#'house when wilson gets a cold'

[landofgay]

house MD voice: if it's in his lungs, it's in his asshole. get me a biopsy of his penis.

[thepandalion]

I need you guys to remind me when it's morning that I want to make a post for pinned post that actually. Does stuff. Like explain my sideblogs and ongoing projects.

Also entirely relevant in the meantime any house md fans plz send me ideas for things to write for the werewolf wilson au (currently named the www.au in my brain for ease of access) because I got a great name for a fic and I want to make it a oneshot collection because I don't have those as a skill yet and what better way to polish a skill than with a fandom I'm dubiously and cautiously entering at 45 minutes after my bedtime on a weekend

[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 1 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (I will be adding more and tag the Masterlist) Thank you @hellishjoel for putting on this contest. It's a lot of fun!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: Roughly 5000

Warning: Dilfy smut, age gap (23 & 42)

Mid-June, 2024. The first summer back home upon college graduation. You knew there would be an adjustment period and while you didn't necessarily feel unhappy, there was a strangeness that left you with feelings you couldn't quite pinpoint. This was your childhood home, your hometown, your room - but still, somehow it felt foreign.

You hung up the maroon cap and gown that showed off the primary color of Texas A+M, the college where you had spent the last four years studying your ass off to get a degree in criminal justice. At twenty-three years old after spending the last few years in a little off-campus apartment with some friends, you were feeling both aggravated and nostalgic upon returning to your parents' house in the suburbs. They were great and you got along just fine; but the freedoms that had gone along with renting your own place were now reeled in a bit tighter. At the very least you knew your mother would likely stay awake on the nights you were out late. Still, you appreciated how much they cared about you.

You moved to your bedroom window and flung it open to let in some air to get rid of the stuffiness that lingered in the house. Immediately, your eyes landed on a man next door standing behind a grill as smoke filtered up above him in a faint, little cloud. He flipped a burger with a pair of metal tongs and took a sip from what looked like a bottle of beer.

"Hey, honey."

You jumped at your mother's voice as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Hey." You pressed your eyebrows together and motioned out the window as she entered the room. "Who's that?"

"Oh, I guess it never came up in conversation," your mother said with a shrug, "That's our new neighbor. He moved in back in January."

You glanced back out the window.

"He’s a bit too old for you,” she teased with a laugh.

You whipped around and made a face. "I'm not... I'm not checking him out. I'm just asking why there's a stranger in the Wilsons' backyard." You smirked and raised your eyebrows, "Maybe if my mother told me things I wouldn't have to play detective."

"Isn't that what you got your degree in criminal justice for?"

You chuckled, knowing she would most certainly outwit you in a verbal battle. "And I'm 23 years old. No one's too old for me anymore."

"Well, in that case I hear they just built a nice, new nursing home down the road with plenty of widowed men. I can drive you there if you'd like."

You let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll pass."

The two of you giggled and your mother continued, "Will you be joining your father and I for dinner tonight? We were thinking of just going to Chili's and then heading to a play at the little theater downtown. The kids are putting on Grease."

You smiled as your phone vibrated with a text from your best friend. "It's Holly."

"So, I guess the answer is going to be no," your mother suspected. She smirked and got the hint. “Keep in touch.”

"Okay," you agreed and then cleared your throat when she turned to go. "Mom, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"The neighbor," you went on, "I should probably introduce myself since I'm going to be a resident of 45 Harding Drive again."

"Joel," her mother replied, "Joel Miller."

Your parents left soon after and so you wandered out to the back steps, waiting for them to take off first before popping open a beer. The ice cold beverage tasted better than normal because of the incoming summer heat that was supposed to really strike the following morning. With a content sigh, you leaned your elbows back on the top step of the set of four that led from the back door into the oversized backyard.

"Jennifer?" a deep, scratchy voice made you jump for the second time that night. You put a hand on your chest and glanced off to the side when you realized a man had called out your mother's name.

The neighbor, you thought, feeling your stomach knot up.

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet, leaving the beer on the top step. "No… I’m (Y/N)." You took a few steps in his direction though he made his way almost all the way to the steps.

"(Y/N)?" His features became clear when he stepped into a small, back light beside the door. The man flashed a friendly, boyish grin from beneath a trim beard. "Tim and Jen’s daughter?"

