmly playing with a toy in James’ lap. 

“No, it’s an alien,” he deadpanned and House ignored his comment. 

“Why do you have a baby? That must be breaking some hospital rule.”

“Since when do you care about rules?”

“Cause rules are there to protect us,” House said sarcastically. “Is this the one you spend all your free time with?”

“Her name is Liana,” James said while standing up and moving to put her in her car seat for a moment. “House, I’m gonna ask you to do something and I’m going to trust that you won’t blow this up in my face.”

“Go on.”

“I need to use the washroom, but you’ve seen the way they get cleaned here, I don’t want to bring Li with me,” he said. “Can you watch her for five minutes? You don’t even have to do anything, just stare at her in the carrier.”

House thought about it for a moment before eventually agreeing, James completely oblivious to his friend’s ulterior motive.

House first sat across from her, turning her car seat around on the table so it was facing him. They stared at each other for a few moments before House stood up and grabbed a picture from one of James’ shelves, sitting back down in front of her. 

“You’re probably too young to do this, but never too young to learn, right?”

Liana had no response. 

“You see this guy?” House pointed to James in the photo. “He’s dada, right?”

House continued to prompt her, even though he knew she was too young to speak, thinking this would make a great prank if he played his cards right. 

House continued to go back and forth with Liana between her babbles, until he heard James begin to open the door of the office. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

“Perfect,” House nodded. “Your daughter’s an angel.” 

James frowned, unable to tell if House was being sarcastic or not, but he was quickly distracted by the frame in his hand.

“Why do you have that picture?” James came closer and took it from him.

“Oh, just trying to pass the time with a story.” 

“The story of what exactly? This is just a picture of me with my parents.” 

“I don’t know I made something up, she’s a baby, she won’t remember,” House insisted before leaving the office before James could ask any more questions. 

A little confused by the encounter, he made his way over to Liana who was reaching out for him. 

He checked the time, seeing as your meeting should probably have been over by then and decided to give you a call. 

“Hey, I was just about to come and pick Liana up,” you said. 

“Yeah, about that, do you just want to leave her with me for the rest of the day?” he asked. “She’s been really good and honestly I think the patients have been loving seeing a baby around.” 

“James, it’s fine, my meeting is over. I can come get her,” you said. 

James pressed his lips together before gathering the nerve to say what he was going to say. 

“I actually would really like it if she could stay with me,” he said. “If you’re okay with it.”

You paused, “This isn’t just some round about way for you to find a way to give me a break?” you asked. 

“No, I’m really happy she’s here. I was going to come over after work anyways.” 

“You still have the car seat hookup in your car?” you asked and he confirmed. “Okay, call me if you need anything, Jamie.” 

“I will, and thank you.” 

“Just don’t break her, okay, she’s not replaceable,” you teased. 

“I’ll bring her back in one piece,” James chuckled. “We’ll be fine, right Li?” 

James gave her a little tickle so that you could hear her laugh in response and you couldn't help but smile before saying goodbye and feeling more at ease leaving her with James than you ever had leaving her with a babysitter. 

—

It always felt interesting coming back to Princeton-Plainsboro after you had given birth to Liana. It brought back a lot of memories, both good and maybe not so great of your pregnancy, but recently you and Liana had been visiting a little more often to have lunch with James when you weren’t working. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, you were actually just on your way back home after running a few errands and since you were in the area you thought you might stop in and talk to James about that evening. 

When you went by his office you peeked inside and noticed he wasn’t there and before you could decide the best course of action, you heard a semi familiar voice behind you. 

“You looking for Wilson?” 

You turned around and saw House standing in front of you. 

“Yeah, actually. Do you know where he is?” 

“I think he just went to Cuddy’s office,” he said. 

“Alright, I’ll head back downstairs then,” you smiled and were about to haul Liana’s car seat with you, but House stopped you. 

“If you want I can look after her in my office,” he said.

“Really?” you seemed a little surprised from the offer, but figured it couldn’t be too bad to leave her with him for five minutes. 

“Sure,” House nodded, making it seem like it was no big deal, when really he had already pocketed a picture of James and was looking for another opportunity to continue his prank. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you said while walking over to his office and putting her car seat on the main table before walking down the hallways and over to the elevator to go and find James, but just to your luck, he was coming out just as you had planned to enter. “Hey, I was looking for you,” you smiled. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were coming, did we make plans?” he asked, worried he’d forgotten about something. 

“No, I was just in the area and, well my mom and dad are coming over for dinner tonight, I was wondering if you wanted to join us.” 

“Dinner sounds nice,” James nodded. “And I haven’t seen your parents in a while, I just seem to miss them every time they come into town.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I thought I’d ask, also maybe as a warning in case you wanted to get as far away as you could,” you chuckled. 

“Come on, they’re not that bad,” he nudged you. 

“Most of the time, but then again, you’re not their child.” 

“Wait, where’s Liana?” James asked. “With a sitter at home?” 

“No, I left her with House.” 

James’ eyes went wide, “You left her with House?”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” you chuckled as James began to walk towards House’s office to make sure he wasn’t up to one of his many schemes. “James he offered!” you called back and that only made him walk faster. 

It took you a minute to catch up with him, but by that time he was already interrogating House who was simply sitting in front of Liana. 

“Can't I offer to look after my friend’s friend’s baby?” House asked. 

“Usually someone could, but when that person is you you may see why I think you have some ulterior motive.” 

“James what’s going on?” you asked, coming closer to House. “Liana’s fine, I don’t know why you’re being so dramatic.” 

“Yeah, listen to single mom over here,” he pointed to you. 

James backed off if only for your sake, but he still kept a close eye on House as you picked up Liana’s car seat and told James you’d see him after his shift was over. 

He nodded his head and you exchanged a kiss on the cheek before heading out. 

“You’re really telling me you’re not getting some of that on the side?” House asked. 

“House, drop it,” James was unamused. “I know you’re up to something, I just don’t know what.” 

“I guess you’re just going to have to wait and find out,” House shrugged. “In the meantime may I suggest you go get your freak on with the mom? You know she probably hasn’t slept with anyone since that kid was conceived, I’m sure you’d have an easy time convincing her.” 

“Shut up, House,” James rolled his eyes and left the office before he could suggest anything more obscene. 

He was thankful when the end of his shift came, and before heading to your place he made a stop at the store to buy some flowers and dessert to bring over. 

By this point, it was such a habit, he never knocked, just opened the door with his key and announced his presence to whoever was in the house. 

“Hey Liana, look who’s here,” you smiled and pointed to James while Liana was being held by your mother. 

Liana became very excited at the sight of him and he quickly put down the things he brought on the table before saying his greetings and giving special attention to Liana by means of a kiss on her nose and caress of her face. 

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked. “Mom and dad brought some fancy-looking sparkling fruit juice.” 

“I could go for some of that,” James nodded. “How have you guys been, I missed you the last time you were in town.” 

“We’ve been good,” your dad nodded. 

“Unfortunately our granddaughter doesn’t come to visit us very much,” your mom gave you a bit of a look and you rolled your eyes. 

“Mom, you guys are retired, I have a job, why don’t we keep this ‘you visit me’ arrangement a while longer until my life sorts itself out a bit more.” 

“She’s not wrong, honey,” your dad came and patted his wife’s shoulder. 

“I know, I just wish we got to see Liana more. We should come down more often.” 

“What about you, James, anything new in your life?” 

James looked over at you before shaking his head. 

“No, still working at the same place still…” 

“Trying to find the right person,” you filled in for him, placing a hand on his shoulder and handing him his drink. 

“Yeah,” he nodded with a soft smile and couldn’t help but laugh a little internally at the irony. Maybe the right person had been there all along, the person he’d never once pulled away from, the person he let take care of him, the person who he’d realized he’d most definitely fallen in love with, but risking things between you was out of the question so he would have to be content with the way things were. 

“You’re the head of your department, right?” your mom asked and James nodded. “Wow, that’s quite something, your parents must be proud of you.” 

“Yes, it never fails to come up in conversation with my mother,” he chuckled. 

Liana began to fuss a little bit in her grandmother’s arms and after a few failed attempts at calming her down James offered to take over. 

“Are you sure, honey?” she asked. “She gets a bit cranky and it’s hard to calm her down.” 

“Don’t worry mom, James is an expert,” you assured her. 

James nodded and confirmed he was sure before gently bouncing Liana until she stopped crying and wiping away whatever tears of hers were remaining. 

“She seems very attached to you,” your dad remarked and James looked down at Liana who now had her head resting against his chest. 

“The feeling’s quite mutual,” James chuckled. “Does she need to be fed?” he asked you. 

“Yeah we’re probably getting close to that time now, I’ll warm up the bottle. Maybe I can feed her and you can deal with the sauce on the stove, it’s missing something and I can’t place it.” 

“Sure,” James nodded and waited for you to heat up Liana’s bottle before passing her over and taking a turn at the stove. 

Your parents watched your interactions curiously and shared a few looks between themselves, but chose to say nothing. They’d known James since you were both nineteen and a lot of things had happened since then, but a lot of time had passed too. It was interesting how your comfort with each other in friendship had so naturally extended itself in this way that you were practically functioning as a family whether you noticed it, or maybe deliberately chose to ignore it. 

After you fed Liana and burped her, she was quick to fall asleep and you placed her in her cot in your room before joining James and your parents in the kitchen where they were bringing things to the dining room to lay them out on the table.

“This looks really delicious sweetheart, thank you for making dinner,” your dad said. “And you too James for taking over there in the home stretch.” 

“For all we know it could have tasted terrible before he came in so he can take the credit for that,” you chuckled. 

“No, I gave it a taste before adding anything. It just needed a little something sour to balance some things out, otherwise it was perfect,” he assured you. 

Dinner with your parents was mostly small talk. They shared a little about some of your relatives they had recently spoken to or visited and asked James how his family was doing and they left fairly early to start the drive back home. 

“I’ll load the dishes you put away the leftovers?” James yawned and you chuckled. 

“How about I do both since I had a day off and you go and lay down for a bit,” you suggested. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m fine,” James waved his hand but yawned again. 

“Go to sleep, James. That’s not a suggestion,” you walked up to him. “My ex left some sweatpants here you can change into those and take off this button up,” you tugged at his shirt. 

James pressed his lips together and nodded his head, before heading over to the bedroom and quietly getting changed before climbing into bed and not fighting the sleep that came. 

He initially wasn’t sure how much later it was when he woke up, but by the looks of it much too late to go come considering you were next to him, despite being groggy, he had a million and one things crossing his mind, but all of those were thrown out when he heard Liana begin to cry. 

You shifted next to him, waking up to go and take care of it, but James put an arm on your shoulder. 

“I’ve got it, go back to sleep,” he assured you. 

You were too tired to argue with him and let your head hit the pillow again while he stood up and picked Liana up from her crib, heading out to the kitchen so he could heat up a bottle for her before coming back and sitting in the chair to feed her. 

You watched the scene in front of you and you felt yourself wanting to memorize every detail. How he held her, the quiet things he whispered, the way she curled into his arms while he stood up and rocked her back to sleep. 

When he came back to the bed he noticed you were awake and he let out a soft chuckle and you smiled looking up at him with his messy hair. Suddenly you were nineteen again and banging on the door of cabin 3 trying to wake your fellow counsellor to come and deal with an emergency. To you he looked the same as he did all those years ago. 

“I told you to go back to sleep.” 

“Not everyone can fall asleep instantly,” you yawned with a chuckle. 

“You didn’t wake me up to leave,” he said quietly, his head resting on his hand that propped him up. 

“You always look so peaceful when you sleep, I feel evil whenever I have to wake you up,” you remarked, but behind your eyes if he could see through the darkness of the room, he would have seen them saying something else. That you wanted him to stay, you didn’t want to wake him up because you wanted to wake up next to him. “You don’t mind do you?” 

“That you’re making me do the walk of shame in the morning?” James teased and shook his head. 

“Just shut up and go back to sleep, Jamie,” you yawned with a chuckle. 

He moved so he was laying down on his back with an arm behind his head and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Maybe he could feel you staring because he reached his other arm out and pulled you closer and you moved with him until your head rested against his chest, your arm draped over top of him. 

He gave you a gentle squeeze with the arm that was wrapped around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Goodnight, Jamie,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

You couldn’t see how he looked down and smiled at you after you said that, all that filled your ears was a quiet, “Goodnight.”

—

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, how have you been?” 

James sat on the carpet of the living room, playing with Liana who was crawling around him while you brought over two mugs of tea so you could chat while you entertained the growing baby. 

“Good for the most part, just had a patient who wasn’t doing so great so I spent some extra time at the hospital to keep an eye on things. Not to mention House has been bugging me to go out and it’s been a while so I figured what’s the harm.”

“He got you plastered and you made a fool of yourself, didn’t he?” you asked and James nodded while you laughed. “Liana, did James go out with House and act like an idiot?” you tickled the ten month old and she giggled before coming closer to you, tapping on your legs with her hands. 

“Don’t listen to your mama, Li, she’s trying to-,”

“Mama,” Liana repeated after James had spoken and you both stopped dead in your tracks. 

You looked over at James and his smile was just as wide as yours before you picked Liana up and smothered her with kisses. 

“Liana, look at you! You said your first word!”

“Good job, Liana banana,” James grinned and gave her cheek a little pinch which made her reach out to him and say, 

“Dada.”

You both had a similar reaction to what happened moments ago, only this time it was pure shock. Maybe you had misheard her, but when she repeated herself, James could feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. 

“I-I don’t know where she learnt that from,” he told you. “I swear I didn’t teach her that.”

It took a minute for the shock to fade away for you, but once it did you tried to assure James that it was okay. 

“I believe you,” you said. “I-I don’t know where she picked it up from, but it’s okay.”

James chewed on his lip, it wasn’t okay though because he wanted nothing more than to hear Liana say that again. 

“It’s not though,” James said softly. “I love her, but I’m not her dad. That’s not fair to her or to you.”

“Jamie,” you pleaded with him, but he still seemed stuck on something. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologized again. “I feel like I ruined a special moment.”

“I’m trying to tell you it really doesn’t matter,” you assured him, you could see it in his eyes, he wanted to leave, to let you have time alone, but you didn’t want to be alone, you wanted him to stay with you. “Please…please stay.”

James reached out his hand to hold yours and was about to give you his answer when his pager went off. 

Your heart clenched and you watched as he read the message and sighed, standing up because he was needed again at the hospital. 

“Your patient?” you asked, picking Liana up and standing next to him. 

He nodded his head, “They were scheduled for an unrelated surgery and there were some complications, I have to go.”

You understood and James wrapped you in a tight hug and you kissed his cheek. 

“I love you, Jamie.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, wishing he could hold onto you and never let you go, but instead he was pulled away from your warm embrace wondering how on earth Liana had learnt to call him dad. 

—

“You look like you haven’t slept in days, spending time with the baby again?” House asked, waltzing into James’ office. 

“No, I haven't been over in a few days,” James shook his head. 

“You haven’t been over in a few days…Something happened,” House deduced and James gave him a look. 

“Nothing happened. I’m just taking a break,” he lied. 

“You’ve been going non-stop to spend time with them since the baby was born ten months ago, why do you need a break now?” 

“Because I have a lot on my mind and there’s a few new patients I need to focus on-,” 

“You’re lying.” 

“Yes I am,” James admitted and House grinned. 

“Really?” 

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head and continued to look down and do his work. 

“We do this every single time and every single time I’m right,” House said. “Why don’t we save the back and forth for another time and just skip to the part where you tell me what’s going on.” 

“Oh really and you were right that time you thought I was cheating on my wife and she was the one cheating on me?” he asked. 

“Okay, so I’m not perfect,” House shrugged. “What happened, Wilson? I could just as easily get your friend’s number and ask directly if that’s what you’d prefer.” 

“God no,” James shook his head. “Leave her alone, she doesn’t need to deal with you on top of working and raising a child.” 

“Alright then, what happened?” 

James took a deep breath and sighed, “Liana called me dad the other day. I have no idea where she learnt it from.” 

“She started speaking,” House nodded, pressing his lips together. “Was it her first word or-,” 

“Second. She said mom first,” James said, but caught a glimpse of his friend trying to fight back a smile and suddenly all the offers to take care of Liana paired with the photographs made sense. “You taught her!” he exclaimed. “House I can’t believe you’d pull a prank on me by manipulating my friend’s baby!” 

“Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” House rolled his eyes. 

“House, I cannot believe you!” 

“You’re not mad at me,” House shook his head. “You’re just mad you liked it.” 

“No I’m-,” 

“Yes, you are,” the diagnostician emphasized. “You’ve been sitting here tearing yourself apart for the past four days because she called you dad and you liked it. You’re mad at yourself for liking it because she’s not your kid.” 

“No,” James quieted down. “She’s not.” 

“You haven’t gone back because you’re afraid to hear her say it again, aren’t you?” 

“Since when did you become an expert on my personal problems, House? You caused this, why should I listen to anything you have to say?” 

“Because you’re being an idiot. You’re punishing yourself for liking something. Do you realize how insane that sounds?” 

“It’s not insane, House, she’s not my baby-,” 

“Sure, she’s not your baby and you have her feeding and nap routine memorized. You’ve been to her doctor's appointments, she’s calmer in your arms than she is in the arms of her grandparents. Yeah, go and tell that to any moron sitting out there and they’ll tell you for me, you’re being an idiot.” 

James sighed again, “And why do you care?” 

“Because once you’re done with this spiral we can go back to the way things were when you weren’t a boring depressed lump.” 

“How kind of you,” James faked a smile. 

House’s pager went off, leaving James alone again in his office, thinking about what his friend had said. 

You’d told him so many times that things were okay, but maybe a part of him didn’t want to let him believe that you didn’t mind because that was a slippery slope to him facing himself and his feelings and he didn’t care what his heart was telling him, he wouldn’t put himself through that. He wouldn’t put you and Liana through that. But at the same time, he couldn’t keep himself away forever. He didn’t want that either.

So with a deep breath he picked up his office phone and dialled your number, putting it up to his ear and waiting for the line to connect on the other end. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.” 

“James,” your voice sounded almost relieved. “H-Hey, how are you?” 

He pressed his lips together, “Miserable, actually. I miss you guys.” 

“We miss you too,” you chuckled with a small sniffle. 

“C-Can I come over for dinner tonight?” he asked. 

“You still have a key, what do you think?” you asked with a bit of a laugh. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Yeah, see you then,” James smiled and after he hung up the phone he took a deep breath, his fast heartbeat slowing down by the second. 

Maybe this time House was right.

—

The next few weeks passed by and things resumed to their normal state, much to House’s delight. James’ role as department head always meant at least one day a week where he would stay late and do some extra paperwork, dealing with anything that may have slipped through the cracks before. 

This time, that had fallen on a Sunday and it was just past dinner when he heard a knock on his door and wondering who was on the other end he called for them to come in. 

You opened the door a crack and again asked permission to come in and James smiled at you, looking up from his paperwork, not expecting to see you in the hospital. 

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, what’s going on?” 

“I just wanted to drop by and bring you something for dinner, I know it’s your paperwork day.” 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you,” he stood up from his chair and came to stand in front of his desk, leaning back on it while you placed the take out bag on the table. “Where’s Liana?” 

“Oh Helen’s looking after her tonight,” you said. “I had a few things I needed to do and um just wanted the evening off,” you admitted. 

“Fair enough,” James nodded. 

“I actually brought you something else,” you rolled back and forth on the balls of your feet and James noticed the tension in your stature. “H-Here,” you handed him a gift bag which he eyed curiously. 

Today wasn’t his birthday or some memorable event you celebrated together. There wasn’t much of a reason to get him a present which made it all the more intriguing. 

He pulled out a wrapped rectangular box from the bag, and putting the bag aside he began to carefully tear away the wrapping paper to reveal what looked like a picture frame. Overlaid on the frame, on top of the photo, James noticed a card which he unfolded to read its contents. 

Happy Father’s Day. We love you loads. - Liana and Mom

James moved the card to see the picture and put his hand over his mouth, feeling tears involuntarily form in his eyes as he saw the familiar scene of your room, lit by the light of your lamp as Liana was fast asleep against his chest while he napped on the armchair. 

James quickly wiped away the few tears that were in his eyes and looked up at you with a grateful smile, looking back down at the image before placing it neatly on his desk along with the card. 

“I hope you like it,” you said quietly, biting your lip. “I thought you might want to have a copy of that picture and…you know just a thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Liana this past year.” 

“I love it,” he assured you. “I-I love it and I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you smiled.

“N-No,” James came closer and reached out, taking your hands in his. “I…I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

“Jamie,” you spoke in a breathy whisper, unsure of how you lost your voice. “I-,” you opened your mouth to speak again, but paused when James raised a hand to your face, wiping away the tears you didn’t even notice had begun to stream down. 

“I just don’t want to be away from you, ever,” he said softly. “I never did. And now with Liana, I want to be there, for all of it.” 

You held the wrist of his hand that held your face, pulling him in closer so your foreheads rested against each other. 

You took in a shaky breath, thinking back on those words. Something you’d been saying to each other for longer than you could remember. The first time was so clear in your mind, you were on the phone racking up long distance charges while James was in Montreal. It had slipped out by accident, a reflex, and you had convinced yourself when the phone had hung up you’d never call him back, unable to face what you’d just said, but before you could spiral any further, he said it back and you never stopped saying it.

For the longest time that was the only occurrence that was memorable, everything else was a blur, that was until a few months ago. It was so simple, you had fallen asleep on the couch and James had made sure Liana was fed and bathed and even cleared up some things in the kitchen before sitting on the couch with some tea and a book. You had talked and said I love you as a thank you, but when the words left your mouth they also left a lingering airiness in your heart, a feather light feeling that came crashing down like an anvil when he left to go home because you realized you never wanted to be apart from him.

It took you a few moments to realize you hadn’t said anything and James was anxiously waiting for some sort of communication, anything, but since the meaning of your words had changed, for both of you, you thought it might be more conducive to work in actions.

You closed in the space between you, at first gently resting your lips on his and letting him lead you in a soft and slow kiss, putting aside all the restraint you both had been using these past months in an effort to protect your friendship.

One of James’ hands held onto your waist, pulling you in so that there was no space left between you. He kissed you again and again, remembering each one as a core memory, engraved in his mind, paired with the feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck, the feeling of your body pressed so closely against his, his heart beating outside of his chest. 

It was easy for his lips to trail away from yours, moving along your jaw, to your temple before you had pulled each other into a warm embrace, simply existing in each other’s arms. James thought to himself what a nice life it would be, not ever having to pull away. 

—

“I don’t have much to say,” James smiled. “Everything is looking good, you still seem 100% healthy to me.” 

“That’s great news.” 

“It definitely is. Standard procedure, but we’ll have one more of these remission follow ups to make sure everything is still in order then you hopefully won’t have to see me again.” 

“Thank you Dr. Wilson, I really appreciate all you’ve-.” 

“Dad!” 

“Sweetheart, wait he’s with a patient!” 

James turned his head and saw Liana running over to him, you valiantly trying to chase after her without much success. 

He quickly scooped her up in his arms before she crashed into him, pressing a big kiss to her cheek. 

“Sorry about that,” James apologized. “It’s Saturday, we normally have lunch together.” 

“No worries,” he chuckled. 

“Liana, this is my patient Mr. Kimbilio, can you say hi?” 

Liana waved and said hi, very exuberantly. 

“This is my daughter,” James introduced. “And that’s my wife,” he pointed over to you. 

“Daughter,” Mr. Kimbilio smiled. “I think I met you Liana, when you were very small. Your father was looking after you at work and so some of his patients got to meet you.” 

“Really?” she looked up at her dad and he nodded. 

“He’s right, I remember that,” James smiled. “You’ve grown a lot since then, haven’t you Li,” he kissed her cheek again and she giggled.

You finally caught up to the group and James greeted you with a quick kiss, passing Liana off to you so he could wrap things up and you could all go down to the cafeteria for lunch together. 

“If I remember correctly,” Mr. Kimbilio started. “You didn’t introduce her as your daughter the first time we met. I’m glad something changed.” 

“Me too,” James smiled, looking over at his wife and daughter fondly who were now in the midst of making him very proud by pulling off a small prank on House as he came out of his office. 

It didn’t take much longer for them to wrap things up and you and Liana made a quick pit stop inside James’ office before heading downstairs.

Liana went to go sit in James’ seat while he put away his files and organized them. 

It had been a while since you’d been in his office, but it felt like ever since the night you first kissed things had begun to change in the room. 

His desk was now more littered with photos than knickknacks and Liana’s artwork was posted wherever there was room. 

You came around to the other side, looking a little more closely at the pictures. 

There was one of you, James, and Liana on your wedding day, another of just the two of you during an anniversary celebration, Liana’s kindergarten photo from school and another one of you as a family on your last vacation. And still as prominent as ever, the framed photo you had gifted James on his first father’s day. 

“You ready to go?” he asked you, looking up and noticing your eyes gazing at the pictures on his desk. 

When you didn’t initially respond, too focused on what you were looking at, James wrapped an arm around you and tilted your chin towards him so he could press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you smiled and James kissed you again, saying.

“And I love you,” before moving over to pick up Liana and kiss her cheek. “And you.”

Liana giggled, feeling tickled by the kisses and moving to give both of you a kiss on the cheek before saying. 

