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gegewrites · 1 year

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Dr.house- 2 am(smut)

Time wise takes place in season 1, I don't think my timelines exactly right but I can't find exact dates since they're lot really specified.

I’m on a Fuckin role!

4.2k words!!! Not at all edited I just finished this and posted it

5/22/23

Your pov-

It's not every night you get a call from Greg House to come to his apartment at 2 in the morning...but here I was standing in the entrance room of apartment 221 about to knock on the door to apartment B.

I've been to his house before, I've known the asshole for 11 years, I met him a year before his golfing incident.

I raised my hand and knocked on the door, loud enough for him to hear, quiet enough to not alert the neighbors. I waited for a few seconds of nothing and knocked again, a few seconds later it opened.

"Get in." He promptly spoke, turning around and immediately walking away.

I came in, shutting the door behind me. I kicked my slippers off as i gazed over at the piano, which was obviously being used a bit earlier by the open music and shuffled around music sheets on top. Last week it was tucked in the corner, now it's facing out into the room. One guitar was hung on the wall, the other on a floor stand.

On his coffee table was a half empty bottle of whiskey and a few scrambled folders.

"I was sleeping you know." I said as he came out of the kitchen with a mug. He was still in his work clothes, well the T-shirt and pants part of it, and Now I'm noticing the smell of coffee.

"Fully aware, sit." He plopped down onto the couch and leaned forward, resting his cane against the arm of the couch on his side.

I let out a sigh as I walked over, plopping down next to him. He handed me the red mug right away and I grabbed it.

"That's one hell of a tank top." He commented and I looked down at myself. It was white, and tight. I didn't get dressed alright, I threw on some plaid pj pants, grabbed a zip up hoodie, and threw on my slippers and left.

"Shut the fuck up Greg. I gotta be in the office at six." I took a sip from the mug,"this is fucking good."

"Good, so look at this." He handed me a whole file so I put the mug down on the table and leaned back with the folder.

"Anna Mae Johnson, 56, female..Hallucinating and loosing her vision." I looked up from the file and looked at him, leaned back in the corner of the couch holding a glass of whiskey. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. You were the only neurologist that picked up my call." He shrugged. I'm not just a neurologist, I'm also an ophthalmologist and general surgeon. I didn't let my scholarships at Stamford go to waste. "And, frankly I don't feel like spending another 3 hours with this women."

"Wilson didn't pick up?" I raised my brow.

"Oh no, he did. And he told me to fuck off." He half smiled for a second and i rolled my eyes.

"Could've called me down when I was at the office Greg." I shook my head at him,"Wheres the scans and tests?"

"Red folder." I put down the file and opened up the red folder.

I saw brain scans and negative labs, I was looking for an Amsler grid report or a OCT.

"Did you get an ophthalmologist to look at her eyes?" I looked over at him and he raised his brow at me,"her eyes. She's loosing her vision, did you get some sight tests?"

"Should be something in there." I rolled my eyes at him as I flipped through papers,"Why her eyes?"

"I thought diagnostic medicine was your specialty?" I shot at him and heard his scoff," because macular degeneration, loosing the vision." I opened up the patients file and flipped to the medical history, I felt him shift on the couch, he was sitting closer to me, leaning forward to look at the file...or maybe my chest.

"The gears are turning." He poked my temple.

"Alright, She started having problems with her vision 3 months ago, blurry and getting worse. She went to the eye doctor to change her prescription, it worked for 3 weeks and she never went back. Could be wet AMD."

"abnormal blood vessels growing under the retina. Which have been leaking blood or other fluids, which causes scarring of the macula."he nodded slowly as he looked towards the fireplace.

"So do Anti-VEGF treatment. But the hallucinations aren't a symptom of the AMD. Could be Charles Bonnet syndrome, that's a symptom of vision loss, lack of light entering the Retina so the brains creating images to fill the void." I explained and he hummed.

"can't treat the CBS, but we can treat the AMD, either with the anti-VEGF or laser surgery."

"VEGF first, then the laser." I closed the folders and grabbed the mug and leaned back in the leather couch. "what else?"

"That's really it."He looked back at me and I cocked my head in disbelief at him.

"You didn't know it was AMD or CBS?" I took a sip and he shrugged.

"Had a slight idea, needed a 4th opinion." He grabbed the whiskey bottle and opened it, pouring some into his glass. He closed it and leaned back, holding his glass on his right thigh.

"At two AM?"

"We'll considering you were teaching from three to five, i couldn't bother you. I knew I could get you at two AM, I've gotten you at four." I shook my head as I took snother drink from the mug,"why haven't I hired you?"

"Because I like having my own office." I answered,"my turn, why in the last eleven years haven't I slapped you yet?"

"We'll, for like 5 of those I was married."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Might've wanted to jump my bones afterwards, I've heard some things." I let out a laugh at the smug look in his face.

"We were both single, horny, and drunk." I crossed my right ket over my left leg,"it doesn't count."

"Oh wilson counts it." He smirked snd wiggled his brows. I let out a sigh, and ran my tongue under my bottom k-9s with a smirk on my face.

"I'm not tell-"he cut me off promptly.

"I don't need you too, I've heard it already." He looked away from me and looked over at the fireplace again and then to the coffee table.

"Oh really? What was your favorite part?" I asked sarcastically, Wilson told me he didn't tell anyone we screwed, but I know Greg doesn't count.

"When you- and I quote- sucked his soul from his dick and then rid him like a fucking pornstar." He finally looked at me,"the scratches you left on his back were also very impressive."

"Wow alright." I felt my heart in my throat, not in a bad way.

I sat up and placed the mug on the table, uncrossing my legs and standing up.

"I'm going-"

"No you're not," he grabbed my wrist, not hard but strong enough to keep me,"you wanna see how far this will go. You're blushed, got a little shake in your hand." He let go it my wrist," And I gotta say, your tits look great. It'd be a crime to not give them attention."

"Is that the Vicodin or whiskey talking?" I sat down if the edge if the couches arm, he was placed in the middle of the couch now.

"Me."

"What? Is a Hooker not available for a night call?" I love giving him a hard time.

"I thought she did arrive?" He gasped and looked at me with a shocked expression. I scoffed at him.

"So what? You call me to come here, have me look at your patients files and solve it for you, and now you think I'm gonna fuck you?" I crossed my arms and he cocked his head before nodding.

"I don't think you are, I know you are. Wilson's bad at keeping secrets and you like to talk." He took a drink from his glass,"so either we can fuck, or you can just keep waiting, but you've been waiting awhile so I don't think you want to." My jaw dropped slightly at his words. Damnit Wilson.

I slid off the arm and sat down next to him, my toros turned to him, my arm resting on the head of the couch, my brows furrowed.

"So I'm actually here to fuck you?" I asked,"you couldn't wait. just had to have me huh?"

"I can blame you for my acute insomnia lately, that's why I'm awake." He leaned forward and out his glass on the table.

"I've finally gotten under Dr.houses skin haven't I?" I raised my brow, a smirk on my face.

"You've been under my skin for awhile, it's not new." That was news to me. these last couple of months it seemed like he could care less. He kept me around, but it wasn’t the same. I knew how he was though, why I never brought it up.

“Really?” I got a surge of confidence, and I took it.

I used my leverage on the couch to move and straddle his thighs, making sure I was careful when coming around to his right leg. His hands immediately came and sat on my thighs

“Thought you were leaving?” He looked over his shoulder to the door,”or was I right?”

“You’re right, I wanna jump your bones.”

“What about your six AM shift?” His hands left my hips and came up to take hold of my hoodie by the collarbones,”suddenly not important because you know you’re gonna get fucked?”

“I suddenly don’t have to go in till nine.” He pushed my hoodie off, I let it fall off my arms and he watched it do so, he then tossed it down to the side of the coffee table. When he looked up at me, I let my lips come down on his, he responded quickly. My hands sat on his shoulders and His hands sat on my ass, he used the grip to pull me closer to him. My chest pushing into his.

I could taste the whiskey on his tongue and the coffee on mine. His beard tickled my chin and all I could think about was how it would feel in between my legs, the thought made my hips grind down on him. His finger tips pushed into my skin as he joined in on the motion. Rocking my hips steadily down on his hardening cock in his pants.

A hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his head, my fingers carding through his hair. I could feel my heartbeat in my pussy, snd I could myself getting wet.

He pulled away from me shortly after, but his lips came back to my skin. Placing a trail of kisses from my jaw to my neck, the feeling of his beard caused a small moan to escape as his hands slid up the back of my ass and took hold of the hem of my tanktop.

I felt him bundling it in his hands, though his lips didn’t leave my neck yet, he wasn’t bitting or sucking just leaving open mouth kisses as he traveled to my collarbones and placed a kiss in between them.

His eyes met mine again, his pupils more dilated then before. He didn’t say anything but took the moment to start lifting my tanktop off snd I let him, he tossed it behind me to my hoodie.

“I knew they were nice, but wow.” His eyes were glued on my chest like a teenage boy to his first playboy magazine. his hands rubbed up and down my waist,”sure they’re real? I’ll be able to tell.”

“They are.” I replied as his hands took hold of them, massaging them. I pressed them harder into his hands, I just wanted to feel him. If I was gonna screw Dr.House, I might as well make it good.

I kept my hips rocking on him, my hips rocking faster and I tried to keep my upper half as still as possible. his hard cock rubbing against my clothes pussy. What a night to wear lace to bed. He pressed kisses to my left breast before taking my nipple into my mouth, that hand slid down my ribs and pushed past the band of my pants and slipped right past my panties.

His tongue swirled around the bud as his finger ran right over my slit before diving to my clit.

“Aah yes.” I sighed out, finally reviving what I want, focusing on grinding into his finger. he wasn’t moving it, just keeping it there for me to use. I appreciate it. His mouth left my nipple and me pressed a kiss between both my breasts. Another moan left my mouth as my head lulled back, my lips stayed parted.

“Wet and needy, just as I was hoping.” His hand slipped away from my breast and onto my waist, he held it tightly,”the tough doctor turns into a little bitch when aroused.”

“Focus on me, not yourself.” I retorted and he scoffed.

Something I was expecting was getting flipped my off of him. He had me pinned under him, his good leg kneeled on the couch, keeping my right leg pinned to the back of the couch, also keeping him stable with the help of his new found grip on the couches arm. His finger didn’t leave the clit In the motion, so he started rubbing faster, even added a second finger.

My chest started rising a bit faster as more moans left my lips, and in true men-fashion, right as it was getting good…he pulled away. His hand exited my pants, but both hands came and met the band of my pants. His weight shifted to his good knee as he pulled both pieces of clothing down my legs, lifting them up when needed, then letting them fall. He tossed the clothing with the rest and I sat up and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, taking a moment to start a heated kiss, one that lasted long enough to slide my hands to the hem of his shirt and start pulling it up.

I pulled away from him to get it over his head and arms and threw it behind Me. Grabbing his face and pulling him back down with me resuming the kiss. Grabbed my previously pinned leg and held it over his hip and pulled away from me. His right hand came back down to my pussy. Wet and begging for anything; Which he gave. His middle finger came down to my core, circling it before diving in. A moan louder then the rest ripped out of me.

“If only I could get that sound copied on a record, could listen to it all day.” I looked at him through slotted eyes, meeting his blue ones which shifted from my gaze to my Pussy. His ring finger joined his middle finger, pumping out of me in a medium pace. My back was sticky against the leather as my back lifted up, my boobs lightly bouncing as my chest rose and fell.

“Feels fucking great.” I moaned out, my eyes falling closed. I felt the couch shift and then lips and a beard against my inner thigh. Trailing open mouth kisses to my core. I couldn’t stop the begging from leaving my lips,”please Greg, please.”

“Gettin’ there.” He quickly commented before his tongue latched to my clit.

My body shivered and my eyes rolled back under my closed lids. His fingers finally found my gspot and my hand shot to his hair, tugging on his crown. My hips rolled into his face as he switched between licking and sucking my clit.

I couldn’t help but moan, i was feeling great. My thighs pressed against his bare and warm shoulders, my calf being nudged by his elbow each time he pumped his fingers. My head felt dizzy, my body warm, and my abdominal muscles tight. I was gonna cum already, last bar hookup was 4 months ago and I’ve barely used my vibrator. There was no doubt I was gonna be the quick one tonight. My hips started bucking up, so his free arm pressed down on hips, holding me a bit more still and controlled. He changed his fingers angle snd pressure, curling them in a “come” motion.

“Just like that!” My voice was a higher pitch now, and within a few second, pathetically, k was seeing stars behind closed lids. My nail scratching against his scalp, trying to hold onto him for dear life, my other hand taking hold of the top edge of the couch.

He kept his pace and speed for bit after my orgasm, trying to push me to a cliff. Which he did Successfully, could probably tell my how I was I moaning his name, how wet his chin was, and how wet I was getting, and used it to know when the right time was to stop.

“Wow.” He breathed out as he sat up, adjusting to sit down properly,”now I understand why you eat pineapple everyday.”

I haven’t even opened my eyes yet, my legs were shaking, and I was catching my breath. I felt his weight leave the couch and heard the shaking metal of his belt, so I opened my eyes. I met his gaze which was staring at me and then they went down to where his hands were. Unzipping his pants, about to reveal the dick I’ve wanted to ride for a few years. I sat up, feeling how wet the bottom of my ass was against the leather. Now I understand why the couch is leather.

I pushed his hands away and hooked my fingers into the band in his boxers and started pulling them down, taking hold of his hard cock when it sprung out. He grabbed hold in his is pants from coming down any further then he wanted m, and he simply shook his head grabbing his cane. I respectfully brushed it off, my hand left his boxers band and traveled up his side sitting on his hip. He was bigger then I would’ve guessed, but it made sense.

I let go of his cock and spit onto my hand, taking hold of his and twisting my fist up and down, when I licked his tip. I looked up at him through my lashes. His head was rested back, obviously an expression of pleasure was plastered on his face, his breathing deep. so I let my eyes fall as I look him into my mouth, not wasting time to flatten my tongue, pumping the base of his cock. I felt his hand snake into my hair, grabbing some in his fist. He wasn’t using it to control me, though it wasn’t hard to tell by his tightening grip he wanted to. I would’ve let him, I kinda planned on letting him, but he only kept me down there for a few more moments before pulling me off.

“What are you on?” He asked the moment his cock left my mouth.

“IUD.” I answered catching the breath I needed. He didn’t respond,”it’s fine, as long as the last prostitute you fucked was clean.”

“Made sure.” He assured me as he sat down, letting his cane rest against the couch again. I stood up to get a better placement over his cock. His hands sat on my hips, his lips finding my breast again. I reach around and grabbed his cock, sliding it through my folds before holding it to my core.

I lowered down on it, moaning out at the initial stretch, and he groaned. His head falling back onto the head of the couch as he took a long inhale through his nose and sighed it out, a whispered “fuck” followed suit. Lowered down more, grabbing onto his shoulders, and biting down on my lower lip to stop a moan that would wake the neighbors from coming out. I lowered down completely onto him, taking a bit more then half of him in one go. I curled forward, moaning onto his neck as his finger tips pressed into my skin.

“When was-“

“Four months ago, shut up.” I mean pushed off of him and met his face, a disconcerted look on his face.

“I’m honored.” His tone was cocky and paired with a smirk. He raised hips and lowered me back down, that fuzzy brain feeling was coming back when he did it again, and again. Each time higher to where his tip was only left, snd lowering me down harder.

“Oh fuck Greg!” My nails pressed into his skin, I caught on with his movement, moving my hips with his guidance. He didn’t like slow I could tell, medium pace was where he liked to start at. Slowly getting faster, snd harder.

My brain drowned out into the sounds of our breathing, my moans, and the loudening groans that came from him. I could feel how wet the inside of my thighs were getting. My hips on auto pilot, riding him quickly. His tip bumping snd rubbing into my gspot.

My nails finally dug into his shoulder when his thumb met my clit and my walls tightened around him. Rubbing Harsh circles against the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You look fucking perfect.” I couldn’t open my eyes, too overwhelmed with my nerves feeling like they’re on fire, my heart pulsing in my throat and clit,”and so-goddamn (y/n), squeeze me any tighter and I’m not gonna have a dick.”

“Dram-ah- queen.” I said through my shakey , near breathless voice. I didn’t wanna cum, not yet. It was all Too damn good to not savor it.

So I grabbed onto the back of the couch and started really riding him. Rocking and swiveling my hips into his when I came down, keeping my speed and pace constant, at least trying.

“Oh fuuck me (y/n).” His thumb started rubbing faster, ripping a broken moan from my throat. My chest pushed into his, his fingertips pressing further into my waist, no doubt leaving bruises for tomorrow.

“I’m gonna cum.” I speedily warned him.

“Not yet, just a few more minutes.”

“Greg-“

“Just wait.” His tone was firm but tinted with a bit of fake annoyance at my greediness.

“Jus’ want you to fill me up, come on.” My breathing was deep as I spoke but sped up when I stopped. My hairline was damp snd so was the back of my knees.