You looked down sheepishly and smiled before lifting your eyes to meet his stare. "Yeah."

He’s hot, your inner monologue informed you, as if your cheeks hadn't suddenly grown hot.

His eyes shifted to the beer and his grin widened even more before he extended a hand. "I'm Joel... your neighbor."

"Nice to meet you." You gave a closed-mouth smile and took in his appearance, consciously telling herself not to stare. His plain white t-shirt showed off his broad chest and shoulders

Joel cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you assured him and then cleared your throat, "Do you want a beer or something?"

A smirk twisted onto his face., "No thanks. I was actually just coming over to see if I could borrow some butter."

"Oh..." You glanced over your shoulder at the back door and then back to Joel.

"You don't have to," he said reassuringly, unable to keep the grin from his face. "You don't even know me yet so-"

"No.” You cut him off, "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Joel's voice cut through you like a knife and he kept his eyes firmly locked on yours.

You nodded, unable to look away for a moment and then waved him inside.

"Don't forget your brew here, honey." He reached down and scooped up the beer as you flung the back door open.

You smiled again, "Thanks."

Joel nodded and followed you in, before glancing around at the modest but modern kitchen. "You, uh... you even old enough to drink this shit?" He motioned to the beer.

You rolled your eyes, "I can show you my ID if that makes you feel any better." You flung open the refrigerator, "I know my parents are going to treat me like I'm in high school again."

"Well... they're just trying to protect you," Joel said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." You glanced over her shoulder at him, somewhat pleased to catch him staring - or so you thought. It prompted him to look elsewhere.

"Here." You removed a stick of butter and crossed the room to hand it to him. When the butter landed in his hand you decided to be bold and didn't immediately let it go, "How old are you?"

He chuckled before holding a wicked smirk and again held her captive with his playfully intense eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

You stared back, somewhat used to gaining control over the guys you had dated or been interested in in the past. Already, this time you felt a bit outmatched and part of it was your instant attraction to him. When Joel took one step in her direction, you swallowed hard and gave a random answer.

"Thirty-two?"

Joel laughed a little louder, putting a hand on his stomach. He ran the other hand through his messy brown hair and pointed. "You're so full of shit."

You smiled at him, "I was thinking more of thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

He sucked his teeth and gave you a look up-and-down before smiling wide again. When he didn't say anything in response you flat out asked, "Am I right?"

"Forty-two," Joel finally informed you after a long pause.

"Over the hill then?"

He snickered and then motioned to the fridge, "Ya know... I will have that beer if you don't mind."

You smiled before reopening the fridge to fetch one for him. When you placed a bottle of Bud Lite in his hand he used the counter to pop the top rather than twist it. When the dented bottle cap fell to the floor and danced in circles for a moment you glanced back up to find him continuing to stare as he took a long swig from the bottle.

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your dad going to notice that a few of these are missing?"

"They're mine," you informed him, "And I'm not-"

"A kid, I know..." Joel rolled his eyes now and the two of you shared a laugh, "Believe me when you're my age you'll love that someone will accuse you of being younger."

"I'm sure I will."

He reached down and scooped up the cap from the ground and then held it out in his palm. When you went to reach for it he closed his hand and smiled playfully.

"I'll take it," Joel offered, "Don't want you to get caught drinking these things when your parents come home." He continued to tease you about your age.

"You know, I could've guessed you were fifty."

He laughed out loud. "Smart mouth on you," Joel flashed his index finger at her with the hand that held the bottle, "I like it."

You looked down and laughed again, feeling your cheeks grow hot again from his remark.

"Anyway, I should be getting back." Joel continued to smile, almost triumphantly and winked. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too.”

He held your gaze for an extra second, forcing him to smirk a final time before heading out the back door.

"Thanks for the beer," he said casually, "I'll see ya around."

8:15 pm - the following evening

"Sorry I couldn't make it out last night," Holly said to you. The two of you sat side by side at barstools down at one of the local bars in town. "My boss can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"It's fine. I had the house to myself so I kind of just had some time to chill and binge watch some old shows."

"Sounds terrible."

You laughed and shrugged. "It was alright."

"Well, here's to... summer?" Holly raised her martini glass and you tapped her beer bottle gently against it.

"To potentially the weirdest summer of my life."

"Why's that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Being back home doesn't feel so 'at home' anymore."