“Mom, Dad, I’m starving. Can we go eat now?”

“Sure, Liana banana,” James chuckled and you wrapped an arm around him, walking side by side out of the office and in the direction of the elevator to get to the cafeteria, thinking you were pretty lucky that in the end, your best friend listened to his heart and went after what he wanted.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @kiddbegins @il0vebeingdelulu @illicit4ff4irs @lynnsthoughts @miarabanana @iwmflbb @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey @sarcasm-and-stiles @sun-flower-mad @x-uno @han11dh @qardasngan @alexxavicry

I smile like an idiot when I see my man, who’s not my man, on my television screen.

"still?" "always."

Finnick Odair x hijacked!reader who asks what's real or not real [2k words]

summary: a District Thirteen reunion story heavily inspired by the brilliant @ervotica's fic 'a life of our own' & @/ilguna's 'hijacked'! Reader was tortured much like Peeta was into fearing Finnick, finding her playing the game 'real or not real'

CW: fem!reader, discussion of past torture [not described], reader tortured into believing Finnick did abhorrent and disgusting things to her [not described], medical personnel acting as villains sort of, hurt/comfort, hopeful/open ending

Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

Routine was a word that came to dictate much of Finnick’s life recently; stability. Ritualized schedules were the norm in District Thirteen. But more importantly, routine, stability, and ritualized schedules were deemed necessary and important to your recovery. 

Thus, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book - the same paperback book - that he brought with him to your hospital room every day - at the exact same time - which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

He’d been following more or less the same routine ever since you’d been rescued from the Capitol a few weeks ago, though Finnick could admit visiting you felt slightly better now than it had in the beginning. 

The beginning had been nothing short of heartbreaking for him. The beginning had been nothing short of torturous for you. 

There’d been a hunch in place of hard evidence that the lot of you were being tortured in the Capitol, though to what extent no one knew. And absolutely no one was prepared for what awaited them by the time the three of you were safe in District Thirteen.

Peeta had promptly tried to off Katniss which was very off brand of him; Johanna’s head had been shaved, she was emaciated, and had a plethora of evidence of gruesome physical torture, and you…

You weren’t filled with the same loathing, hatred, and disgust that Peeta seemed to carry for Katniss. No, you were completely and utterly terrified. 

Medics had to sedate you when Finnick rushed into the room upon hearing of your arrival because you’d thrown yourself against the wall so violently you’d split your head open, then nearly ripped your nails clean off your fingers in your desperation to open a locked door in an attempt to escape from him. And if that hadn’t been devastating enough, the sounds of your guttural screams and desperate cries caused by him still haunted many of Finnick’s nightmares.

Finnick had been hesitant to return to you after that; he didn’t want to ever cause you that much distress again. 

Haymitch tried to reason with him; Finnick wasn’t the one causing you this much distress, it was the Capitol. The medics tried to reason with him; it was to be considered exposure therapy, they hoped that - over time - as you regained some familiarity and comfort with him and worked through your memories and trauma with the doctors that you’d start to remember.

He reluctantly agreed. So, he was horrified when, the first day he returned, you’d been strapped down to your bed in preparation for his meeting. 

“This is sick!” He’d shouted at the medics as he gestured at your current state. “This isn’t exposure therapy, this is torture!”

“Mr. Odair, the hope is that once she begins to realize there’s no need to fight or run, we’ll be able to take the restraints off.” One of them explained in a bored manner. 

“Fuck whatever you’re hoping for! You’re torturing her; she’s not going to feel any safer here than she did in the Capitol!” 

They’d tried calling after him, but he simply looked over at you and offered a pathetic “I’m sorry, honey” that you probably hadn’t heard over your own desperate wails before he fled.

The next day he returned, you hadn’t been strapped down, but you had been heavily medicated with some kind of sedative before his arrival. He swallowed around the bile in his throat as he took a seat in one of the chairs, pretended to read his book and tried his hardest to ignore the extremely wary and haunted gaze that stayed glued to his side for the entirety of his visit. 

The third visit went much the same, except about halfway through his scheduled ‘visit’, he noticed that your eyes seemed to fall extremely heavy. 

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He murmured quietly, though you would have thought he’d screamed at you with the way you bodily flinched and your eyes snapped open. 

He just continued watching you as you fought to convince your heart to return to its normal tempo, slowly, cautiously nodding your head yes to his question when you seemed to realize he was earnest in his question. 

“Would you like me to leave so you can get some rest?” 

Your brows furrowed ever so subtly, eyes darting across his face as you searched for any hidden meaning or potential threat. 

You must not have found one. 

“Please.” You whispered, and - though it was still but a whisper -  it was the first time he had heard your voice since the Quarter Quell that wasn’t shrieking and sobbing in fear, causing a lump to form in his throat.

“Okay, honey, I’ll go.” He whispered back, smiling at you through tears as he stood and swiftly left the room, hardly closing the door fully behind him before he let out a sob. 

Over the weeks, you began finding your own routine and schedule outside of the time you spent working with doctors and medics. You were hardly ever seen without your journal on your person, and one of your doctors explained to Finnick that you were beginning to compile notes to differentiate between things you knew, things that you didn’t know, and what was real or not real. Many times, Finnick could find you working in your journal when he arrived, and though you still managed to keep a concerned eye on him at any given point and your body never fully relaxed while he was there, he was grateful you were becoming more or less accustomed to his company. 

And then one day he showed up to your room to find one wall completely transformed into a giant drawing board. The board was divided into two equal sides; one side was labelled REAL and one side was labelled NOT REAL. The only thing that had been written down so far was on the NOT REAL side, which read “Finnick did not set you up and leave you there to die.”

“She’s been struggling to sleep without the aid of sedatives; she wakes up quite violently from nightmares, struggling to differentiate between what is real and what is not, even when we’re standing right there in front of her.” One of the medics told him. “We tried once to have her look through her journal, but she threw it across the room and told us to get away from her. We thought maybe having a very large visualization in front of her in her own writing would be helpful to tether her to reality upon waking.” 

And that seemed all well in good, but Finnick found himself sick over some of the things the Capitol had convinced you he was guilty of more than once. 

But, if this is what you needed, if this was helping you, Finnick would stomach it, no questions asked. 

So, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

He knocked twice gently on your door before stepping inside, watching as you stepped quickly away from the board and hid the marker and eraser behind your back as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, watching Finnick as though you were waiting for him to attack. 

“Hi, honey.” He greeted quietly, nodding politely at you before he pulled out his chair and took his place, flipping his book open to an arbitrary page as he pretended to read. 

You didn’t move; your feet seemed to be glued to the spot as you watched Finnick pretend to not be watching you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had missed your gaze, quite selfishly, and found that while the atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxed, he was happy enough just to have your eyes on him again. 

Finnick wasn’t sure how much time had passed before you ended up breaking the silence.

“F…Finnick?” You asked, barely above a whisper; question so quiet that Finnick was sure if he hadn’t only been pretending to read, he would have missed it entirely.

You sounded as though you were trying his name out for size, just to see how it felt on your tongue. Finnick missed the days when you used to squeal his name in laughter, or groan his name in frustration, or call his name in excitement. But even though it came out cautious and stilted, he didn’t think he’d ever heard as pretty a sound as the sound of his name falling from your lips. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked eagerly, fighting to keep his tone, face, and body language calm as he saved his ‘place’ with a finger and leaned forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows. 

You swallowed thickly and fiddled with the marker in your hands as you stole yourself to speak. “Can I ask you something?” 

He wanted to be an ass; he wanted to say ‘you just asked me two things’, he wanted to whoop and holler at finally having an actual conversation with you after weeks of finally having you back, yet not really having you back at all. 

Instead, all he said was “of course.”

You cleared your throat before gaining the courage to ask what he heard as “you love me; real, or not real?” 

Finnick wasn’t sure an answer had ever come to him so fast. “Real.”

You seemed somewhat surprised by his answer even though it was clearly the answer you’d been expecting. After a few moments, you simply nodded at him before turning back to your drawing board’s REAL side. 

Finnick loved me you wrote, adding bullet points underneath it...

He told me so

He acts like it

Gut feeling

...is what you cited as proof to this revelation. Finnick wanted to weep. A gut feeling; you were still in there, somewhere. There was still a version of you that knew deep down that Finnick loved you.

“It’s not quite right, honey.” He offered softly, fighting the urge to smile when you turned at his interruption, yet didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice as you often did. You simply looked at him in confusion. 

“Do you mind if I make a minor adjustment?” He asked as he carefully placed his book on your empty bed and slowly stood, holding his hands out in ask. 

You looked between him and the marker and eraser in your hands before holding them out for him; an invitation. 

Finnick smiled at you as he slowly walked towards you, hyper focused on remaining as unthreatening as possible as he gently took the items from you, careful not to touch you unnecessarily. 

He moved to the REAL side of the board, using the edge of the eraser to remove the d from the end of loved and replacing it with an s. The sentence now - properly - read Finnick loves me. 

“There, now it’s perfect.” He offered you with another smile as he held the items back out to you, gently placing them in your hands when you held them open for him before he turned back towards his chair, retrieved his book, and sat back down. 

Your eyes stayed glued on the correction he made to your board as the marker and eraser hovered uselessly midair; moments dragging on before your arms finally lowered to your sides. 

Finnick didn’t bother pretending to read, so when you turned to look at him - face full of confusion, curiosity, concern, and what looked to be devastation - you found him already looking at you. 

“Still?” You asked, voice cracking painfully as a heavy tear fell down your face. 

And if Finnick thought that no answer had ever come faster to him before, he was sorely mistaken. 

“Always.” He promised.

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x ex-wife!Reader

SUMMARY — James and Reader have not been on great terms since their divorce, but an emerging situation with their son forces them to put aside their differences and work together and hope that past feelings don't resurface

WARNINGS — hospitalization, chronic illness, swearing, complicated feelings (idk y'all they're divorced what more can I say)

NOTE — Okay so I have so many things to say about this fic, but if I say them all this post will be way too long it already is like this came up as 33 pages in my docs but this is a day late birthday present for @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey who also provided the James pic I hope you had such a fun day and a great year of simping ahead!

Pronounciation — Mahlet = Ma-h-let | Hennock = Hey-knock

Ever since you had become a mother, birthday parties were the bane of your existence. The sugar overload, the loud noises, the cleanup afterwards, all amounted to your own personal hell. Yet, you would move hell or high water for your son to have the most enjoyable party every single year. 

Today was no different, eight years later you were still breaking your back to ensure every small detail was perfect, from the pin the spikes on the stegosaurus to the cake you’d spent at least a month painstakingly training to make. 

A friend of yours, another parent from the school your son Julian went to, came over in the kitchen to give you a hand with some of the snacks. 

“How are you managing here?” she asked and you took a deep breath. 

“Managing is the operative word,” you chuckled. “Kids having fun out there?” 

“Yeah, loads, you’ve outdone yourself again,” she assured you. “Will James be making an appearance?” 

“I stopped asking myself that question after we got divorced,” you said while fixing the plate of vegetables and dip. “He’s supposed to, he promised Julian, but we all know how that ends.” 

There seemed to be a bit of commotion out in the backyard and you tried to assess what was happening from the window, but your suspicions that something was off was confirmed when Julian’s best friend, Hennock, came rushing inside.

“Mrs. Wilson, something’s going on with Julian,” he said and you frowned while your friend followed you outside to see the kids circling around Julian who seemed to be gripping onto his chest. 

“Jay, what’s going on? Are you okay?” you bent down to be closer to his eye-level, trying to understand what was happening to your son. 

“Can’t…” he pointed to his mouth. “Can’t…breathe,” he wheezed. 

Your eyes went wide, but before you could grab him and run for the car he began to cough and you hoped and prayed there was just something caught in his throat that would make its way out, but with the coughing came spatters of red all over your white shirt.

“Mahi,” you looked over at your friend quickly while picking Julian up. You didn’t have to say a word, she already knew what she needed to do. 

Living close to the hospital, it was worth it to drive yourself, that way you didn’t have to wait for an ambulance to get to you. You had made the mental calculations many times before, just in case there was an emergency and now it was finally coming in handy. 

When you got Julian in the car, you checked in on his breathing, it was still laboured, but at least at this point he was getting in the air, even if he was coughing up blood. 

You turned on the car and began driving while calling your ex-husband with one hand. The line rang until you reached voicemail so you called again, expecting at least this time for him to pick up, only to hear the tone once more. 

“Dammit James!” you threw your phone down on the seat next to you knowing you’d deal with him later, now you needed to focus on getting to the hospital without killing either of you. 

Barely paying attention to how your car was parked, you grabbed Julian out of the back seat and ran into the ER with him. 

“Ma’am, what’s going on?” a nurse came and asked you as you put Julian down. 

“My son, he-he’s having trouble breathing and he’s coughing up blood I-I-I don’t know what’s happening.” 

Before you could say a word they had whisked Julian away and another nurse came to ask you some questions about his medical history and any information that may be important to the doctors treating him. 

“Where’s my son?” you asked, “I want to see my son.” 

“Ma’am I’m sorry, but the doctors are working on getting his airway cleared, you can’t be with him right now.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line and bit back your tongue. There were a million and one things you wanted to say to the nurse, but none of them would help your situation. On the other hand, finding your ex might. 

So instead of finding the waiting room you went over to the elevator and made your way up to the oncology department, briskly walking through the halls until you reached his office. At this point, you didn’t bother knocking, opening the door to see him sitting down over a file and talking with House. 

“Hey Greg,” you said in a fake cheery voice. “Mind giving us the room?” 

“Oh, this is the wife with the kid, did you forget to pay child support?” House asked James. 

“Get out, Greg,” you said warningly and he listened, instead opting to steal the rest of James’ sandwich and slipping past you, while wishing James good luck and letting you slam the door shut behind you. 

“What’s going on?” James asked, clearly confused by your demeanour and appearance. “If this is about the party I didn’t forget I was-wait is that blood,” he stood up from his chair and came over to you. 

“What’s going on is you didn’t pick up your fucking phone,” you said angrily. 

“Hey,” James looked at you sternly. “What is going on?” he repeated his question, this time more pointedly. 

You could feel your lips begin to tremble and your vision became blurred while you shook your head. 

“Who’s blood is on your shirt?” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “It’s Julian’s.” 

“Julian-I-what happened?” his demeanour changed from frustrated with your attitude towards him to worrying for his son. 

“I-I don’t know he said he couldn’t breathe and then he started coughing up blood and I just picked him up and drove him here a-and now they won’t let me see him.” 

“You drove him?” he asked incredulously. “You didn’t think to maybe call an ambulance?” 

“That’s what you’re hung up on? That I decided to drive because it was faster than getting him an ambulance?” 

“That’s not what I-,” 

“Yes it is,” you stepped back. “I wouldn’t have needed an ambulance if you were there.” 

James sighed and chose to ignore your comment, 

“Where is he?” he asked. 

“Emergency room,” you muttered. “They won’t let me see him, you need to talk to them, say something, anything.” 

James nodded his head, at least you could agree on that. He walked with you out of the office and to the elevator so you could go to the ER together and figure out what the hell was happening to your son. 

When you got down there and James began speaking to the nurses, they informed him that Julian had been moved to the ICU and his respiration was being closely monitored while they ran a few tests to see what had caused the arrest. 

You had to fight to hold yourself upright when they pulled back the curtain and you could see Julian hooked up to all the machines and with a ventilator tube stuck down his throat. You covered your mouth with your hand and shook your head again. This couldn’t be happening, now you were supposed to be cutting into cake and opening presents, not sitting in the ICU. 

You stepped inside with James and he closed the curtain to give you a bit of privacy and decided to look over his chart and see if they had given any relevant information there. Seeing none, he turned his attention over to you, seeing your eyes filled with tears, unable to tear your gaze away from your son. 

James walked over to you and cautiously put a hand on your shoulder, eventually encouraging you to turn around so he could pull you into his arms. You allowed your tears to soak his white coat, gripping onto him so tightly because there was nowhere else to hold. 

You could hear his breathing change, accompanied by the small sniffles and you knew he was doing just as bad as you were right now, wiping the tears from his own eyes as he finally allowed himself to see his son as he was, sick, helpless, vulnerable, and only moments ago, without his dad’s help when he needed him most. 

Your moment was interrupted when you heard the curtain being pulled back and you saw two doctors standing there. You pulled away from James and wiped whatever remaining tears were in your eyes so you could properly address them.

It seemed as though one of the doctors recognized James and when he looked down at the file and saw the name he made the connection internally. 

“Can we talk to you guys out in the waiting room for a moment?” he asked. 

“I don’t want to leave my son,” you shook your head. 

“Ma’am, this is the ICU and the visiting hours are very strictly adhered to, I think your husband maybe got lucky and pulled a few strings so you could see your son, but we need to leave now.” 

“He’s not my husband,” you muttered and reluctantly followed them out of the makeshift room and towards the waiting area. 

“Did you find out what was wrong?” James asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I looked at his chart. You took him for an emergency CT and bloodwork.” 

“We also ran a few other tests,” the doctor began explaining. “From the medical history your, um, ex wife gave I had a suspicion of something so we ran a sweat test to check for elevated chloride levels and it just came back positive.” 

“Chloride levels?” you looked up at James. “What does that mean?” 

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “It means Julian has cystic fibrosis.” 

“I-I’ve heard of that, is it curable?” you asked. 

“I’ll leave you guys with Dr. Liu, he deals with the pediatric cystic fibrosis cases and will be able to answer your questions better than I can,” he wished you a good day and left you alone with the other doctor. 

“Cystic fibrosis is manageable-,” 

“So you can’t cure it,” you reiterated. 

The doctor shook his head, “Unfortunately there is no cure for CF yet, but many people have been able to live longer and happy lives with the medical technology now available.” 

James was silent, taking in all the information that was being presented. 

“How did he get it? Is it contagious or-or was it just always there?” you asked. 

“It’s a genetic condition, so he’s always had it, the symptoms have just gotten to the point where they’re now visible,” the doctor explained.

“I-It’s genetic so one of us is a carrier?” you pointed to you and James. 

“We both are,” James said. “Both parents have to be carriers to pass it down to their child, right?” 

Dr. Liu nodded and you pressed your lips together. 

“C-Can you just tell us what this means for right now?” you asked. “I just think-I think I need a minute.” 

Dr. Liu nodded his head and explained they were giving Julian medication to help with the infection and airway damage that caused him to cough up blood, then they would get him on some bronchodilators to help with his breathing for the time being while they assessed what other issues the cystic fibrosis had potentially caused in his body. He’d have to stay at the hospital for a while, but hopefully could be moved to the pediatric ward within the next day or so.

“We can talk more about what Julian’s medical journey will look like later, I’ll give you guys some time together and if you have any questions, Wilson’s got my pager and knows where my office is.” 

You nodded your head and thanked him quietly as he left the waiting area. You finally sat down on one of the chairs. 

James took the seat next to you and you covered your face with your hands. 

“We couldn’t give him a functional family and a happy home and now we’ve given him a chronic medical condition to top it off.” 

“Blaming ourselves isn’t going to do anything for Julian,” James said. 

“And sitting around here is?” you asked and James sighed. 

“No, no it’s not.” 

You sat there in silence for a little while longer before you noticed James stand up and motion for you to follow him. As much as you didn’t want to listen to him and just sit and wait until they would let you be with Julian again, you got up and followed him to one of the OR supply closets. He used a key to unlock the door and sifted through some materials until he found what he was looking for, pulling out a scrub shirt in your size and handing it over to you. 

You looked down at your own shirt, seeing the red specks of Julian’s blood and closed the door behind your both, pulling your shirt off over your head and handing it to James. You were about to put the other shirt on when you noticed the flecks of dried blood against your chest. 

While you eyes were transfixed on that, James had grabbed an alcohol wipe package from the shelves and tore it open with his teeth, removing the wipe and reaching over to help you clean the blood off yourself. 

“James, I can do it myself,” you reached for the wipe, but he pulled it away. 

“You’ve got some on your neck too, just let me take care of it,” he insisted. 

You knew better than to cause a fight over something trivial like this right now so you put your hands down, watching as James tossed your shirt over his shoulder and carefully began wiping away the specks of your son’s blood off your chest, collarbone, and neck. 

“Have you eaten today?” he asked you while holding your face to tilt it to the side so he could get a spot he’d missed earlier. 

“No, why?” 

“Because it’s his birthday, you’d always forget to eat until dinner and even then it would be scraps from the party until I forced you to eat something better,” he recounted. “Let’s just go grab something from the cafeteria before we go back to the ICU, okay?” 

“Will it make a difference if I say I’m not hungry?” you asked. 

“You can’t take care of Julian if you’re not taking care of yourself.” 

You scoffed and pulled the shirt over your head, “And you’ve suddenly become an expert on taking care of your family?” 

“Believe it or not, we were once happy and there was a reason we got married and decided to have a child together.” 

“And there’s a reason we got divorced too,” you added and opened the door behind you.

You didn’t go to the cafeteria, instead heading back to the ICU waiting room knowing either visiting hours would have to start eventually or they’d move Julian to his own room and you could finally sit with him. 

James clearly hadn’t followed you so you ended up alone again, wringing your hands and waiting for some sort of news. 

Eventually, you felt a bag drop on your lap and you looked up and saw James standing overtop of you. You looked inside and saw a package of a sandwich, a small bag of chips, and a water bottle. 

You knew he was right, that if you didn’t take care of yourself you wouldn’t be able to take care of Julian, so you forced yourself to eat, even if you didn’t want to. 

A little while later, Dr. Liu had returned and informed you that they were moving Julian to the pediatric ward and you could stay with him there in his room. When you joined him there, James had taken off his white coat and tossed it on one of the chairs, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and sitting down next to Julian’ taking one of his hands in his own. 

“Don’t you have patients you need to see?” you asked, sitting on the opposite side of the hospital bed. 

“I told Cuddy I needed the day, someone else is taking care of it for me,” he said, not removing his gaze from Julian. 

With the two of them sitting next to each other like that, you could clearly see the similarities Julian had with his father. They shared the same eyes and nose, and when they smiled they had the same little creases around their eyes. 

You wished that’s what you could have been looking at, them smiling together, instead of the frown etched onto James’ face and Julian still fast asleep while an oxygen mask now delivered the air he needed to help him breathe. 

“Do you know much about cystic fibrosis?” you asked James, brushing your thumb against Julian’s other hand. 

“Only that it mainly affects the digestive system and the respiratory tract,” he explained. “I’m not too familiar with how it's managed, just that there’s regular doctor’s visits and probably some medication and therapies involved.” 

You could feel a small stirring and you looked down and saw Julian’s hand begin to move underneath yours. 

You smiled when you saw his eyes blink open and James was quick to stand up and come closer to him so he had a familiar face to look at while he took in his surroundings. 

“Hey buddy,” James smiled and you could see Julian light up at the sight of his dad. He lifted his hand to try to remove the oxygen mask, but James gently encouraged him not to. “This is giving your lungs an extra hand right now, let’s just keep it on until the doctor tells us it's okay to take it off.” 

“But you’re a doctor,” Julian countered and James chuckled. 

“I am, but I'm not your doctor. I am, however, your dad so you have to listen to me anyways,” he teased and bent down to kiss his son’s cheek and tickle him a little bit in the process. 

“Hey, go easy on him,” you placed a gentle hand on James' arm and he laid off. 

“You know,” James said. “It’s still your birthday.” 

“It is?” Julian asked and you both nodded and James reached down to grab something he’d brought with him. 

“All the presents your friends got you are at home waiting for you to get better so you can open them, but this is what I got for you,” he said. “I was gonna come and bring it to the party, but I think you brought the party to me.” 

Julian laughed a little at that and you rolled your eyes, of course James could make himself look good by not showing up. 

He sat up with the help of his dad and pulled out the tissue paper from the bag to see the present that was hiding underneath. With a big grin on his face, he took out a dinosaur stuffed animal along with a book all about the different species of the Cretaceous period. 

“This is awesome,” Julian grinned. “Thanks dad, I love it.” 

James gave Julian another kiss and you joined them, taking a seat on the bed and glancing over at the book on Julian’s lap. 

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” you asked, fixing the twisted band of the oxygen mask on his face. 

“My throat hurts a little bit,” he admitted. “And I’m kinda hungry.” 

“Let me call a nurse and we’ll see what you can eat,” you said and pressed the button to send someone over from the nurses’ station. 

Meanwhile, James poured Julian a glass of water and helped him take a few sips of it. His throat was probably irritated from being on the ventilator, but his lungs had become stabilized from the use of the bronchodilators. 

The nurse came and you spoke to her about getting Julian something to eat and she said she’d double check with Dr. Liu and then grab him some food. 

“Hey, Jay,” you walked over to the bed and took your son’s hand in yours. “Are you okay to hang out here with dad while I go grab some stuff from home? The doctors said we might hang around here for a few days so I think I need to pack a bag.” 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Julian nodded. “Are you okay mom?” he reached up and touched your cheek and you realized you'd let a few more tears slip.

“Yeah, I’m just really happy you’re okay,” you wiped the tears away and pressed a big kiss to his cheek. “Right, Jamie? We’re both happy he’s okay.” 

James looked over at you with softness reflecting in his eyes at the sound of the nickname he hadn’t heard in a long time and nodded his head. 

“Bring some cake back with you,” Julian whispered. “Even if dad and the doctor say no we can sneak some.” 