He bucked his hips up into mine, sounds leaning his throat at their own will, so caught up in his own pleasure he couldn’t even care.

Those few minutes felt like torture, my orgasm on the brink of snapping while his thumb is still abusing my clit. The corners of my lips curled when I felt his cock start twitching inside of me, getting more obvious by the second.

“Now.” He spit out,”gonna full up this greedy pussy.”

It snapped, my orgasm ripped through me, my walls spasmed around him which triggered his orgasm. I pushed my body into his, feeling his warm skin radiating against mine. I could feel him shooting into me, mixing with my own orgasm and spilling down my thighs and onto him.

I rode him till I couldn’t anymore, I finally gave out. His cock buried inside me as I laid against him, his hands holding onto my ass as we caught our breath. Soon after he lifted my hips off of him, his cock sliding out of me and I moved to sit on the leather next to him. Holding one of my knees to my body, my head falling back.

“If I knew your dick was that big I woukd be jumped you years ago.” I let out a breathy chuckled snd he hummed.

“I regret not grabbing your Tits earlier, should’ve acted on my impulse.” He said standing up, putting his boxers and pants back on,”so anti-VEGF treatment tomorrow?” He asked grabbing his cane and leaning against it as he looked down at me.

“Let me check her out first and I’ll confirm.” I answered and looked back up at the ceiling. I heard him walk away so I lifted my head and watched him,”where are you going?”

“To clean up and go to sleep, you coming?” He asked stopping in his tracks.

“Not again tonight, no.” I replied and he blinked at me a few times, a smile keept to his lips.

“Ha-ha!” He sarcastically laughed before going back to his original expression and limping away. I can’t really be mad, I kinda solved his case and got fucked, but now it’s 3:40, and I have work at six still.

#gegewrites #fanfiction #smut writer #greg house x reader #dr house smut #dr house #greg house smut #greg house #dr greg house #house md smut #house md

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daydreamtofiction · 10 months

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Malicious Compliance // Surgeon Strange x Reader

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Summary: After a brief meeting with the world renowned neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange, he plans to make you his latest conquest. He’s only interested in one thing, but that’s okay, because so are you. (female reader)

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: Strong language, explicit sexual content, pre-sorcerer Strange (arrogant, cocky). Smut: no strings attached, dominance & praise, oral sex (receiving), light choking, unprotected sex (sort of?). Readers must be 18+

A/N: Just a quick lil oneshot for you all. I literally thought of this today and the whole thing poured out of me in one sitting lmao. I like it though, hope you guys do too!

His eyes are glaciers. Cold, hard, yet always moving. They flit towards the window, sunlight turning them the crispest blue, then back down to the notebook on the table in front of him. They warm slightly when he looks over to Doctor Palmer, roll languidly whenever Doctor West speaks. But in the end, they always seem to settle back on you.

He’s as hubristic as you’d expected; leant back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, taking up as much space as his body will allow. He corrects a colleague when they call him Stephen. It’s Doctor Strange, he says, voice so deep and rich it’s almost tangible.

He watches as you press your finger to the inner corner of your eye, trying to rub away the tired itch beginning to take root there. You wonder how offended he’d be if he knew you fell asleep reading one of his published papers last night, how you woke up in your hotel room this morning with your cheek pressed to page seventeen of The Strange Palmer Method. It would make his blood boil, you think, to know his work had been used as a pillow. You resist the urge to tell him.

Coffee burns the roof of your mouth. You wince and place the cup back down on the boardroom table, sift through the pile of papers in front of you as the room waits for you to speak again.

“Honey,” says Doctor Strange.

“I’m sorry?” you reply.

He points to your mouth. “It’ll help with that burn.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh I didn’t- It was just a little warmer than I expected. Thanks, though.”

The corner of his mouth curls and he turns to look down the length of the table, the flecks of silver at his temple catching in the light.

You clear your throat as you find the document you were looking for. “So, pending approval from the ABMS, we would like to roll out training for the Strange Palmer Method in all of our hospitals.”

“What about my new technique for stent placement?” asks Doctor West.

“Oh please, Nic,” Strange scoffs. “We’re talking about actual revolutionary surgical procedures here.”

Doctor West’s back straightens, you open your mouth to speak but he gets there first.

“Excuse me, my stent technique could drastically cut down the amount of time a patient’s brain is open on the table! Do you even realise-”

“Mhm, why don’t you go win some awards and make national news, then maybe we can talk.”

Doctor Palmer’s head falls into her hands as the other surgeons groan and shift uncomfortably in their seats. You’ve met your fair share of asshole surgeons in this job; travelling up and down the country stroking egos and exalting god complexes. But this man sitting across from you is, without a doubt, the victor of them all.

“The stent technique is very interesting,” you say, easing the tension in the room. “But we would need to see the results of a study or trial of some kind before taking it any further.”

“Very diplomatic of you,” says Strange.

“Not diplomatic. I just know a promising procedure when I see it.”

“Hm. Are you a doctor?”

Your gaze turns to a glare. “I am.”

“Where do you practice?”

“I don’t anymore. My job is to keep other doctors at the top of their game. Hence why I’m here right now with all of you.”

He’s almost smirking, head cocked slightly, twiddling a pen between his fingers. It’s fitting, you think, to see a surgeon take such pleasure in getting under people’s skin.

You hate that you find him attractive. That you’ve managed to fall victim to a charm buried so deep beneath layers of pure arrogance that you have to dig to find it. If he wasn’t so beautiful on the outside, you’re almost certain you wouldn’t bother fighting to find something redeemable within. But the way your body reacts to him; the warmth, the buzzing deep in your belly, it must be there.

The meeting finishes and you remain at the table, straightening the wad of papers in front of you and slotting them back into your binder as everyone filters out of the room. When you’re alone, you stand and walk to the large window, taking a moment to gaze out at the view. Your eyes skim New York City, admiring the blend of old and new; small stone buildings wedged between tall skyscrapers, the late afternoon sun glinting across metal and glass, pockets of green peppered amongst brick and mortar. You wish you got to come here more often.

You pick up your briefcase and drape your jacket over your arm as you make your way out of the boardroom. The corridor is bright and quiet, but the bustling of the hospital is a low hum. You close the door behind you and begin to walk, unfazed by the sight of a figure leaning against the wall up ahead.

His arms are folded over his broad chest, dark blue scrubs doing little for his tall, robust frame. His legs are crossed at the ankles as he rests his weight back against the wall, head stooped slightly, but his eyes are on you.

“Doctor Strange,” you say with a polite nod as you continue past him.

He smiles, allows you to pass, but you feel him move behind you.

“You don’t really think Doctor West’s procedure holds any merit?” he asks, catching up to walk at your side.

“I do.” You furrow your brow. “You don’t think there’s merit in improving the efficiency of existing surgeries?”

He shrugs. “Just not all that exciting when you compare it to what I’m doing.”

“You mean what you and Doctor Palmer are doing…”

There’s a chuckle deep in his throat, like he enjoys the back and forth, watching his opponents fight for their lives while to him it’s just a sparring match. He quickens his pace to slip in front of you, turning to face you and forcing you to halt in the middle of the corridor.

“Be honest,” he says. “You’re impressed.”

“Of course we’re impressed. Why else would the board have sent me here?”

“No I mean you, specifically.”

You glare up at him, hiding your amusement with an eye roll. “Yes, Doctor,” you say slowly, your words empty and biting. “I am very impressed.”

His cupid’s bow deepens as his lips curve into a self satisfied smile, lines forming in his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. He knows you find him infuriating, but it only seems to encourage him. There’s a moment of silence, long enough for his gaze to trail the length of you, just once.

“You know, I’d love to talk more with you about it,” he says, looking down at his obviously expensive watch. “Maybe over dinner. Have you eaten?”

You draw in a deep breath through your nose, letting it out in a sigh as you begin to speak. “I don’t need your superficial attempts to woo me, Doctor.” You reach into your briefcase and pull out a pen and a business card, scrawling on the back of it and handing it to him. “This is where I’m staying. Come by around eight.”

You’re certain he’s going to protest, pretend he actually wants to go to dinner, talk, that he was ever interested in anything that didn’t involve the removal of your clothes. You wait in suspense as his eyes flit down to the card in his hand, then back up to your face.

“I prefer to fuck in my own bed,” he says bluntly.

A wave crashes in your stomach, rushing down into your core, the sensation so strong and unexpected that your knees almost buckle. This isn’t the first time one of your work trips has ended in you going home with a surgeon, but the way this one doesn’t try to feign the ‘nice guy’, doesn’t pretend to want anything more from you than your body, that’s new.

“Unless I’m on vacation, of course,” he adds with a cocky smile.

“Of course…”

He flips the card over and plucks the pen from your hand. You watch as he scribbles on it and hands it back to you.

“So this is where I’ll be tonight,” he says. “You said eight works for you?”

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek, unsure if you’ve ever met anyone as imperious as this. You slip the card into your pocket and move to walk past him, stopping as your shoulders brush and looking up at him.

“I hope your dick is as inflated as your ego.”

He smirks to himself, remaining quiet as you continue to walk away.

Your skirt is riding up your backside. You reach back to yank it down for the hundredth time before pressing the buzzer on the wall of the apartment building. The setting sun is just a glow beneath the horizon but the streets are still busy, the air warm with a pleasant breeze. You lean back to stare up at the building, the mirrored windows stretching so high you can’t see an end to them. You wonder which one is his.

There’s a scratching sound on the intercom, followed by a deep voice. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” you say, glancing over your shoulders as if you’re on some kind of secret mission, scared of being seen.

He doesn’t speak again, instead there’s a quick buzz followed by the click of the heavy front door. You let yourself inside, heels clacking against the glossy marble floor as you hurry towards the elevators. When the doors slide open, you pull out your business card, punch in the floor number he’d scrawled in the bottom corner. It begins to ascend, making your already swirling stomach turn.

You pull down the back of your skirt again as you step out into the hall, peering down the length of it in search of his apartment. The door is tall and wide, dark timber and a heavy metallic handle. You knock but your knuckles barely make a sound, the dense wood swallowing the echo.

Still, he comes. You regard him quietly as you step inside, the snug sweater and tailored jeans, a pair of sneakers making you feel entirely overdressed. He’s already grinning; a smug, confident smile that reignites the ire in your chest. You ignore him and walk further in, eyes wide in awe at the vast, industrial space.

You walk over to the window that stretches the length of the apartment, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, framing a perfect snapshot of the city.

“Now I understand why you make the women come to you,” you say.

“Hm?”

“This place. It’s impressive.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “That’s the point, right? You like to impress. To show off.”

He laughs quietly and makes his way to the kitchen area, opening the extensive liquor cabinet. “You want something to drink?”

“I have rules,” you say abruptly, turning around to face him from across the echoey room.

He straightens. “Go on…”

“Nothing that happens here can be used for any type of professional leverage, good or bad, by either of us.”

“Of course-”

“This isn’t a date. I don’t spend the night, I don’t keep in touch, I don’t call when I’m back in town so we can do this again. This is just tonight. And it’s just sex. Understood?”

“Understood.” He returns to the cabinet and takes out a bottle. “So, about that drink…”

You’re already gone, wandering off through a door at the rear of the apartment in search of the bedroom.

You find it. It’s a dark, cave-like space, large curtains draped across another huge window, only the faintest glow of the sunset fighting through the fabric. It’s clinical, just as you’d expect from a surgeon; sleek furniture void of any clutter or knick knacks, exposed brick walls with the occasional piece of art - no photographs. There’s a full length mirror, a small couch, and a bed so large you could sink into it and disappear. You wonder just how many women have delved beneath those sheets before you.

He appears in the doorway, looking you up and down. “You’re eager, little one,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, watching as he closes the door behind him and approaches you. You reach up to touch him, to kiss him, but instead he takes your wrists in his hands and lowers them back to your sides.

“Mm, not yet.”

You scoff in dispute, eyes following him as he strolls across the room and switches on the wall sconces, illuminating the area above the bed in a dim, warm light.

“Look,” you say. “If you’re just going to mess with me then-”

“Well actually, after you left the hospital this afternoon, I got called to consult on a patient and ended up having to stay late. I just got home around fifteen minutes before you knocked on my door. So if you don’t mind, I would like to take a shower first. Is that alright with you?” he finishes sarcastically.

You settle down, composing yourself and relaxing your shoulders. “Of course.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

He pushes open a door to the right and you catch a glimpse of the luxurious, marbled master bathroom as he steps inside. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone again. You stand there for a moment, listening to him whistling to himself, his belt buckle unfastening and hitting the floor. Water bursts from the shower, the sound like soft static, and you immediately rush over to the mirror.

You examine yourself carefully; fix your hair, press your nose to your skin and clothes, shift your underwear so it sits smoothly and undetectable beneath your skirt. Then you sit down at the foot of the bed, knee bouncing impatiently. You change your mind shortly after, moving to the small couch opposite the bed instead.

Ten minutes or so pass, but it feels like an eternity. You picture him drawing it out on purpose, working the lather into his skin one section at a time, scrubbing at his hair for much longer than necessary, just to make you sweat. The water shuts off and you listen to him singing to himself, the hum of his voice through the door. When the door finally opens, steam escapes into the bedroom, the rich smell of citrus and cedar filling the air as he walks out, still humming quietly.

You glance over at him, mouth falling open slightly to find him completely naked, your gaze falling immediately to the pronounced length hanging from his body as he pads across the room. You look away quickly, rolling your eyes and huffing with indignation. Of course he’s naked, you think, he likes to spar, and you’ve willingly stepped into the ring.

Droplets sit on his shoulders and roll down his torso as he moves around the bed. He climbs on and lays down right in the middle, hands resting behind his head, propped up slightly on the headboard. His hair is still damp, half-coiffed, the grey at his temples darker than it was before. His body is solid, the mystery beneath the scrubs now revealed to you in all its glory. His arms are thick as they flex either side of his head, divots of muscle creating shadows across his torso, cock resting proudly on his thigh as he parts his legs in wait. He’s exquisite, and you can’t help but bask in the sight.

“So,” he says casually. “Are you just going to stay over there looking at me? Or are you going to come and sit on my face?”

You glare at him, unamused.

“What?” he shrugs gently. “You’re the one that said this was strictly sex. Forgive me for abiding by your rules.”

“There’s a word for that, you know,” you reply. “Malicious compliance.”

“Mm, is it really malicious if I’m offering to eat you out?”

“Depends how good you are at it.”

“Come here and find out.” There’s no humour in his tone, but it’s still playful, like he’s goading you.

You stand up and take a step towards the bed.

“Clothes,” he demands.

You stop, pressing your lips together tightly. His eyes never leave you, remaining locked on yours as you kick off your shoes and untuck your top from the waistband of your skirt.

“They should study you,” you say.

“Study me?”

“Yeah.” You lift your top over your head and throw it to the floor, reaching down to unzip your skirt. “Look into how one singular person could possibly be such an ass.”

“Clearly there’s a part of you that likes it, y’know, since you’re here… taking your clothes off for me.”

“What can I say? I’m partial to a surgeon. Think it’s the hands.”

The skirt pools at your feet and you step out of it, extending your arms as if to say ‘ta da’. He smiles.

No one has ever looked at you like this. So intense, like he’s studying every inch; relishing in every freckle and blemish, every curve and crease, mapping out the places he plans to touch, taste, explore.

You continue towards him but he raises his palm, halting you again. “You haven’t finished,” he says.

You glance down at yourself, then back up to him, letting out a grumbling sigh as you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. It pops open, the release of pressure on your skin as soothing as a deep breath. His gaze darkens as you slide the straps off your shoulders, watching your nipples harden as you reveal your bare breasts to him.

“These too?” you ask, hooking your thumbs into the waistline of your underwear.

“Mhm.”

You take them off as gracefully as you can, shimmying them over your hips and thighs and kicking them away. His cock is hardening, swelling and rising towards his stomach. Your mouth twitches with a triumphant smile, but you suppress it as you climb onto the bed, crawling up to meet him.

You lean down and press your lips to his, feeling your skin prick, arousal kindling in your core. His mouth is smart, but it’s also divine. The feeling intensifies, spreading through your belly and pounding between your legs as you sweep your tongue into his open mouth, feel his restraint wavering as your hot breaths mingle. You let your chest press against his, the feeling of skin on skin making you burn with need.

You bring a hand up to his face, he brings his to your throat, bracketing it gently and peeling his mouth from yours.

“I didn’t tell you to kiss me,” he says quietly. “I told you to sit on my face.”

You pull back a little more, making eye contact, breathless as a million comebacks shutter through your mind. But in the end you say nothing, letting out a soft huff and slowly shifting your body up the bed.

You hold the top of the extravagant headboard with both hands and swing one leg over him, straddling his shoulders as his fingers reach up behind you to the small of your back. His touch is electric, lips searing as they plant a kiss on your inner thigh. A soft whimper escapes you in a breath, as though anticipation is its own foreplay.

He wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth. Your grip tightens on the headboard, fingernails digging into the soft, cushiony fabric as he parts his lips against your centre, sucking softly on your already throbbing clit. Your head falls back when his tongue drags up the length of your slit, moulding itself to every pucker and groove, lapping you up like he adores you, and you wonder how many women have fallen for him in these moments.