"Give it time." Holly sipped her drink, "In a month it'll feel like you never left."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Jill and Molly should be home within the week too. We can get the old crew back together before we all get real jobs and have to do shitty adult stuff."

"I'll drink to that," you agreed, taking a longer swig of the beer. You sighed and began to peel at the blue Bud Lite label, letting your mind drift to the night before with Joel. You envisioned him snapping the cap off the top of the beer bottle, using the counter. A smile crossed lingered on your face.

"Ooohh... someone's checking us out," Holly commented, "Or maybe they know you..." Her eyebrows pressed together and she motioned using her head toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Oh shit." You couldn't contain your response but realized it must've sounded out of place.

"What?" Her friend asked, "Do you know him?"

"That's my neighbor," you informed her, "New neighbor."

Joel smirked and gave a wave but quickly entertained a conversation he was having with two other men at the small, corner table.

"He's kind of a Dilf."

You snickered and shrugged, unable to take your eyes off of him. When Joel glanced back in your direction you looked away and quickly took a sip of your.

"You think he's hot," Holly suspected with a laugh.

"What?" You shook your head, "No... I mean he may have some Dilf qualities or something like you just said but…” The sentence drifted off.

"Mm-hmm..." She continued to stare at her friend with playfully accusing eyes.

"Stop," you joked, "I just met him last night."

"Last night?" Holly perked up, "And..."

"And what?"

"You tell me."

You laughed again, "He came over to the house because he needed some butter."

"More like some sugar," she winked and glanced up toward a television that had a baseball game on in front of them.

You let out a hearty laugh and shook your head.

"He keeps looking over here." Holly’s voice perked out, "Oh! He's getting up," Holly whispered, stalking him for a moment with her eyes.

You glanced over and felt your stomach twist in knots when he headed in their direction.

"So you are over twenty-one," Joel cracked a wide smile and tapped the back of her chair as he continued to walk by.

"Twenty-three," you called after him, smiling wide.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking once before continuing on around a corner toward the bathrooms.

You let out a sigh and Holly turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" her friend asked. Before you could attempt to plead your case Holly went on, "He's hot... and he's totally flirting with you."

"He's not flirting with me."

"That was a Frank Sinatra-worthy wink."

You shook your head, laughing again. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"You're glowin. You're crushing on this guy. Who cares if he's your neighbor. Get on that."

"He's forty-two," you lowered your voice.

Holly raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the doorway where Joel had just walked through before returning her attention to her friend.

"Forget it." You sipped your drink and tried to pretend like you were nterested in the game on the television.

"At least admit you're crushing."

She turned to her and shook her head, "Fine... he's hot. Okay?" You focused on the screen for as long as she could and tried to pretend not to notice when Joel rounded back into the bar. You let out a deep breath as he crossed behind you and felt a rush when he came up beside you to flag down the bartender.

"Another round?" the middle-aged bartender asked, already reaching for a beer.

"Please,” Joel said with a nod, "You can put it on the tab." He turned to you, "Any interest in playing darts over here?" He nodded toward a dart board in the corner.

"Sure."

"Don't feel obligated." He forced your eyes back to his and continued to stare into them.

"I don't." You felt that intense paralysis again and couldn't turn away. When the bartender came back with the round of beers for Joel, you felt relieved and let out a breath.

"Get these two what they want," Joel added to the bartender, "Next round's on me when you finish those."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's fine. I owe you one from last night." He headed back to the small table with his friends and Holly finally snapped you out of your daze.

"I thought you just gave him butter," she whispered with a giggle, "What was last night?"

You swallowed hard and rose to your feet, prompting Holly to do the same. "I offered him a beer and he took it," she said, "It was nothing... believe me. If I had anything interesting to share I would tell you."

Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the dark bar that was scattered with only a handful of other people. While the two other men began collecting darts and erasing the chalkboard to the side, Joel stood staring with his elbow on the table. For a moment everything else was in the background and you could only focus on him.

Shit... Any wit she had going for her had betrayed her. The instant, intense attraction you had to him was completely clouding your judgment. You felt like you were about to enter a wolf den, though you didn't at all mind playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood.

The anxiety-ridden feeling you had had leading up to the game of darts diminished as the night went on. You played a few games, swapping teammates several times, beginning with a 'boys versus girls' theme and then pairing off randomly when one game ended.