You laughed at his plan and gave him another kiss, assuring him you’d pack some in a container to bring for him when you came back.

When you arrived at your home, you thought you might cry at the sight in front of you. The kitchen and living room were completely clean, presents piled neatly on the coffee table along with a new card you didn’t recognize. Coming closer, you noticed the bright marker, signature of eight-year-olds across the country, with the message Get Well Soon Julian! written on it and signed by all his friends who had attended the party. 

You packed the card in your bag along with a few other things and made a mental note to grab a nice thank you gift for Mahlet to thank her for what she had done. 

As promised, you cut a big chunk of cake, enough for the three of you to share, and packed it in a tupperware to bring back to the hospital. 

You grabbed a few changes of clothes for both you and Julian and changed out of the temporary shirt you had on and into something more comfortable for the rest of the evening, making sure everything you needed was in place before heading out and going back to the hospital. 

When you got back to Julian’s room you saw James squished in next to him on the bed, the book he had bought him opened on his lap as he read its contents to Julian. Julian was resting his head against James’ arm and James was doing those big exaggerations he always would whenever he’d read bedtime stories to Julian, emphasizing all the insane details and changing the inflections of his voice in just the right way to make him laugh. 

“I brought cake,” you grinned, holding up the container as you entered the room, holding three plastic forks. “If Dr. Dad says it's okay, we can eat it.” 

“Dr. Dad desperately needs some sugar,” James nodded his head and closed the book for the time being while you took a seat by Julian’s legs and opened the container, handing each of the boys a fork. 

You helped Julian take off his oxygen mask for the time being and placed it off to the side, acutely aware of how his breathing sounded more laboured without it. 

James only snuck in a couple bites of the cake before taking the mask from your side and holding it ready in case Julian needed a bit of an extra hand. 

Just as he had predicted, after a few bites of cake Julian was noticing a bit of a difficulty to get air into his lungs and James held up the mask to his face, allowing him to take a couple deep breaths. 

“What do you think of the cake, Jay?” you asked. 

“Really good, just like everytime you make it,” he grinned. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a great birthday, buddy,” James apologized. “I mean with all your friends and classmates.” 

“What do you mean?” Julian asked. “I think I had a good birthday.” 

“You do?” you frowned curiously, wondering what kind of light he’d seen in the day that you and James as worried parents had somehow missed. “What made it good?”

“We’re sitting eating cake. Together. Just like when I was little,” he said simply and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, looking over at James whose gaze hadn’t left Julian. He almost looked disappointed, at what, you couldn’t place, but at least for the moment Julian was happy and that was all either of you really wanted. 

—

You grabbed your purse from the ground and thanked Dr. Liu for all of the information he had given you and assured you’d be there with Julian at the allocated follow-up time you had arranged. You were just about to leave when James came rushing into the room, apologies spewing out of his mouth for being late. 

“Late? You missed the whole appointment.”

“I-I did?” he said, looking down at his watch and cursing when he saw the time. 

“Jay, sweetheart, why don’t you sit down here,” you moved out of Dr. Liu’s office and set him up on a chair in one of the general waiting areas and handed him his dinosaur book from your purse. “I just need to go have a chat with your dad real quick.” 

Julian nodded and opened up the book, flipping through the pages while you grabbed James’ arm and pulled him into a dead-end hallway so you could speak in private. 

“What the hell took you so long?” you asked firmly. “We waited for twenty minutes before even starting the appointment!” 

“I’m sorry,” James apologized, “I was in the OR with a patient and something went haywire and it took longer than expected to fix it.” 

“Still, you couldn’t have told someone to at least pass on a message?” 

“I was in the middle of saving a patient’s life! What did you want me to do?” 

“I wanted you to be there for your son,” you whispered harshly. “You make promises you can’t keep and I have to watch him get disappointed over and over again. He does not deserve that, especially now.” 

James placed his hands on his hips and said, 

“I am trying to be there, it’s not for lack of effort-,” 

“Well try harder!” you threw your hands up in the air. “You’re an ex-husband James, not an ex-father. You don’t have to show up for me anymore, but you damn well better show up for him.” 

When he said nothing you continued. 

“Believe it or not, you don’t have to work as much as you do James. You chose to do that and right now that’s coming at your son’s expense and he is scared and vulnerable and neither of us know half of what Dr. Liu is talking to us about. Do you know what he said to me when I was confused about the management plan? He said Dad would know what this means. Dad can help us. And he’s right, you would have known and you can help so stop acting like your fucking schedule controls you and get your schedule under control.” 

James was quiet for a moment before he nodded his head, 

“Okay,” he said simply. 

You knew better than to get your hopes up with him and you didn’t have any more energy to argue, so you told him you could talk more later, but right now you were going to take Julian home so he could rest in his own bed and finally open his birthday presents. 

“Is dad coming with us?” Julian asked when you picked him up and began walking away to leave the hospital. 

“No, not this time,” you shook your head. 

“Did you fight with him again?” Julian asked and you pressed your lips together. 

“We just had a disagreement,” you settled on. “You can call him later when he’s done work if you want to talk to him, sounds good?” 

Julian was content with your answer and left it at that. 

Over the next few days, aside from Julian’s call, you didn’t hear much for James and you assumed things were right on track to going back to the way they had always been. You loved your son to pieces, but this was one time you wished his dad would be here to support, working and caring for Julian on top of trying to figure out how to be his at home doctor was already taking its toll and you didn’t know how you’d be able to keep it up. 

One night, you were sitting in the living room reading a book Dr. Liu had recommended. It was detailing strategies for parents with children who had cystic fibrosis. In the middle of your chapter you were interrupted by a knock to your door and you put in your bookmark, wondering who was stopping by this far into the evening. 

Unlocking the door and opening it, you found it hard to hide the surprise in your face when you saw James on the other end. 

“James?” you tilted your head. “I haven’t heard from you at all this week, what’s going on?” 

“I reduced my patient load,” he said, “and I talked to Cuddy about reducing my clinic hours. I still have to do some administrative stuff for the department, but it can be done from home for the most part.” 

“Oh,” you were surprised to say the least. You didn’t realize your outburst the other day had worked. 

“You were right,” he said. “I need to be here for Julian and I can’t do that if my work always comes first.” 

You nodded your head, following along with what he was saying. 

“C-Can I come in and see him?” James asked. “I know our custody agreement has always been all over the place-,” 

You didn’t say anything, simply opening the door wider for him to come inside. 

“He’s asleep in his room,” you said. “When you’re done we can talk some more.” 

James nodded and stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and taking off his jacket, making his way to Julian’s room to sit with him for a moment before joining you in the kitchen. 

“Want something to drink?” you asked and he said some water would be nice. You poured him a glass while waiting for the water to boil for your tea. 

“I saw the book you were reading over there,” he pointed to the couch. “Dr. Liu recommended it to me too, I just finished it the other night.” 

“Show off,” you rolled your eyes and handed him the glass. 

“What I was trying to say is I think something that stood out to me is having consistency and a routine is good, especially when things are new,” James explained. “I don’t think it makes sense for him to be moving back and forth from here to my place.” 

“So you think we should have a home base here?” you confirmed and he nodded. 

“I can come by more often, if there’s days where you need to be at work I can be doing the administrative stuff here after school and take care of Julian until you get back.” 

You pursed your lips and as you heard the kettle click, moved to pour your hot water into the mug you were holding. 

“These are all good ideas,” you started. 

“I’m assuming there’s a but coming?” 

“But I don’t want to give Julian the wrong impression is all.” 

James shook his head. 

“You really need to pick whatever it is you want,” James crossed his arms over his chest. “First I’m not here enough, I don’t put my family first. Now I’m putting my family first and you’re worried Julian’s going to think this means we’re getting back together.” 

“He doesn’t need to get his hopes up for something that’s never going to happen,” you said flatly. 

“Have you ever considered having a conversation with him instead of shielding him from every little thing that might hurt him?” James asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Clearly every little thing can hurt him!” you pointed over to his room. “He can’t even breathe without help, James. Maybe he needs to be protected.” 

“Stop, just stop,” James ran a hand over his face. “I can’t get into a fight with you every single time we see each other. Julian is just as much my son as he is yours, if this is going to work we need to be able to have a conversation with each other.” 

You took a sip of your tea and said,

“Okay, I’m worried Julian might take the fact that you’re around more the wrong way.” 

James nodded his head, “I hear you, so maybe we should talk to him about it and say I’m coming around more to lend a hand around the house and help take care of him.” 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” as if on cue, Julian had walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes awake and adjusting to the light. 

“Julian, where’s your oxygen mask?” 

“I don’t wanna wear it mom,” he whined. “I don’t like the way it feels on my face.” 

You sighed, having had this conversation at least five times before, you didn’t know what else you could say to convince him. 

“Hey buddy, maybe we should listen to mom on this one,” James suggested. “You know that feeling you’ve got right here,” he pointed to his chest. “That’s only gonna get worse if you don’t wear it and we don’t want to have to go to the hospital again, right?” 

Julian shook his head and sighed, stomping back over to his room to grab the portable machine and place the tube under his nose and around his ears, allowing him to get the right amount of oxygen. 

You looked over at James gratefully and he reached his hand out to yours and gave it a squeeze. It was nice being on the same team even if you had just been arguing. 

When Julian came back he repeated his question to his dad who explained that he was here to talk to you about a few things that would be changing soon and that he’d be around more to help look after him. 

“If you’re going to be here to help look after me can you stay tonight?” Julian asked. “Mom still has some of your clothes in those boxes in her closet.” 

“She does, does she,” James looked over at you. 

“It was the stuff you wanted to give away and I never got around to it,” you said. “There’s probably a hoodie and some pyjama pants in there if you want to stay.” 

James pressed his lips together and sighed, 

“You know buddy as much as I would love to have a sleepover with you I don’t think it’s a good idea if I spend the night here,” James said. “But I can tuck you in again and wait until you fall asleep to go back home.” 

“Mom, can you come too?” Julian asked and you nodded your head. 

James stood up and helped Julian carry his portable oxygen machine back to his bedroom and you trailed behind them, watching as James carefully tucked Julian back under the covers while peppering his face with small kisses, like he would do when Julian was younger and just learning to sleep in his own room. 

“Dad that tickles,” Julian giggled and James simply smiled and continued littering his face with kisses. 

“Too bad. I love you too much; I just can’t get enough of you.” 

“Alright, move it,” you nudged James from the opposite side of the bed and took your turn. “It must tickle having two parents who love you so damn much.” 

“It does,” Julian’s laughter died out as you both finally left him alone, sitting on either side of his mattress. 

You both wished him a good night and waited as he slowly fell back asleep. When his breathing was steady and his grip loosened on yours and James’ hands you took it as your cue to leave the room. 

James placed a hand on your shoulder as you stepped out of the room, prompting you to turn around and face him. 

“I’ll come by tomorrow and we can work out a schedule or something, does that sound good?”

You nodded your head, 

“Yeah, I have a work thing tomorrow in the evening, I was gonna ask Mahlet, Hennock’s mom, if she could come look after Julian, but if you’re around…” 

“I’ll come for dinner and then do the bedtime routine,” he said and you smiled. 

“James I’m begging you-,” 

“I won’t be late,” he assured. “No surgeries planned and I’m ending my shift with clinic duty.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line and nodded your head. 

“I’ll see you then,” you patted his arm and he showed himself out. 

You walked back to the kitchen grabbing your now lukewarm cup of tea and sitting back on the couch picking up your book and opening it, reading until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, falling asleep right there on the couch. 

—

Over the next few months, you, James, and Julian had developed some sort of routine around school, work, and doctor’s appointments. A part of you thought you were spending more time together as a family than when you were married. 

Today you had to go in for work, also having reduced your hours, but in a way that you were working in tandem with James. When you arrived back home the house smelled like warm spices and big plates of home-cooked food. 

You dropped your keys on the entryway table, next to James’ keys and wallet and took off your jacket, hanging it up before coming to the kitchen and seeing Julian and Hennock doing their homework at the island. 

“Mr. Wilson, what is the difference between these two words?” Hennock asked, holding up his paper so James could see while cutting some vegetables for a salad. 

“I think the first one is the kind of principal in your school that looks after all the students and the other one is… man, that’s hard to describe. Hey, how do you describe what principle is to an eight-year-old?” James asked you. 

“I think that kind of principle is something that guides the way people behave or act,” you sat next to Julian and Hennock. “Like a principle is the foundation for something that people believe in.” 

Hennock and Julian still looked a little confused by your explanation so you tried to give an example. 

“So a principle could be to be kind to everyone we meet and so people who believe in that principle will try to follow it.” 

That put it in better terms for them to understand and there was a chorus of oh’s before they looked back down at their papers and scribbled down a few things to answer the questions they were asked. 

“They learning about homonyms?” you asked James and he nodded.

“I talked to Mahlet,” James said, changing the topic. “Hennock’s gonna stay for dinner and she’ll come pick him up around seven.” 

“Sounds good, it’s always nice to have you, Henny,” you smiled and ruffled your hand through his coarse curly hair in an endearing way. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Wilson,” Hennock smiled. 

James was now over the stove, stirring what looked like a soup before giving it a taste and figuring something might be missing.

“Can you taste this?” James asked. “I don’t know why, but every time I make it there’s something off.” 

You took a spoon and tried a little bit of the broth, looking down to see that he was making matzah ball soup and immediately when you tasted it you knew what was missing. 

“I know what it is,” you said. “But you can’t tell your mom I told you. She swore me to secrecy.” 

“My mother told you this?” James asked and you nodded. 

“When we were getting married she wanted me to know how to make it the way she would for you when you were sick.” 

“And she didn’t think to tell her own son how to do this?” he seemed thoroughly offended, but all you could do was laugh. 

“It’s tarragon. I don’t think it’s something everyone adds, it was just something special she’d put in hers to make it a little different. Here,” you reached into the spice cupboard and took out a jar of dried tarragon and took a bit of the herb out of the container and crushed it in your hands before sprinkling it into the soup. James mixed it in and gave the broth a minute to soak in the flavour before trying it again and shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!” 

“I’ll let you finish having your little meltdown,” you patted his back. “I’m gonna hop in the shower quickly and we can eat when I get out.” 

“Did Dad forget the tarragon?” Julian asked and you nodded your head. 

“Wow, so everyone knew, but me?” James asked and you nodded your head with a shrug. 

“Sorry, I guess your mom has favourites, or something.” 

“Figures,” James teasingly rolled his eyes and you chuckled, waving him off and going to take a shower and change into something a little more comfortable. 

When you came back outside they had migrated to the dining room table, each with a bowl of soup in front of them and a plate of salad. You sat on the same side as James since Julian and Hennock were already sitting next to each other and the boys happily recounted the details of their school day and playdate with you while everyone ate their soup and salad. 

“What did you do at work, Dad?” James asked. 

“Oh, nothing interesting,” he shook his head. “I think your mom was doing bigger things than me.” 

“Bigger than treating people with cancer? You flatter me,” you drank some of your soup’s broth. “I had a meeting with a big company about a building they’re making.” 

“Did you go do a site visit?” James asked and you nodded. 

“Engineers are being a pain in the butt, keep making me adjust the design, but we’ll see who gets the last laugh.” 

“Mom always does,” Julian told Hennock and they chuckled along with James. 

After dinner James helped you clear up some of the dishes before heading out and leaving you with the boys. When Mahlet came by to pick Hennock up you invited her in for tea and a little visit. 

“Thanks for coming to stay with Julian the other night,” you said after handing her a mug. “For once, I was the late one and James had an emergency come up so it was a huge help.” 

“And how are things now, with the co-parenting?” 

You took a sip of your tea, “Weirdly good,” you admitted. “We don’t argue as much which is nice and Julian gets to see his dad more.” 

“Do you think maybe you’re not fighting because he’s changing?” she asked. 

“I don’t wanna go down that path,” you shook your head. “If Jay hadn’t been diagnosed things would still be the same as they always were.” 

“But they’re not. More often than not people show their true colours during times of difficulty.” 

You took a deep breath and sighed, “If that was the case I would have seen something worth keeping when my marriage was falling apart.” 

Mahlet nodded, seeing as you had a point and your conversation was halted as they boys came out of Julian’s room. 

Mahlet and Hennock left shortly afterwards and you quickly got Julian ready for bed, tucking him in and then going to get settled yourself. You looked through a few client papers for work before calling it a night and turning off your bedside lamp, curling into bed and falling asleep. 

Your sleep was interrupted in the middle of the night by a tapping on your shoulder and when you blinked your eyes open you saw Julian standing next to your bed. 

“Jay, sweetheart, is something wrong?” you asked. 

“My stomach really hurts,” he told you and you sat up, motioning for him to come sit with you on the bed. 

“Where?” you asked, turning on the light and he pointed to the upper right corner of his abdomen. If you remembered correctly that wasn’t exactly where his stomach was and your suspicions were confirmed when you saw the yellowing whites of his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, I think we have to go to the hospital.” 

“The hospital? What happened?” Julian looked worried and you assured him everything would be alright. 

“We’re just being safe,” you told him. “I’m gonna call your dad, maybe he can tell us a little bit more of what’s going on. Do you feel good enough to get your jacket and shoes and your hospital bag?” 

Julian nodded his head and you gave him a kiss and he went off to grab his things while you did the same, but also taking your cell phone and calling James. 

It took a few rings, but he eventually picked up. 

“Hey, did something happen?” he asked and you could still hear the sleep thick in his voice. 

“I think something’s wrong with Julian. I’m gonna take him to the hospital, can you meet us there?” 

“Yeah, of course, I’m on my way.” 

“James…the whites of his eyes were yellow. Does he have jaundice?” you asked.

“It’s possible, was there anything else?” 

“Yeah, he mentioned stomach pain, but he pointed to like his upper right abdomen, I think,” you explained while grabbing your bag and putting on some socks. 

“Makes sense as a liver issue,” you could hear his car starting in the background. “If he’s presenting symptoms now I would call an ambulance.” 

“James-,” 

“Just trust me,” he said. “Call 911.” 

“Okay,” you nodded your head and hung up, calling the emergency services and explaining the situation to them and then to Julian while you waited for them to arrive. 

James made the right call, seeing as while you were in the ambulance Julian began to throw up and the paramedics obviously handled it better than you could have if you had driven him. 

When you arrived at the ER they wheeled Julian away and you began getting flashbacks to when you first brought him in. 

“Where are you taking him?” you called after them, but no one answered you. “What the hell kind of hospital is this?! Where are you taking my son?!” 

“Ma’am they're taking your son to do a liver biopsy,” one of the nurses came back and informed you. “We need you to sign this consent form.” 

You nodded your head and took the pen from her hand, signing it, but just as you were about to ask her a question she ran off to give them the okay. 

You could feel your anger and worry bubbling inside your throat and you wanted to let it out in a scream and you were about to go running after her, but before you could you felt someone grab your wrist and pull you back. 

“James let me go,” you said warningly, looking back at your ex-husband. 

“No,” he stated just as firmly. 

“James-,” 

“I am not going to let you do something you’re going to regret,” he said and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, even when you pushed to get away. 

“James, let me go.”

“No,” he repeated and simply held onto you tighter. 

“Let me-,” your voice broke and you stopped pushing away. “Please, Jamie, please I just want to see him,” you cried into his shirt and he squeezed you so tight you thought you might get bruises in your arm from the way he was holding you. 

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You brought him here and he’s going to be fine.” 

“I can’t do this anymore, James. I can't be his mom and his doctor and they can’t expect me to wait out here while they drag him away and ask me to consent to God knows what.” 

James didn’t know what to tell you, instead he just continued to hold you close, rubbing his hands up and down your back, and pressed a soft kiss against your temple. 

You wrapped your arms around him and finally let yourself fully sink into his embrace, hating yourself for how much you liked it and how good it made you feel while your son was in some back corner of the ER getting a piece of his liver biopsied.

Eventually James pulled away from you, helping you dry your tears on the sleeve of his sweater and walking with his arm wrapped around you to the waiting area. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, but it was possible that you had dozed off once or twice against James’ arm, waiting to hear some sort of news from the ER doctor. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?” 

Your eyes blinked open when James gently shook you awake. 

“That’s us,” he said. “Is Julian okay?” 

“Your son has a mild case of cirrhosis,” the doctor explained. “Due to his cystic fibrosis diagnosis we believe this is due to clogging and inflammation in his bile ducts.” 

“What does that mean for him? Does he need surgery to fix it?” you asked, fighting back a tired yawn. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” the doctor nodded. “It’s good you caught it early, there’s minimal damage to his liver so far and he’s still growing which means his liver is too. We can get him into an OR tomorrow if you consent to the surgery.” 

You looked over at James and he nodded his head. You trusted him and told the doctor you would sign the papers as soon as you could see Julian. 

“He’s been moved to the pediatric ward for now and Dr. Liu has been informed of the development. He should be in touch with you tomorrow.” 

“Thank you,” James said and when the doctor left, he helped you up and you began the walk up to the pediatric ward. 

When you arrived a nurse pointed you in the direction of his room and after each pressing a kiss to Julain’s forehead you sat on the seat bench together. 

“We should sleep,” James said, but you had a hard time imagining how that would be possible. 

“I’m having a hard time working out the logistics,” you admitted. 

“Come on, it’ll be just like on the way back from our honeymoon,” he insisted, recalling your extremely delayed flight on the way back from France, causing you to sleep with your head on James’ lap, stretched out along the airport chairs. 

You were too tired to argue or try and find another way, so you leaned down and rested your head against his legs, closing your eyes and sighing when you felt his hand rub up and down in long motions along the side of your body. Sleep could not have come quicker.

—

“Mom…Mom, Dad?” 

Julian rolled his eyes when he received no answer and grabbed the stuffed animal you had placed next to him when he’d come into the room and threw it at his sleeping parents, nailing his dad in the face. 

“Oh, God, mhm, wake up,” James shook you while he raised his hands to rub his face.

“Huh?” you opened your eyes and pushed yourself off of James’ lap. “Oh crap, my back. Remind me not to listen to you when you talk about doing something I did ten years ago.” 

“Julian, did you throw Steggy at my face?” James asked, picking up the stuffed animal from where it had fallen on you. 

“You weren’t getting up,” Julian shrugged his shoulders. 

“Julian,” you chastised and took the dinosaur from James’ hand. “You could have hurt your dad’s important doctor-face,” you joked and rubbed your hand all over James’ face making Julian laugh. 

“Okay, okay,” James moved your hand away and gave you a look. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” you yawned and moved from the bench to the side of his bed. 

“A little better,” he said. “Did the doctors fix what was wrong?” 

“Not yet,” James shook his head and came to sit next to you and placed a hand on Julian’s. “You’re gonna have to go in for surgery today.” 

“A surgery?” Julian looked a little nervous. “Like cut me open?” 

“It’ll be just a line right here,” James drew it with his finger along Julian’s abdomen. “They’re going to fix a part of you called your bile duct and then sew you right back up and you’ll be good as new.” 

“Is it dangerous?” he asked. 

You looked over at James, a small note telling him to lie to make him feel better. He didn’t need to know all the details. 

“No,” James shook his head. “You’re gonna be fine and your mom and I will be here the whole time.” 

“Promise?” Julian whispered. 

“Swear on it,” James leaned in towards his son and snuck a kiss to his cheek. “We love you, buddy.” 

“I love you guys too.” 

Dr. Liu came by a little while later to inform you what time the surgery was scheduled for and he helped make Julian feel a lot better about the procedure. When it was finally time for him to go, you were a nervous wreck, but tried not to let it show for Julian’s sake, instead just pressing a big kiss to his forehead and telling him you’d be waiting for him once he got out. 

It only took about fifteen minutes of your pacing to get James to grab onto your arm and make you stop. 

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the ground,” he said. 

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” you admitted. “If I sit I’m gonna fidget, if I stand I’m going to pace.” 

“Then come on, let’s go to my office for a second, grab a coffee and a snack and then we can come back out and wait,” he suggested. 

You agreed to his idea so he stood up and you walked side by side to his office, passing House who had some comment about your dishevelled appearance together. 

“You’re an interesting man, Greg,” you shook your head at him. “You can’t think of any other reason we might be here?” 

House was silent so James explained, 

“Julian’s in surgery right now. He’s got cirrhosis.” 

“Ah so not a late night ex-wife rendez-vous. Can’t get ‘em right all the time,” he shrugged and you chuckled. “I hope the kid’s alright.” 

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you admitted. 

He raised his brows and lifted his cane to say goodbye, letting you and James continue your walk to his office. 

“House mind that you’re not spending as much time here?” you asked. 

“No, he just bothers me more when I am around,” James said while opening the door and letting you inside. 

He went towards his desk and pulled out a few packages of snacks tossing you one and you shook your head when you saw the label. 

“You still eat these? I thought the FDA recalled them?” you asked sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry I have better taste in food than you do,” he said right back. 

“Right, this is food,” you chuckled. “And if you have such good taste why didn’t your mom tell you about her secret ingredient?” 

“That’s cold,” he pointed to you with a bag of chips in his hand. 

“No, it’s true. Just like your dad telling me I was his favourite wife of yours,” you opened the bag James had tossed you. 

“Just shut up and eat your snack,” James chuckled and you listened to him, beginning to eat a little something, not realizing how hungry you were until the food made its way to your stomach. 

“You got another one of these?” you asked and he nodded, passing it to you when you were finished with the first one. 