You groan quietly, closing your eyes as you focus on the flicks and strokes of his tongue, the sucking and swirling, the hums deep in his throat and he devours you. Your clit is sensitive, making you shudder, the pleasure so intense you can barely stand it. Your body raises up instinctively, but he tightens his hold on you, spitting on your clit and returning his mouth to the place that both aches and sings, somehow at the same time.

You gasp in response, eyelids fluttering as you swear under your breath. He releases one of your thighs and you glance over your shoulder to see his hand wrapping around his cock. He begins to stroke it forcefully, working himself to the rhythm of his mouth, and you almost fall to pieces.

“Oh my god,” you moan, slumping forward and pressing your forehead to the headboard.

Your thighs clamp around his head, but it only spurs him on, making him bury his face deeper, and you can’t remember the last time he came up for air.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

The nerves in your clit are screaming, dancing on the precipice between pain and pleasure. He continues to lap at your centre, pushing you to the edge until you’re clinging on for dear life. Pressure swells in your core, flooding you with a tingling heat that softens your bones and turns you to liquid. Until finally you’re there, falling, melting.

He growls as your body begins to shake, working his tongue over you one last time before releasing you from his grasp. You collapse next to him, sliding down the pillows until you’re lying at his side. You’re breathless, chest rising and falling heavily as you stare up at the ceiling.

He rolls onto his side to face you. “You’re quiet when you come,” he says, placing a kiss into the crook of your neck, another at the dip of your collarbone.

“I’ve spent the past two years practically living in hotel rooms,” you reply. “I’ve learned to be inconspicuous.”

“Hm.” He props himself up on his forearm and leans over you, his other hand trailing softly down the side of your body. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

Before you can reply, he’s kissing you. His mouth is slick, it tastes of you. Your body is spent, limbs heavy, yet still you find it responding to his touch. He shifts further onto you, spreading your legs with his hands and settling himself between them. You can feel his cock nudging your centre as he rocks his hips, sliding along the soaking wet mess he left there and brushing his head over your clit. It’s sensitive, raw, makes you gasp. But he swallows the sound with a heady kiss.

He’s big. Thick. Hard. Maybe that’s where he stores his arrogance. He continues to tease you, soaking himself in the mix of spit and slick as he wraps his hands around your neck, kisses you so deeply you can feel him drawing a moan from your throat.

He pulls away and looks down at you for a moment. “Condom?” he asks casually.

You’re on the pill. Have been since you were seventeen. But still, you know you should say yes. Yesterday, this man was a stranger; a face you only knew from TV and the medical articles you’d read.

“No.” You shake your head and reach down, gripping his cock and directing it into you.

He chuckles, the sound deep and low. “What a good girl.”

You sigh as he teases at your entrance, pushing the head of his cock in and out but never breaking all the way through.

“Were you thinking about this today in the meeting?” he taunts softly.

You groan and buck your hips, desperate for him to take you.

He eases back slightly and tuts. “I saw you squirming in your seat. How hot and flustered you got when I looked at you. Tell me how much you wanted this.”

“What I wanted,” you begin quietly. “Was to wring your neck.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Really…”

“Really.”

He squeezes his fingers gently around your throat and you exhale softly. The desire is almost painful, your core throbbing, pussy aching.

“Funny how things work out,” he says.

You let out a stifled moan as he sinks into you, filling you so completely you’re certain you can’t take it.

“That’s it,” he mutters as he looks down, watching his cock disappear all the way to the hilt.

You whimper and tighten around him. He sucks the air in through his teeth, returning his gaze to your eyes with a mischievous smile.

“I’m gonna need you to not do that,” he says. “You’ll have me finishing in seconds.”

“Are you telling me the great Doctor Stephen Strange lacks self discipline?” You contract your walls again, this time on purpose.

He bows, forehead resting on your chest, and growls deep in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, without warning, he draws his hips back and buries himself in you again. You gasp, fingers digging into the blades of his shoulders as he repeats his thrusts, building to a firm, steady rhythm.

A small cry escapes you; a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. He hums in response, keeping you pinned to the bed with his hands around your neck as he snaps his hips, punishing you from the inside out.

“Wrap those legs around my back,” he demands.

You do as you’re told, locking your ankles and gasping as he sinks further, the head of his cock kissing the deepest parts of you and sending jolts of pure electricity through your stomach.

“You’re going to break me,” you whisper.

“Not this time. Maybe later,” he replies, still so arrogant it makes you want to reach up and slap him.

But your hands are stuck to his back, nails digging into the smooth, taut flesh. Another unfamiliar sound falls from your lips, somewhere between a grunt and a hum. He likes it, you can tell in the way he closes his eyes to compose himself.

“Jesus,” he hisses.

His movements begin to stutter and he rests his forehead against yours. You feel his cock throbbing, your pussy growing wetter until it’s dripping. He lets out a long, satisfied groan and begins to slow down, every rock of his hips like the promise of another climax.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper desperately. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but still he obliges; continuing to stroke into you as you squirm beneath him.

“Oh god,” you groan. “Harder. I need- harder.”

He grunts, screwing his eyes shut tightly, and begins pounding his cock into you with such force you can feel your body shifting up the mattress. You know he already came, you know how sensitive he must be. But somehow, knowing that makes this all the more delicious.

The electricity builds again, every thrust like a lightning strike through your core. Your legs begin to shake and you finally let go, giving in to the current and letting it course through you. Your orgasm is intense, sharp and tingly, making you shudder, body stiffening until it passes.

He slows to a stop, resting his full weight on top of you. You welcome the pressure, like a weighted blanket; warm and grounding, soothing the ache beginning to settle in your limbs.

After a few moments, he slides out of you carefully, rolling over to lie at your side. “You want that drink now?” he asks.

Hair sticks to your forehead with sweat, you brush it back, sucking in deep breaths as you stare up at the ceiling. “No, I’m good.”

Silence envelops you, neither one of you speaking again until your hearts stop thumping.

“So… I guess this means you’re going to approve the training for my method,” he says.

You turn your head, glaring at him in stunned silence.

“I’m kidding,” he says with a smile, greatly amusing himself.

“God, surgeons are assholes,” you mutter.

#doctor strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange smut #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange #surgeon strange #benedict cumberbatch #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #smut writing #lemon #Doctor strange oneshot

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pinknightsinmymind · 1 year

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to you, whats the biggest difference between abby and ellie? in a relationship and during sex

OOOOH i think this is a really good question!! bear with me bc this is kind of a long post, and i hope it makes sense? i hope you guys can understand what i'm trying to say lol. also, post is below the cut bc it is pretty long and there are some nsfw elements (nothing crazy but it is there). anyways, enjoy!

in relationships:

hear me out! i think the biggest difference between the two is the fact that ellie is an introvert while abby is an extrovert. i think it really influences the two and how they show their love.

abby is a huge extrovert. when she walks around the WLF base, everyone knows her, they stop to talk to her, and they feel an equal amount of respect and fear towards her. her presence is just so commanding, just so attention grabbing, because she just has that charisma about her, you know? in a modern!au, she’s probably extremely popular as well. her father’s a rich surgeon, she’s a talented athlete, a good student, and she just moves with this assuredness that guides everything she does. you’d think with all these things she’d be the biggest asshole ever, but she’s not. she’s far from it. she’s sweet, and a dork who likes to tell stupid little jokes. in general, though, she’s loud and proud about everything she does and cares about, and that includes you. she takes you out on dates everywhere, spoils you like crazy, wants to take care of you. abby would buy you whatever you want, whether it's paying for dinner, buying you a clothing item you've been eyeing, beautiful jewelry, new supplies for your hobbies, she'll gladly buy it for you. abby is an open book, and carries herself with a strong “what you see is what you get” kind of attitude. she doesn’t need to be coaxed out of her shell because she’ll gladly interact with any and everyone, and that’s where she and ellie start to differ.

now that’s not to say ellie doesn’t want to show you off or spoil you—because she does—it just looks a little different for her. she’s quiet and reserved at first glance, sticks to herself and her friends, maybe a little too closed off, but once you start talking to her, it’s like unraveling a mystery. there’s so much to learn about her, so many sides of herself she doesn’t show people. she has so many interests, and she’s so smart, too. you get wrapped up in her and her mind easily, so entranced by this quiet girl and finding out who she really is. you think she’s got a beautiful brain and personality, and it matches that pretty face of hers. she shows you off to her friends and family, and spoils you, of course, but with personable gifts that hold meaning to you, and there’s just a sort of quiet intimacy about how she shows her affection. modern!au abby would be obnoxious with PDA, kissing you, holding your hand, arm around you, just very obvious about it. she’s making a loud declaration that you’re hers, but ellie’s is more of a quiet/subtle dominance. the arm ellie has around your waist? the way her hand against the small of your back guides you? the fingers she has interlaced with yours? she doesn’t need to be loud to let other people know you’re hers, because they can just tell by the way she touches you, by the way she glares at anyone who stares at you a little too long.

now this is not to say there is no quiet intimacy with abby—because there is—it’s just a little different. for ellie, intimacy is those little moments kept close and shared only between the two of you. as an introvert, her love is grounded in quiet intimacy. the little drawings she makes you, the songs/poems she writes about you, showing you a new song she’s learned on guitar. she’s a huge homebody who likes to stay in and do things like parallel play, reading comics together, playing video games, movie marathons, things like that. she just loves quality time as a love language! on the contrary, abby loves to take you out and go on fun dates together out in public to show you off.

in addition to at home dates, ellie loves to bring you around her family (her adoptive dad and her older sister, sarah) because she’s just so proud to be yours and have you as hers. she loves bringing you to family get togethers because she's excited for her family to meet you and make you apart of the family, too. that's not to say abby wouldn't do the same, because she would, and she knows for a fact that dr. jerry anderson is going to LOVE you, it's just that for ellie she doesn't let people get close enough to her to meet her family in the first place. for ellie, love is being able to share the parts of herself she doesn’t normally let others see.

for abby, intimacy is in the little things. there is no need to peel back her layers to get to who she really is, because she’s forward about who she is and what she’s about to everyone. but what makes abby different with you is the subtle meanings behind the things she does. with a father who’s a doctor, she’s always been a huge germaphobe, so she doesn’t share her food or her drinks with just anybody. she also doesn’t just let anybody sit in the front seat of her car, she’s not quick to answer just everybody’s texts or phone calls, and in canonverse she’s sure as hell not nice to everybody. but with you, you just pull out that softness in her, and every action of hers just has a little something to it, a special meaning added to them, that can’t be applied to anyone else. and those private moments between the two of you? that’s when it becomes clear there’s something different in how she treats you, from her stolen glances to her gentle touches, all of it. abby’s main love language is acts of service, and it becomes clear that despite her loudness, her honesty, her openness, her love is really shown through the quiet, the unsaid, and the small things. sure, she shows she loves you to both you and others through actions that have loud declarations, but the ones that hold the most weight are the small ones only you are allowed to see and experience because they are special just for you.

when it comes to sex:

while i think both women are extremely sexy, i think there’s a huge difference with how the two women approach sex and express their sexuality, so walk with me here. like i said, both women are sexy, but while ellie just exudes pure raw sex appeal, just an intense sexiness, abby is sensual. ellie is magnetizing, and her charisma pulls you in and makes you do all the work of seduction. she prods you, teases you, flirts with you, but allows you to take the jump. she wants you to decide to kiss her, to put your hands on her, and wants you to initiate to see that you really want her as much as she wants you. that’s just part of her charm. abby, however, with her sensuality, is captivating, and while you are drawn into her because of it, it’s an equal push and pull between the two of you. her sensuality allows her to initiate, but it also allows her to be seduced by you as well. she openly flirts with you, tells you what she wants with you, but she wants you to do the same thing in return. she wants to feel your sexual chemistry, and she loves to create sexual tension. so while abby is not afraid to initiate if she has to, she wants you to have the bravery to do it, too. ellie, however, wants you to initiate the first move the very first time because she’s too scared to, and because she wants to be sure that she’s not imagining the way you look at her, the way you get shy around her, the flirtatious things you say to her. she couldn’t bear the rejection or finding out she misread your intentions, which is why she leaves it to you. however, after that first time, ellie’s not afraid to initiate anymore, and her boldness compared to her previous shyness surprises you every time. she becomes a different person, emboldened and confident, because she knows you want her, too. during sex, ellie carries herself in a way that is so calculated and confident, while abby is so languid, a total romantic to her core.

#ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie williams headcanons #abby anderson headcanons #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #tlou x reader

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after-witch · 7 months

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Horrorfest: Pumpkin Carving [Yandere Derek Goffard x Reader]

Title: Pumpkin Carving [Yandere Derek Goffard x Reader]

Synopsis: Derek is a stickler for traditions.

For Horrorfest request:

Derek + carving a jack-o-lantern face into his captive's chest

Word count: 884

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, violence against reader, blood, knives

Your jaw aches from how much you’ve clenched your teeth in the last twenty minutes--or has it been longer? You sometimes count seconds in your mind during moments like this, but you’re probably off--to avoid screaming. Or begging. Though you know that he wants to hear both of them in spades, as if he hasn’t already gotten his fill of your screams and tears and blood.

But Derek, if anything, is a spoiled asshole incarnate. No matter how much he has, no matter how much he gets--how much he takes--he wants more. And more. And more.

Maybe that’s why he presses particularly harder onto the center of your chest, slicing the knife down and wiggling it around to widen the wound so that the pain is too sharp, too new, to ignore.

And you finally slip, your teeth throbbing when you finally release your jaw to cry out--

“Fuck!”

Above you, Derek snickers.

“Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

The dam is broken now, and you can’t help the whimpers, the grunts, the pitiful cries that bubble past your dry lips as he hums and continues carving a pattern onto your chest.

“Don’t move so much,” he tells you, leaning backwards to take in his work-in-progress. “If you fuck this up, I’ll have to find some other way to celebrate Halloween tonight.” You didn’t want him to find some ‘other way,’ although you sincerely doubted this was all he had planned anyway, so you resolve to keep your body as still as possible.

That’s what you're good for--listening to what Derek tells you.

He’d told you to lay down on the floor earlier, and you did. You weren’t wearing a shirt today (he told you not to bother putting one on in the morning, which meant your stomach was on edge all day, anticipating what was going to happen) so all he had to do was straddle you, pull out the knife, and get to work slicing and dicing.

For once, he’s not using his favorite hunting knife on you, but a sharp, bright orange pumpkin carving knife he had one of the butlers pick up from the supermarket. It's the type of knife you used on pumpkins, back before all this. The kind with a cute little pumpkin on the handle.

You should, theoretically, be grateful that he’s not using the hunting knife. Then he’d be going deeper than he currently is, though it still hurts like hell. It is meant to cut through thick pumpkin flesh, after all. And it is cutting through flesh… yours.

You never get used to any of it. The pain. The scent of your own blood. The way your arms begin to feel heavy after a while from the blood loss. The awful stinging, aching, throbbing that echoes through whatever wound he’s creating anew on your flesh.

Eventually, he’s satisfied, because he sets down the knife and drags you to your feet. You don’t struggle against him as he pulls you towards the floor-length mirror set-up in front of his walk-in closet door.

You don’t really see it at first. There’s too much blood. Oozing and dripping down onto the carpet, ensuring the maids would have something special to do tonight.

Derek sighs and grabs one of his shirts that he’d previously tossed on the floor this morning. He wipes away the blood, ignoring the way you curse and sway on your feet, with the silken material.

It’s a jack o’lantern.

Big enough that the round edges of the pattern skirt against your nipples, bringing the sting close enough that you thought, briefly, he might just cut through them. Mercifully he didn’t, but if you were being cynical (and you were, all the time) it was likely so that they didn’t lose any sensitivity in the future.

It’ll scar, though. Especially with the jagged cuts he’s created. Unless he gets the plastic surgeon his family keeps on tap to come in and take care of it, although you’ve heard the man tsk at Derek’s requests before, mumbling that he’s a doctor, not a miracle worker.

At least he’s had his fun here. Maybe he’ll want to go get drunk with his “friends” tonight and come back too inebriated to do much more. Though Derek has no real friends, you’ve realized, because people are only around him for his money. Or because they’re being held captive, like you. Or because they have to be, like his family, who only stays on this estate (you’ve gathered, from Derek’s ranting) due to their father’s obsessive control over his children.

“Almost finished,” he says, spinning you around a little in the mirror. “Just needs that finishing touch.”

“What do you mean?” Your own voice sounds like it’s muffled, spoken through wool and tinny ringing. It never gets easier, no matter how much he hurts you. There’s always the shock that comes with the pain. That’s something you’ve learned quite well.

He scoffs, like you’re stupid. Then he smiles at you in the way you hate the most, that smug, awful, sticky looking smile.

”It’s not a jack o’lantern if it’s not lit up, is it?”

He pats your head like you’re a dog.

“I’ll be right back with some candles.”

#the price of flesh #tpof #tpof x reader #derek goffard x reader #yandere derek goffard #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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queen-haq · 10 months

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Fic: Grudgingly Yours (Part 4)

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter 4

You bit down on your bottom lip, looking at the project plan for the next few weeks. Ideally you would have loved to open a hospital but that was beyond your current means. As a compromise, you made the decision to go with an urgent care clinic in your childhood neighbourhood. There was a lot of administrative red tape to get through before you could even begin working on your plans and that’s why you’d engaged two of your closest friends for help. Jacintha was a marketing executive for a healthcare company, and Ritu was a financial analyst, and they were the perfect people to guide you towards your goals. The three of you had accomplished what needed to be done today, and were taking a break now.

“Any more pizza left?” Ritu asked.

You peeked through the boxes. “Nah, we finished it all. I can order more?”

“No, I had too much already,” Ritu said, drinking her glass of wine.

Jacintha was scrolling through her phone, her feet up on the couch. “There’s no one here that’s even remotely interesting,” she grumbled. “Everyone’s either ugly or a fuckboy.”

You laughed. While Ritu was happily married, Jacintha was single and on the lookout for fun dates. Except her friend had very high expectations and there weren’t that many men that met her standards. “Maybe you should venture outside Manhattan,” you offered.

“I’d rather shoot myself than date a guy from Jersey.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Hearing Billy’s voice, you turned around to find him standing at the entrance to the room. Dressed casually in a maroon jumper, black jeans and signature leather jacket, he appeared amused as his eyes languidly took in your friends. When you’d seen him earlier today he was heading out with another woman – so why the fuck was he back and interrupting your night?

Irritation surged through you. You’d made up an excuse about Billy being busy when Jacintha had inquired about his whereabouts, but now he was here and that meant you had to put on a show for your friends. “Thought you were gonna be gone all night, honey.”

Both Ritu and Jacintha watched him curiously, with Jacintha taking the lead in approaching him. “Glad you made it home, Billy. Didn’t think we were going to meet you today but I’m glad you’re here.” She reached out to hug him, and you noted how Billy returned the hug with enthusiasm. “I’m Jacintha, Y/N’s would-be maid of honour –“

Ritu scoffed.

“- if you hadn’t gone off and eloped with her,” Jacintha continued, sticking out her tongue at Ritu.

You rolled your eyes, watching as Ritu made her way towards Billy.

“Only way Jas would’ve been maid of honour is if I turned it down.” Ritu extended her hand out to Billy. “Hi, I’m Ritu. And we need the complete story behind this whirlwind romance. Y/N’s being way too tight-lipped about the details.”

His response was a gorgeous smile. “I don’t know what lies she told you, but eloping was her idea not mine.”

What the fuck? Spotting the wicked glint in his eyes, you knew he’d thrown you under the bus on purpose. Asshole!

“Come on, Billy. Don’t lie to my friends,” you teased, sauntering over to where he stood. “They’re gonna think I didn’t have a wedding on purpose.”

Jas frowned. “Did you elope just to get out of picking a maid of honour?”

You put on a fake smile. “Look what you did, sweetheart.”

His voice was nauseatingly sweet. “Just being honest, love.”

“So tell us about yourself, Billy,” Ritu prodded.

“Like you guys didn’t google me?” Billy fired back.

Jaz confronted him with a raised eyebrow. “We did. What we found wasn’t great. Definitely not the kind of guy who deserves Y/N.”

“Okay. That’s enough.” You walked over to Billy and grabbed his hand. “Can we talk alone?”

Dark eyes bore into your soul. “If you insist.”

You dragged him away, leaving your perplexed friends watching after you.

Once inside the spare office room, you closed the door behind. “Why are you here?”

Billy cocked his eyebrow, smirking as he strut toward the couch. Sitting down, he regarded you with amusement. “Last time I checked this is my place.”

“Wrong. It’s your grandfather’s and he gifted it to both of us. So you can shove that bullshit.” You glared at him with hostility. “We had a deal. You stay out of my way when I have people over.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Exasperated, you crossed your arms. “Do I harass your dates when you bring them home?”

“My dates don’t take over the entire place.”

“Upstairs is your area, downstairs is mine. That was your rule!”

“That Jacintha’s cute.”

Irritation surged through you at the abrupt change in topic. “Don’t hit on my friends.”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Figures you’re the jealous type.”

“I’m not jealous, you moron. I just don’t want you creeping on them.”

“Tell me something. That whole scene during dinner, standing up for me, bitching out the old man, that was all an act, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

He leaned forward. The smile from before was now replaced with a somber look, his dark steely gaze holding you hostage. “You planned it, didn’t you? Plotted with him so you’d look good to me?”

“What makes you think I care enough to do that?” You held his stare, challenging him back. “Whatever issues you have with your family, it’s none of my business. I only stood up for you because I fucking hate bullies. I already told you that. But if you don’t believe me, I don’t give a shit.”

His eyes remained on you, unwavering and hostile, staring at you intently. “Let me see your phone.”

You scowled. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I want to prove something to myself.”

“How’s my phone gonna help with that?”

“Let me worry about it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He smiled. “Show me your phone and I’ll keep my distance from your friends. That work for you?”

“Fine.” Taking out your cell from your back pocket, you approached him. You unlocked the screen and handed it to him. “Here. Have your fill.”

You regarded him cautiously while he scrolled through to look for any incriminating conversations between you and Alistair. There would be none, just a whole bunch of missed calls from the old man since the night of the dinner party. And a vague text message where he threatened you.

“You’ve been ignoring his calls. Alistair won’t like that.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“He’s dangerous when he’s crossed. And you pissed him off by standing up for me.”

“I can take care of myself,” you huffed, grabbing your phone back from him.

“You have to be so flippant about everything?” Billy asked.

The fake concern in his tone was infuriating, like he actually cared about you when it was the farthest thing from the truth. “Don’t pretend like you give a shit about me.”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Is that what you think? At least with you I know what I have to deal with. If he takes you down, I have to worry about what he has planned next. That’s the only reason I’m warning you.”

“Whatever.” You slipped your phone back into your pocket. “Now, please get the fuck out.”

“Who’s Calvin?”

You froze. Of course the fucker noticed all the text messages from him. “None of your business.”

A cold smile curved Billy’s lips. “Boyfriend? He seems to be, texts you a lot.”

“You jealous?”

“Keep dreaming, sweetheart.” He leaned forward and picked up a random magazine that was on the coffee table. His voice was casual, deliberately calm when he spoke next. “Just curious about how your boyfriend feels you marrying me for money. Calvin okay with the golddigger lifestyle?”

“He lets me make my own decisions.”

Billy’s voice reeked of sarcasm. “Sounds like a real man.”

“He is.”

Billy scoffed.

“Why are we even talking about this? I don’t butt into your business, do I?”

“Oh, you didn’t tell Gwen we were married?”

You rolled your eyes, remembering the blonde from a few weeks ago. “That was once. You’ve had other women here since then and I haven’t bothered them.”

His intense, lingering stare remained affixed on you, making you feel unexpectedly self-conscious. You were in jeans, an oversized t-shirt, and wearing no make-up. It was supposed to be a casual night in and you’d dressed accordingly, but you weren’t prepared for Billy to give you the kind of look that speared right through to your soul. His stillness made you nervous, making you feel like he was plotting your death or something. You preferred it when he espoused hateful rhetoric instead. “Anything else?” you prodded. “Or can I go back to my friends?”

“Do whatever you want.”

Despite the insolence in his words, his voice was a husky, throaty drawl, smooth like whiskey, like he was trying to seduce.

Or maybe you were just being an idiot.

Without saying anything else, you turned around and walked out.

***

Upon returning to your friends, they surrounded you immediately.

“What’s going on?” Jas asked.

“Nothing,” you replied, trying to maintain your calm exposure.

“You’re lying to us,” Ritu piped up.

You started stacking the empty pizza boxes. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not how newlyweds act!” Jas accused.

“Why? Just because I’m not all over him in front of you guys? That doesn’t prove anything!”

“None of this makes sense. You elope with a guy none of us even knew you were dating, supposedly because the two of you are so madly in love, but that’s not what we saw just now. You guys looked like you hate each other!”

You ran your fingers through your hair. Shit.

“Tell us what’s going on. Are you in trouble?” Ritu asked.

“Whatever it is, just tell us. We’ll help you.”

Guilt surged through you as you stared back at your best friends. They were genuinely concerned and worried about something happening to you, and there you were lying to them. You sighed, taking a seat.

Then you started telling the truth.

***

A week later you walked into the penthouse suite, your feet aching in the stilettos you were wearing. Jas and you had gone out to dinner so she could give you notes on the prenup. Even though you’d reassured her multiple times that your lawyer had vetted it thoroughly and negotiated the best terms for you, she wasn’t convinced and insisted one of her contacts, a prominent divorce attorney, review the details. The lawyer did have some feedback but ultimately agreed it was a good deal. Finally Jas was convinced you hadn’t lost your mind with this deal, and the two of you went clubbing after. You were used to staying up all night from working at the hospital, but the whole heels thing was new to you.

Sighing, you undid the straps and threw the shoes aside, groaning with relief when your feet hit the ground. As you started walking back to your room, you cut through the living room only to find Billy sound asleep. You stopped for a second, simply watching him. Not sure why he was even downstairs, but there he was on the couch, in a black razor tank and jeans, sleeping on his side. There were a couple of empty beer bottles on the coffee table. He was facing you, hair ruffled, eyes closed, one arm tucked under his head and the other splayed on his side. Watching him as he laid there, you had to admit he really was a beautiful man – as long as he kept his mouth shut. You usually liked them stocky and broad-shouldered, gym guys who you knew could lift you without much trouble, but Billy was lean and toned. Not that he wasn’t muscular, he definitely was, but you doubted he could pick you up. Or that he’d want to. You saw the women he slept with, you were definitely not his type. And you had no interest in being one of them.

You sauntered past him and headed for your room.

An hour later you were freshly showered and dressed in a silk robe, eating Greek yogurt in the kitchen to satisfy your late-night hunger cravings when you heard a crash coming from the living room. Worried, you quickly marched towards the noise. Upon entering the room, you found broken glass shards from the beer bottles atop the coffee table and Billy on his knees, one hand gripping the edge of the table while the other was clutching his chest.

His skin was flushed, slick with sweat, eyes stricken with panic. He looked like he couldn’t breathe, as if he was dying.

Immediately you switched to doctor mode. Rushing, you sat down next to him. “Are you hurt? Bleeding? What’s going on? Talk to me,” you ordered, keeping your voice normal and calm so as not to agitate him further. With an expert touch you examined his hands to make sure he didn’t cut himself - he didn’t - and swiped the beads of moisture from his forehead.

His breathing was ragged, he didn’t speak, a wild expression on his face matching the far away look in his eyes, like he was somewhere else at the moment.

You started rubbing his back, hoping the physical contact would tether him to reality. “Billy, you’re fine. You’re okay.” Repeating yourself over and over again, you soothed him, stroking his back, caressing the hair on the nape of his neck, your other hand covering his chest where his heart resided.

It took a while for his heart to return to normal speed. The entire time he was locked in your embrace, pressing into you, squeezing you tightly like his life depended on it.

After a short while, Billy finally spoke. “It’s hot. I’m hot.”

Voice husky, body warm to the touch, you realized he needed some air. “Do you want some water?” You attempted to move away but he grabbed your hand that was on his chest and held it in place.

“No. Just need to take this off.” In one quick gesture he pulled off his tank and threw it aside. You tried not to stare at the wounds on his chest, burn marks and lashings, like he’d been tortured. They were fully healed, a few years old from what you could tell, but the scars remained, forever haunting him. Your heart ached, realizing he must have gone through sheer hell to survive that.

Your fingers caressed his chest. “You should get some sleep.”

Billy finally met your gaze. The emotion in his eyes made your stomach clench with anxiety. There was no anger, no contempt, just raw, stark need for something you didn’t understand. His dark eyes were crystal clear, no cloudiness in them, like he was seeing you for the first time.

And then suddenly he stood and lifted you up, carrying you over to the couch behind you both. He sat back on the cushion, you straddling him, one arm encircling your waist while the other hand fisted the back of your hair.

Eyes locked on one another, breaths trembling, you swallowed audibly as you waited for him to say something, do anything. But he didn’t move, didn’t speak, only watching you.

Minutes passed, every second feeling like an eternity.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, so loud you worried he could hear it. Could he? Could he see how he was affecting you? That your nipples were hard and your pussy wet from grinding down on his jeans? That his heated skin pulsed through you like a vibrator and you felt every brush, every stroke, every touch of his fingers strumming you like a guitar?

You didn’t know why you did it, why your fingers curved around his throat, why the other played with his earlobe. You were teasing him, taunting him, daring him to make a move. To take you.

Electric jolts ran through your body when he unexpectedly moved in closer, the top of his head brushing against your mouth, his lips blowing soft air on your neck as he inhaled you in. “You smell so good.”

Wetness pooled between your legs, your body taut with tension. Your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, holding on tight. Did he know what he was doing to you? Was it a ploy? How could he sound so desperate and vulnerable and still be playing you?

You didn’t understand, because you couldn’t think. How were you supposed when his erection was nudging your thighs? There was no fucking escape from him, he’d ingrained himself in you completely. Wrapped around every inch of you, next to you, under you, all-consuming solid presence of his body overwhelming all of your senses.

“Will you stay with me?” he whispered, soft, gentle, making your heart pulse the way your body did. “Help me sleep?”

There was nothing else you could say. “Yes.”

You couldn’t turn him down, not the part that was trained to heal patients, nor the woman in you that was utterly exposed to someone who was begging for help.

And so when Billy cradled you in his arms and maneuvered you both to lay down on the couch, his hand squeezing yours as he pressed a warm kiss on your temple, you simply closed your eyes and let the warmth sweep over you.

A/N - Um, thoughts?

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #grudgingly yours

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xbruised-peachx · 9 months

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could i get some soft gromsko hcs 🥺 sorry i keep seeing ones where hes a misogynist (untagged so it triggers me from a past relationship) and i much prefer your interpretation where he's caring but still confident

Aww 🫂🫂🫂 I'm sorry Anon, I'm actually in the same boat as you, my bad relationship ended exactly a year ago so yeah.

Everyone's allowed to have their own interpretation and all that fun stuff but I absolutely agree, I can't see him like that. Talking to my Polish friends about it, it's just not his generation and it's a very tired trope of "misogynistic, loud slavic man" they are not too happy seeing. For me, it's almost a bit of an American trope that is "loud and boisterous=asshole", which I dislike as he has multiple lines IN GAME that shows him as caring and you know... nice (ex. Czasami trzeba się poświęcić dla innych (sometimes you must sacrifice yourself for others), You're not dying yet!, Trzymać się (hold on) the surgeon is coming, I was proud to fight with you!, I am your wingman, etc). Not to mention you know... HE'S A MEDIC or at the very least "extensive medical training" as stated in his bio.

So yeah, I'll happily give you some nice, loud and proudly in love Gromsko headcanons, Anon💚

Tags: fem!reader, pure tooth rotting fluff, alcohol mention for the last point

Gromsko always has his arm around you in public. He wants the world to know how lucky he is to have you. He still has some slight guilt in his head about showing PDA from getting glares from various babcias back home, but he can't help it when he sees you, beautiful eyes looking back at him with such adoration. He has to show it back somehow.

Often, he'll just settle for hand holding (before marriage? Scandalous) as you guys walk around. He'll watch you as you interact with employees, you asking for help as his thumb runs over your knuckles, running along the back of your hand. Even if you get nervous talking to employees, his touch reminds you he's right there if you need him, and that he's more than willing to help if needed.

You getting disrespected sets him off in a whole new way. Instantly, he'll step in front, asserting his height advantage he often has, looking down at them with contempt that they would even dare speak to you like that. "Want to repeat that?" His voice coming out as low and threatening, booming around the room. When they inevitably leave you both alone, his attention goes right back to you, gently cupping your face as you look up to him as he asks if you're okay. You smile and nod, telling him a soft thank you. You can practically see his heart melt as he looks back, eyes softening and a gentle smile on his face, taking your hand and continuing like nothing happened.

Though he learned some cooking from his grandma, he has fond memories of watching Robert Makłowicz with his mom during weekends, making the recipes for dinner. When he found out Makłowicz has a YouTube channel, the two of you went on a deep dive for hours, cuddling on the couch and him translating for you when he started laughing or just said something nice, and thought it'd be nice to share. He also showed a few older clips, particularly this one of him and a dog and now the two of you have the little inside joke going "EHEHEHEHE" at small, cute things.

He often cooks for you, even wanting to take care of you like that as well. He doesn't mind the help but he takes quite a bit of pride in his cooking. He loves when you come up behind and just hug him while he's at the stove. For him, that plus you smiling as you eat a meal from him is the greatest reward.

Every injury is an emergency to him, often taking huge precautions even for little things. The house is never out of band-aids or antibiotic ointment. Even stubbing your toe will have him running out of whatever room he's in, stopping what he's doing to make sure you're okay.