“Feeling a little better?” James asked and you nodded your head. 

“Hey James?” you said, unsure of how you’d gotten to this point, but you were too exhausted to stop yourself from saying it. “I want you to move back in.” 

“You want me to do what?” he raised his brows and looked at you stunned. 

“I want you to move back in with me and Julian,” you said. “It’s becoming pretty clear to me that it’s safer to have two people around when possible than not and you’re already around all the time now.” 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked. “I mean you didn’t want to give Julian the wrong idea about us.” 

“Our lives changed the second we got that diagnosis. I think we need to change along with everything else.” 

You couldn’t believe that just barely twelve hours ago you were telling your friend there was no chance James had changed, but here you were saying things that had proved you had changed. Things you wouldn’t have dreamt of saying a year ago. 

“Okay,” James nodded. “I’ll move back in.” 

You just silently hoped you wouldn’t regret asking. 

Waiting for Julian to get out of surgery was a little easier now that you had some food in your stomach and you decided to wait on coffee until you got the note from the surgeon that everything had gone well. 

As James had continued to assure you almost a hundred times, the surgery went fine and before you knew it you were back in Julian’s room watching him sleep off the anaesthetic. 

“You know he looks like you when he sleeps,” James said from the bench while you sat on the bed next to Julian. 

“He does?” 

“Yeah, his nose does that same scrunchy thing when he sniffles and when he snores-,” 

“Hey, I only snore when I’m congested,” you said defensively. 

“I never minded,” James smiled. “I thought it was cute when you sounded like an old man.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not fond of all my old man characteristics,” you turned around to face him, still holding Julian’s hand in yours. 

“All your old man characteristics?” James furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“You told me I argued like an old man. Stubborn and could only see my own way. And I fought dirty.” 

“You sure did,” James nodded. “If you brandishing my mother’s clear favouritism shows anything, it’s definitely that you fight dirty, but I never said I disliked that about you.” 

“Really? Near the end I thought there was a lot you disliked about me.” 

James shook his head, “No, I was just upset and you were passionate. It wasn’t like my other marriages where things just…fizzled.” 

“We did go out with a bang,” you inhaled deeply. 

“If it weren’t for Julian… do you think we’d…” 

You shook your head. 

“No, we probably never would have seen each other again. Another old man trait, I hold a pretty mean grudge.” 

James pressed his lips together and looked over at his sleeping son. 

“I’m happy we had him,” he said quietly. “Even if we didn’t work out.” 

“Me too,” you agreed, looking over at Julian quietly snoring, just like his dad had said. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Julian’s nose watching him scrunch it up, making you smile. It was a miracle that two such flawed individuals could make a child so perfect. 

—

“Alright, he is asleep, but I do warn you it took some bribery so you’ll have to buy him another dinosaur book to read to him at night,” you walked out of Julian’s room, dusting your hands off like you’d just finished a heavy labour job. 

“I’ll run to the bookstore tomorrow,” James nodded and you fell onto the couch next to him and sighing as you sunk into the plush fabric before noticing what he was doing. 

“Where did you pull these out of?” you asked with a soft chuckle. 

“I was just clearing up the closet in the guest bedroom and I found a box of these,” he picked up the albums. “Look at this one.” 

He placed the book of photos on your lap and you smiled seeing as it was Julian’s baby album, filled with small mementos and little notes you and James had made in the margins. 

“Oh my God, Mom’s first day home, she looks like an angel,” you read from the side. “And my response: I look like I just got hit by a bus, cut it out.” 

“You can still read my chicken scratch writing?” James asked. 

“My most useless talent as I like to call it,” you nodded. “You wrote a lot in here.” 

“I used to bring it with me to work cause I missed you guys so much,” he admitted. “Made me feel closer to you.” 

You read through some of the notes in the book, chuckling a little at some of the written back and forth you had. Eventually you got to the family portraits you’d had taken a few months after Julian was born, smiling softly to yourself. 

You remembered the day well, you felt like you hadn’t slept in weeks, James was just getting off of a twelve-hour shift and you were almost late to your appointment with the photographer. You were worried everything was going to look terrible and you’d barely had enough time to do your hair or makeup, but James had silenced your worries with a kiss and assured you the pictures would be fine. 

In the end most of them were terrible, but the photographer managed to get two shots, one of you and James smiling down at Julian in your arms and another immediately after where you were looking up and smiling at each other. 

“That session was a shitshow,” you recalled and James agreed. “We did get a few nice things out of it though.” 

You looked back down at the pile of albums in front of you and noticed a large white one, tucked under a few things and even though nothing good could come of it, you pulled it out from the bottom of the pile, carefully blowing off the dust and turning the first page. 

Centerfold, just like you remembered it, was a picture of you and James on your wedding day. You leaned further back into the couch and James scooched in closer to get a look. 

You both looked younger in the picture, with that spark of je ne sais quoi in your eyes. 

“I told you there was a reason we got married,” he said quietly, his hand brushing the corner of the photo. 

“Yeah, we loved each other,” you said. “That was the reason.” 

“Same reason we decided to have Julian,” he added. 

You could feel your breathing become a little more shallow and a tightness in your chest as James spoke about Julian. You remembered the conversations so clearly, like you’d had them yesterday, caught between happy and passionate kisses while James made some dirty jokes about getting you pregnant. 

That was back when he still couldn’t get enough of you. Before things changed and he slowly distanced himself until it felt like it was just you and Julian against the rest of the world, and not the three of you like he had promised all those nights throughout your pregnancy. 

You wondered quietly to yourself what had changed? What had become so unbearable that there was distance in the first place? There was never a lack of love on your end which is why this was dangerous. 

At least when there was distance you could be angry with him, you could go to bed at night and not remember all the little things that made you love him in the first place. He wasn’t there as a constant  reminder that you loved his cooking, or even just your banter together. More importantly, it was giving you new reasons to feel that fluttering feeling in your stomach. 

You’d always loved how he’d interact with Julian, but now that you got to see it day in and day out, it made it harder to weigh that against the cons of everything. Most notably, this was the beginning of the end. If you let yourself fall you would both crash and Julian would be caught in the middle once again. 

You tried to distract yourself by flipping through the album photos to find some funny old picture of a relative or maybe even an embarrassing moment to tone down whatever it was that looking at that picture was making you feel. 

All you could focus on was how in every picture, almost without fail, James was looking over at you. Rarely into the camera along with everyone else. He was enamoured, that was the only word to describe it, and oh how much you missed that look. 

You made the mistake of tearing away your gaze from the pictures, looking up at James instead, and for a moment you thought just maybe you saw that same look in his eyes. But no. It couldn’t have been. The dim light of the lamp must have been playing tricks on you. 

Finally you closed the album and put it back down, unsure of what feelings might resurface if you opened another one. Your honeymoon, family dinners and pictures were all just reminders of the happy times, not what came after.

James did what you didn’t want to, grabbing another album and sifting through the pages until he found what he was looking for, taking a picture out of its protective sleeve and showing it to you. 

“Can I keep this one?” he asked. 

You took it from his hands, examining it while your fingers precariously held the edges of the photograph. 

It was a silly picture, something you had taken while you were travelling. James got someone to take the camera, but along with snapping a few shots while you were posed with smiles they caught a few candids, most notably, James kissing your cheek while you laughed and tried to squirm out of his grasp. 

Your finger gently brushed over the spot on the photo where James’ lips were against your cheek before nodding your head. 

“Sure, you can have it,” you handed him back the picture and patted your hands against your legs, preparing to stand up. “I should get to bed.”

“I’ll be out here for a while longer if you need anything.”

You gave him a tight lipped smile and stood up, walking towards your bedroom. When you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath you had been holding and ran a hand across your face. 

Maybe Julian was never the one at risk of getting the wrong idea.

—

Waking up in the middle of the night always made you feel uneasy. Especially if Julian was the one waking you up. The chance that you’d have to drive to the hospital or call an ambulance was high and you hated the fear and worry that came along with any possible complications. 

Tonight, you woke up on your own accord. Your heart was beating inside your throat and your stomach felt like it was housing a group of persistent butterflies. 

You glanced over at the clock and saw the time, flashing in red. 

3:07

You took a deep breath trying to steady your heart rate and breathing before peeling away your blanket and kicking your feet over the side of the bed. You grabbed a different pair of pyjamas from your dresser and walked into the washroom, tossing them on the far end of the floor while you stripped down and turned on the water for the shower. 

When you stepped inside you hissed initially at the cold, but forced yourself to become fully submerged under the water, closing the curtain behind you. Your muscles clenched as your body adjusted to the temperature, and when the time finally came you let your thoughts and dreams become washed away by the water coming out of the shower head. 

You were simply standing there, letting the water fall on your face when you heard the click of the door opening. 

“Julian, sweetie,” you sighed, turning around so you could speak. “Maybe you should go to your dad if something’s wrong, I’ll come out in a sec.” 

“No need,” you heard a voice that did not belong to your son. 

“James? I’m in the shower. What are you doing?” you asked incredulously, feeling the need to cover yourself up even though there was a curtain blocking his view. You felt exposed nonetheless. 

“It’s three in the morning, I thought something was wrong, I came to check on you,” he explained. 

“And what were you doing up?” you asked. 

“Got in late. There was an emergency at the hospital after you guys went to sleep, I dealt with it and just came back.”

You stepped under the running water again, washing the water over your face with your hands. 

“So, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy,” you said sarcastically, leaning against the wall of the shower. 

“Nobody ever says peachy when things are okay,” James pushed further and you sighed, moving to sit down on the floor of the shower, still positioned under the water. 

“I just had a dream, that’s all,” you said, watching as the water hit your toes and the ground around you. 

“A bad dream?” he asked. 

“No, it was more like… déjà vu.”

James sighed, and rubbed his hands on his legs. 

“Was it about us?” 

He took your silence as a yes. 

James didn’t really know what to say, his hands were clasped together as he leaned  forward sitting on the bathroom counter. 

“You’re not gonna ask what it’s about?” you hugged your knees close to your chest. 

“Would you tell me?” 

“Maybe…I don’t know,” you mumbled. 

There was another moment of silence before James spoke up again, 

“What was it about?” 

You turned to face the water with your eyes closed again, gathering the courage to speak. 

“It started when I told you I was pregnant,” you said softly. “Like the memory replayed in my head, exactly how it happened.” 

“I remember that day,” you heard the soft smile in his voice as he spoke. “You took the test at work and when it came back positive you came straight to the hospital to tell me.” 

“I was barely two steps inside your office when I blurted it out, you were eating lunch and had that stupid look on your face with a mouth full of sandwich,” you chuckled to yourself.

“I almost choked on that,” James shook his head. “And I just remember running up to you and freaking out.”

“And then when you were done freaking out and everything sunk in you kissed me, and you told me you loved me, and we cried because we made a child. Our love did that.” 

You reached forward and turned the shower off, pushing yourself up on your feet and taking a deep breath before pulling back the curtain. You had told him what you were thinking. You couldn’t get any more exposed than that.

James looked stunned for a moment and it didn’t go unnoticed how his eyes raked up and down your figure. 

“Get me the robe, would you?” you motioned to the back of the door and he jumped down grabbing the robe and holding it out for you so you could place your arms into the sleeves and wrap the towelled fabric around you, trying it off with the belt. 

When you turned your head to look back at James, you could tell at least you’d succeeded in raising his heart rate, much like he was doing for you recently. 

You moved to go sit on the closed toilet while James retook his spot on the counter. 

“Do you remember when Julian was born?” he whispered. 

“I like it was yesterday. I can’t believe it’s been eight years,” you nodded your head. 

He was having trouble holding your gaze and you wondered what he was about to say. 

“I-I screwed up,” his voice was soft, almost hurt, like it pained him to think about what he had done. “When you were resting afterwards the nurse asked me if we were going to do a newborn screening. We hadn’t talked about it, but you were so tired and it was such a hard labour…” he swallowed thickly, his voice wavering slightly, remembering the birth. It wasn’t easy by any means and James had often thought that the hardest thing he’d ever had to watch was you in that much pain. “I told her we weren’t going to do it. I just didn’t want Julian to leave and h-he looked so perfect I never thought anything could have been wrong with him.” 

James took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, “I am a doctor and I didn’t get a newborn screening for my son, what the hell kind of father does that make me?” 

“Oddly enough, I think it makes you a good one,” you admitted. 

“Even though we could have known about this years before? We could have gotten him treatment, medication, therapies, all sooner?” he looked back at you confused. 

“You said it yourself, Jamie. He was perfect for us. Still is.” 

James nodded his head and looked forward at the opposite wall. You stood up and walked over towards him, reaching out a hand to gently hold his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek while he looked at you. 

“I don’t blame you for this,” you whispered. “I don’t blame you and I don’t think you’re a bad father.” 

“I know,” he murmured, “but I do.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, not knowing what other comfort you could offer. 

James leaned in a little to your touch, sitting up straighter when it was gone, trying to play it off like he hadn’t been missing it and craving it as much as you. 

You were about to say something when you heard a knock on the washroom door, and this time it had to be Julian. 

“Mom? Dad, are you in here too?” you could hear his small sounding voice, a little strained and worried so you quickly assured him you were both inside and opened the door. 

“Sweetheart, what happened?” you asked, noticing his tear-stained face. 

“I just had a bad dream,” he sniffed and wiped his eyes. 

You kissed away his tears first before assuring him everything would be fine, you and James were there to take care of him. 

“Why don’t you go and lay down on my bed with your Dad?” you suggested. “I’ll get dressed and come join you.” 

Julian nodded and made his way over to your bed while you went to quickly speak to James. 

“It’ll be good for you. Both of you,” you told him. 

“You don’t mind?” 

“Just this once.” 

James thanked you with a kiss to your cheek and left the adjoining washroom, closing the door behind him and giving you a minute to get changed and deal with anything you needed to before going back to bed. 

When you opened the door and came back into your room, you saw James under the covers with Julian pressed close to him, their foreheads resting together while James told him everything was going to be alright and he could go back to sleep. 

You slipped in under the covers, sandwiching Julian between you both, letting his back rest against your chest while you pressed a kiss to his hair. 

One hand was tucked under your pillow and another was draped over Julian, and your fingers carefully placed over top of James’. 

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Julian asked his dad. 

“Right next to you,” he kissed his nose. “Now try to get some sleep, okay?” 

Julian nodded his head and yawned and you whispered a quiet goodnight to bed him and his dad before letting your eyes close, silently smiling when you could feel James’ hand finally hold your own. 

—

“You guys, relax, he’s going to be fine,” Mahlet placed a hand on both yours and James’ shoulders while you spewed out your worries. “It’s one night, I have the whole list of things he needs and I’ve taken care of him before, right? It’s just at my house this time so the boys can have a sleepover and you two can have a bit of a break.” 

“She’s right,” James sighed. “I’m still worried out of my mind, but she’s right.” 

“Mahi, are you sure you don’t want us to come even for a little bit?” you asked. 

“Absolutely, if something happens I’ll call an ambulance and then you, but Julian’s been good for months now, he can survive one night away from home,” she assured you. 

“Thank you, Mahlet. I’m sure Julian and Hennock will have a great time tonight. Just call us when he’s ready to be picked up tomorrow morning,” James said. 

James wrapped his arm around you, giving you a squeeze knowing you were still uneasy about this, but deep down you knew Mahlet was right. The chances of something going wrong at this point were small and you’d had enough time since your last hospital visit to even consider doing something like this. 

“You boys ready?” James called and Julian came rushing out of the room with his bag in hand, Hennock following close behind him. 

“You have fun tonight, okay?” you bent down and gave Julian a kiss. “And if anything happens or you feel sick, or are having trouble breathing, tell Mahlet, okay?” 

“I know, Mom. Dad already told me this like fifteen times,” Julian chuckled. 

You looked up at James and he shrugged. 

“Alright, well you guys better go before I change my mind,” you crossed your arms over your chest and that was all the permission the boys needed to run off, leaving Mahlet to say goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind her. 

You sighed and turned around, looking at James who had his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“You hungry?” he asked. 

“I could eat,” you nodded your head. 

“Why don’t we make something for dinner together?” he suggested. 

You looked at the clock and smiled, “I think we’ve got enough time for pizza, what do you think?” 

“I think that’s a great plan,” James agreed. “I can start on the dough and you get the sauce and toppings?” 

You gave him a thumbs up before putting your hand out to high-five him, noticing how your fingers so easily intertwined before you walked apart and let go. 

James rolled up his sleeves and took off his watch, placing it on the small jewelry tray you kept by the sink for when you were washing dishes, while you went to the fridge and began pulling out all the things that could make good pizza toppings. 

Moving to the sink to wash some vegetables, you noticed James’ watch resting there. You didn’t pay much attention when he was wearing it, but now you realized why it looked extra familiar. It was one you had gotten him as an anniversary present after your first year married. 

“You still wear that?” you pointed with your eyes to the watch. 

“It’s my favourite watch, of course I wear it,” he nodded while portioning the flour into a large bowl.

“Even with that engraving?” you raised a questioning brow. 

“Dearest Jamie, Here’s to the first of many happy anniversaries. Love forever, Your Wife,” he recited the engraving back to you. 

“I don’t know why you do that to yourself,” you chuckled a little, looking down into the sink. 

“Yeah, well why do you still go by Mrs. Wilson?” 

“Easier to keep the name than change it again,” you partially lied, it wasn’t the full truth, but it was what you had been telling yourself ever since the divorce was finalized. 

James could sense you were lying, but he knew the only way to get you to open up would be to let himself be open with you. 

“The watch is my favourite because you gave it to me. Functionally it sucks and it's uncomfortable, but you went out of your way to get me something that looked nice and that’s why I love it.” 

You smiled a little to yourself, but kept your head facing the sink and continued to wash the vegetables. 

“You’re not going to say anything?” he inquired. 

“Do I have to?” you asked. 

“That’s normally how a conversation works,” he remarked and you chuckled. 

“What do you want me to say?” you asked. 

“Honestly, the real reason why you kept your married name,” he said plainly. 

You sighed, “It wasn’t a full lie. If I went back to my maiden name Julian and I wouldn’t have the same last name it just makes things complicated and confusing and I didn’t want to deal with it, but,” you added, “I always kind of liked the sound of Mrs. Wilson and even though I was pissed at you all the time I still liked that there was one thing aside from Julian connecting us. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to end up like Sam or Bonnie just…detached, like there was barely a trace that you were even there.” 

“It’s a fingerprint,” James said. “Mine.” 

“Yeah, even though it's small for who we were to each other, it's the fingerprint you left on my life.” 

James pressed his lips together and opened his mouth to say something before shutting it and evaluated how he was going to speak, 

“Can I ask you something?” he settled on. 

“Sure,” you nodded, moving over to the cutting board and placing yourself on the opposite side of the kitchen island. 

“Did…Did you ever stop loving me?” 

Your smile faltered and James noticed the change in your demeanor, quickly retracting his question. 

“You know what, forget I asked,” he shook his head and continued to knead the dough. 

There was a moment of silence before you spoke again. 

“I didn’t, but I got tired of not being loved back.” 

James stopped what he was doing and looked up at you with concern. 

“You thought I stopped loving you?” he asked.

“James, I was wife number three. Didn’t take much to connect the dots and see you got tired of me,” you said bluntly. “I wanted to know if I could count on you, and it was starting to feel like maybe I couldn’t. Then the divorce happened and everything after that just made me feel like I was right.” 

James chewed on the inside of his cheek and remained silent. 

“You didn’t fight for me,” you said quietly. “You fought for joint custody, but you didn’t fight for me. You just…accepted it.” 

“I…I didn’t know you wanted me to fight for you.” 

“Are you saying you would have?” you asked, unsure of whether or not you wanted to hear his answer. 

“I’m saying I thought I didn’t even have a chance,” he admitted. 

“So you wouldn’t have,” you clarified for him, beginning to chop the toppings into pieces and separate them into bowls. 

He chuckled humourlessly, “I have dated one person since the divorce. I hated it.” 

“Why do you have to talk in puzzles, James? Why can’t you just come out and say what you really mean?” 

“And then what?” he asked. “We go back to living in the same house. Sleep in separate rooms. Move on now that we know the truth?”

“Say it,” you put the knife down and looked him right in the eyes. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked, cleaning the dough off his hand. “I’m going to say it and you’re just going to stand there and I have to live with that?” 

You walked around the counter and came right up in front of him. 

“If you were listening to anything I was saying, you would stop making excuses and say it.” 

“Fine!” he threw his hands up in the air. “I still love you. I never stopped loving you. These past few months, even though stressful, have been the happiest I’ve been in so long because I feel like myself again when I’m with you and Julian. Because I feel like your husband, and I feel like a father and I keep kicking myself wondering how I could have been so stupid to lose that.” 

“Say it one more time,” you whispered, lifting your hands to hold onto his face. “Please.” 

“I love you,” his voice was softer, relieved like after being underwater he could finally breathe again. 

You finally pulled him into you, your lips hesitantly resting on his at first, before you found your rhythm again after so long. It was muscle memory, his hands finding the spot they always rested against on your hips, his lips moving in synch with yours, eventually trailing off and finding their favourite spot against your jaw and behind your ear. 

“James,” you breathed. 

“Jamie,” he mumbled against your skin. “Call me Jamie.” 

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you repeated the nickname until he silenced you with another kiss, muffling your voice. 

“God, I missed you,” he whispered when you pulled apart, breathing heavily due to your fast beating heart. 

You closed your eyes while your forehead rested against his, feeling his nose touch yours, his hands still firmly planted on your hips when your thumbs brushed against his cheeks. 

“Jamie?” 

James snuck another small kiss at the sound of the nickname. 

“Yes, my love.” 

“Can I count on you?” 

You could feel him nod his head and confirm with a verbal ‘yes’. And even if it turned out to be a lie, at that moment you didn’t care. He had proved to you that it was possible, you could work with that. 

“I love you,” you said and kissed his nose and then you said it and kissed him again for good measure. “You told me twice; I tell you twice.” 

James moved his hands up from your hips and brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek, a warm smile coming to his face. 

And there was that look, the one you thought had vanished over time. His eyes fully transfixed on you with nothing but love and admiration. It didn’t take much to convince yourself you could get used to seeing that look for a long, long time. 

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter

Lip Gloss [A.D.]

Art Donaldson x reader (x Patrick Zweig)

summary: Art loves when you kiss him while wearing lip gloss and it gets all over his own lips. What he loves even more is when you get on your knees for him and he ends up with lip gloss stains all over another certain body part of his.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral m receiving, fingering f receiving, handjob, reader and Art have sex next to Patrick who is asleep but they have permission, submissive-ish!Art, a bit of voyeurism from Patrick – he doesn’t ask but for the sake of this fic we’re assuming consent bc it’s fictional, m masturbation, spitting, cum eating, pet names: good boy, baby, reader says Art is ‘wet like a girl’), feminine Art (so dare I say canon Art🙂‍↕️) or at least he likes lip gloss lol, Art and Patrick are college roommates – attraction heavily implied between all three of them but only Art and reader are in a relationship, this was supposed to just be a drabble lol there’s no plot just porn, also i’m kinda intimidated by the challengers fandom lol idk but anyway here's my first challengers fic sddslkh <3

word count: 3.4k | gorgeous divider by @dollywons

When you first start dating Art, you always apologise for wearing lipgloss when you’re kissing him. You always wipe it off his lips after a kiss, pulling your sleeves over your hands to get it off his mouth. You’ve heard that guys don’t like it, but you like wearing lipgloss and Art has never complained. 

When you get more comfortable around him, you don’t always wipe the gloss off his lips, letting him do it himself. But he only does it because he feels like it’s what he’s supposed to do. Guys aren’t supposed to like the feeling of lip gloss. He’s probably supposed to tell you it’s annoying and ask you to stop wearing lip gloss, at least when you’re with him. 

But he doesn’t want to control you, and he doesn’t want you to stop wearing lip gloss. He just wants you to stop apologising for it.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells you every time with a smile, but you still do it. 

“I know it’s sticky. I won’t put any more on tonight, don’t worry.” Art stops himself from pouting at your words. 

And yes, Art once applied the lip gloss that you left on his nightstand. He was missing you and the lip gloss was the closest thing to you that he had. He ran into the bathroom when Patrick came home, wiping it off furiously before his best friend could see. 

He likes keeping a shirt of yours at his place so that he can smell you even when you’re not there, but what he likes even more is to apply your lip gloss. It’s just a thin layer, but it makes him feel like he’s been freshly kissed by you. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s definitely no reason he does it other than to feel closer to you. 

-

You’re getting ready for the birthday of a friend one night. You’ll be going to a bar for a bit, nothing big. But you’re doing your make-up on Art’s bed with him sitting behind you, hands on your hips. 

“You look so pretty.” 

He says those words for every step of your routine. He wants you to know how beautiful you are no matter how much or how little make-up you’re wearing, even if it’s cheesy. Art grins when you show him the finished look, and his eyes stay stuck on your glossy lips, tinted a dark pink, almost red colour. 

He knows you can’t resist it when he looks at you like that, he never can when it’s the other way around either, so you press a kiss to his lips. Art knows that you’ll be wiping the sticky gloss off as soon as the kiss is over, so he deepens it to keep the feeling of lip gloss on him, even though Patrick is sitting in the bed right next to you. 