He is the best to have around during the time of the month. He'll make some good iron rich foods, but still get you whatever snacks you want. He may want to take care of you physically but he knows part of health is mental too, and that he can't force something on you when you are craving something else. He makes sure heating pads are ready along with a nice comfortable spot in bed. He isn't overbearing though, as he knows sometimes you just need space. He knows that when you need him, you'll let him know. Often you have fallen asleep, head in his lap with a heated stuffed animal hugged to your chest. He'll carry you to the much more comfortable bed with ease, watching you at peace with a smile on his own face as he'd go back, cleaning up any snack wrappers in the living room, turning off any electric heating pads that might have been left on. He may join you for a nap eventually, but he'll leave you at peace for now.

Being used to waking up for the military, he wakes up before you, and he really doesn't mind. The warm glow of the sun rising as your lips are parted, gently breathing. His arm around you, he can feel the gentle rise and fall, your heart beat calm against him. He could look at you like this for hours, going back in forth in his head questioning how he got so lucky but also not wanting to question it, instead to just enjoy this quiet morning. Birds chirping, he wants to get up and make some coffee for you but he doesn't want to leave you in this moment... not now or ever.

He loves animals... all of them. Often, if he sees a random animal in the street, he'll call out to it instinctively in Polish, often leaving a poor hedgehog stunned in the streets, unsure what to do about this giant heading towards them. He loves going to the shelter with you, seeing big dogs go from barking to wagging their tail, wanting to get out to play, and going to cat rooms to sit for a while, playing with all the cats, young and old. Old cats flock to him like no other and he always imitates their crispy meows. Seeing him hold a kitten that easy fits in his hands, curling up into a ball as he holds it against his broad chest, gently petting its head with two of his fingers... it warms your soul.

He is a very affectionate drunk. He'll be stumbling down the streets, goofy grin on his face as he hugged on you for balance. If any even breathes in your direction, positive or negative, he'll be calling out to them, "HEJ! To moja dziewczyna... GO!" (Hey, that's my girlfriend) You often end up apologizing to whoever it is, his slurred speech being the answer for why. When you get home he'll often just keep repeating how beautiful you are while snuggled in your chest for once. Looking up at you, you see that look of disbelief in his eyes, but quickly returning to just bliss as he remembers you belong to each other. Snoring like a bear buried deep, he knows absolute comfort knowing you'll be there for each other for the inevitable hangover the next morning.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #gromsko #gromsko mw2 #ask peach #gromsko x reader #sobiesław kościuszko x reader #sobiesław kościuszko #call of duty x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #grom writing

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gotham-ruaidh · 4 months

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14A: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O' Mine,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by...

Philadelphia || June 1988

Claire pushed her chair back a bit from the desk. Raised her arms. Stretched. Breathed deeply.

Reading for the eighth time the words she’d finally tapped out on the Selectric this morning, after days of rolling them around in her head.

Chief Physician

Boston Medical Center

To Whom It May Concern,

As you may be aware, I am a trauma surgeon at BMC. Twelve months ago I was placed on administrative leave by the BMC, and my medical license was suspended, pending the resolution of BMC’s internal investigation into my conduct. The investigation started by looking into a near-fatal error I committed during a surgery, and then quickly discovered that I had not only been forging prescriptions and stealing painkillers for quite some time, but also developed a severe addition to those painkillers.

As you may also be aware, I did not contest the actions taken by BMC. Subsequently I enrolled in an intensive drug rehabilitation program in North Carolina. I am happy to share that I am almost twelve months clean, having completed the program last December and successfully maintained my sobriety since then.

I have previously communicated to the Board, on several occasions, my sincere regret for what I did and my remorse for the incredible lapse of professional judgment and ethical standards I demonstrated. I repeat those regrets to you now.

Which is, in part, why I am writing you today. I wish to understand what else is required of me to return to work, in any capacity, at BMC.

Making amends for wrongs was something that Claire and Geillis had talked about a lot, during her time at The Ridge. Yes, doing that was a formal part of any 12 Step program.

But it was more than just saying sorry – it required the addict to recognize the wrongs.

To own them. To understand why they had happened, and the impact they had had on others.

Because nothing sounded more inadequate in the English language than the two words, I’m sorry.

But words matter. And this attitude shift was a crucial step on any addict’s road to recovery.

Making amends was something that Claire and Jamie had talked a lot about, too. She had seen him make amends many times, in their short time together – and quite often during their last few weeks on the road, as they traveled city to city for Print’s acoustic tour and Jamie came into contact with many people who had last seen him drunk/rude/high/demanding/hung over/acting like a total asshole during the last (disastrous) tour in ’86.

He made it a point to really talk to each person, to apologize for specific things he remembered doing. No matter if it was the venue manager, or the catering guy, or the lighting guy, or the security guard. I was a dick when I was drunk. I said terrible things. I hurt you. I’m sorry.

Two weeks ago in Chicago, he couldn’t sleep after a fucking incredible show at the old Chicago Theater. The adrenaline buzz after the show so much better than any pills or bourbon or groupie could have given him. He had tossed and turned for hours, until finally, quietly slipping out of their bed and perching in the easy chair in their suite at the Palmer House, watching Claire shift restlessly under the covers without him.

But of course, she knew when something was wrong. She woke, and turned to face him, easing up on one elbow. Watching him back. Giving him space.

When he finally spoke, it was just above a raspy whisper.

“How can you be here, Claire, when all you do is hear me talk about how awful I was to so many people?”

Her heart did break a little bit. “Because I never knew that version of you, Jamie. What I care about is who you are now.”

He sighed, breath ragged. “This shit is so fucking hard.”

“I know, baby.” Somehow she was standing beside him, and blindly he buried his face into the warm skin of her belly. She threaded her fingers in his hair, held him close as his pulse spiked.

“Deep breaths, Jamie. Focus on me. I’m here.”

He had had several panic attacks during the tour. Which could be chalked up to anything – the stress of changing hotels every day, the crush of fans and press that clustered around their tour bus when they arrived in a new city, the women who pulled down their tops in the front row at every concert, the Jack Daniels bottles and little baggies of powder left in his dressing room before the show in Wilkes-Barre.

But instead of smashing to pieces all alone, she sheltered him. He knew when to ask for help. And always found her just in time to crash against her, shaking and crying in bathroom stalls and green rooms and even once on the deserted tour bus. And each time she was so grateful for the psych rotation she’d done in med school that prepared her to help him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Breathe in, Jamie. Think about how much I love you.”

He drew in a deep, sobbing breath.

“That’s right. Now exhale. I’m never going to leave you.”

He exhaled, shoulders shuddering.

“And inhale, Jamie. We can get hamburgers for breakfast again, if you want.”

He inhaled, and she felt a faint smile against her belly.

“That’s right. And out. Think about how amazing our wedding night will be.”

He exhaled. Gently bit the soft, soft skin above her bellybutton. She shivered, and smiled.

“Good. Center on me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She counted along with him – twenty four more deep breaths. Caressing his forehead, and kissing his hair, and loving him and loving him and loving him.

Finally when he had calmed down, she crawled back into bed, and he held her so close against him. Kissing her forehead. Whispering endless words of love.

“If I ever fuck up with you, Claire, know I’ll always own it.”

She kissed his eyebrows. “The same for me, Jamie. I’d rather be mad at you than not have you.”

He had said the same words to her this morning. A promise he never tired of repeating. Murmured against her hair when he bent over to kiss her in the bed, body thrumming with energy.

Colum had booked a studio here in Philadelphia for the day, so that the band could lay down recordings of the acoustic tracks they’d played to dozens of sold-out crowds during the tour. With the incredible press from the tour – thanks in no small part to Geordie Ash’s profile in Rolling Stone – and bootlegs in wide circulation, it was time. And for once, the band agreed with the label.

She would join him later, of course. But today she needed the time to herself, to finally write and then mail the letter to Boston.

All because of Jamie.

“You can’t stay in a state of limbo forever, Claire,” he had said one night, meeting her eyes in the bathroom mirror as he gently brushed her shower-wet hair. “And I know we still don’t know where we’ll live when we’re married. But you have the right to know.”

She had sighed, jamming her hands in the deep pockets of the hotel bathrobe. “I don’t want to go back to that life.”

He had set down the hairbrush they shared, slipping his hands into the pockets, pulling her close against him. “I know. But you can’t have that door hanging open, Claire. Whether you open it or close it, you know I support you. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by not knowing.”

She had nodded, and pursed her lips. Smiling just a little as he kissed the shell of her ear.

She blinked, and turned back to the typewriter.

I have been traveling for the past few weeks, and won’t be back to Boston for at least the next month. Although I may not be immediately reachable by mail or telephone, I’m enclosing the contact information for someone who can get any letter or other message to me.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

She gently pulled the paper from the typewriter roll. Signed her name. Took a deep breath. Began to address the envelope.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

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Planet Earth 2023 || Part One

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, cursing, injuries, fluff, slow burn

A/N: This will be a mini series in ten parts. Semi slow burn between Din and Reader. No beta reader, but there shouldn’t be too many grammatical errors. Please like, comment and share!

Summary: The Mandalorian and his kid were ambushed by pirates in space and ended up on Earth, crashing the new and improved Razor Crest right onto your front lawn.

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

It was a shining afternoon in Florida. You were relaxing in your backyard, in a lounge chair beside your massive pool, soaking in all that the sun had to offer.

You were a renowned trauma surgeon, and this was your first vacation in four years. You considered sailing across the Atlantic Ocean for three weeks, but ultimately opted to stay in the comfort of your own home. A lot of time, effort, and money went into building your dream home, so of course you decided to bask in the ambiance for the next twenty-one days.

You lived in the middle of nothingness. Your nearest neighbor was a 6-mile drive up the road, and you couldn't be happier. It was a 12-mile trip to downtown, where there were plenty of grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants.

You were on day two of your vacation. You took the liberty of driving into town yesterday to stock up on everything you needed. It was the first week of July, which was one of the busiest weeks in Tampa.

There were simply too many people. College and high school kids on summer break, bikers, tourists, and locals that got on your nerves every chance they got. Not to mention the buzzing flies, lizards, and deafening cicadas that were hellbent on driving everyone in Florida insane.

You leaned forward, taking one final swig from your flute glass. You made delicious mimosas. This was only your second glass, but you wanted to squeeze in a short nap before pouring a third.

You placed the empty glass on the mini table beside you and leaned all the way back, relaxing into the lounge chair. You tilted your hat down to protect your eyes from the beaming sun and drifted off to sleep.

Out of nowhere, a sound that you could only describe as the blue sky opening jolted you awake, and you shot up out of the lounge chair, gawking up at the sky. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You snagged your cell phone from the mini table, checking the time.

4:09pm

You had only been asleep for eleven minutes. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t in the middle of a dream.

The foreign junk of metal barely missed the tall gate surrounding your home as it landed unceremoniously on your front lawn. You kicked off your wedge sandals and hauled ass to the front of your house, mentally preparing to rip this asshole to shreds with your venomous words.

You stopped at the wreckage, grumbling obscenities as you assessed the damage that was done. Your tulips were tarnished and a wide section of grass was burnt to a crisp. At least the lily and chrysanthemum sections were left unharmed.

The door to the colossal heap of metal opened, revealing the culprit, who appeared to be a helmeted man dressed in metal and black.

Wow, you thought, completely sidetracked by the man you saw before you and what appeared to be his ship. That was the spitting image of a spaceship. Living in Florida, you’ve met your fair share of cosplayers, but something about this man was different. How in the hell did he build something like that? How did he afford it? Those looked like authentic parts.

Despite the turbulent landing, the ship was not significantly damaged. It probably needed four or five repairs, but it appeared to be functional.

Whoever it was needed to collect their things, compensate for the damages, and get the hell off your property. You rolled your eyes at yourself for not stopping in the house to retrieve your handgun. Hopefully the man wouldn’t be violent towards you.

You walked fiercely up the ramp onto the ship, pausing when you spotted the man slightly bent over, groaning in pain as he clutched his right thigh.

“What in the fuck?” you yelled at the man, stopping all movement once you saw he was aiming a weapon at you.

He’s taking this cosplayer shit a little too far, you thought. You folded your arms across your chest, tapping a bare, beautifully pedicured foot against the floor of the ship as you waited for the tin man to say something.

He didn’t.

“What in the hell kind of gun is that?” you cursed, squinting as you pointed at the weirdly shaped weapon in his hand.

He tilted his head towards you, but still didn’t say anything.

“And what the hell are you wearing?” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

He looked like a complete and utter fool. Okay, that is not the case at all. He actually looked incredibly good in his costume. However, now is not the time to be ogling the man who just crashed into your front yard, destroying your favorite flowers.

“Get away from me.” he said, grunting softly, and gripping his thigh tighter as he attempted to stand up. Red drops of blood soaked a patch around the knee of his pants and trickled down his leg onto the spaceship's floor.

The smooth gruffness of his modulated voice was enough to make you standstill in your criticisms. It was almost as if he was speaking from his chest and not his mouth. You did not expect him to sound like that. How alluring.

“Excuse me!” you gasped in dismay once you remembered the rude tone he took with you as if you were the one who crashed into his perfect day.

The unmitigated gall this metal man had.

You pointed a perfectly manicured nail at him, “You’re the one who landed this fugly chunk of metal in my backyard! Who are you?”

“I am Mandalorian D—“

“—Is that supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” you asked, interrupting the bleeding man.

He exhaled in your direction. You barely gave him a chance to get a word in edgewise. Something about the man seemed both vulnerable and frightening at the same time. The large tear that was on his thigh was bleeding profusely. You took a cautious step forward, eyeing the wound. Although it didn't appear to be infected, the puncture was fairly deep and would require stitches.

“Who did this to you?”

“A pirate. We al-almost didn’t make it b—“

Who is we, you thought. You were so focused on the metal man, you didn’t even see the tiny green munchkin looking up at you with huge eyes that matched its long ears.

Oh my god. It was a green baby E.T.

Your heart skipped a beat and you slyly pinched yourself again to make sure you were wide awake.

He was too cute.

“—I’m sorry, did you just say a pirate did this to you?” you squeaked, interrupting the injured man yet again. Sorry not sorry. You were definitely in shock.

Great. Now alien pirates were a thing.

You shook your head hoping that would clear your bewildered mind. You only had two mimosas, but this newfound information was starting to give you an awful migraine. It was happening too fast. Your brain needed time to catch up.

“I think I put in the wrong coordinates before jumping,” the helmeted man disclosed before asking, “What planet is this?”

The space man went on about how his gravity well projector and navicomp malfunctioned due to the shootout with the pirates.

“Planet?” you replied, “Are you high?”

“Just tell me where I am.” the strange man grunted as he slowly rose to his feet, succeeding this time.

“This is Planet earth. Florida to be specific. Ever been here before?”

“This backwater—No. No, I haven’t.”

“Well, welcome to the sunshine state Mandalorian.” you flashed him a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Just call me Mando.”

“Alright then, Mando,” you said, “I’m a doctor and I can stitch up that nasty gash you have there.”

He said nothing for a few seconds as he stood there weighing his options. He took one look down at the baby before agreeing.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can’t fight like this.”

“Who are you fightin’?”

“The pirates who tried to shoot me and my kid down. They’ll be here soon.”

Your second day of vacation was going to be spent fighting off alien pirates, huh? Not too shabby.

While he went to gather what he needed, you took this opportunity to explore this section of the ship in greater detail. Wow. This ship must have cost him a pretty penny. You extended a helping hand to the Mandalorian on the path to your home, but he declined, instead picking up the child and walking alongside you.

“You live alone?” He asked, stepping into the house after you.

“Yes.”

“Why?” he pressed, stumbling a bit as he tried to round the corner and keep up with your long strides.

“None of your goddamn business.” you quipped, motioning for him to come into the kitchen. He snorted softly and the baby cooed.

Somewhat unexpectedly, Mando let you steer him into the kitchen and even accepted your assistance in guiding him to a chair at the island in the middle of your kitchen. He sat the kid on the island and they both turned, watching you reach into the upper cupboard to pull out your homemade first aid kit.

You brought two chairs closer to him, sitting in one of them while motioning for him to position his leg up on the seat of the other chair. He leaned forward slightly and made a low grunting sound as he shifted his leg to perch on the chair.

To gain better access to the injury, you gingerly removed the metal plate that was shielding most of his thigh. Although the bleeding had stopped to some extent, the wound still needed cleaning and disinfecting before being patched up. You leaned closer as you dabbed at the laceration. Every now and then, when you applied too much pressure, he hissed softly, but he never told you to stop.

He asked, “Is that bacta?”

“I’m not sure what bacta is,” you admitted, half shrugging as you examined the jagged edges of the laceration. It was a nasty cut on his thigh, right above his knee. You noticed that his skin was white and not green. A curiosity you’d ask about at a more appropriate time. “This is a numbing agent called lidocaine. We use it so that the stitches don’t hurt as much.”

“Will it make me drowsy?”

You shook your head, “It shouldn’t. Plus it only lasts about 40 minutes or so.”

“Okay.”

“It’ll be a quick pinch then I’ll start stitchin’ you up.”

He just nodded. His kid cooed worriedly and you felt your heartstrings being tugged by the little one yet again. Aww, you thought, the little one was worried about his dad.

“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t hurt him.” you promised.

After injecting the lidocaine into his thigh with the needle, you proceeded to suture the wound closed, making sure not to pull too tightly on the ends. You went a little deeper than necessary on the next stitch, which caused Mando to jerk and grip your wrist, cursing loudly, “Dank farrik!”

“Ooh,” you grimaced at the sound of his harsh pants, stopping to glance at him and the kid, “I didn't mean to go that deep. Sorry, Mando.” you apologized.

To take his mind off the discomfort, you took two fingers and massaged the underside of his knee. As he relaxed, you could feel the tension ease out of his thigh muscles. Your method worked like a charm. It always did. He loosened his grip on your wrist before dropping his hand back into his lap.

“You ruined my favorite flowers, you know…” you commented as you peered up at him, attempting to find his eyes through the helmet. How was it even possible to have a tinted helmet? Exactly what were the Mandalorians so afraid of in space that they had to conceal their faces? When you failed to locate his eyes, you went back to the wound and threw another stitch. You were almost done now. Just a couple more sutures.

It was getting harder to ignore the tiny green guy's agitated cries. He must have been getting hungry or bored. Mando didn't utter a word, so you assume he was just used to it.

“I’m sorry about your tulips,” he expressed, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment, “I’ll see if I can salvage them once I know we’re in the clear.”

“You know how to tend to flowers?”

“A little bit.” he said, shrugging as he turned his attention towards his upset kid.

“Sorry,” Mando apologized for the increasing volume of the kid’s cries, “He’s probably hungry.”

“Well, I have some leftovers from brunch. Does he have any allergies?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” Mando replied.

“Alright. I’ll fix him a plate once I’m done with you. Would you like to eat somethin’ too?”

“Not really hungry at the moment.”

“Okay.”

After you had completed the last stitch, you took a little, red container, opened it, and used a dollop of vaseline to evenly spread it over the stitches. As soon as you had completed that task, you got to your feet and headed over to the kitchen sink, where you washed your hands thoroughly.

You took some oatmeal and heated it up in the microwave, sliced an apple and added a few red pieces to the bowl. You grabbed a spoon, handing it to the child as you placed the blue ceramic bowl in front of him. He cooed happily before digging in.

You asked Mando to wait some time before strapping the metallic layer of protection back on his thigh, but he refused.

The child appeared to be in a better mood now that his belly was full. You had to resist the urge to ask Mando if you could hold him. He was just too stinkin’ cute. You’d probably never let him go.

You lingered on the couch for an hour, staring at Mando entertaining his kid, before opting to get some fresh air in your backyard.

“Where are you going?” Mando questioned as he put his son on the couch and hurried over to you, standing in front of the sliding glass doors, blocking you from leaving the house.

You forced back an eye roll as you reminded yourself that he was only being cautious. There was no need to be rude to him. He merely wanted you to avoid getting killed by the pirate who had followed him to your house. From space.

“I need to grab my phone,” you explained as you pointed to the chair you were lounging in peacefully before he arrived, “Look— it’s just right there by the pool.”

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply after following your direction, eyeing the object, “Be quick. It isn’t safe yet.” He stepped aside after you nodded at him and you slid the door open, stepping out into your backyard.

You're not certain why, but on your way to the swimming pool, you kept track of how many steps you took. You’re astonished that you haven't done this before now. 31 steps in total from your house to your pool.

You bent over, snagging your cell phone from the small table, checking the time.

6:42pm

Today, time was flying by. It was almost time for dinner. You could probably cook dinner while you waited for this so-called pirate extraterrestrial to arrive. Sadly, you were no longer in the mood to make dinner. You could just order a pizza. Did they even eat pizza in space?

Your phone chimed, and after tapping the green icon to check your messages, you saw that you had received a new text from your friend and colleague Jaime, who was a highly qualified cardiothoracic surgeon. Due to the fact that you two worked so closely together on various urgent cases, it was inevitable that the two of you became great pals.

An appreciative smile formed at the corner of your mouth as you read Jaime’s message which reported that there was no code blue while she was on duty. This occurred once or twice a year, but it was always a cause for celebration. You typed out a few emoji’s before pressing send.

“Tulip, run!” Mando bellowed from inside the house.

You glanced at him in confusion. Who was tulip, you thought sardonically until it dawned on you. Your mouth fell open in a hushed O. He never asked for your name and you never offered it.

So, he took it upon himself to nickname you your favorite flower? Interesting.

You ignored the sudden fluttering of your heart and the warm flush that danced across your skin.

The boisterous warbling of another spaceship captured your attention. Despite being smaller than Mando’s, it was distinctly louder. Just a few feet away from Mando's, it landed, and out stepped the most outlandish space pirate you've ever seen. It was the first alien pirate you'd ever seen, so there was that, but the entrance was very lackluster.

“Tulip, come to me now!” Mando barked, unholstering his weapon and beckoning for you to come back inside to where he and the kid were.

The space pirate spotted you immediately and made a beeline for you. Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you tucked tail and ran back inside.

Running from a goddamn space pirate wasn’t on your 2023 bingo card.

#please like comment and share 🫶🏾#din darjin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x black reader #black reader #black reader insert #pe2023 #din djarin reader insert #din djarin x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader

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bruciemilf · 2 years

Text

ACTUALLY, you guys WILL listen to my Bruce & Officer Martinez brain rot because they have Peak " grumpy sunshine " and " asshole sunshine" dynamic and I'm not letting it go

Here's the thing about Jim Gordon; He has patience; He has tact. But he's also a petty shit, and God almighty, he WARNED Batman to stop his solo crime busting for extra dangerous cases

So yes; He gestures to Martinez, sugar cream on his moustache, files overfilling his arms. He tries to wave. They fall everywhere. ''This is your divine punishment "

"... Did you really just refer to Martinez as a punishment?"

" Honestly, I'm just happy to be included!"

Martinez is still SUPER sketchy about Batman, but of course he freaks out in the Batmobile; Yes, it's from the back-seat, but it still MATTERS, - " You know, my aunt is actually a mechanic, and-"

And that's the second thing Bruce writes about him in his profile journal; First thing being 'Talks too much.' Second is Family man.

But he actually listens to everything because it's comforting to know Gotham allows some love to survive.

And Bruce REFERENCES all stories. When they investigate different sources he's like " This is a professional dismemberment. We should ask your brother's opinion"

" My brother?" " I'd ask mine, but I don't have one." " No asshole I mean - you know my brother's a surgeon? You listen to me?" " I always listen."

FIGHTING OVER THE RADIO! GIVE IT TO ME! BECAUSE YOU JUST KNOWWWW BRUCE PLAYS THREE DAYS GRACE AND SKILLET AND MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

" you listen to this shit??? Unironically?? THIS is REAL music" and then-

" GIMME GIMME GIMME A MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT-"

And also a ton of Nicki Minaj. " PULL UP IN THE MONSTER AUTOMOBILE GANGSTA-"

Bruce almost rearranges his whole skeleton right there; Martinez eventually figures out that it's Bruce's special interest so he apologises, " I'm sorry I called you out on your terrible taste. We can listen to that Bridge song or whatever"

*shaking with rage* " It's. Not. Called. That."

Literally give me Martinez whining Bruce's ear off until they reach a drive through, and Bruce is just standing there like a STATUE

Martinez leveled up to front seats and is rubbing his hands together like a greedy gremlin, but Bruce does Not move. " Welcome to Bat Burger can I take your order? Hello?" And Bruce is just. Petrified

" Can I had- have, can I - um,"

" what was that?"

" ... Burger"

He pins Martinez face to headboard and makes him SWEAR he won't tell anyone about it but Martinez is too busy laughing his ass off

Martinez always talking about Bruce, - He gave my sister a job as a security guard after she got out of prison. Murdering her rapist, you know how it is

"... I don't, actually." " Well yeah, you grew up in the good part of town, probably" "There's no good part. Only good coincidences."

"... Oh yeah, you're DEFINETLY rich."

Martinez and Selina strangers to enemies, 500k words, slow burn.

Martinez is a dog boy and she's a cat girl. It was expected. She kicks his seat in the Batmobile and he readjusts his chair as LOW as possible just to annoy her

" Crazy cat lady KNOWS something. "

" Don't call her that."

" I don't have to, her smell does it for me, - wait. Are you... Are you HOT for her? SERIOUSLY?"

And so what if Bruce's fast feels hot under his cowl? " Now's not really the time for a jealous scene."

" Oh I'M not jealous, bro. She's in your pants, I'm your emergency contact and organ donor. We aren't even in the same highway."

" ...When did you do that?"

" We don't have time to talk about all that-"

Martinez super casually mentioning he knows Bruce's identity. " Thanks for your help, Mr. Wayne"

[SHOCKED SILENCE]

" How... How did you?"

" BRO. I'd know that jawline in death."

#bruce wayne #batman #the batman #batman 2022 #officer martinez #jim gordon #selina kyle #dc comics #dc #dcu #battinson #text #text post #headcanons #REBLOG THIS #(please)

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guess-my-next-obsession · 11 months

Text

Peña’s Anatomy, Chapter Sixteen:

pairing: surgeon au!javier peña x resident!reader (Lucky)

rating: M (talks of surgery, lying, brief angst/argument, talks of potential death/grief, fluffy fluffy fluffy ending)

wc: 3.1k

series masterlist | javi p masterlist

“Well, look who’s finally decided to hang out,” Steve drawled, flashing a smirk at Javier as he walked up to the booth his friend was sitting at in their favorite diner.

“Very funny,” Javi said, sitting down across from him. “I saw you yesterday morning, asshole.”

“At work,” Steve corrected. “How long has it been since we hung out, just the two of us?”

Javi shook his head and laughed as their waitress came by to fill their cups with coffee. “I’ve got better things to do these days.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about the things y’all do from Connie,” Steve chuckled. “I’m just waitin’ for y’all to get over this horned up teenage puppy love shit and have a real fight.”

“We fight,” Javi defended. “Not very much, but we do.”

“Yeah, well, ain’t gonna stay that way forever,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Like this whole Dallas trip. I expected that to take ya right out of the honeymoon and into reality.”

Javi squinted at him, trying to figure out what he could possibly know that he didn’t.

“What are you talking about? It’s a girls trip, why would I be mad?”

“Shit, she hasn’t told you? Connie’s gonna kill me for runnin’ my mouth—“

“Talk, Murphy,” Javi demanded, his eyes turning into daggers as he tried hard not to kill the messenger. With a sigh, Steve hung his head and gave in.

“They’re goin’ down there because Lorraine’s agreed to do the surgery on Mickey,” he said, watching as Javi’s eyes widened, his breath stilling for a moment before he stood up and fished out a bill to leave as a tip for the food he never got around to ordering. “Jav? Where the hell are you goin’?”

“I’m going to go call my girlfriend and ask her if she’s lost her mind,” he said, his jaw clenched as his brain forced him to overthink every possibility of how this procedure could go wrong.

He knew Lucky wasn’t stupid enough to believe that this surgery would end any other way than with her best friend dead on the table, her baby likely too premature to be spared. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, she still proceeded with this irresponsible plan and lied to him to assure he wouldn’t intervene.

How out of her mind was she?

It was a quick drive home with the way Javi was speeding and weaving through traffic, his heart pounding in his chest even as he stepped inside his home, disregarding McCartney to make a beeline for the landline that hung in his kitchen. Dialing up her hotel that she called him from the night prior—the memory of her lies about their plans for shopping and relaxing making his chest tighten all the more—he discovered from the woman at the front desk that she had left early this morning with her “pregnant friend”.

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming the phone against the receiver.

After gathering his wits a bit more, he decided there was only one thing to do. He needed to drive up to Dallas and be there for Lucky—after he did some yelling, of course—so that no matter the outcome, she’d have someone to carry the weight of her grief.

“Macca, you up for a little road trip?” Javi asked, squatting down to scratch behind the pup’s ears. “Come on, let’s go pack.”

“Alright,” you took a deep breath, squeezing Mickey’s hand as she laid on her gurney, prepped and ready for surgery. “This isn’t goodbye because you’re making it out. Alive.”

“Not entirely up to me,” she said.

“No,” Lorraine walked into the room in her scrubs, her hair out back in her scrub cap. “It’s up to me. And I’ve got this handled, alright? No goodbyes.”

You swallowed your dislike for her and offered her an appreciative smile before leaning down to hug Mickey in a rare display of affection.

“Love you, Mick.”

“Love you,” she said, rubbing your back. “But if something does happen—“

“Stop saying that—“

“If it does, and my baby survives…I want you to help Rich. I know he’s an ass—“

“Shh,” you shushed her, shaking your head and giving her a small smile. “Say something nice about him so that those aren’t your last words.”

“His dick is huge.”

“Gross, but there you go,” you laughed. “Alright, good luck. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Can’t wait to rub it in Peña’s face.”

“Excuse me,” Javi stood in front of the counter at the hotel you and Mickey were staying in, McCartney glued to his side with a tight leash.

“Hello, how can I help you, sir?”

“I don’t have a reservation or anything, but was hoping you had any rooms available?” he asked, his fingers dancing nervously against the wooden countertop as the young woman searched the system.

“Yes, it looks like we have a double and a king room, which would you like?”

“Uh, the king works,” he said, reaching into his back pocket to tug out his wallet.

“Javi?” His head whipped around at the sound of your voice, his heart pounding in his chest as you looked at him so nervously he thought you might faint. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

The woman behind the counter seemed to misconstrue the scene before her as something more scandalous than it was, her throat clearing as she asked Javier whether or not he’d still like a room.

“No, he’s with me,” you said, meeting him halfway across the space between you. Dropping down, you gave your pup a couple gentle scratches before standing up and looking into Javi’s eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I know,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he watched you try and play clueless. Using your name, an occurrence that was so rare it almost knocked you on your ass, he tipped his head towards the elevator. “Come on, let’s go talk.”

“Jav—“

“No,” he shook his head, his jaw clenching as he avoided your eyes and walked forward to the elevator. Once the two of you were inside and left alone, he shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “You lied to me. You never lie to me.”

“I know,” you sighed, feeling your pulse throb in your neck. “I just…I knew—“

“You knew I’d fucking stop it,” he snapped, shooting you a stern glare. “Because that’s what a responsible care provider would fucking do.”

“Lorraine says—“

“Lorraine has a fucking ego and is determined to get published, even if it means her mortality rate takes a fucking hit,” he seethed, looking away from you. “God, how fucking stupid—“

“Javi,” you scolded, hurt by his words and tone. “Believe it or not, I do not make Mickey’s decisions. She is a grown woman who set this up on her own and did her own fucking decision making. Not me.”

“No, you just lied to your boyfriend about it.” Scoffing, you shook your head and faced forward as the doors opened up to your floor. You headed out first, Javi and McCartney following behind down the long, silent hallway until you were unlocking your room.

“I lied because there is an ego involved here, but I’m not sure it’s Lorraine’s.”

“Me? You think I’m pissed off because it’s not me doing the surgery?” he snapped before letting McCartney off his leash so he could roam around the room. “I don’t give a fuck who does the surgery! I care about—“ He let out a huff of frustration as he took in your meek stature, the guilt in your eyes as well as the worry. Softening his stern expression, he walked over to the foot of the bed and sat down with his head in his hands. “I care about you.”

“I have nothing to do with this—“

“The fuck you don’t,” he said, turning to look at you as you sat down beside him. “You’ve lost so much already. I don’t…this will ruin you, and that will ruin me.”

You swallowed every comeback and argument you had prepared as you saw the tremble in his hands, the frantic anxiety in his eyes. Reaching your hand over, you rubbed his back and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“I didn’t come here to fight. I came here because if this goes the way I think it will—and god, I hope I’m wrong—I needed to be here for you so that you…so that you didn’t do anything, I don’t know…permanent.”

“Jav.” You moved to stand in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks as you lifted his eyes to meet yours. “Jav, I’m worried. I’m so worried. But I would never, ever, leave you alone in this world. Do you hear me? Never.”

Javi nodded, his eyes batting shut as your thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “I know, I just…I worry so much about you. It’s all I fucking do. And this…it’s so fucking risky.”

“But it’s her only shot at more time,” you said, moving to sit on his lap. “And I’m selfish and I want more time with her. I…want her to stay around. I want to believe that this will work out, that I’ll get to see her become a mom and live a long, happy life. And I know I fucked up by lying to you, but…I just didn’t want to hear how unlikely it was that any of that would happen from you again.”

“She’s in surgery?” he asked, pressing his lips against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I just came back because I forgot my book.”

“Well,” he turned to look at McCartney. “You gonna be good and hold down the fort, kid?”

“Did you even bring his—“

“Food, toys, blanket? All in my bag.” Tapping your hip, he let you climb off his lap before walking over to get everything set up for McCartney while you looked on with adoring eyes. “Alright, Macca. M’trusting you to not bark, okay?”