Knowing him, he’s probably staring and enjoying it; Art wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the sound of Patrick’s phone camera going off. 

You smile against Art as you part your lips for him, trying but not quite managing to bring yourself to stop kissing him yet. You have to physically take Art’s chin between your fingers and push his face away from you to stop. And yet, you give in again immediately, peppering his face in kisses before you pull away for good. 

You give Patrick an apologetic smile, even though you both know he doesn’t mind you and Art making out next to him. By the time you look back at Art, he’s already wiping at the lip gloss stains all over his face. Your cheeks heat up when you realise how many marks you’ve made on him. You forgot you put on a darker and more pigmented lip gloss than normal. 

“Wait,” you giggle, pulling away Art’s hand that’s already trying to wipe the sticky gloss away, “I’ll bring you a wipe.” 

“Doesn’t he look pretty like that?” Patrick comments before you have a chance to get up. Art throws a pillow at him. 

You look between them, at Art’s face littered with shiny, sticky stains. His lips are especially dark and shiny, as if you just put some lip gloss right on there, albeit a bit messily. 

“Of course he’s pretty like this,” you say, not looking away from Art.

 “Then just leave him like that, he likes it.”

“I don’t,” Art defends much too fast, and Patrick laughs. Art reaches for his pillow to throw at Patrick but remembers he already did. He’s about to stand up to go to the bathroom and get a stupid wipe himself, but you grip his t-shirt and he sits back down. 

“It’s okay if you like it, baby. It’s hot that you do,” you try to whisper the last part, and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss him again, “Let me clean you up, and I’ll put some lip gloss on you properly.” 

“Only cause you think it’s hot,” Art calls after you weakly. 

Patrick laughs again. 

“Shut up.”

Art shyly tries to catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

You sit back down in front of him, gently cleaning his face. You hold out the lip gloss afterwards, placing a hand on his face to apply it, the wet pop sounding when you undo the lid. 

“Wait,” Art leans back abruptly, as if you’re about to hurt him, “I want it from your lips.” 

You huff, smiling at him. You apply some more lipgloss to your own lips, taking your boyfriend’s face to give him a kiss to his pursed lips. You apply more and kiss him again. You both smile at the oddly innocent kiss – pursed lips against pursed lips. 

You wipe away the excess over Art’s cupid’s bow, grinning at his shiny, sticky lips. 

“You look so pretty, baby,” you tell your boyfriend, and he blushes. 

“Show me,” Patrick says, leaning forward to see Art from the front. Art turns his head away from his best friend, red up to the tips of his ears now. 

“Show him, baby,” you coax, reaching out for his chin to turn his head. You know Patrick likes to make jokes, but not when his best friend is like this – eyes like those of a puppy, genuinely embarrassed. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but Art has made it such a big deal in his head that he can’t like having your lipgloss on his lips that Patrick knows he needs encouragement right now. Patrick moves to sit at the edge of the bed to look at Art better. “Look at you, Artie, all pretty. Looks almost as good as on your girlfriend.” 

You roll your eyes – you should’ve known he can’t be fully serious. 

“You have to leave now, you’re already late,” Art reminds you, and you let him press another kiss to your lips. You’ll have to clean up the mess he’s made on your mouth on the way, but you don’t mind. You watch him enjoy the feeling of the sticky gloss on his lips a few more seconds before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You and Patrick share a look, rolling your eyes, and you blow a kiss to Art before you close the door.

 - 

You come back home early, before midnight. The birthday girl left to go see her boyfriend halfway through her own birthday party, so you’re back at Art and Patrick’s dorm. You’d be annoyed at your friend if you didn’t have your own boyfriend to go visit.

Patrick is already lightly snoring when Art opens the door for you – he’s in nothing but boxers – and you know what that means.  

Patrick has given you two permission to do whatever you want while he’s asleep, as long as you’re quiet. You’ve always wondered if it’s a tactic to secretly listen in on you and Art having sex, knowing that you would’ve otherwise never done it with him in the room. 

Art has a small light on next to his bed, and you join him on his mattress. A few leftover glitter particles sparkle on his lips, and you pull his face closer to yours. 

“Suits you so well, Artie. So pretty.” You swipe your finger over his bottom lip. He kisses it, stopping himself from smiling. He’s already looking at your lips, and you mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering to reapply your gloss just before you got here. 

You kiss him then, and Art licks into your mouth as if he’s been starved and waiting to eat you up since you left. You adjust your position to sit on top of him, and your knee grazes his lap. He’s already fully hard.

“Sorry.. couldn’ help myself. Pat fell asleep and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you grin, holding his jaw, “You want me to make it better? Want me to go down on you?”

Art nods distractedly, mumbling out, “please, baby. Need you”. Your thumb brushes the gloss on his lip, and Art opens his mouth. You pull your hand away before he can wrap his lips around your thumb, and you kiss him as a whine escapes his mouth, muffling his voice.

You press your lips against his until they’re coated in your shiny gloss, and then you slide a finger into his mouth. He sucks on it – pink, sparkly lips around your finger.

“You look so pretty. Should wear my lipgloss more often,” you tell him, and he turns his head away in fake-annoyance, your finger slipping out. You feel his hard cock against your leg again as he moves, and you pull at his chin to open his mouth.

Art moans as you messily push three of your fingers into his mouth to get them wet against his tongue. You pull them out and slide them down into the waistband of his boxers, and down the length of his cock.

You put your hand over his mouth before he has a chance to moan, and you nod towards Patrick. He’s asleep, his back to you, but it’s not going to take long for Art to wake him if he keeps being this loud.

You get up, and Art pulls his legs to the side of the bed as you sit down between them. He’s straining against his boxers, a tall tent pulling the fabric taut. You release Art’s cock, and it slaps against his abs. He’s glistening down his length from where you spread his spit on him, a small puddle of precum already at the tip. 

You giggle quietly, “So wet, baby. You’re wet like a girl.”

“Shut up,” he whispers back weakly, biting his lip to stop a smile from spreading over his face.

You kiss the wet tip, licking the precum, and begin to leave lip gloss stains all down his length.

“Feels so good, baby. You’re so good at this,” Art says not nearly quietly enough.

“Shh, baby. Don’t wanna wake Patrick up.”

Your boyfriend nods, but you don’t think he’s listening.

You take his dick into your mouth properly now, wet heat enveloping him as you take him deeper, and you look up to see how he bites his lip and lets nothing but a breath slip past his lips as he watches you.

“Good boy,” you whisper to him. He intertwines his fingers with yours by the side of his hip, and you look up to smile at him. You ignore how, when you look past Art for a split second, you can see Patrick clearly jerking his cock under the blanket, the movement of his arm making it obvious. 

You shake your head slightly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Art’s best friend, and you take your boyfriend deeper down your throat as your spit drips to his balls. Art looks down at you with such restraint on his face, it almost looks like he’s about to cry.

He manages not to make a sound when you suck his dick more eagerly, your lip gloss smeared over his cock as you jerk off what you can’t take past your lips. The only sound in the room is the wetness of your mouth and your spit around your boyfriend’s cock.

Art lets out a shaky breath as his abs contract, his hand squeezing yours, and you softly nod up at him, taking his cock as deep as you can. He whimpers pathetically when he spills his load down your throat, and you swallow it all as he keeps cumming and cumming in your mouth.

When you pull away, out of breath and with your lips wet, you take in the picture you created. Art’s cock is full of your lip gloss, his face shiny with a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks as red as the gloss you left on his lips earlier. You’re about to stand up and get a wipe to clean Art up, but he pulls his boxers back on.

He likes the glossy stains on his cock even more than the ones you leave on his lips. 

He pulls you up on the bed, lying you on your back. “Please can I go down on you?” he whispers, mouthing at your neck and down your chest, pulling your top down as much as the tight fabric allows, whining when he doesn’t get all the way down to your nipples.

As much as you want Art to eat your pussy, you won’t let him. He always gets messy and loud, moaning almost uncontrollably as he makes out with your wet pussy, and there is no way Patrick could pretend to sleep through that. 

If you thought Art was going to cry earlier from how good he felt, he reaches a new level of teariness now when you tell him no, eyes almost glassy.

“Tomorrow, okay? You can still use your fingers now.” Art looks at least somewhat assuaged at your offer, and lies down on his side next to you, unknowingly shielding you from Patrick. You don’t know if he came along with Art, or if he’s still jerking off, and that makes it even more exciting. 

You know Art would never cheat on you, but if you gave him permission to, and if he admitted his attraction, you’re sure he’d jump at the first opportunity to invite Patrick into bed with you two. You know Patrick feels the same. You like the thought of him listening in, making himself cum to the sound of his best friend and his girlfriend having sex.

“Here,” Art urges, holding a hand to your mouth, even though he knows you’ll be more than wet enough from giving him head. You spit into his open palm, and Art spits in too, the way he always does, liking the feeling of your combined warm wetness against his skin. 

Art reaches down your body and into your underwear, adding to the wetness. He rubs your clit in messy circles, kissing you even messier. You spread your legs for him more, but Art lets out a frustrated huff.

“Can I… want you naked,” he mumbles against your skin. Art watches with puppy eyes as you get up, taking off your tight top and grabbing your favourite oversized shirt of his instead, sliding off your trousers and panties only once you’ve put the shirt on.

“This is all you get.”

Art looks happy enough as you get back into bed with him, sliding a hand up your shirt now that he can comfortably get under the hem, and cups one of your tits.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Art says against your lips, hand moving back between your legs to play with your pussy, “So pretty.”

He circles your clit for a few moments before he pushes a finger inside while making out with you, remnants of his own cum still in your mouth, spit and gloss between you two as he continues to rub your clit.

“You’re the prettiest woman in the world,” he says, voice almost strained, and you realise he’s hard again, humping the mattress as well as he can while lying on his side, “Wish I was inside your pussy right now.”

You have to resist giving in to him – he’ll be insatiable the rest of the night if you let him fuck you even just for a few seconds – but you reach down to pull his cock free from his boxers, wrapping your hand around him.

“Can you focus if I’m doing this?” you ask pointedly, and Art nods eagerly.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be a good boy. I’ll make you cum,” he promises, slurring his words as your thumb swipes over the tip. But he’s not lying, he’s still fucking your pussy with his fingers. You’ve trained him well, so he knows what to do.

You can’t deny that you’re both getting loud now, if it’s not the moans you don’t quite manage to swallow down, then it’s the sound of your wet pussy and your slicked hand around Art’s cock.

You cum almost at the same time, Art rubbing your clit at just the right, albeit messy, intensity, and your thighs squeeze around his forearm when the orgasm flows through you, your own hand not stopping around Art’s cock. He’s breathing hard, reaching for the tissues on his headboard, but the tissue box topples over and falls against his shoulder and to the floor as he tries and fails to rip out a tissue.

“Here, I got you, baby,” you angle his cock to his abs, so that he won’t be spilling all over his own sheets, and you only have to jerk Art’s dick for a few more seconds before he’s shooting ropes of cum over his own skin. His abs glisten as his breath stutters, and he has to wrap his hand around yours to stop when he gets too sensitive.

“I love you so much,” Art huffs with a smile, and you kiss him briefly.

“I love you too.” You gather his cum off his abs, wiping it over your palm and holding it over his mouth. It drips and falls between Art’s parted lips. Art hums when you slip your fingers into his mouth, and he sucks the last drops of his load off them.

“Such a good boy,” you rub your thumb over his cheek, gazing at him in awe.

“I love you so much,” he tells you again, a soft smile on his face.

When you’re done and you look over, Patrick is back to quietly snoring, a freshly crumpled tissue by the side of his bed. You kiss Art before you can begin to smirk, and you briefly consider telling him. You decide it’s a conversation for another day. Art would definitely get hard again if he knew that Patrick was jerking off to you two doing it, and he’s already squeezed out two orgasms just now. You don’t need him that overstimulated tonight.

You remove your makeup and get one of the fresh pairs of panties Art bought for you to keep at his place. You walk back into the bedroom and find Art on his back, smiling at you all fucked out. 

You lie down with him, letting him cup one of your tits for comfort so that he can sleep better. You kiss his cheek and see that his lips are still shiny with glittery gloss. You decide not to offer to clean him up, now that you know he likes it like that. 

P.S. Thank you for reading <3 Reblog and comment for Art to come and kiss the gloss off your lips 🤭

I want him to fill me with so much of his DNA that it affects my 23andme result.

(he is fictional)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ us as parents? (luke castellan x fem! reader)

summary : you find out that a lot of the kids at the camp see you and luke as parents leading to silly deep talks by the lake at night

‘you what?’, you exclaimed in shock. ‘i see you and luke as like my second parents’, a young kid from your cabin repeated. multiple other kids hummed in agreement. a wave of stunned disbelief ran through your entire being. complete and utter disbelief. that was the last thing you expected to hear today. ‘huh alright, anyways let’s get back to it’, continuing your arrangement of chores for the cabin.

in the early afternoon, you get lunch and meet up with your friends. ‘oh my, do you know a lot of kids in my cabin see luke and i as their second parents?’ you uttered to them still in a similar state of astonishment. ‘that does not surprise me, a few kids have told me that as well to be honest.’ one friend spoke up. ‘whattt!’, surely not. maybe?

as you the day progressed you could not get the thought of you and luke as parents out of your head. it felt as though it was consuming you. there was plans to meet up with him at the lake tonight, you wonder what his reaction to the news that he is perceived as a father by a multitude of kids is going to be like.

as the sun set you got ready to meet up with luke at the lake, you grabbed a towel and your sandals and off you went. as you arrived you noticed a familiar looking head splashing around in the water, luke. you quickened your pace, threw your towel down next to his and kicked of your sandals to join him in the water.

‘hey there baby’, luke said as he heard you come into the water. ‘hey there handsome’, you responded placing a quick kiss to his cheek as a greeting. he picked you up bridal style and began going out further into the water, giggles erupting from you. when he was around hip length into the water, he let you go. for some odd reason, a tradition. when you emerged from the water you saw his charming smile on his stunning face.

after around an hour of messing around in the water you left to dry up and lay on the shore of the lake. the night sky was littered with thousands of glowing stars and the moons light radiant. the view was priceless.

while you lay on the shore, your limbs slowly became entangled with lukes. warmth. ‘oh yea guess what?’ you spoke with excitement for his reaction, ‘what my love?’ his words laced with affection. ‘apparently, several kids at camp see us as second parents!’, you gushed. a beaming smile burst onto his face at your words, ‘is that so?’ he said with a soft chuckle. ‘yesss! some kids in my cabin told me today’, you spoke.

a moment of peaceful silence passed. ‘imagine as us parents.’ you thought aloud. you turned your head to look at luke and saw he was staring at you with the most smitten look you had ever seen. ‘i have had dreams about that’, he admits. ‘best dreams ever.’ he continued. ‘really?’, you questioned, gods you were infatuated with him. ‘mhm baby, you’re always such an adorable mum in every dream.’ you were smiling like an idiot now staring at your lover. ‘you’d be such a good dad luke.’ you admitted. ‘i can imagine you running around chasing them around, it’s like i can hear your laughter with them.’ the picture running clear as day in your head as if it had already happened.

‘our little ones are gonna be the cutest.’ he said before stealing a kiss from you.

authors note : we’re gonna ignore how the three pictures give off percy vibes.. anyways requests are open as per usual!

word count : 603 words

𝗕𝗢𝗠𝗕𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗨 ᥫ᭡ 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗜𝗗

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗ Spencer thinks you’re a total bombshell —confident, high maintenance, and so, so pretty. you find yourself similarly obsessed with your dorky, handsome genius.

you meet Spencer and call him beautiful you witness Spencer and Lila Archer you make Spencer jealous you hold Spencer’s hand after his abduction you come for a teasing visit your drunken flirting almost kills him you invite a struggling Spencer over for dinner your motorcycle jacket winds Spencer you and Spencer share a room in Alaska Spencer comforts you after a hard case Spencer gets his boyband haircut Spencer stands you up you take Spencer’s hand when he’s distracted you comfort Spencer on the brink of tears you’re jealous of Spencer and a girl at the bar Spencer reassures you that he likes your flirting Spencer loses his mind over your dress it’s Spencer’s fault when you get hurt Spencer tends to a bad wound you assure Spencer he’s your type you’re hurt by a rude police officer Spencer realises you really truly like him Spencer tortures you, for once don’t think I don’t like you you and Spencer have your first kiss Spencer calms you down when you’re nervous you and Spencer miss you first date Spencer sees you undone for the first time you freak out after being held hostage you’re obsessed with Spencer and his glasses Spencer takes care of you when you’re sick Derek catches you at Spencer’s apartment Spencer calls you a pet name for the first time you and Spencer are interrupted good luck Emily catches you and Spencer in a heated kiss you drunk brag about your new boyfriend you’re secure in your relationship you get your period Spencer likes that you’re high maintenance you get very hurt in the field Spencer watches over your recovery you have your first big fight, you can’t sleep Spencer allots time for your morning kisses you take the leap and ask the big question Spencer returns from prison Spencer struggles to adjust after prison you and Spencer talk about JJ

you comfort Spencer after Maeve

you find out that you’re pregnant together you show Spencer your new necklace you tell the team that you’re pregnant Hotch gives Spencer some paternal advice pregnant!you feel like you’re not yourself you have an angry hormonal meltdown pregnant!you falls down Hotch checks in on pregnant!you and Spencer your daughter is just like you, Spencer loves it Amy video calls you on a case Spencer is wrapped around Amy’s little finger Spencer and Amy take care of sick!you you and Amy visit Spencer in prison

something out of my dreams | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x dionysus!reader

request: could you possibly write a luke x daughter of dionysus please? maybe she’s like super nice and when percy gets to camp she becomes like an older sister and luke is super whipped for her? @elz-zalarrr

IN WHICH — all he knows is that you were something out of his dreams.

"trust him like a brother, yeah, you know i did one thing right. starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night" - t.s.

w.c. 1.8k

warning(s) : cheesiness ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note okay i've begun to realize that low-key i feel like i write in cursive if that makes sense? if a feeling could describe it i'd say its like using poetry to write? that's likely not any better lol :)

there was but one person that everyone could agree they adored at camp half blood.

it didn't matter what grudge who had with whom or what ancient rivalries transcended the ideals of reality, everyone loved you. not the typical type of brittle love that crumbled at the slightest of touches, but pure adoration that endured the sands of time.

you with the gentle soul, who healed others with each laugh and smile. when new half-godlings were brought to camp, you made sure to comfort them and make them understand that they belonged here and would find a home whether they wanted to or not. you made sure that no birthday was forgotten, no deed undone.

children of minor gods or elders, of Ares or Aphrodite, you became an older sister to all who needed you. you, the daughter of fertility and chaos, the god dionysius.

there was no debate that at camp half blood there was only a before you and an after you. you were like that high right before the free fall–invincibility and smoke and curiosity wrapped into the form of a demi-god. you were the gentle breeze during summer nights when the heat became too much. and none ached more to feel it than luke castellan, who had been burning for as long as he knew.

your relationship in itself was tentative, you danced around your feelings–scared one wrong touch or word would break the shaky, fine line that lay between you two. but you could not hide the way you loved the other to yourselves nor the children of the beings of divine blood. 

luke castellan loved you like the stars would fall out of the sky with one harsh touch, free and incandescently self-destructive. like you were a wild, wonderful thing out of a fantasy.

you loved him like there was no hell or heaven but the cosmos that lay in his eyes and the worlds that lay in his soul. something so sacred and rare. a love so true and mortal it put all the greek tragedies to shame. 

you knew that whatever you and him were made of, in every lifetime or the next you two were made for each other. 

loving luke castellan would be both your redemption and destruction in the making, your elysium for whatever good thing you had done in your previous life. 

✩ ‧₊˚

you first met percy jackson when he came to camp, he was a scared little thing who had just lost his mother when the veil between reality and deception flickered. everything he’d known came crumbling as quickly as the truth was uncovered: gods and monsters were real and played games of hell and heaven on earth. some thing about him called out to the vulnerability you once knew when you first came to camp so you made it your mission to be the sister he never had. 

you met him at the front of the steps of the main office, “my name is y/n, percy jackson. welcome to camp halfblood.”

“do you just somehow know everyones name,” he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“yes.” no, but you supposed it’d be fun to let him think that. 

“of course you do.”

“come along, i’ll show the ins and outs here. if you're nice enough, i might let you in on the cook's secret stash of blue ice cream,” you laughed out.

he contemplated his choices before grabbing your outstretched hand and shaking it, “deal.”

you showed him who to avoid and the best people to befriend. the history between your kind and why the gods were as they were. the truth behind his bloodline and the legacy that he was now responsible for. the tribulations and the pain that was cursed to follow the children of the gods. 

“and this is chris. the best person to ask if you need to know what plants are poisonous,” you say, introducing him to a guy with black hair and soft eyes. 

percy looks at chris before looking around to see where the hermes boy is, “we’ve met. he was with luke when he was showing me around”

you’re cheeks heated at the mention of his name; looking around to see if you can spot the familiar tan skin and soft eyes that belong to your luke. 

“oh! luke! yeah, he’s around here somewhere. he’s sly like that, wandering and then popping up the next second.”

a voice pipes up behind you suddenly, “y/n, already telling percy everything about me?” 

you whirl around and there he stands in all his glory with the curls you love and the sun in his eyes. your golden boy.

“just telling him the truth, castellan. you’re hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

a hue of pink covers his cheeks, “i’m never far from you.”

both of you oblivious to percy and chris who seem to be conversing about you both and the tip-toe dance you play. 

percy just wonders what’s happening here: firstly, luke is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars and that’s saying something because he has shit observation skills–his analysis essays can attest to that. secondly, he swears he can see hearts in his eyes from where he’s standing and is that…is that a blush?

he turns to chris, who is just staring at the two like it's not out of the normal for what’s happening, “what’s happening here? is he blushing?”

chris just nods, “yeah. luke’s kinda–very obviously to everyone–in love with y/n. if i didn’t know better i’d say she’s gotten him insane in love. very likely as her dad’s the god of insanity.”

he turns back to the two who are laughing and standing closer than before, “like super, super in love. if there was a word for love, luke’s found it”

“huh.” 

chris says it like it’s common knowledge like how the best food is blue jelly beans, “i mean i ship it, y/n’s the sweetest person around here–the type of person people write songs about. she’s like a sister to us older ones and a mother to the younger ones. the whole camp is waiting for him to just man up and ask y/n. they make each other happy, you know?”

“yeah, i think i do.” 

percy thinks it’s something the poets would write about.

✩ ‧₊˚

fridays are capture the flag days.

you’re not the type of person to engage in these types of games all that often but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. someone’s got to show the percy boy how it’s played. 

“okay, percy. remember, keep your senses open and make sure that no one gets close enough to engage. once they engage, it’s hard to fight them off.”

all around you two, people have begun to don their armor and raise arms. the sun has just reached its height and you’re huddled together discussing your gameplan. even though your cabin house is pretty small, you’ve joined athena and hermes for this game. 

percy’s voice rises a little high as he tries swinging his sword around only to drop it, “yeah, okay. i’ll just try not to die, i guess. that’s not like hard or anything.”

“just follow my lead and if i’m not here find luke.”

you're not exactly excited about percy’s odds. the kid is lanky as is and his sassiness doesn’t help him out much when others target him for it. 

that’s exactly why you’re gone to his rescue when he nearly gets hit in the face by a spear after he insulted one of the boys from house ares. 

your heel nearly buckles under a sharp hit after you block the attack that’s directed to percy. you manage to reset your heel and push the sword off before you drop down into a crouch and sweep the legs of the warrior in front of you.

unfortunately you're slightly too focused on what’s in front of you and protecting percy you don’t realize that someones charging toward you from the side. 

fortunately, a block from a familiar sword stops any attack that might meet you head on. no sooner do you hear the block that luke’s got the other guy on the floor and surrendering. 

you grin at him, “i had that handled.”

giving you that grin that makes you feel like your future's right in front of you, he replies: “i’m sure you did. but why let you deal with him when i can save you the trouble.” 

“why don’t you go and help annabeth win the games, romeo.”

he gives you a wink, throwing a quick ‘yes ma’am’ before he’s already running off again. 

no sooner than later, a quick gong resounds throughout the camp, concluding the games. you’re standing slightly battered while percy walks behind you pointing out all the flowers he’s found. you definitely need to teach him how to defend himself. 

the players are just trickling in for the woods they’ve been fighting in to reband together and in the distance you see a figure running toward you. 

holding onto the flag, he continues to look at you like you’re everything he’s ever needed to breathe. he’s taken his helmet off and you can finally see him fully: brown eyes and all dimples.

“see you’ve found the flag.”

he takes a couple of steps closer to you until only two steps separate him and you, “yeah, someone told me to go win the game so I did just that for her”.

“really now?”

he whispers, “yeah.” 

his eyes twinkle and you’ve never wanted anything more than to continue to stare at them. 

you hope he’ll make the next move but luke castellan, the boy you’ve fallen for in every lifetime, is always content to admire you.

so, you take those two next steps, grab him by his neck, and press your lips to his. 

he stands shocked for a minute, wondering if what’s happening is really happening. but no sooner, he’s dropped the flag on the grass and holds you like your the greatest treasure he’s ever had.

there’s a certain type of tragedy that your golden boy tastes like, fire and freedom all in this moment. it’s the price of redemption and damnation that you’re willing to pay. 

to him, it’s the stars aligning like you’d will them to–the power you held and every thing he’s ever needed. your his past, future, and present: the threads in his life giving him the one thing he’s ever wanted. something he’s only ever dreamed of. 

he pulls back slightly before murmuring, “in every lifetime or the next, i am yours. i don’t know what i did to deserve you. you’re something only out of my dreams, y/n.”