“You don’t have to wait with me at the hospital,” you said, packing your book in your bag. “It’s going to be brutal.”

“No, I’m gonna be there with you, good or bad,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take. You smiled, slipping your palm against his and allowing him to tug you into his arms for a tight hug, his lips pressed to the side of your head. “I love you, Lucky, but please don’t lie to me again. I want us to stay honest with each other, because when we’re honest, we don’t fight. Everytime one of us lies, the shit hits the fan.”

“I know, you’re right,” you sighed, squeezing him tighter. “No more lying.”

After a long day of waiting, Lorraine finally came out to update you and Javi on the surgery, waking you up from the nap you were taking on Javi’s lap.

“Everything went perfectly,” she said, ignoring Javi as he sat reading beside you, the two of them seemingly content with pretending the other didn’t exist. “I was able to remove the entire thing, but I’m sure you’re aware that we won’t know the real state of things until she wakes up.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice laced with exhaustion as you wiped your eyes. “Do you have any guess as to when she’ll be awake?”

“We’re going to keep her asleep and resting throughout the night, so if everything goes as expected, she’ll be awake in time for visitors tomorrow morning,” she said, flickering her eyes to Javi. “You know, I’m surprised you’re being so silent.”

“You know the risks,” he said flatly, not looking up at her as he turned the page of his book.

“And you have nothing to say?” she asked, causing Javi to sigh.

“No,” he shrugged, meeting her eyes. “As long as you did your job well and saved our friend's life…I don’t care.”

You felt a smile growing on your face at his growth over the course of just a few months and pride swelling in your chest at his ability to brush off her taunting with maturity.

“Well,” she said, standing up and looking at you. “I’ll, uh, page you if there’s anything that comes up. Otherwise, I’d urge you to go back to your hotel and get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be quite a big day for Dr. Brown, she’ll need all the support she can get.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching her walk off before turning to Javi. “It worked, Javi. It really worked.”

“We don’t know that,” he started, but quickly reeled in his negativity. “You know what? You’re right. The surgery worked, that alone is a success. Everything else…is just a matter of support.”

“Thank you,” you gave him an adoring frown as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m so glad you came down here. I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep tonight if it wasn’t for you being here.”

“Anytime you need me, anywhere, for anything, I will be there,” he said, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing. “Things are easier for both of us when we’re together.”

“I want it to always be like this,” you said, hugging his arm and resting his head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry I almost fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” he assured, kissing the crown of your head. “I was planning on giving you the silent treatment for a while, but never even considered not being with you. It would take a lot more than taking your friend to a life saving surgery to get me to leave you, and even then, I’m not sure I could stay away.”

Smiling you lifted your head to kiss his cheek again, so full of love and admiration for him that you nearly ached.

“I love you, Lucky,” he said, meeting your eyes. “Let’s go get some sleep, huh? Maybe blow off a little steam?”

Chuckling, you nodded your head and allowed him to pull you out of your seat, tucking yourself beneath his arm.

“Love you more, Dr. Daddy.”

After stuffing yourselves to the brim with tacos and taking McCartney out for a long walk after dark at a wonderfully landscaped park that looped around a shimmering lake, you and Javi found yourselves cuddled up in bed, too tired to do anything but cuddle while the hotel TV played Happy Days reruns.

“You’re kind of Fonzie-esque,” you noted, hearing him chuckle, his laugh puffing against the top of your head as it rested against his chest.

“Shut up,” he said, his tone light with amusement.

“Oh, he denies it,” you mumbled to yourself, earning another laugh. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find that a young Javi stayed up watching this shit, hoping one day he’d be as cool as the Fonz.”

“Did my dad tell you that?” he asked with an embarrassed lilt to his voice, making your head lift so that you could meet his eyes.

“Oh my god, did I guess right?” Javi blushed and shrugged, failing to conceal his bashfulness. “Javi Fonzarelli Peña.”

Rolling you onto your back, he slotted his hips between yours and propped himself up on his hands, staring down at you with a dimpled smile.

“You know, since we’re being honest now, I guess there has been something I’ve been keeping from you,” he said, watching as your eyebrows laced together. “You know how I said I never wanted to get married, have kids, all that shit?” You nodded, feeling your chest tighten with a mixture of hope, affection, and worry at what he’d say next. “I guess I haven’t been lying, because it doesn’t…before you, I certainly didn’t want to, and even now, if you didn’t want those things, I’d be okay with it. But…every time I look at you lately, all I can think about is spending my life with you, having a kid with you if the time is right, building a family—“

“Javi—“

“And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to pressure you into anything, because I know that having a kid is an entirely different ballgame for you than it is for me, so whatever you want to do,” he said, interrupting your second attempt at speaking with a soft kiss. “But I wouldn’t be honest if I said the thought of you and I having a family at some point hasn’t been stuck inside my head ever since my cousin’s wedding.”

Smiling, you reached a hand up to cup his face, your fingers lightly scratching at his beard.

“I never thought I’d want any of that,” you said, watching as he swallowed his feelings down and nodded. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t daydreamed about all of that, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice cracking with vulnerability.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling your smile grow even wider at the sight of his dimples showing. “And while I can’t promise you a kid or anything yet, I can promise you that if you ever asked me to marry you, I’d say yes.”

Javi grinned as he leaned in to kiss you slowly, his hands roaming up and down the side of your body before he pulled away just enough to mumble against your lips.

“Marry me,” he said, making you laugh.

“No.”

“But you promised—“

“I did, but I also think I deserve an actual proposal with a ring and all that,” you said, kissing him. “Don’t you think?”

“I do,” he smiled, nuzzling his nose against yours. “What kind of ring do you want, then? Something big?”

“No, I’ve already got something big,” you giggled, rolling him onto his back to straddle his hips before running your palm over his bulge just to feel it swell. “I want something simple, something you pick out because it makes you think of me.”

“Mmkay,” he hummed as you leaned over to kiss him. “I’ll get to work on planning, then.”

“And it better be a surprise,” you added with a smile.

“Well, you can’t go snooping around then,” he countered. “Gotta let me plan in peace without sticking your nose in my business.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, holding his pinky out. “No snooping and no spoiling the surprise.”

“No snooping and no spoiling the surprise,” you promised with a smitten smile. “I love you, Javier. Seriously.”

“And I love you,” he said your name. “Seriously.”

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 11 months

Text

Remedy

Pairing: Modern!Surgeon!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: hospital, injuries, Jace and Aemonds rivalry, fluff

Summary: To everyone's relief you wake up.

Part 2/9

Series Masterlist

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You woke up the next morning in an unknown room. You wanted to sit up but a nurse stopped you. “No, sweety. You are going to tear your stiches. Here have a cuppa water.” She held out a paper cup of water to me. I took it and emptied in one go. She cooed at me. “Poor you.”

A doctor came in. He had long, platin blonde hair. His jaw was sharp. His blue irises looked lilac in this light. His thin lips pulled in a soft smirk. “Welcome to the waking world.” He walked closer, taking the chard from the end of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

You scoff out a chuckle, “Like I have rolled down a mountain and then hit a truck.” Aemond smirked at your description and wrote something down. “Understandable. You fell off your bike and rolled down a cliff before crashing into a tree. I call that very lucky.”

He walked over to the side of the bed. “I want to personally inspect your stitching. One of my students made it and I want to give her feedback.” You nod before pulling up your hospital shirt. Carefully Aemond pulled the bandage away and looked at the stich. He nodded before he redressed the wound.

“You gonna give your student a hard time?” Aemond chuckled. “Maybe. I like to push them a little to become better. But she doesn’t need to. This is perfect. I t my even scar minimally.” You nod. “Can you tell her thank you from me?” Aemond nodded, he wrote further notes down before he stood in front of your bed. “Well, the next step after the stitching healed will be you learning to walk on crutches before rehab. In about a week you will be out of here but still on bedrest.” You nod slowly.

Aemond nods before he walks out. What an odd character!

Baela comes rushing in. Tears fall from her eyes and run down her cheeks. “Oh by the gods, you are alive!” She gingerly hugged you before sitting down and taking your hand. “I was so scared. When Luke called he found you. I thought you-“ A sob cursed through her body. Jace hugged her shoulders to reassure her. You squeezed her hand with a lot of pressure.

“Luke and I shouldn’t have taken you mountain biking. We did it since we were little kids. You drive with your bike in the city to go from point A to point B and you only drove a baby parkour once. I am sorry I pushed you to come with us.”

Before you could answer Jace, a scoff came from the door. “Of course, you did it again.” Jace turned to the voice and glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jace became defensive which made his girlfriend rigid. “Jace, not in the hospital!” Jace didn’t listen. “What do you mean, doctor.” He hissed out Aemond’s title with a lot of venoms. Aemond smirked with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Well, I don’t know if you have become blind. But I have a protistic eye because of a similar accident like this. And you also were greatly involved.”

Jace’s face was red. Before he could do anything a nurse entered. She asked for a minute of Aemond’s time. They stepped out and spoke softly over a chart. The nurse nodded before rushing off. Aemond re-entered the room. “If you excuse me. I need to see the stitching of my patient.”

He walked over to your side and took another look at your stomach before redressing it. You saw his good eye move around. You were caught staring at him. He smirked before standing to his full height again. “Anything not feeling normal?” I shook my head, “Everything feels for the circumstances well. Thanks, doc!” Aemond nodded. “I have to go. I have another surgery in an hour.” He nodded at Baela and walked out of the room. Jace scoffed, “Asshole.” Baela hit him, “You are no better!”

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just-a-strange-boy · 1 year

Text

boiling tempers

He might be an excellent neurosurgeon and your colleague, but Stephen Strange has the talent of winding you up like no other person can. After a surgery nearly goes wrong, you finally clash.

Pairing: Surgeon!Stephen Strange x Male Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), hate sex, rough sex, unprotected, semi-public, mature language, one act of physical violence, mentions of surgery, Stephen being an asshole

A/N: we all feel some type of way about surgeon strange, don't we?

There was not a single human being that annoyed you more than Doctor Stephen fucking Strange.

Maybe it was his stupidly smug face, the cold look of superiority he tended to wear, trying to convince everyone that yeah, he was the best neurosurgeon and yeah, he did perform miracles on the human nervous system and no, your disease just simply wasn't good enough to be treated by him.

Maybe it was his arrogance, the way he put himself above the rest of the hospital staff, his dismissive stance on cases that were not challenging and therefore not deserving of being put on his surgical records.

Perhaps it was the way he talked down to other nurses and doctors alike, the way he never even spared as much as a glance or a tight-lipped “Hello” when crossing familiar faces in the hallway, going along his day like there was no other as good as Stephen Strange.

It irked you that you couldn't even deny him all of the fame and praise he earned, considering the fact that he was actually the best neurosurgeon the country could offer and he did damn good work.

That also unfortunately ensured him the top spot at the Metro General, which was the perfect opportunity to be an absolute dick to others and most turned a blind eye at his behavior.

The directors board of the hospital was most pleased to have Strange as their top neurosurgeon – any hospital would have – but that likely had to do with his abilities and definitely not with his personality. Doctors, students and nurses were in adoration of his surgical skills, marveling how Strange spoke about his work and how passionate he was about taking on cases (if worthy of his attention), and of course mooning over his looks.

Though did anyone of them possibly think he was a great person?

He was a great surgeon, sure. You could admit to that. You had quite a bit of respect for the work he did, unmatched in his capability and passion. An excellent, fast and hard working doctor, definitely admirable for his accomplishments, truly someone to look up to – for as long as he was in his scrubs in the OR, fingers busy with reattaching nerves or scrambling around in other people's brains.

The one and only Doctor Strange sure messed with your brain too.

If that weren't already enough... being around him was simply unavoidable.

Because the doctor was not only head neurosurgeon, making you – after years of studying, going through multiple exams and with a good eight years of work experience under your belt, now a perfectly capable surgical assistant – his stepping rug on every opportunity. No, he also happened to be a friend of Christine's.

How she had come to find someone like Strange even bearable in the first place was a huge mystery to you.

When you had first started at the Metro as a surgical assistant, working alongside resident doctors day by day, Christine had been one of your first good friends here and you quickly learned of her admittedly very silly crush on Stephen Strange.

You had heard more than enough about it. The way he had denied any of her advances straight away. How he had downright refusing to date her, up until the point that she had finally decided to put an end to trying and accepted they were never going to be anything besides friends.

Friendship seemed to work just fine for them. She still continued to spend time with him on the regular, plenty even, and you never really understood why. Her connection to the neurosurgeon was by all means strange – having asked times and times again what she might gain out of it, Christine never really went into detail why she was enduring the way he was. And god forbid, why she was even caring for him in this way.

Who knew what kind of secret Strange was hiding that made him actually likable in her eyes? Whatever it was, Christine kept it to herself. All she ever said was "He's not that bad when you get to know him."

You sure as hell didn't want to get to know him any more than you already did.

It was worse enough that you had to see him all the time.

He was in Christine's presence constantly – loitering around her office whenever they had a second of time to spare or interfering in lunch breaks and conversations you had meant to have with her. Of course, they were colleagues and their shared work was commendable, so in some way it seemed like Strange counted a lot on her opinion – whether it was going over cases together, creating a new surgical procedure, bothering her with preparation for speeches or events.

There was not a day you didn't run into him at the hospital either. As to be expected, you mostly saw him in the OR, where you had to assist him because it was your job, where you had to do his bidding in order to ensure a successful surgery. You never let your opinion of Strange influence the way you worked with him, passing tools from hand to hand. If anything, you've learned plenty about neurosurgery and the surgeon himself in your time assisting him.

But being constantly put on the same shifts with Strange also meant you saw a lot more of him during an entire work week than you would have wanted to. All you got to see of him outside the OR was not convincing you to seek out even more of him.

Plus, you were pretty sure that Stephen Strange had no fucking interest in getting to know you either. He knew you were friends with Christine, he seemed to hold no grudge against you personally, had never complained about the times you worked together at the operating table, but he was as indifferent as he always was with others. Constantly referring to you by your last name. Tending to ignore you whenever you came across each other in Christine's presence. Certainly not going out of his way to be particularly nice to you.

Sometimes you understood.

Neurosurgery was nothing for the faint of heart.

They all took hours and hours in the OR sometimes, remaining up on their feet and concentrated for a really long time. Surgeries were challenging, nerve-wrecking, tiring. Emergencies were most stressful. Of course, everything had to be in place for the head surgeon right in time, everyone needed to be prepared for complications at the worst times, everyone needed to stay focused and ready for the surgeon's requirements.

That was the job you had signed up for and you didn't require Doctor Strange to use a kind tone in the OR. You didn't mind that he scoffed at his staff occasionally or that he wasn't thanking you for doing the basic assistant work.

What you minded was that Strange sometimes used others as a personal punching bag when something wasn't going right, making sure to point out everyone's mistakes, except his own of course.

And this had almost gone terribly wrong.

Though it was neither your teams nor the doctor's fault that the scans had failed to show the true expense of the tumor of your most recent patient, it was a certain someone's fault for wanting to make the impossible possible.

The entire surgical team had advised Stephen Strange not to do it, to not even try to touch that tumor after opening the patient up, but he had been so convinced of his surgical skills that he tried it anyways, wanting to please his own god complex like he just loved to do.

Only a couple of minutes later, though working with a calm and steady hand as usual, he had to calmly admit to his personal mistake and stopped whatever he had planned in his genius mind when he noticed he had underestimated that tumor, having unfortunately triggered some hemorrhage that disabled him to keep on operating. Instead of a resection, he now had to opt for clipping the bleeding, which was a difficult and stressful change of action for the lot of them – not impossible, but looking at the great schemes of things preventable, had he listened.

The team had barely managed to stabilize the patient's condition after he had done his best to fix the mistake.

You could tell that Strange was in a sour mood, his inflated ego having taken quite the damage after realizing that playing god didn't work out for him so well sometimes and needing to admit his personal failure, while he was closing the patient up again, tumor remaining in place.

Even so, you thought he should count himself lucky and were thoroughly relieved that him acting out had not taken this man's life. But you bit your tongue, not wanting to drop a negative comment about what had happened to the surgeon himself, who was already tense and on edge from his failed attempt.

Instead you had decided to say something nice, whatever had made you get this idea.

"I've never seen such a massive tumor. It would have taken hours of preparation to even ensure a partial resection. Let alone a miracle to get rid of it entirely", you so casually mentioned to the doctor as you were getting changed side by side like so often, the only two remaining in the locker room.

You were hardly ever chatty around him, neither was he with you. And yeah, you were very aware he could get nasty in one of his moods, so perhaps opening your mouth to him now wasn't a smart decision. However, you were a fairly decent person, his colleague, showing sympathy when it was due, and you were under the impression that he could use a kind word.

Stephen Strange was arrogant and a downright asshole sometimes, but only human – and like any other person he had made a mistake, a lapse of judgment. While it shouldn't have happened in the OR or almost cost a person's life, there was no way of turning time back to prevent it. He had owned up to it by admitting his defeat and would carry the possible consequences.