"you sap"

you just kiss him again, ignoring all the campers and those still trickling in. 

✩ ‧₊˚

“definitely a child of dionysius. she’s reduced him to insanity,” pipes up percy as he tears off the petals of the flower he holds in his hand. 

chris just grabs a flower and continues to rip the petals off like the boy beside him. 

“damn straight!” shouts luke toward the two.

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

just luke discovering he might have a praise kink with you. lord have mercy.

warnings: praise kink, dom!luke, pet names, unprotected p in v (don’t), oral s3x (m receiving)

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

“Ah. Fuck, baby, do that again”

Luke let out another strangled moan when you gagged around his cock, your throat tightening. He couldn’t believe you would do anything he asked you to.

It happened every single time. You would literally say yes to anything, the only thing he was sure you were not gonna agree to, was to having sex with him.

Boy, was he wrong.

Now he had you on your knees in his cabin, gagging around him over and over again until he wanted to ask you to stop, but how could he? Everything about this was heavenly to him; your warm mouth, the tears in the corner of your eyes, your swollen lips, your nails digging into his thighs whenever you felt him too deep inside your mouth, his hand wrapping around your hair in a loose ponytail and push your head further into him.

But this wasn’t about him, as much as he wanted it to be. He had promised to fuck you earlier during a potent training session, a promise you would not let slip from your mouth until it happened. And it didn’t, yet.

And he didn’t know why he said it, he really didn’t know, but the way your eyes lit up as if he was a god you could worship, the way there was a sparkle held in them, so bright yet so appealing. You looked inviting to him, he wanted to eat you alive, but he knew that things had flipped the other way around when he said it. He had just gently asked you to stop sucking him off; that was it. But Gods, what came after…

“There you go” he cooed, gently pushing your head back. “Good girl”

It made your guts spin in a way it never happened before.

Luke didn’t know what got into you. You were suddenly out of breath, your chest pressed against your tight t-shirt suddenly stopping its movements and you just stared at him in awe.

He got scared.

“Are you okay?” he gently asked, attempting to place a stray of your hair behind your ear, but he only reached to cup your jaw before you spoke.

“Call me that again”

He tilted his head, confused.

“What?”

You sighed. “Call me that again” you repeated, voice thick with desperation. “Please?”

Luke hesitated, unsure or what to make of your request. His mind raced with questions, but deep down, he couldn´t deny the thrill that suddenly coursed through his body. He leaned in, elbows resting on his knees, as he raised one of his fingers to trail it down your jaw. “Good girl” he said.

The effect was instantaneous. Your breath hitched, and your eyes fluttered shut at his tender touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

A dark chuckle erupted from him, a mean action. A fucking praise kink, you had to be joking. He didn´t know how to feel about it, mainly because he didn´t expect you to be into this type of stuff. But as he started to dig into his mind; how your cheeks flustered red when someone complimented your skills, how you smiled sweetly whenever people praised your new techniques, or the way you styled your hair, or how good you dressed. He had it all in front of his nose and never saw it.

But he also realized, you didn´t want this from anyone. You wanted it from him; his words, his validation, his encouragement, his approval. You wanted him to tell you how good you were, you wanted him.

He brushed his thumb over your lip. “My beautiful baby” he whispered with desire. “All you want to be is good to me, right?”

You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushing red. Your heart raced with excitement when you nodded eagerly, unable to deny the truth on his words. All you wanted was to please him, to be everything he wanted and more. You saw his grin widened when he flickered his eyes into yours, then back to your lips. He leaned in more, brushing his pink and puffy lips against yours.

“You´re so needy for me” he murmured in a seductive tone. “But I like it. I like knowing that what you crave are my words. That you´ll do anything to please me”

Your body hummed in anticipation due to the intensity of his words. You tried to lean further into his touch, you wanted more. Luke´s finger trailed down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Tell me what you want, baby” he whispered.

Your head was spinning, leaving you breathless for a moment. “I want you” you confessed in a tiny voice. “I want you to take me, to show me that I´m yours”

“Show you that you´re mine?” he repeated, the mockery evident in his voice. But your eyes glistened, shining with tiny tears due to the previous work he had put you through, and because of the sudden fear that you might have taken it too far. It wasn´t your fault though, it was what you felt. The need to please Luke in any way you could was always there, always with you, and now that you had the chance to do it, you and only you, you didn´t wanna miss it. So, as you looked up at him in awe, mesmerized by his features and figure, like a god, he pressed his thumb over the tiny bit of mascara that had escaped your eyes, removing it, he said; “I can do that”

And he did.

It was not hard to fall into Luke Castellan´s arms and have the need to stay there forever. He was poison, intoxicating in the best possible way. His scent, his touch, his presence —, everything about him had you under his spell, captivated by his allure, by the need to belong to him completely.

With one hand pressed on the back of your head and the other holding a tight grip on your hip, Luke moved with a primal, almost animalistic intensity that left you gasping for air in between the pillows. He sent waves through your body with each thrust, along with a tight feeling on your belly every time the tip of his cock hit that sweet spot.

And his words never seemed to stop.

“You´re doing so good, doll. Behaving like the good little girl you are” he murmured under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

He had gotten rid of your clothes long ago, after giving you the most intense orgasm thanks to his skilled tongue and fingers, now the only piece of clothing covering your body being your panties, messily pulled to the side, growing damp at scratching Luke´s cock with every snap of his hips.

He was growing his praise to you unconsciously, he had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from exploding into you. You were just so fucking beautiful, he could just cum due to the sight of you; your hair messily flying over your sweaty back, your hands gripping the sheets, the way your flesh squished together when you squirmed or when his hand would grip tighter.

He had to let you know, eventually. “This fucking body is a crime, baby” he cooed. “It´s so perfect. You´re perfect, taking my cock so fucking well”

Luke´s words sent a cold jolt through your body, electrifying every nerve and sending you further into ecstasy. You felt his words dripping down your spine, flames burning like the intense desire in between you two.

“God, Luke” you managed to choke out. “Don´t stop, please”

He responded with a low growl, his movements becoming more urgent as he began to chase down his own release. Your cunt tightened around him more every time, gripping on his cock inside you in a wet and warm embrace that dripped down your thighs. Each thrust was more intense than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

As your bodies moved In perfect synchrony, the room filled with the sound of skin to skin, punctuated by the symphony of your moans and Luke´s ragged breaths.

“I can´t hold back much longer” Luke confessed, his voice strained with effort. “You feel too damn good”

You clung to him desperately, nails digging into the flesh of one of his thighs as you urged him on. And then, with a final, desperate cry, you tumbled over the edge, body twitching momentarily. Luke followed close behind, his own climax crashing over him like a wave, and inside you.

As your pleasure subsided, you collapsed into each other´s arms, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths as you lay there, bodies still sweaty and shaky due to the aftershock of such an electric moment.

You laughed then, a hand covering your face. “What?” Luke asked, a confused smile painted on his face.

“Nothing” you shrugged off, turning your neck towards him, a shy smile in your mouth. “You´re too good at this”

divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 

and he stuck true to that, until you came. 

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 

he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 

but he was here, and so, he prayed. 

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 

is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 

on reaching the place, 

he said to them, “pray that you 

will not fall into temptation.” 

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 

“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 

“why don’t you show it to me?” 

absolution; 

formal release from guilt, 

obligation, or punishment. 

or.. 

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 

“tell me what you want.” 

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 

 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 

❃ FLUFFCEMBER 2024 ❃

day 04: christmas sweater — sebastian vettel x reader

song rec: no one noticed - the marias

“hold me, console me.”

note: sorry if i skipped 3 days i had an exam. this one has a little bit of smut by the end

fluffcember masterlist | main masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sebastian rubbed his gloved hands together., shivering inside his jacket, as the two of you closed the door of his house.

“Damn, it was cold! But we had fun, right?” You smiled at him. Sebastian was your best friend. He got out of a toxic relationship just before Christmas and you really wanted to make him feel better.

“Right.” He returned the smile, but you could sense still a bit of sorrow behind his joyful tone. He took off his outside clothes and hanged them on the coat hook. He was wearing a white sweater, embroidered with little deers, trees and bells. It was the cutest sweater you’ve ever seen. “I’ll make some tea. Do you want some?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

You two sat on the bed, put some tv on and drank your tea. As you were silently watching a movie, you couldn’t help but cast looks on his afflicted expression. You really couldn’t see him like that, it was breaking your heart. “Seb, tell me what’s going on.”

He shifted his ocean blue eyes on you. “What do you mean?”

“You know you don’t need to fake with me.”

He sighed, lowering his gaze. You put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry for your break-up. It must be hard.”

He shook his head. “It’s not only that. She really was the worst and I don’t regret leaving her. I just…” He fidgeted with his empty cup of tea, a bit embarrassed for what he was about to say. “I just feel lonely sometimes. My friends are all back in Germany and my family too. You know I don’t see them that often.”

You nodded, and put a hand above his to stop his fidgeting. It was cold, as you’ve been playing outside in the snow. You stroked it slowly. “I understand. You don’t have to feel ashamed of that. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

Seb finally showed his genuine gummy smile that always made you melt. “Thank you, Y/N, it means a lot. The same goes for me.” He put his cup on the bedside table. “I wanted to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

You did the same with your cup. “At all.”

He hid his hands in the sleeves of the sweater. “Would you mind if I asked you to cuddle with me?”

The look in your eyes after the question must have been very shocked, because he started panicking, getting up suddenly. “You can say no, don’t feel forced, of course. I meant as friends, of course.”

“No, wait–“ You really didn’t know what to answer. Of course you wanted to cuddle with him, but what if he thought you were into him? Because you weren’t. You weren’t, right? Besides, friends cuddle all the time. You two used to do that when you were kids, why would it be any different now? “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

Seb’s worried expression relaxed again. He lay back on the bed, his head on the pillow, as you scooped closer. You let him wrap his arms around you. His hold was strong and gentle at the same time. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, your hands gripping the soft wool of his sweater. He smelled like wood and fresh snow.

Sebastian hummed. “You’re so warm. It was freezing outside.”

“I think I can help with that.” You slid your hands under his sweater, feeling his long back twitch slightly under your touch.

A little moan of satisfaction escaped him, a sound that would be engraved in your mind forever. “Thank you, Y/N. I wish I could stay like this forever.” He placed a kiss on your bare neck. It was tender, but you felt the wetness of it, as if he had licked his lips before. You had to hold back not to quiver.

“Me too.”

You stayed in that position for what felt like hours, exchanging caresses and little kisses. Well, obviously it wouldn’t be the last time.

mind is stuck on challengers sauna scene ..... art's thighs are so fucking sexy, so thick and sweaty and the way he's bouncing his leg? oh lord give me five minutes with him. just imagine his hands on your waist and his sweet, encouraging words as you sit on his wet skin and grind your even wetter cunt onto it. and he bounces it, gently hitting your clit in the right angle and it feels so good. i am going to combust. and you're like crying because while it feels good, you're just so so needy and want to feel him inside you but he thinks you look so sexy like this, he tells you to keep going just for a little bit more then he'll reward you for being good and listening to him.

King of my heart | Mick Schumacher

Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that's why, for the first time in forever, he threw carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

Warnings: explicit language, smut, alcohol, angst, and so on, please check each chapter's warnings before reading.

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Hamilton!reader (she/her)

Soundtrack: here

Series status: complete

A/n: I do not permit my work to be reposted on a different platform. This is my only account, if you see my work somewhere else, please let me know!

Psa. The pics from the social media chapter are not mine.

CHAPTERS

01. siblings or dating (smau)

02. cookies and free rides (smau)

03. breakfast dates and shared clothes (smau)

04. the first time they met (regular c.)

05. shoulder and sugar to lean on (regular c.)

06. paris fashion week and china gp (smau)

07. sharing playlists and history (regular c.)

08. sightseeing and race-week-dump (smau)

09. sharing is caring (regular c.)

10. privacy sign at the door (regular c.)

11. he's got a girlfriend (smau)

12. gathering the fam (smau)

13. spotted and discovered (smau)

14. the past comes to say hello (smau)

15. our love is a secret I'm trying to keep (regular c.)

16. closing doors (regular c.)

17. tulips, just like in Switzerland (smau)

18. red carnations and home (regular c.)

19. not alone tonight (smau)

20. closure, and packing (regular c.)

21. through their eyes (smau)

22. jealousy, jealousy (regular c.)

23. the most beautiful time of the year (smau)

24. king of my heart (regular c.)

DRABBLES & HEADCANONS & EXTRAS

creating a shared playlist

meeting Corinna and Gina

telling Lewis about Mick

Mick defending Yn from a mean journalist

slow mornings together

to build a home ✷

getting matching tattoos

💌 texts between mick and yn

oklahoma, memes, and pov

drivers room's nap, and tis the damn season

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

Thinking about being at a family party with dad!mick and he holds your toddler on his hip and a bottle of water on the other.

dad!mick who insisted on not drinking so he could drive you and your baby home at a reasonable hour.

dad!mick whose toddler doesn’t want anyone but their daddy and sleeps on his shoulder while he looks over the hamburgers on the barbecue.

dad!mick who puts the baby to sleep in his sister's bedroom and sneaks into his with you because he just can’t help himself when you’re wearing his favorite sundress and you’re sharing yet another secret: you’re pregnant again.

dad!mick that will eventually tell everyone you’ll have a second child, but meanwhile he’s basking in the feeling of the first few days after discovering.

dad!mick who’s ready for a football-team-sized family and is keen on convicing you to go for it.

like cherries in the spring

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 4k bc i cant stop myself

content warnings: 18+ PLEASE MDNI, porn without plot, consensual somnophilia (mentions of discussing it beforehand), intercrural sex sorta, thigh fucking sorta idk what to call it but thats close enough, brief v fingering, eventual p in v, light dom/sub undertones because thats who i am, light bondage (being held down), light choking (just a hand on your throat), unprotected sex, no y/n, established relationship, employee/boss relationship duh, self indulgent <3

summary:

You were barely conscious when you felt something poking your butt.

read on ao3 here or below <3333

You were barely conscious when you felt something poking your butt.

You try to blink awake, immediately blinded by the sunlight filtering in through the blinds. For a second, you think you’re still in Los Angeles with the California heat making your clothes stick to your back, working on a kidnapping case, which means you need to get up and get ready fast.

However, someone stirs behind you, and you realize you’re not in California. You’re home, in your bed, and being spooned by Aaron.

You try not to sigh in relief so as not to disturb him. He needs the rest, obviously, based on the fact that Aaron tends to get up like clockwork at 8 in the morning, even on his days off. You crane your neck to check the clock on your bedside table. Nearly 9:30 in the morning.

You’re almost tempted to wake him up, knowing that Aaron will be secretly annoyed and feeling like he slept the day away, but then you remember how late it was when you got in last night. The team just got done with a case in a Los Angeles suburb and decided to fly back home despite how late it was, which meant that it was really late when you finally made it back home. You distantly remember leaning on Aaron’s shoulder, trying not to fall asleep standing up, and him grunting for everyone to take the following day off and hearing everyone let out a tired cheer. You weren’t able to sleep on the jet, envious at everyone else’s ability to take a nap as soon as they closed their eyes, and kept Aaron company while he finished his notes.

You remember sitting across from him, the glow of the reading light shining on him with his head ducked over his files. He was clearly exhausted just like everyone else, evident by the bags underneath his eyes and the way he attempted to hide his yawn every couple of minutes, but you know that he always makes an effort to try and finish the paperwork the same day while the case was still fresh on his mind.

You had a book open in front of you, long forgotten, as you rested your chin in your palm and stared at your boyfriend.

He glances up at you every now and then and shakes his head to himself, smile on his face, when you make no move to stop staring almost dreamily. It’s not your fault he’s so handsome, even when he’s running on 4 hours of sleep.

“Ridiculous,” he had muttered, feigning annoyance, however you felt him knock his feet against yours underneath the table. Something warm settles in your chest at that.

You remember stumbling into Aaron’s apartment, through the living room, and falling face first into the bed. You hadn’t even bothered to change into your pajamas, but you were just too tired to care, evident by passing out as soon as your face hit the pillow.

It didn’t matter now, however, as you felt Aaron’s body pressed up against yours, so warm it was nearing unbearable. You felt his soft exhales against the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and the beginning line of his morning wood poking your ass. You felt the soft comforter brush against your bare legs and realize that Aaron must have changed you in your sleep, leaving you in your panties and a tank top.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling utter want tugging at the bottom of your stomach. It had been a couple of days since you guys had done anything, even with the shared hotel room. Working on a kidnapping case in a shitty hotel with thin walls didn’t really set the mood, no matter what anyone said. Sure, you and Aaron were able to sneak in some heated kisses and touches, but never more than that before both of you were falling asleep with case files and medical reports at the foot of the bed.

You carefully pushed your hips back against him, feeling his cock twitch against you. Aaron shifted, throwing his arm over your waist, however his breathing was still deep and heavy. He was usually a light sleeper, a result of the job, so him not waking up from that must mean he was more tired than he let on.

You’re still groggy, but an idea slowly forms in your head. Of course, you two didn’t get the chance to discuss this last night, but you distantly remember a conversation several weeks ago where you told Aaron you wouldn’t mind too much if he woke you up by touching you or going down on you and whether he would be interested in you doing the same to him.

He had given you a look so dark, pupils blown and a smirk slowly forming on his mouth, that you wanted to drop to your knees right there in the kitchen.

Instead, he leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of your head and mutter a “Some other time, dirty girl.”

Now seems like the perfect time.

You move your hips back again, relishing in the way you can feel Aaron’s cock grow bigger, harder. You wiggle and let out a breathy sigh when you feel him migrate to between your ass cheeks. It’s not enough and definitely not close enough to where you really want him, but it feels good. Dirty, just like Aaron had said.

You move up on the bed a little more, careful not to stir too much, lifting your hips from the bed a bit until his clothed cock was between your thighs and pressed right against your pussy.

You moan at that, clenching your thighs when you feel that familiar throbbing in your cunt, wishing he was already inside of you.

But this feels good too. Two layers of clothes between Aaron’s thick cock and your wet pussy. You start to move your hips against him, breathless at the way the head of his cock barely grazes your clit. You can feel the wet spot undoubtedly forming on your panties, your wetness helping his cock glide against you.

You feel yourself get carried away, chasing the small sparks of pleasure running up your spine just from feeling the girth of his cock against your hole, when you feel Aaron’s arm that’s draped over you move.

You freeze, though you’re not sure why, it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, when you feel his hand come up to grope at your breast over your top.

You hear him hum, still breathing warm air against your neck, and feel him somehow press closer against you. You wait for him to say something, either teasing you for being so horny and rubbing up against him or wordlessly tugging his briefs down to press his cock against where you need him, but there’s nothing.

He’s still asleep.

You exhale in relief, ignoring the nagging thought in your brain saying why are you into this, you freak, but then Aaron’s hand on your breast starts moving, just barely groping.

You’ve known that Aaron has always been a touchy guy behind closed doors, always hungry and wanting to be close to you wherever he got a chance. He’s said it’s because he loves your body and not being able to touch you at work drives him crazy, and you can tell he’s telling the truth from the way his jaw clenches when you lean over his desk to hand him a file or the look he gives you when you cross your legs sitting across from him on the jet and your skirt rides up.

At home, you let him have your fill. He’s constantly groping your tits, pinching at your nipples. He’s grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing, and grabbing your hips so hard he leaves bruises. He has a hand on the back of your neck and pushing your face into the mattress or wrapping his large hand at the base of your throat, putting light pressure as if a reminder of who you belong to. He loves touching you and you clearly don’t mind, however you’re seriously wondering how obsessed he is with your body if he can touch and grope you in his sleep.

He's squeezing your breast and canting his own hips against you. You feel his cock twitch again and the wet spot he must be leaving through his briefs drags against you and your thigh. You bite your lip at that, unsure whether Aaron was about to wake up or not.

You feel his hand move from your breast to your abdomen, fingers just barely brushing over your nipple, making you almost jump, and wrap his arm around your middle. You hear him grunt, something masculine and deep that makes you want to lose your mind, and feel him thrust into you, rutting into you like he can’t control himself.

You whimper at the feeling of being constricted, imagining Aaron’s veins popping out of his forearms. Not caring whether he’ll wake up, you reach down to pull at his briefs just enough so his cock pops free. You sigh at the feeling of hot flesh against your thigh and your mouth waters when you feel precum leaking down the head of his cock, smearing on your panties and thighs.

You wait and strain your ears to listen to Aaron’s breathing. Somehow, it’s still steady.

You’re starting to get impatient, just about to throw this all away and wake him up to sink down on him, but then you feel his bare cock press against your hole through your panties and it just feels so good. You know that if Aaron wakes up, he’s going to want to fuck you fast and hard and honestly, you’re having a lot of fun teasing yourself.

He stops humping into you, the arm around your middle relaxing, and he grumbles a bit and presses his face against the nape of your neck. His breath tickles you.

You start moving your own hips again, just barely, enough to feel the slow drag of his cock against your clit through your panties. They must be absolutely soaked through right now and you desperately wish you could just take them off without waking Aaron up and press the head of him into you, stretching you out. A sweat starts to break out on your back and on your neck and Aaron’s body heat, naturally running warmer than you, isn’t helping but you don’t care.

You hear a sharp inhale, a particular deep thrust against your pussy, and then a “What do you think you’re doing?”

You freeze, feeling like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar and not like you were humping desperately against your boyfriend like a teenager. “Uhm.”

His left arm moves up from where he was still wrapped around you, brushing purposefully against your nipples and making you whine, to wrap his hand around the base of your throat. He doesn’t put any pressure, but just the weight of his hand is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“I said,” he whispers, exhaling against your ear. He thrusts his hips once against you, making his cock slide against you better in a way you could never replicate. “What are you doing?”

You swallow, unsure on how you want to play this. The low deep rasp of his voice this early in the morning always sends you reeling. “Nothing.”

Aaron hums and the grip he has on you tightens just a bit before he’s trailing down your chest. This time, he flicks your left nipple, making you jump and bite your lip at the same time, and moving down past your stomach and to your pussy. “This doesn’t feel like nothing, honey.”

His hand traces the waistband of your panties and the curve of your hips. The callouses on his fingers are rough, but familiar, making you squirm against him. Aaron hisses at that and it’s like he finally snaps as he reaches between your legs and roughly pulls your panties to the side to thrust his cock against your bare cunt, hips slamming into yours.

“In fact, it feels like you’re being a dirty girl, rubbing up on me like you can’t help yourself.”

Your gasp morphs into a moan when you feel the head of his cock finally brushing your swollen clit, no clothes in the way. Now you can feel how sopping wet you are, making the glide of his throbbing cock against your pussy smooth and perfect. This whole thing feels dirty, like you’re trying to take what you can get before you can get caught even though there’s no one else home with Jack being at a sleepover. The thrusting of his hips against yours to rub against your wet folds just makes you think about him fucking you into the mattress until you’re a whining mess. “Aaron…”

 “What do you want, baby?” Aaron murmurs, starting to press soft kisses behind your ear. Hearing his early morning voice again makes your insides turn into a puddle. The warmth of his body and his cologne from yesterday still barely detectable is intoxicating, making you spread your legs a little so his cock nestles deeper against your wetness. You start to move your own hips to meet his and the lewd sound of your pussy and his hips slamming into yours is so so hot.

“Please…” you whine, the words dying in your throat because your head is swimming, and you don’t know exactly what to say. You secretly hope he knows what you want—what you need.

Aaron suddenly gets up to sit on his knees and moves you with a hand on your hip so you’re laying flat on your front, face pressed into your pillow. You nearly cry at the loss of pressure against your clit, but he quickly puts a hand on the back of your head to shove your face into the pillow. He straddles your thighs, roughly moves your panties aside again to insert a thick finger inside of you.

You moan wantonly at the feeling of finally being filled, the sound muffled against the pillow. His finger goes in easily due to how wet you were, but the feeling of being stretched even just a little bit make you feel drunk.

“Is this what you want, pretty girl?” He moves his finger in and out of you fast, almost rough, but it’s still something and it can still make you come if you try really hard since you’ve been playing with yourself for what feels like hours.

You already start to feel the beginning pressure at the pit of your stomach, clenching and unclenching around just one finger. Your clit is barely getting anything out rubbing against the sheets, but you don’t even care, having been on edge for days. “Yes, yes—Aaron…”

Aaron hums casually from behind you, as if you guys were talking about the weather. “Are you going to come for me?”

You nod furiously into the pillow, moving your face to the side so you can breathe more easily. “Yes, yes, please—”

Suddenly he takes his finger out of you with a loud and vulgar noise, nearly making you scream in frustration. You’re about to yell at him, maybe even turn around and smack him on the shoulder, until you feel your panties being quickly tugged down your legs, the head of his cock up against your hole, and then pressing in.

“Oh…,” you moan, nearly sighing in the familiar feeling of being properly filled. There’s a slight burn from that stretch you secretly love. The hand he had pressed against the back of your head migrates to the back of your neck, grabbing a hold of you so possessively it makes you squirm.

Aaron leans over you until his face is next to yours, his soft moans like music to your ears as he bottoms out. “Fuck, baby, you’re still so tight…”

You try to crane your neck to look at him, desperate to see his face. He has his eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration, most likely trying to resist immediately fucking into you. His hair is almost artfully mussed, fluffy and falling into his face. Yesterday’s stress is gone and instead is replaced with absolute desire. His other arm is pressing into the mattress so he can hold himself over you and you nearly start to drool at his bicep bulging out, the veins in his thick forearms prominent.

And as if he can feel your eyes on him, his eyes open. They’re dark and piercing, pupils nearly blown out. There’s a hint of that damn smugness in the corner of his mouth, but it smooths out into something softer around the edges when he leans in to press a closed-mouthed kiss against yours. He knows how much you hate morning breath.

The tender action makes something clench in your chest and you wonder again how you got so lucky.

All sweet thoughts fly out the window when Aaron pulls out slowly until just the head of his cock is in you. You moan at the sudden loss and squirm, knowing how much he likes seeing your hips move.

Just like you predicted, he growls and slams back into you, pressing his hips against the flesh of your ass. “So needy.”

“Aaron, please…” you beg, moving your arms from underneath you to behind you in an attempt to touch him, feel him, something.

Because Aaron is Aaron and somehow can read your mind, you feel him grab both of your wrists together in one hand to press against your back. You have no leverage now and can breathe a little easier now that he’s not pressing down on your neck, instead his other hand gripping onto your hip.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give what my dirty girl needs,” Aaron coos, almost mockingly in the way that makes heart stutter, and then he starts fucking you so hard the breath gets knocked out of you.

He’s relentless, no more teasing and rubbing up against his cock. The grip of his fingers on your hip and wrists are tight, hopefully enough to leave bruises, as he essentially pulls you on and off his cock. He fills you out so good, hitting that spot inside of your pussy that sends sparks up your spine, making you feel like your brain is short circuiting. It’s like you can’t even think anymore, which is a normal occurrence when Aaron fucks you like this, and all you can hear is the wet sounds of your pussy, his hips slamming against yours, and moans that he’s not bothering to hide anymore.

You distantly can hear yourself begging to come, nearly screaming yourself hoarse. You’re sensitive, nearly overstimulated with the way Aaron is pounding into you, and you just want to come already. The sheets are wrapped around your thighs, barely rubbing against your clit, and it’s not enough and you arch your back the way he likes, move your hips in an effort to tell him to touch you. “Fuck, oh my God, Aaron.”

“You need me to touch you, baby?” Aaron says, breathlessly, and you know he’s close too, probably holding off until you come first because you know that’s something he likes.

He must be just as impatient as you are because he’s immediately releasing his hold on your wrists to wriggle a hand underneath you and rub your clit in a way that was delicious but almost rough, almost painful enough that it sends you over the edge.

You choke on your moan as you feel your pussy clench on his hard cock, squeezing your thighs together. Your hands find purchase clawing at the sheets underneath you, wrists tingling from where he held onto you. Your mind blanks out, empty besides the sheer bliss wracking your body. Aaron keeps fucking you, keeps flicking your clit, groaning your name and it just adds to your orgasm, nearly making you roll your eyes back into your head.

You feel him fuck you faster, harder, and you had just begun floating down from your orgasm when Aaron comes inside you with a deep and guttural moan. You’ve always loved hearing the noises he makes; how manly he sounds, how deep his voice can get, and the way he whispers your name like a prayer. The noise he makes when he comes, however, is definitely in your top 3.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” Aaron grunts, thrusting into you one last time. The hold he has on your hip is nearly painful, definitely bruising. You moan unabashedly at that and the feeling of his warm come inside of you, filling you up. You clench down on him one last time, milking him for all he’s worth, and you hear Aaron’s choked laugh behind you.

He slips out of you, and you feel his eyes on your pussy; probably swollen and absolutely a soaking mess with your wetness smeared all over your inner thighs. He hums, finally satisfied, at the sight of his come dripping out of your cunt, dripping down your slit and onto the sheets. You feel his thumb come and trace your hole, gentle, but making you squirm nonetheless at how sensitive you are and sending a shock through you. His hand is on your hip again, squeezing in a warning, silently telling you to take it.

And you do, keening softly when you feel the rough pad on his thumb brush your clit, smearing his come around. You always had an inkling that Aaron was dirty, with his domineering voice and the way he so easily takes control of a room when he walks in, but you were in for a rude awakening when you both finally stopped dancing around each other.

You hear Aaron inhale sharply when you clench and unclench, probably pushing more wetness out onto the sheets, and you almost brace yourself for his cock to press against your hole again when you feel the bed dip and Aaron getting up to the bathroom to help clean you up. You’re only slightly disappointed, but then remember it’s not even noon and you got the rest of the day left. You bring your arms to cross and rest your head on them while you wait, smiling to yourself as the languid relaxation seeps into your bones the way only getting fucked out of your mind does.

Aaron is tender and gentle while he cleans you up. Underneath all the stoic and cold demeanor, Aaron has always been a huge softie and loves taking care of you, no matter the occurrence. You feel that care when there’s large hands and a towel, warm on your thighs, your hips, your ass as he presses his lips to the bottom of your spine. You feel the barely there scratch of his stubble and hum.

When he’s done, he crawls up the mattress to his spot and settles down with a huff. He immediately is wrapping around you, flinging his arm and leg over you to pull you in closer as you laugh. Your face is pressed against his chest, flushed pink, and you impulsively press a kiss there against the wiry hair. You feel him kiss the top of your head, no doubt smiling because he secretly loves the attention you give him.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, so soft in a way that makes you want to wiggle further into him.

Instead, you push back a bit to look up at him where he’s already watching you, eyes affectionate. Your legs are tangled with his, hips pressed against each other’s despite knowing how sweaty he is. His mouth, usually in that straight line, has softened, and the sight of his bedhead and relaxed brow makes you want to spend the next week touching him all over. His cock pressed against your thigh, half-hard, tells you that may be possible.

“Perfect,” you say, and then you push at his shoulder until he flops on his back, gazing up at you almost reverently as you climb on top of him to straddle his hips.

One of his hands wander up your thighs until he settles on your hip. His hair falls into his face, his eyes still drowsy but the hunger plain as day. He brings his other arm to rest above his head, against the pillows, in a clear show of his muscles that makes your mouth water. He looks devastatingly handsome and just so hot, it’s really not fair.

“Good morning,” he says, casually, as if you’re not quietly losing your mind.

You give him a devilish grin and push your hips back until you can feel the head of his cock against you, already hard and leaking precum against your ass. Satisfaction curls up your spine when his small smile falters and his jaw clenches. You lean down, knowing that he loves the feeling of your breasts pushing against his chest and nipples dragging, until you’re hanging your lips right above his.

“A very good morning, it is.”

You asked for blurb ideas & that thought here got stuck in my mind since this morning 🌞

Tennis Reader “thanking” Art after their training session in the locker rooms. ;)

Reader sneaks in men’s locker room after training together till evening, surprising (Stanford) Art under the shower + asking for some steamy extra cardio. 👀

And eventually Patrick walks in. Idk abt that but whatever you write is amazing, in every trope 🫶🏻

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (hj, fingering, p in v), throuple dynamics (+1)

A/N: Ok I’m sorry I know you said Stanford but 2019 era Art is ALLLL I can think about 🩷 forgive me for my transgressions pls

Tashi had set the whole thing up, holding his hand through it. Because Tashi and Patrick were off globetrotting for the tour— France, if he remembered correctly. Tashi just wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that his needs were being met. In his career… and otherwise.

You were a player out of… USC? He thought that sounded right. Recently graduated, doing well in the pros, already highly ranked with an excellent record. The perfect first player for Art Donaldson to coach.

She set up the entire thing, met with you to get things organized, and penciled training into his calendar with a tiny note.

Have fun without us -T

You were doing such a good job, even unwittingly— putting on the sweetest little show for him. When you’d miss a serve or a ball went out of bounds, you’d do a peppy little jog then bend over to grab it, completely unaware of the effect it might have had on him.

“I need to see how you play,” he had said as you dropped your bag on the side of the court. You smiled and nodded, and took to the opposite side of the net.

He beat you embarrassingly easily the first set. Sweat was beading on your forehead as you met him at the benches between courts and guzzled down water. When you finally came up for air, a little trail of water went from your plush bottom lip and down your chin.

He watched you lick the moisture from your lips, then wipe at the rest with the back of your hand. He swallowed hard.

“Do you want my advice?” He scratched at the back of his neck as you peered up at him expectantly. “You need to loosen up, you’re too tense.”

Your eyes widened at his direction, but you nodded. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Donaldson.” You drank down another gulp, then jogged back to the other side of the court, eager to please.

He watched you bend over, retrieving a couple of balls that you’d hit into the net, flashing tiny white spandex beneath your tennis skirt.

Jesus Christ, Tashi was evil.

By the afternoon, sweat dripped down your arms, along the line of your throat, dampened the baby hairs framing your face and the back of your neck, tacking them down to sticky skin.

“Why don’t we head to the locker rooms inside, then we can meet upstairs and go through a training plan.”

You smiled, looking so sweet and eager. “Okay.”

He was grateful for the shower— molten against aching, underused muscles. He hadn’t exactly just given up on everything after retiring, but his muscles weren’t being used the way they were used to— the constant strenuous training.

He closed his eyes, letting the spray hit his face and soak into his skin.

He heard a squeak and jumped, eyes flying open to the sight of you naked underneath one of the other shower heads, quickly adjusting the spray from ice cold to steaming hot.

“Turned it to cold on accident,” you said over your shoulder. “Women’s locker rooms are under maintenance. You don’t mind, right?”

He turned, cheeks burning pink as he tried his best to play it cool— act like he wasn’t checking you out. “No, uh, it’s fine.”

Were you in on it with Tashi? It certainly felt like it as he watched you lathering your body up with soap, maybe focusing too much attention to your tits.

You glanced over, caught him looking, and smiled. He turned away quickly with his pulse thrumming in his throat.

Fuck. He was already hard. It wasn’t exactly a surprise— he’d been half-hard just at the sight of you in that fucking outfit on the court.

He heard you laugh and looked back at you. You were looking right at him, amusement evident in your expression. “She said you’d be easy, but, Jesus, I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” 

You shut off the water of your shower and made your way over. Water dripped from your body, rolling down your skin in delicate rivulets. You stopped in front of him and ran a hand down his chest, making him shiver.

“Tashi told you?” His words trailed off into a groan as your hands moved between his legs, stroking the length of him in your delicate grasp.

“She told me to say thank you after every lesson,” you said. With each step forward you made, he took a step back, until you had him pinned against the cold tile. He moaned as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock, and you smile sweetly. “She showed me exactly how I should do it.”

“Showed you?”

You sped your hand up, twisting slightly with each tug upwards. “Mhmm. On Patrick. She went first, then I showed her what I learned.” You laughed softly, lips brushing along his jaw. “I’m a very fast learner. Patrick was very impressed.”

Fuck, he was going to get back at Tashi for not letting him be there for that. The mental image was enough to make his cock pulse in your grip. Maybe he’d just have you recreate it for him the second Tashi and Patrick came home.

Your lips brushed along the like of his jaw as you continued to jerk him off, your hand slick and tight and relentless. Just like Tashi’s would be. God, you really were a fast learner.

It would certainly make being your coach a lot easier.

“Art,” you hummed, breath hot against his ear. He nodded wordlessly, almost afraid that if he spoke, he’d wake up from a fugue state to find out that he’d just imagined it all and was mid-jerk off session.

Your lips moved against his throat, nipping gently at the expanse of soft skin. He tasted like sweat and tap water. Your words came out as a whisper, “You can fuck me now.”

He laughed shakily, flushed red down to his chest. “Now? You don’t want me to go down on you, or—“

He was cut off when you grabbed his hand and moved it between your legs. Dripping wet, silky soft, absolutely aching for him.

You moaned softly, leaning fully onto him for support as he rubbed at your clit. “T-Tashi—“ You stammered, losing that seductive bravado you’d walked in with. “Told me I should make you work for it. But, fuck—”

Art laughed softly. “You’re too needy.”

“Do you know how fucking sexy you sound when you play tennis?” You whined, breath going shaky as he pushed a finger inside of your aching cunt. “Halfway through the second set, I— god— I considered dropping the pretense and fucking you right on the— on the court.”

Tashi wouldn’t have that. When she came home, she’d clock that impatience train it out of you. She’d make you sit and watch, get so desperate you’d beg and cry for it. She had to do it to Patrick before— she would know just how to get you to the point she needed you at.

The tennis would be up to Art.

You were so wet, clenching around his finger, craving more. What the fuck would be the point in denying either of you any longer?

You whined when he moved his hand from you, but he wasn’t going to keep you waiting. He pinned you against the cold tile wall, lifting you up to where he needed. You smiled at him,wrapping your legs around his waist, coaxing him closer.

A shiver ran through you as his cock brushed over your folds— so close to where you needed him. His tip notched against your entrance and he pressed into you slowly, relishing in the way you held your breath, in the way your body opened up for him so eagerly.

He pressed his forehead against yours when he bottomed out, and you panted as you adjusted to him.

You were impatient. So fucking impatient. You rocked your hips against him, begging wordlessly for more. He leaned in, kissing you slowly.

“Art,” you gasped, pulling away from the kiss as he fucked into you, slow and deep. “Patrick told me that I should tell you that you’re supposed to fuck me, not make love to me.”

Of fucking course he did. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded, somehow looking so sweet split open on his cock. His hips met yours in a particularly harsh thrust and you cried out in surprise. You moaned so seeetly, your lips turned up in a smug grin. It was exactly what you wanted.

Your back slid against the slick tile wall as he drove into you again and again and again. Your cunt was so warm, and tight, and so fucking wet if squelched obscenely with each thrust.

Wet kisses were peppered along his jaw and throat along with soft murmured thank yous and praise.

“You’re so deep, Art,” you moaned into his ear. “Feels so good. Thank you, thank you.”

It had been a week since Tashi and Patrick were home. A week of having to find satisfaction with Patrick’s fucking lewd Snapchat videos and his hand.

And here you were— a sweet, tight, Tashi-approved plaything. Your manicured nails rubbing at your clit, your pussy clamping around his cock as you drew closer and closer to the edge.

What better foreplay was there than tennis?

You came first, which was a fucking Godsend. He had no doubt Tashi would’ve flayed him if she found out that he couldn’t even manage to get his new toy off before he did. Loud— not caring if anyone heard.

Tashi would train that out of you too, lest you get them banned from every fucking country club in the state. Or a TMZ article whispering about a tawdry affair.

He shut you up with a hungry, searing kiss. Tongue moving against yours, muffling your cries. He came buried as deep as he could possibly get, with his tongue shoved down your throat and his grip bruising your soft thighs.

The water had gone icy when you both detached from each other, finally taking the actual shower you needed. You happily shared a shower head since you’d wasted enough water as is.

You redressed, tied up your wet hair, and sat on a bench, tapping away at your phone while he did his best to look presentable, and not like he’d just fucked the athlete he was supposed to be coaching.

“Tashi and Patrick say hi,” you said casually, offering a killer smile.

Maybe retirement wasn’t that bad.

NEED to be the toxic triplets’ little plaything im clawing at the padded walls of my enclosure

Anywayssss feel free to send more blurb reqs 🩷

Watch What Happens | Day 29: Candles

carlisle cullen x f!reader x charlie swan

Rated E | 5k

Tags: soft filth, est. open relationship, threesome, voyeurism, implied mutual attraction, brief mention of alcohol, sub/dom elements, fingering, oral, unprotected PiV

There’s moments Carlisle can’t share with you, as soft and human as you are. Luckily for you, he finds out he likes to watch. And even more fortuitously - you both find out that Charlie likes to give.

He’s hard to resist.

It could be what he is - so much about him calls to you, makes you starry-eyed. Inhibitions and the filter on your mouth disappearing - leaving your mind as foggy as a chilly winter’s morning.

But you think maybe it’s just him. The silk of his voice, the cool slide of his fingers raising goosebumps in their wake. Trailing down between your breasts, his chest pressed against your back as you knees open between his.

The little shiver when his lips press against your neck. A sharp inhale, the brush of his tongue against the spot where your pulse thuds - a balm against your burning skin.

Your breath comes out a shudder, how he’s so close. His sweet cologne has you sinking against him, his fingers pausing at your mound, sliding over soft skin.

“Carlisle.” You breath his name, and he can feel the gasp in your throat, a hum coming from low in his throat as he indulges you.

Fingers dipping lower as your thighs nudge wider. Feeling where you’re slick and hot and oh - he wants to bury himself in you. Feel that warmth wrapped around him, so soft and so yielding.

Instead, the tip of his finger drags up. Slipping against your clit, first a slow, small circle, and then another. Until your head is tipped back against his solid shoulder, your hips bucking into his touch.

“Please.” You whine, and Carlisle makes a comforting sound, his other hand splayed across your belly, thumb stroking the valley between your breasts.

“You know I can’t.” He admonishes, but it’s soft edge tempers the rejection - your teeth clicking together as they clench.

Lips parting as you pant, close enough to the edge that you’re not above begging, “But you’re - you can handle it. I know you can.”

A mess for him, and he’s still so composed. Not a hair out of place, the only signs are the wrinkles in the clothes where you’ve clung to him, and the hunger that burns in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could hold back.” He admits, though he says it without shame.

Just the truth - why he keeps you at arms length in some ways. Giving you his fingers and his mouth, but no more - even in spite of your sweet pleas.

You’re protesting again, something about how he manages just fine as a doctor - that if he can handle that then certainly this has to be easy - and his kiss is sweet against your temple.

The softest tsk as he chides you.

“It’s easy not to want what you’ve never had.”

And then an intake of breath, the sound sharp against your ear as he inhales you, your scent. Fingers sliding down until they’re slipping into you, unable to resist giving you just a tiny bit more.

But no more than that.

“And you must remember… I’ve tasted you, darling.”

———

An idea forms, just a small bud of a thing. Slowly growing, blooming - unfurling at each meeting.

It hadn’t been hard. Carlisle had seen the way he looked at you both, the lingering glances. A curiosity, your eyes flicking Charlie’s way when you think no one is looking. When he looks to Carlisle, and then you when he makes a some sort of jest or snarky comment, waiting for a soft smile.

A loop, ebbing and flowing.

Carlisle brings the idea to you when you’re in the car, after picking you up for the evening. Broaching the topic just as you pass the Police Station, the neat flick of his eyes towards the parking lot, automatically checking to see if he’s still there.

He’s not, and the car keeps going.

“What do you think about Charlie?” Carlisle asks you, as if he’s asking about your weekend plans, what you’d like to have for dinner.

You frown, “As a person?”

“Yes.” He hums, “More than that, but yes.”

It takes a second to form words, the thoughts tumbling around. Not sure where he’s going with his question, but you try to answer honestly - there were few secrets between you. Many things laid bare, expectations discussed.

Even if you poked at them, sometimes, in the heat of the moment.

“He’s been a good friend.” You settle on something vague, though a heat rises to your cheeks as you glance out the window, “I like him.”

A thumb taps against the steering wheel, once, twice. His gaze always has a weight that settles over you, a gravity that always pulls to back to him.

So you glance, where he’s smiling.

“I like him, too.”

You blink, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He watching, gauging your reaction. If you understand, or if he’ll have to leave more breadcrumbs.

But he doesn’t need to worry. It’s something you’ve discussed - just whispers in the dark, cozy with the afterglow. Sometimes, you think it’s just a dream, the memory of some unconscious thought.

How he imagines, sometimes, you with someone else. Wanting to see just how much you could take in the hands of someone who didn’t have to be careful like he did.

How well you might listen to them, under his instruction. How you might look, pinned between them, each of his movements so measured and careful as he finds his own end.

How you’ve thought about that, too.

“Do…” You hesitate, before surging forward, “What makes you think he’d say yes?”

There’s the slightest curve of his lips, the hint of a dimple.

“He’ll say yes.” His voice is certain - the same tone he uses in the office. A hand reaching, cool to the touch as his fingers fit between yours.

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t certain, love.”

———

It’s on a chilly December night when Carlisle asks him.

The subject broached after an evening of pizza and beer, a game on Charlie’s television half-watched in quiet companionship. Bellies filled with drink and food - sitting cozy on the couch, before Carlisle finds the perfect segue. His pitch clean and effortless, much like everything he does.

Charlie’s brow pinched and furrowed as he listens to the solicitation - not sure if he’s heard correctly.

A quick darting of eyes after, as he glances your way. Over the years in Forks he’s gotten used to not asking questions too many - taking opportunities at face value.

If anything he looks like he’s not sure why you’re asking him, and it makes you smile at his obliviousness. Fingers passing over and smoothing the edge of his mustache as he processes.

For a long moment, you wonder what he’s thinking about - if the two of you have gotten this all wrong. Not too worried about discretion, both of their jobs made keeping knowledge quiet second nature. But you didn’t want to mess up the friendship that had formed, over the past few years.

But Carlisle is right - as he always is.

“I don’t like… “ His hand waves in the air, discomfort evident, “Complications. So as long as it not-”

“No complications, I assure you.” Carlisle smiles warmly, “Just the occasional favor, if you’d prefer to think about it that way.”

“Hell of a favor.” Charlie huffs, his mustache twitching with a bemused smile - but he’s intrigued, leaning back against the worn couch.

A beat, before he nods slowly - a sense of finality to his answer.

“Fine with me.”

———

He’s warm beneath you.

You’ve forgotten what it’s like - too used to the feeling of carved marble in human form. Sculpted by the gods and shaped in their image.

But Charlie, he gives. Your hand flat against his chest, sliding up to his shoulders. Fingers digging into the thick muscle as his own grip at your waist.

Hot-blooded, with the way those hands squeeze, tug. Rocking your hips against his as you straddle him, his back bumping against the headboard.

The room dark with the wintry, evening light. Ending up at your place together - an almost tangible tension in the room after the conversation. A mutual agreement that there was no sense in waiting until another night, not with all possibilities so beautifully ripe and swirling in your mind.

Candles illuminate the cozy space - one on your dresser, another on your bedside table. Carlisle thought it would soften him, make him blend in.

He was right - about more than just that, tonight.

If you turned your head you could see him from his seat in the cozy, overstuffed armchair you liked to read in. Looking like he’s been bathed in gold, achingly beautiful. As close to human as you’ve seen him.

You can feel the weight of his gaze, where he watches - still as stone. But another shift of your hips brings you back, rocking you where Charlie is thick in his jeans. A low breath of a moan as you push the flannel from his shoulders, your lips dragging around a stubble-lined cheek as he tugs his arms from the sleeves.

The shirt and bra you’re wearing goes next, disappearing over the edge of the bed to join your pants - discarded before he had pulled you onto his lap moments before. Fingers roaming over newly-bared flesh, his touch greedy as he palms your breast, eyes dropping to see how they look in his hands.

“Christ, you’re beautiful.” He’s murmuring, as your fingers slip around the buckle of his belt, “You sure you want this?”

Charlie’s gaze flickers over your shoulder, just to the side. A careful confirmation, and you use this distraction to palm him, your hand curling and cupping.

“God, yes.” You breath, as he groans, a small thrust of his hips into your touch. Fingers pressing and teasing and stroking him over his jeans, as he finishes loosening his belt, popping open the buckle.

“Be good for Chief Swan, sweetheart.” A soft voice chides, capturing your attention. Your head turns, meeting his gaze as the edge of his lips tilt in a knowing smile, “Can you do that for us?”

It has you nodding, turning back to Charlie, so he can see too. Easing back off him, kneeling on the bed as you wait for him to work the zipper - lift his hips. Helping him tug the fabric down his thighs, before settling between them.

His t-shirt pushed up to his abdomen, the thick curve of his cock resting just below against a dusting of coarse hair. Legs spread across the top of your thick, soft comforter, one still bent at the knee, foot flat against the bed.

His leg straightens, muscles flexing, when you take him in your mouth. Nose brushing against his abdomen as your head dips, lips parting to wrap around the flushed tip, enveloping him.

You can be good. Make him moan with your mouth, your hands. More - if he still wants that, if he hasn’t changed his mind.

But you don’t think he has, not when his fingers are brushing over your shoulders - wide hands coming to cup your jaw as your head bobs.

Seeing the way he sinks into your pillow, the small, unconscious thrust of his hips as you meet his eyes, something you’re sure Carlisle catches.

Eyes closing as your tongue swirls, over velvet-soft skin, taking him as deep as you can into your throat. Pleased when you hear the broken moan in response, his breath harsh.

You like this. It’s different, how responsive he his. Soaking in the rising of his chest with each breath, the throb of his cock against your tongue. Words you don’t quite catch as your thighs press together, trying to relieve an ache of your own.

It’s not as subtle as you thought, not from where your lover sits, near the end of the bed. Fingers curled underneath his chin, his elbow resting on the padded arm as he watches beneath sharp, half-lidded eyes.

“Touch yourself, kitten.” Carlisle tells you, “I can see how wet you are. I want you messy when he fucks you.”

His words make you clench, the hand on Charlie’s thigh gripping on a little tighter as you moan. Your lazy pace slowing as your eyes glance up unconsciously, where he’s watching you, too.