"It was the right decision to stop. A good decision. You did what you could. Going on would have been too big of a risk and I'm glad you managed to clip it entirely."

Strange grumbled a little, seemingly ignoring your comment at first and wordlessly slipping out of his scrubs to reveal a sight you knew all too well for getting undressed in the same room quite regularly.

And dear lord, the sight of him only.

You were too defeated after the chaos in the OR to keep yourself from looking. Wasn't it annoying how good he looked too? As much as you hated his smug face, he was a painfully attractive man. Taking good care of himself and his body, certainly fitting in the occasional work-out between shifts. What he lacked in personality, decency for one, this body made up.

Judging by looks alone, couldn't let your gaze wander too often or obvious, the man was likely sporting a big dick too – and to say the least, Strange might not have been very desirable when it came to character, but you were certain he would be a good fuck.

"Bleeding was horrid, yeah, but as I said... a partial resection still should have been possible. But for that I would need a team that backs me up when it gets critical and doesn't retreat when things seem a little more challenging", the surgeon eventually spoke, “Didn't help that everyone was so stressed out all of the sudden, threw me a little off guard.”

As soon as he had opened his mouth, every positive impression or thought you had ever harvested for him seemed to instantly leave the room, the building, the city and Earth itself. His enormous ego was once again infuriating you.

The audacity alone to claim what he had just said made you see red.

Everyone on your surgical team was used to Strange, he was used to all of you. You worked together well, hand in hand, especially when things were tough!

It wasn't any of your jobs to kiss his ass because it suited him better, and that very well included giving him counterpoints in the OR, in order to prevent him from pushing past the limits. Which he had done. Which would have gone wrong hadn't you all been there to assist him in undoing the mistake.

And yet he had just said that, convinced of his god-like ability, accusing your team was at fault, denying that he was fallible like any other human being.

While you had really meant to be nice to him and not to scratch his already vulnerable ego any further, that was one word too much.

Stephen Strange had the talent of winding you up like no one else could.

"With all respect, doctor, you can count yourself lucky that this man is still alive and didn't end up in the morgue like he almost did", you eventually snapped and it sure must have looked ridiculous: you in your underwear, furious with rage, significantly smaller than Strange himself, as you faced him.

No smug look on his face anymore, but a suddenly darkened expression, jaw tensing, his facial muscles twitching in annoyance, Strange went from zero to one-hundred real quick too.

"Watch your mouth", he snarled, sharply addressing you with your last name like he always did, though not looking any less ridiculous in his underwear. He stepped towards you with a somewhat threatening intention, obviously wanting to impose.

Strange was a broad man, healthy, strong, could have easily overpowered you. You noticed that his whole body had gone rigid with tension, fists clenched, muscles visibly tense, and on any other day you might have gladly allowed yourself to admire the sight, but not today.

You both kept your stances.

"Yeah, or what?", you spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm warning you here", Strange replied, the air between the two of you intense and heavy with both your frustrations. Any more tension and the air might have cracked under the pressure. "Don't push it, boy. Only because you're Christine's friend doesn't mean I won't get you into serious trouble with the board."

"Threatening me now, doctor? Oh, you must really think you're so untouchable, don't you?", you snarled right back at him, almost butting heads together, so close to one another like never before, only a sliver away from actually touching.

"I'm just saying it how it is. You're a huge asshole, never able to look past your own arrogance, and you'd know how much people actually despised you if you looked left and right sometimes."

"And you're an insolent and incompetent brat. This behavior is entirely unprofessional", Strange spewed, anger and frustration glowing in his eyes, written all over his face, "and I will make sure you're going to regret this."

"You're not any better, Strange", you spoke with sheer despise and must have looked just as frustrated, facing him like this, not backing down, absolutely enraged by his stupid threats and the simple overestimation of his own person.

Brows furrowed, nostrils blowing furiously, so up in each others personal space that you felt his warm, heavy breath on him, standing there in nothing but your underwear, bodies tense with every single second and then... all hell broke loose.

Strange took another step forward, grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you backwards into the lockers, with a little more force than you had initially expected. The sudden impact made you groan in pain, your back colliding with the cold metal doors, as the other man now held you wedged between them and him.

Your heart leaped in your chest, your breath hitched for a moment. Because you hadn't expected this form of aggressiveness from him, the sheer dominance, getting so physical when it could get him in serious trouble to assault someone in such a way, even as a doctor. Especially as a doctor.

But facing him like this, it wasn't fear that surged through your body. No, definitely not fear. It turned you on.

"Fuck you", you just said, trying to push back and shove him away, slamming the flats of your palms against his pecs. Though when you noticed that you had no way of escaping, Strange's hot and tense body keeping you trapped, him being so much stronger than you were, your brain simply short-circuited.

Instead of struggling against him further, you leaned towards him and clashed your mouths together in a whim, immediately thinking to yourself that whatever you were doing right was really foolish.

You would have expected anything from this unpredictable man, being shoved to the side, being called slurs, perhaps even being truly physically hurt after doing something so ridiculously stupid – but all the doctor did, while seemingly surprised by the action, was pressing his mouth right back onto yours, almost hungrily, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

Strange was responding to your attempt of a kiss, the both of you pouring all of your sheer anger into it. Teeth clashing and biting, tongues plundering each others mouths, he kept you pressed up against the locker with all of his body, his hands holding you in place, nudging his thigh between your legs which definitely added onto your undeniable arousal.

"You're terrible and I hate you", you groaned against his lips once gasping for air, though wasting no time to pull him in close again, hand sliding into the doctor's hair as you tugged hard on it, the other finding his upper back, fingers digging into his shoulders to a point where you knew it was likely going to hurt him.

You were hoping it would leave stinging marks for him to remember this.

"Feeling's mutual", Strange hissed into the kiss, thigh pressing further into your growing hardness, holding onto your waist with a firm grip, fingers digging into your skin so tightly that you almost hoped they would bruise you too.

"Look at you, like a little slut, getting all hard and desperate when someone treats you like deserve it", he continued on, the low gravel of his voice sending shivers up your spine, the bite of his harsh words even more so sparking your arousal.

"Yeah, as if you're not into it", you replied immediately, knowing that Strange was hard too, feeling him pressed up against your leg. Something within you screamed to be taken apart right here, like this, wanted the doctor to use you, to fuck the frustration right out of the both of you. You had no idea why that sounded like such a good idea.

"Why not be a man of your word and put me in my place?", you asked quietly, suggestively, kissing him hard once again, catching his lip between your teeth and biting down, earning yourself a scowl.

When Strange pulled away, you could make out his dark pupils dilating in those icy blue eyes, a gaze full of lust, his lips parted with heavy breaths seeping through, red and swollen.

He didn't reply anything and let go for a moment to grab you hard by the shoulders again, urging you to turn around. You could hardly stop yourself from being shoved into the lockers again, bracing yourself up against them with your hands, back arched, displaying your ass to him quite nicely.

“Remember you asked for it”, he growled then, seeming amenable to give you what you what, pushing his hips into yours. Now you could definitely feel that Strange was hard, pressing up against the curve of your ass.

You reveled in the feeling for a moment, fearing that it might be gone in the blink of an eye, but something told you he wasn't going to let it go now. He wouldn't back down, not after this amount of disrespect.

As it happened to be, without a single precaution, he nearly ripped your underwear off you, leaving you entirely bare and in anticipation of whatever he was going to do to next. You were shuddering, the cold of the room brushing over your body, goosebumps forming, but remained standing steady even as the doctor's hands returned to you.

Skilled surgeons hands, kneading your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, as fingers delved between them, brushing over your needy hole. Even just the touch made your breath hitch, feeling his fingertips circling the sensitive ring of muscles, and god, your cock was already stirring in interest, leaking a pathetic trickle of precum.

How was he turning you on this much?

"Do you have any idea how much you rile me up all the fucking time? How often you make me want to bend you over the operating table? How much I want to teach you a lesson whenever you're getting snappy in the OR? You're such a damn brat, it makes me wanna do all kinds of things to you", Strange mewled into your ear, kissing the spot behind it, moving down to suck hard on your neck again, bruising you, biting you, “I bet you'll look so pretty on my cock. Gonna fuck you raw, would you like that?”

"You owe it to me, Strange", you moaned, surprised by his words. Him? Riled up by you? Wanting to bend him over? Wanting to discipline him? For how long had he been having these fantasies?

He didn't leave you much time to go on wondering. You heard the man spit then, feeling a trickle of wetness being spread around your hole, a single digit easing into you, accompanied by the slight burn of the stretch, though not unfamiliar.

Would have been better with preparation, but this would do. You would let him fuck you like this.

"I knew you were gonna be a real cockslut", the doctor mused but seemed to be a man of his word, spreading more of his spit over your hole, working you open with precise movements, like one would expect from someone with such skilled hands. Two fingers in, you couldn't have cared any less if anyone found the two of you like this. You were gone and beyond as those fingers found your sweet spot, their intrusion leaving a nice burning stretch, then brushing over your prostate, making your cock jolt in response, a moan slipping passed your lips.

"Gosh, can't you just fuck me already?", you begged, thighs already shaking from the stimulation, especially the way he seemed so keen on prodding your prostate all over again.

"Oh, we're getting there and I'll make sure you'll remember it well", Strange growled at you, pulling his fingers back, "Gonna make you feel me all night, all day, all week. Every time you get in here, every time you see me in the OR, you'll think of this.”

It sounded more like a promise than a threat though. You just knew Strange would fuck you unforgettably well. It wouldn't matter how rough or angry it would be, and you craved to feel it all week, even just as a reminder that you had fucked Stephen Strange, out of all people.

"Stop talking so much", you bit back, feeling the tip of the doctor's cock gently nudging your hole, smearing more spit and his own precum all over you, before finally pushing in, the intrusion of his impressive length making you gasp.

The long-awaited stretch of a cock inside of you was sudden and damn, Strange was filling you out good, to the point where you certainly needed a moment to adjust to all his girth and might, finding it hard to breathe.

Balling your hands into fists, you took deep breaths through your nose, but pressed back into him, making sure to allow all of the man in. “G-god, knew you'd have a huge cock”, you huffed out, eyes squeezed shut, knowing that it would do nothing but stroke his ego. However you just didn't care about the size of it anymore now that he was fully sheathed inside of you, leaving you rather focused on the size of something else.

"Fuck, you're damn tight", the doctor groaned, stilling inside of you for a moment, noticing that you needed the time to get used to him, which was in some way almost kind. His large, precise hands came to rest on your waist, holding onto you, absentmindedly stroking the skin there.

"Already regretting this?", he mocked, fingers squeezing into the softness of your flesh, but didn't start moving yet.

"No", you huffed, unashamed to add the next comment as you deemed yourself more than ready, "And you should start moving before I get bored."

That certainly stirred up a fire in Strange again, though perhaps less out of anger and frustration, now shrouded with desire and lust and the challenge to make you feel all of him. He began moving painstakingly slow at first, pulling slightly back before thrusting into you without holding back, and then settled quickly on fucking you hard and deep, filling you out so perfectly, hitting that sweet spot within you immediately.

The two of you were soon enough in a complete trance, Strange's eager and hard thrusts, his cock stretching you out all over again, both of you moaning and groaning and panting heavily, your legs almost giving in as the rapid strokes sent a shudder through your entire body, the metal of the locker doors rattling under the sheer force of your coupling.

You couldn't focus on anything else than the waves of pleasure all through your body, the thought that you liked being used by Strange like this, how glad you were the anger and the frustration was fucked right out of you by the exact man who had riled you up like that in the first place. A man you riled up just as much, who had apparently waited to put you into your place for a long time now.

The grip on your hips was bruising, Strange's mouth must have left marks all over your neck, your shoulders, your upper back, as he kept on latching onto you everywhere he could reach – and you would most certainly feel the sting of being stretched out so wonderfully whenever you would try to sit down the next few days. You found it harder and harder to keep yourself upright, still bracing yourself against the lockers.

As you could feel your orgasm beginning to hit hard, crawling up your spine, white hot flashes etching in your brain, you quickly reached down to grab your painfully hard cock, tugging on yourself as the hard thrusts into you sent you over the edge, your hole clenching around the man's length, eager to keep him in place, trapping him inside of you.

Strange made an ungodly noise as you tightened around him, slumping forwards against your back and coming to his own undoing. With his head coming to rest on shoulder, cock buried within you to the hilt, he spilled himself inside of you, holding onto you as both your orgasms completely ruled over you.

It took you a while to come down from that high. The rush of passion and adrenaline had long passed, your head found some clearance again.

You sighed loudly, breathing hard, sweaty and definitely in need of a shower now. There was a distinctive ache in your body and you grew awfully aware he was still inside of you.

Strange's arm came around your middle and he simply held onto you instead of drawing away. You almost found yourself a little puzzled when the man nuzzled your neck, placing an almost gentle kiss on it, and even more so by the way you weren't fully disliking his embrace.

He asked you an odd question then too. You hadn't expected it. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah... yeah, I think I am", you answered after a moment of silence, only now noticing the mess you had made, your own cum having spurted onto one of the lockers, on the floor, covering your hand too. Even though you were sticky and kinda sore, it made you grin. He'd sure fucked you good.

You were definitely going to feel the burn for days to come and would not forget about your interaction any time soon. You sure hoped that neither would he.

"Are you?", you asked him, not even knowing why you were trying to respond with the same kindness. It didn't match the situation at all, didn't match the smell of sex hanging in the air, didn't match the fact you had literally just fucked your frustration out of each other, the argument entirely dissolved – for Lord's sake, you could feel his cum trickling down your thighs, once Strange eased his hold and pulled out of you, and yet you were chatting each other up so casually.

"More than", the doctor admitted, "I think we settled that argument at least."

You wriggled out of his grip, turning around in his arms, facing the man that now seemed a lot more relaxed and calm, not angry or upset anymore in the slightest, though just as messy and disheveled as yourself.

The tension had just been whiffed away.

"We did", you mused, oddly talkative after just getting your brain fucked out.

You pondered whether to say something else, whether to just shut up and go your ways, whether to confront him about what had just happened and what it would mean for the two of you.

He was still looking at you, questioning, perhaps even waiting for you to add something. So after a slight pause, you did.

"What happened in the OR today was unfortunate. What you said made me angry and sure, you're an arrogant asshole and I don't agree with the things you do sometimes. I get annoyed by you on the regular, but I didn't actually mean it when I said that I hate you. If anything, I'm kind of surprised by you.”

“Why, didn't think I'd dare to fuck you?”, Strange chuckled, probably unsure what you were meaning to tell him – you didn't quite know yourself – and no longer looked at you in disapproval, but like he was in good spirits. There was this cockiness to him again, something to usually disliked, though in the afterglow it more so wanted to make you smile.

“Well yeah”, you shrugged, “Didn't think you'd be interested.”

“I was pissed off after fucking up and then of course it had to be you approaching me. So as I've said... I've been feeling some type of way about you before. I shouldn't have said you're incompetent, because you're not. I find you irritating and annoying. You are a brat, no doubt, and I've wanted to fuck that out of you for a long time. Didn't think you'd let me, especially not that way. It was kinda hot", he replied nonchalantly, bending down to pick up both your underwear from the ground, handing yours over.

“So you're saying you're actually into me?”

“I said I wanted to put you in your place and fuck you, which I just did. But maybe, just maybe, Christine is right after all and I should get to know you."

"Funny. She told me the same thing", you responded, opening your locker to grab a towel and the bag with toiletries, thinking that you would now definitely have to hit the showers, needing to get rid of all your traces, at least the once you could get rid of. Your skin was stinging was his marks and you sure were sore. But damn, hadn't that been just worth it.

It was weird to suddenly see Strange in such a different light.

"Well, considering she might have a point, we cleared the air, we both know the sex will be good... maybe we could go for a coffee sometime?", he asked, picking his own stuff from the locker.

"Asking me on a date now, Doctor Strange?", you wondered, looking him over in all his naked glory and musing whether it would really be a good idea to get to know him beyond the OR, not quite knowing where the change of heart came from all of the sudden. Couldn't have just been the sex, could it?

You had always felt some type of way about Stephen Strange. It usually hadn't been very positive and it didn't help you faced a bunch of conflicting feelings now, not knowing what to make of this.

He would certainly make for another good fuck, you had no doubts about that, and it would be worth it, if going for a coffee together meant getting to fuck him in a proper bed some day. Strange would certainly still make you mad and put you off plenty of times, especially with his attitude and all, but as had been proven today, it definitely ensured some hot sex.

Could it be more than just sex one day? Maybe it was a bit too early to think about that.

"Would it be that weird if I was? I already fucked you, so I might as well go on a coffee date with you", Strange shrugged, looking you over in return, eyes raking over you like he could have devoured you another time right there, right then.

"Look at you being all chivalrous. Do you even know my first name, doctor?", you couldn't repress the cheeky question.

"Don't be silly, I can read a name tag. Though I think, brat suits you just fine", the older man stated, giving you a wink and a cocky smile, before throwing the towel over his shoulder and heading off to the bathroom.

Stephen Strange sure was a man to behold.

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