“You let him call the shots like that?” Charlie asks - a thumb swiping over your cheek, as he rests heavy on your tongue.

His question is amusing to you, you’d smile if your mouth wasn’t so full - an answer coming as your fingers slide between your thighs, feeling just how soft and soaked you really are.

Fluttering shut as you suck on him, as your fingertips circle, pressing at your clit. Basking in relief as your own throbbing is answered and eased.

Shifting your weight for balance, leaning more onto his sturdy thighs. It’s hard to do this much at once, your brain fuzzy with desire, your own pleasure now at war with the need to make him come with your mouth.

Charlie’s voice breaks through your thoughts, the words rasped out, “You like being told what to do, baby?”

You nod automatically, in between the slow bobs of your head, the sharp exhale of breath through your nose as you concentrate.

There’s a rumbling groan in his throat, as he pieces more things together. What you like, what he likes, what all three of you do.

“Fuck. Can you make yourself come for me?” His voice lowers, gaining a hint of an edge, “I won’t fuck you until you do.”

There’s a low hum of amusement and approval from the corner, a curving smile as you melt with Charlie’s words. Leaning into his permission, as your attention shifts. The teasing touches becoming more focused, knowing that you don’t have to keep yourself on the edge anymore.

Almost making you forget keep moving, an apologetic look thrown Charlie’s way as you take him deep again. Not that he seems to mind, his gaze fixed fully on the movement of your wrist, eyes watchful and greedy.

“I know it’s hard, darling.” Carlisle’s soft voice chimes in, a balm and an accelerant to the building ache, “Just hold him in your mouth, okay? Keep him nice and warm.”

There’s a hiss of breath at his words, Charlie’s hips rocking into your mouth. They make you tremble too, a tightening in your belly as your fingers slide over soaked skin.

Closer, closer closer - getting lost as he fills your mouth. As you bring yourself to edge, and then plummeting over.

A muffled whimper buzzes in your throat before you’re releasing him, your face pressed against the curve of his hip as you ride out the pleasure with your fingers. Moaning senselessly as your thighs flex, as the pulsing relief grows and spreads throughout your body. Leaving you to catch your breath, panting through kiss and cock-swollen lips.

Limbs pliant as Charlie moves you with a gentle, “Turn around for me, baby.”

Propping yourself up on your knees, letting your back curve down so your head can rest on the bed - until the thudding in your chest wanes, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips.

Only then does he move, pushing himself up as well. Hands tugging the shirt from his shoulders, before palming the curve of your ass - the slightest tug as his movement bares you.

“God, just look at you.”

The words are no more than a rasp, fingers tracing slick skin, down to where your thighs are damp with your release. Tracing up to puffy lips, your thighs tensing when his thumb nudges your clit, where it’s still tender.

Fingers moving to press at your opening, until the tip of one sinks into the first knuckle, and then deeper. Pumping slowly, working you open before the second notches at your entrance.

“So fucking tight.” He growls out, “Need to get you ready for me.”

You had been expecting him to take you, to fill you. His tenderness is something that makes you warm, as you peek over your shoulder at him. Where he’s backlit by the candlelight, his features becoming softened and movements fluid.

A gentleman, though in a much more different and gruff kind of way than Carlisle. Not for the first time, but certainly the most realistic, you imagine both sets of hands on you - the contrast making you shiver.

Your fingers curl in the blanket, holding on as Charlie nudges at a spot that sends up sparks in your belly. A soft moan as he pauses for a second, before doing it again. Feeling how you clench, imaging himself how you’ll feel wrapped around other parts of him.

Scissoring you open, the briefest pause before there’s the sound of his body shifting, then a soft and warm exhale of breath against your thigh. Followed by the wet brush of his tongue as he tastes you around his fingers, making your sleepy eyes snap open.

“Fuck.” You groan the word through clenched teeth, an arch to your back as his tongue sweeps against your clit.

Fingers withdrawing to grasp your thighs, holding you steady and open against his mouth. Dipping inside to taste your release, the sound of skin against skin as a hand leaves your hip to wrap around his cock.

“Taste so good, honey.” He murmurs the words against your skin, pulling back to press a kiss against the sensitive skin of your thigh, “So fucking sweet.”

Your eyes lift, to where Carlisle sits - seeing how he’s watching, the hand propped under his chin now moving. Ghosting over the front of his trousers, gently palming where his cock strains against the woolen fabric.

It does something to you, his look hungry when your slow sweep meets his. Knowing what he wants to see, wanting to give that to him.

“I want you.” You beg, your eyes on him, a two-edged meaning to your words. His eyes drop to your lips as Charlie groans behind you, a hand pressing down against your back for leverage as he pushes himself up until he’s kneeling.

The kiss of his cock as it presses against you, the head just nudging against your slit. Holding himself there, one last confirmation, “Is this what you want?”

You shift against him, trying to press him into you - voice clipped with the effort, “Yes.”

“Oh darling, I know you can do better than that. Ask him nicely.” Carlisle’s soft tone cuts in - it’s almost annoying how easily he finds the words to fluster you.

The hand on your back curls, biting into your skin as there’s a sharp exhale of breath. Your eyes hold for a second longer before your head tilts, your ear pressed into the mattress.

If he wants to watch you beg, you will.

“Please fuck me, Charlie.” You whine, fingers curling into the blanket, rocking back towards him. Feeling the head of his cock just starting to press into you, as he makes no effort to hold himself back or move away.

Too far gone himself, to actually deny you of anything. It fuels the heat in your belly, making you want him even more, for him to take you, “Oh, I want your cock so bad.”

You’re the one watching as his jaw clenches, the way his eyes darken. The hand on his cock leaving to curl around your hip, tugging you back onto him. Splitting you open as your plead turns into a long, high moan - filling you with a single, sharp thrust.

“Christ, sweetheart.” He grits out, feeling the way you clench around him. Ages since he’s had someone like this - so soft and sweet and begging.

Hands still gripping on as he pulls back, no more than half-way, a grunt as he buries himself again.

“Is she warm, Charlie?”

When you finally move your head, you see how Carlisle has shifted. Thighs spread open, his elbow pressing into his knee as he leans closer. Almost on the edge of his seat, no more than a few feet from you now.

There’s a huff of breath, the slow slide of Charlie’s cock as he thrusts. Once, and then again, grinding himself deep until you’re moaning.

“Yes, your girl is gripping my cock. So fucking tight and warm.” His voice is close to a growl, coaxing your hips into a rhythm.

Watching the way your ass bounces against his hips, the peek of his wet cock when you rock forward. Disappearing into your cunt as you arch into him, using your grip on the bed for leverage.

You don’t know how to interpret the look Carlisle gives you. Almost wistful, his lips parted with the memory of a breath he no longer has, soaking in the bliss on your face.

“And how does he feel, love?” He asks you,

“God,” You gasp, “You feel so fucking good, Charlie.”

There’s a flush on his cheeks behind you, a groan in his chest as his hips slap against your thighs. The wet squelch each time you take him, slick from desire and your release and his hot, warm mouth.

His strokes nudging where his fingers had been, your mind going fuzzier with each stroke. Eyes focusing on where the fabric pulls tight against Carlisle’s crotch, a question you are just barely able to voice.

“You want me to take care of you?”

Carlisle has said he preferred to just watch. Something that had been discussed, something that Charlie agreed to, but had almost seemed almost surprised about. Like he had assumed otherwise, when he had agreed.

His eyes flicker above you, a glance at the other man. Lips curling with a knowing look that you’re not sure you understand, a flash of white teeth that only you can see.

“Next time.” He promises, “Okay, kitten?”

The nod comes quickly and eagerly, but he’s not done with you yet. His hand lifting, his first finger curling under your chin. Shifting you, the angle making you groan, as his thumb presses against your lower lip.

You open for him, lips wrapping around and sucking - his thumb cool when it presses down against your tongue. Giving you something else to keep your mouth busy, letting his own mind wander to stolen moments together.

Feeling each muffled moan as it buzzes in your throat, the warm suction of your mouth as you feel the pressure building again. Letting your teeth scrape over the pad of his thumb when a thrust pushes it deeper into your mouth, knowing you can’t hurt him.

Already close from Charlie’s fingers and his mouth - a throbbing bloom of pleasure that feels close to bursting. The sounds becoming more rhythmic, drunk on the feeling of being so full - content to let it build until it becomes overwhelming.

When your eyes start to go hazy is when he pulls back, smearing the string of spit over your lower lip, leaving it glossy. Surprising you as his mouth presses to yours, a low, pleased hum in his throat when your lips brush.

“What do you need?” Carlisle coos, stealing one more kiss before leaning back. Knowing that it won’t take much for you to shatter - content to watch from his seat so that he doesn’t miss anything.

The answer is easy, the answer is on the tip of your tongue when Charlie beats you to it.

“I know just what she needs.”

He had slowed to a grind when Carlisle teased you, but now he man-handles you. An arm curling around your waist, pinning you in place against him. His thrusts sharp and shallow, shifting until he hears you gasp, feeling you clench down hard around him.

“Christ, that’s it. Good girl.” Charlie croons, fingers reaching to pet the bud of your clit, touching you like he had watched you do before.

“I want you to come for me. Want you to cream on my cock, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

His voice is soft and low, an edge like before - circling and pressing, his cock pounding into you - you’re so close that you can hardly breathe.

“Oh god,” You murmur, toes curling, muscles stringing tight in anticipation, “Oh my god, please-“

“That’s it, come on.” Charlie urges, the words sounding fuzzy in your ears - drowned out by the thud of your heartbeat.

A cool hand nudging at your chin, tilting your face from where it dips between your shoulders.

“Show me.” Carlisle murmurs, just for you.

And so, you do.

Letting him watch the way your brows pinch, the stiff arch of your back as you come. Eyes focused on his, the light of the candles dancing off dark pupils, until stars are exploding behind yours as they flutter shut.

Your release torn from you, leaving you gasping and moaning, half-formed words as his cock makes you gush. Soaking him like he wanted, each thrust slicker and louder in your small bedroom.

Another low whisper, just for you, “Good girl.”

It’s only his centuries of self-control that prevents you from seeing just how far gone Carlisle is. Watching you take and take - the bliss crossing your features as you came undone.

So much more carnal than the gentle lovemaking that he’s limited himself too - worried about getting too lost in the moment, unable to forgive himself if he ever injured you.

Never wanting to test the limits of his abilities as much as he did right now. If it were possible to feel pain, he thinks he’d be throbbing right now with need.

But the evening is not over - even as your wanton cries turn into contented moans. The sharp pulses turning into waves that leave you relaxed and euphoric.

Letting Charlie set his own pace, hands grasping at your hips, tugging you to meet each thrust. Not far behind, not after the way your pussy clenched around him, as he heard the way you sighed his name.

The grind of his hips turning shorter, faster. His voice matching his need, low and rasping, “I’m close, sweetheart. Where do you want me?”

“You can come in her, Charlie.” Carlisle answers for you, his eyes glittering in the dim of the room, “I assure you, it’s safe.”

Charlie’s groan is strangled, a stutter to his hips, “Fuck. You hear that baby? Is that what you want?”

You clench down around him, murmuring a dreamy, “mhmm” as he groans.

Only lasting a few more sharp thrusts before he’s there - chest pressing against your back as he bends over you. Shoving himself deep as his cock throbs, spilling into your heat.

You take him, every last drop, until he’s easing himself out - until his release threatens to drip from you. Waiting until he’s collapsing back on your pillows before you join him. Suddenly shy, in spite of everything.

The bed dips with added weight a moment later, as Carlisle finally moves from the armchair. Fitting himself on your other side, pushing you closer to Charlie. Hips bumping against yours as his hand slides up your thigh, to where your legs are still parted as you catch your breath.

Fingertips trail over the sensitive skin - down to where you’re puffy and slick. Watching you with golden eyes as the tips of two of them press into you - as you’re unable to stifle a gasp of surprise, and then a moan.

Nudging deep, where you’re wet and filled. The sound lewd as his fingers pump, and then curl.

Your head tilts fractionally, as your eyes slide to where Charlie is stretched out beside you. The arm he had thrown across his face has lowered, moving behind his head. His own gaze focused on the careful movements between your thighs.

“So warm.” Carlisle hums, his lips curving as he finds a spot that makes you to jolt, clench around him. The flash of pretty teeth as he smiles.

A hand drifts to rest on your hip, moving slowly. A very warm, very human hand - sliding over skin as it moves up to your waist.

Charlie’s bare chest pressing against your shoulder as he curls onto his side. His thumb brushing the underside of your breast, a soft back-and-forth. Flatting his palm when you arch into his touch, and you can feel the exhale of his breath against your ear.

Their touches, the attention, feels overwhelming. Your breath coming in short pants, a sharp “ah” with half-lidded eyes as a thumb slides across your clit.

As Carlisle dips down to steal a kiss, a swipe of his tongue against yours. A noise almost like a growl - the flickering light dancing across the arch of his sculpted cheekbones, almost making him glow.

The press of a hip against yours, as Charlie shifts against you. Trapping the taut peak of your nipple between his knuckles, the breath you’re holding dragged out in a moan.

“You got one more, honey?” He murmurs, his eyes dragging from where Carlisle leans over you, his gaze heavy and curious and wanting.

Your lips brush his next as you nod, and you wonder if he can taste Carlisle on your tongue. If he’s thinking about him, wondering - though the thought is quickly slipping from your mind.

Sliding through your fingers like smoke as his thumb presses just a little harder, as Charlie’s fingers pinch and tug and it’s all too much.

Your back bowing against the bed they bring you over the edge - fingers slowing, pressing deep. Keeping you full so the spend doesn’t leak from you, not yet.

Enjoying the tight clench of your cunt as you pulse around his fingers, listening to each gasping breath, the sound of your moans. Committing your pretty, human, reactions to memory - the thudding of your pulse, the way you gaze at him so reverently.

Until gently, his fingers slide from you. Slick and shining with you - with Charlie. The flash of his pink tongue appearing between parted lips as he sucks the tip of one clean, before taking both into his mouth.

Slowly sliding them out - licked clean - before his head is dipping to kissing you again. His tongue already seeking yours before your lips fully meet.

“Shit.” Charlie hisses next to you, carefully watching every moment.

Carlisle’s laugh as soft as his voice, when he pulls back. His thumb running over your lip, as his eyes find Charlie’s.

“Thank you.” He tells him, and you think only Carlisle could sound so composed after such an evening.

Charlie’s ears and cheeks flushed pink - a huff of an incredulous, pleased breath.

“Uh, sure.” He manages, a hand brushing through his hair, yet not making any attempt to move. Still uncertain that this wasn’t a dream, a fantasy.

“Anytime.”

(No pressure tags: @andrewrussgarfield, @luxuryberzatto, @jedicouncilmember)

“remember that night?” - ms47

pairing: mick schumacher x ex!reader

in which they spend one last night together

word count: 2.4k

content warnings: none, lazy writing towards the middle i’m sorry

song: remember that night? by sara kays

masterlist

you don’t know how long it took to get over him the first time, but you remember how hard it was. sleepless nights spent crying and reading old text messages, sad songs made as a soundtrack for each of your memories, endless rants to your friends about how you were so good together and you don’t know what went wrong.

eventually, you found it was easier to just forget about him than to patch up the hole shaped like him in your heart. it worked - you hadn’t thought of him in the weeks since you finally deleted all his photos and messages from your phone. 

his contact was the one thing you didn’t delete though, but even then, when your phone starts ringing on a quiet tuesday night, you never would’ve expected it to be him. 

you start to reach for your phone to mute the call, then pause, waiting to see if it would keep ringing. then the buzzing stops, and it’s just his name sitting as a missed call in your notifications. you contemplate messaging him to see if everything is okay, but quickly decide against it. 

but maybe it’s the sight of the blue heart still next to his name, or the sudden longing you feel at the realisation you were so close to hearing his voice again after so long that it strikes something in your chest and compels you to pick up your phone and dial back his number. 

it rings once, twice, and you’re already anticipating his voice after the third ring. he’s never let it ring more than three times when it comes to you. 

“liebling?” his voice is raspy, like it how it used to be when he was close to falling asleep or had just woken up. the sound of your old nickname masked in the voice you once so ardently loved makes you grip your phone tighter in both hands as you try to stop yourself from saying something stupid. “y/n? are you there?”

“hi, mick,” you finally breathe out. 

“hi. i didn’t think you’d answer.” and you must be imagining it but as his voice starts to clear, you can hear the underlying hints of a smile in his tone. 

“is everything okay?”

“yes. i just… i mean you can hang up if you want.” then he falters. “no, actually. can i pick you up?”

“like… now?” it’s almost 11pm, and while you’re nowhere close to sleeping, it’s sure as hell not a time you go out. 

“yes.”

“you’re in town?”

“yes,” he repeats. 

“why?”

“because why not?” 

you’re tempted to say yes, even though seeing him again would just unravel all the effort you put into getting over him. but he’s always had that effect on you, where because of him, you make stupid decisions. the first was falling in love with him. the next? 

“yeah,” you say quickly before you can take it back. 

there’s rustling on his side of the call as he makes his way around the house. “i’ll be there in thirty minutes. dress warm, it’s going to rain out.”

you’re about to thank him for the tip when he hangs up, leaving you alone to wonder what the fuck you just got yourself into. just then, it starts to pour. 

—

his car pulls up in front of your house forty minutes later. the driver’s door slams as he gets out, rounding the car to open your door for you. 

“hi.”

“hey,” he grins at you, jacket and beanie engulfing his large frame. he gives you a quick side hug and even through all your layers, every nerve in your body is set off at his touch. 

he waits for you to get in the car and you realise that he put on the seat warmer for you, just how you liked it when it was cold out. 

the gesture warms your body and face. you hadn’t thought he’d remember that about you, but that was only one thing to add to tonight’s list of surprises. 

he’s quiet when he gets in, starts up the car and drives away from the curb, before asking, “how’ve you been?”

“i’m good. i got laid off a while ago, but i start a new job on friday. what about you? i heard you’re a reserve driver for mercedes now?”

he glances over at you, raises a brow. “you still keep up with formula one?”

“i like the drama,” you shrug.

he whistles lowly. “drive to survive fan over here, guys. tell me, what’s drs?”

“no,” you say softly. “someone i used to care about recommended it to me.”

and even though you said used to, he suppresses a smile at the fact that you’ve kept something from your relationship close to you. 

you make small talk for a while - how’s his mother, father? is angie doing well? how’s the past seven months fared you? you fire questions back and forth between each other and for a while, there’s a semblance of normality in whatever is going on between you. 

soon, he notices the way you shiver slightly despite him having run the heater. 

“are you cold? here, take my beanie.” he tugs his beanie off his head before giving it to you to put on. you take it gratefully, slipping it on. 

you both fall silent for a second, and just as you open your mouth to ask him what the hell you’re doing here, he’s blurting out, “why did you call me back?”

you freeze. that hadn’t been what you were expecting. but you reckon if there’s a time for honesty, it’s now. “because i missed you.”

you catch the way he throws his head back in relief, a grin spreading across his face. “why did you call in the first place?” you ask. 

“because i missed you.” he states simply. truthfully. 

it’s like a weight has been taken off your chest at your admission. in that little moment, with him by your side, you feel content. happier than you’ve been in a long time. it’s a brave move when he nudges his hand against yours, but you accept it quickly, placing your palm over his. 

you look out the window as he drives, headlights casting shadows over the rainy streets. through the dim lighting you can make out the familiar scenery. 

the long winding road brings back memories of singing karaoke in the car, conversations with no meaning and driving around with no place to be and nowhere you wanted to go, so long as you were with each other.  

you recognise the path he’s taking - towards the small observation point that overlooks the whole town. you know he’s going to swing by the 24 hour ice cream shop on the way there, and there when you realise he’s taking you out for a night of old traditions. 

the car rolls to the stop and then he pats your thigh with an i’ll be back, running out into the rain to the store before you can even remind him of your order. you doubt he’s forgotten. and in his absence, you can’t help but smile to yourself at his kind words and sweeter gestures, despite knowing better. despite knowing that going with him was stupid and risky and chances are, when you leave him in the morning, you’re going to leave with a broken heart. 

your thoughts are cut off by mick sliding back into his seat, a cup of chocolate chip ice cream in one hand, a cone of strawberry in the other. 

“strawberry, please,” you say and he hands you the cone, watches you take it then wrinkle your nose before grabbing at the choc chip. 

his laughter rings through the car, clear through the pounding rain and you’re sure you’ve never heard something more joyful than in that moment. “you’re so predictable.” 

mick drives you to the lookout so you can watch the views as you eat. you sit in silence at the top, “strawberries & cigarettes” by troye sivan playing softly from the radio. the town is quiet below you too, lit by the starry night sky, only a few stray lights on in the odd night owls’ home. it’s peaceful and calm, and you’re content with mick and for moment all feels right, despite everything about your night being completely wrong. 

and when you’re both done, he turns you, brows furrowing as he realises something. 

his hand cups your chin, guiding you to look at him. “you’ve got a little…” he mutters, thumb gently swiping the ice cream from the corner of your mouth. 

“thank you,” you whisper. his gaze flicks across your face - from your eyes to your mouth then back again. you find yourself mimicking his actions and there’s an intense panging in your chest when your eyes meet his again. 

“i want you back.” 

your heart plummets - those were the words you’d been dreading to hear. “mick, don’t say that. don’t do that to me.”

he rears back at the sudden sharpness of your tone, and you see the exact moment he begins to disassociate, his composure breaking and demeanour falling. “but i do, i’ve always-”

“mick, can you please not?” you beg. you reach up to hold his face so that his gaze is focused solely on you. “what we had, mick, it was good. but when we ended, it hurt me, because losing you felt like losing air. yes, i miss you but missing you is different to still wanting you. i can’t afford to want you again because it might just kill me this time.”

“liebling-”

“this, right now, is good. so can we please keep it just like this? nothing more.”

it’s as though the light in his eyes dim at your words and he just nods, before turning away and turning the ignition on. his voice is hoarse when he says, “it’s way too late. let me take you back home.”

an apology is at the tip of your tongue - if you take back what you said, what would change between you two? you didn’t want to go back to what you used to be, you just wanted him. but wanting him again is impossible. you don’t know what to do; you just want him to stop frowning. so you reach out for his hand, and he lets your fingers find home in his palm before closing his fist around yours. 

“mick, we’re okay,” you reassure. “but we can’t do this again.” 

he nods again, swallowing deeply. “i understand.” 

and you leave it at that. 

the ride home is silent and tense but not awkward. things are never awkward with mick. he parks in your driveway before getting out of the car to open your door. you step out of the car with a thank you and stop in front of him. it’s still raining heavily, so he goes to pull the beanie he gave you further down your head, but stops halfway to rest his palms on your cheeks. 

“can i have a hug?” 

and with mick’s hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, deep blue eyes staring into yours, you have no choice but to nod, and he practically falls into your hold, arms dropping to wrap around your waist and keep himself steady. “nothing more.”

“then i just need this,” he mumbles into your neck. but you know it’s more than that, so you just hold him. you feel his body loosen as he relaxes, breaths evening out. he emanates warmth and goodness and-

“it’s getting late,” he groans, tearing himself off you. “i have to go.” 

you don’t want him to, you’d much rather stay wrapped up in this moment forever. wrapped up in him forever. but you know better so you just nod. “okay. okay.”

he leans forward as though to kiss you, but you flatten a hand to his chest. “mick…” you warn lowly. 

his eyes soften before he whispers an apology and presses a light, barely there kiss to your cheek. he moves to reach behind you and get your things, then hesitates for a second. 

and then his lips are crashing to yours in a desperate kiss, and he’s telling you every i’m sorry, i love you, it’s okay through it. it’s frantic and passionate and everything you’ve loved about him since you first met him. so you grip onto his jacket, pressing into his body as much as you possibly can, savouring the moment because you know you’re never going to have another like it.

he pulls away first, resting his forehead on yours, before handing you your things, even going so far as to tugging your jacket tighter around your body. so my girl doesn’t get sick. 

even though you’re just in your driveway, two steps away from warmth, you’d stay standing in the pouring rain just to keep his hands on you longer. 

“i’ll see you around, yeah?” his hand is warm in yours when he holds it for the last time, tightening his fingers as though it would meld your bodies together and you’d never have to be separated again. and then mick is pulling away from you one last time, his face unreadable, and his smile never quite reaching his eyes. 

the rain starts to come down harder, soaking you cold to the bone, and you turn around, making a beeline for your front door. you’d never say it out loud but you’re glad it rained - it’s the only thing that keeps you from running right back into his arms. 

it’s harder to move on from him this time. 

months later, no matter how hard you try, that night never slips from your memory. you can recall every brush of his fingertips against yours, the calloused pad of his thumb on your skin, and the heavy weight of his hand on your thigh when you two finally became comfortable again in each other’s presence. the way his voice changed and his laughter erupted whenever you smiled at him is engraved into your brain, and you’re sure the way he kissed you became your lifeline.  

most of all, you remember the way his face fell when you pushed him away again, his dejected sigh as he accepted your decision, blue eyes electric with so many words left unspoken as you turned away one last time. 

but the one thing you desperately try to forget is the way he lingered in the driveway, waiting for you to come back. 

—

author’s note: thank youuuu @disneyprincemuke i don’t know how i feel about this but i hope i didnt disappoint