"He's going to fuck it up, you watch," Joel taunted as his friend lined up, closing one eye as he released the dart, only sending it clunking off the board and to the ground. "You didn't even hit the fuckin' board." His words drew laughter from everyone and the man that missed stumbled to retrieve it, chuckling as he went.

"I'm fucked up," Skip, the older robust man, remarked as he struggled to pick the dark up from the floor.

"Ya think?" Joel joked, continuing to sip on his beer.

"It's about time I get this man home to his wife and let her deal with him," the other man, Charlie, chuckled from behind a pair of alcohol-induced crimson cheeks. "Can't hold his liquor."

Skip huffed a breath and closed his eyes with a hand on his head. "The old lady's going to be mad at me. Especially when I tell her we've been hanging out with these lovely ladies." He motioned to you and Holly, laughing at himself and making the others do the same.

"I'd leave that part out if you knew what was good for ya," Charlie informed him with another laugh. "Come on Skippy. It's past your bed time."

"Game over?" Holly asked you.

"I guess so." You raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Charlie, you guys to get home?" Joel asked.

"It's just a quarter mile down the road," Charlie waved a hand. He smiled, "Good night ladies."

"Goodnight," you both said at the same time before Holly turned to you.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Be right back." She raised her eyebrows, noting it would give you and Joel a moment alone and you tried to play it off coolly.

"Okay." She watched a moment as Holly made her way down the bar and around the corner.

"Hope I didn't kill your girls night," Joel said.

"No." You turned back to him and leaned an elbow on the table, "We were just bored. Had to get out of the house."

"Mmm..." He slid back down into a seat and you took upon herself to join him as you waited for Holly.

Joel leaned both elbows on the table to straddle his beer, "You're probably used to night clubs filled with young guys just dying to buy you a drink. This has to be fuckin' lame."

"I was over that scene by my junior year," you told him with a laugh as you shook your head. "They were all the same with their cheesy cologne and gelled up hair."

Joel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his drink. "Sick of that shit huh?"

"Very." You mirrored his position and continued to sip on the beer you had been milking for the better part of an hour, "I'm kind of over the party scene... and the being at home scene."

"You've been home for one fuckin' day." He raised his eyebrows, "Get over it. You're saving money."

You nodded, "Yeah... yeah you're right."

"I know I am." He smiled, a charming arrogance radiating out of him.

When your phone buzzed in your pocket you jumped and quickly removed it, finding a text message from Holly.

I'm getting in my car. Snuck out the back. Have fun. You'll thank me later.

When you looked back up Joel was grilling you with his eyes. You wondered if he had managed to read the message or not. You cleared her throat. "Holly," you said simply.

"You guys need to go?"

You opened her mouth to speak, still unsure if he had seen what your friend wrote but decided to chance it and lie. "She... got sick. She's on her way home."

"She okay?"

You nodded. “Just a little embarrassed I think and decided to go." You took a sip to buy yourself some time in case he asked any more questions. When he didn't you tried to change the subject. "This place is dead."

"What's so bad about the college scene?" Joel asked.

"Huh?"

"The young guys, the night clubs..."

"Oh... nothing, I guess." You cleared her throat feeling like he was trying to read your mind. Again, your face felt flush with heat and you continued, "They're just... all the same. There's no appeal anymore. When I was eighteen I thought it was cool sneaking into bars and all that." You smiled and shook her head before looking him in the eye. "This is more my speed."

Joel stared back and didn't immediately say anything.

You almost couldn't take the quiet stalemate. The sexual attraction for Joel burned in your chest and in that moment, in the quiet corner of the bar, it was hard to fight it. All the same, you felt like you had to be reading his body language correctly in assuming he was feeling something too. Still, the fact that he was your older neighbor, who you didn't know very well, lingered in the back of your mind.

Getting involved with Joel would satisfy your instant craving for him but beyond that you knew it could only lead to making both of your lives more complicated.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told him, when you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. It was the only thing you could say without leaping across the table and initiating a make-out session that played out animalistically in your mind.

"You gunna disappear on me too?" he joked, though you could see there was a hint of seriousness in his piercing eyes behind the wicked smile that hadn't left his face all evening.

"Not a chance." You felt embarrassed by the bold nature of your words, but took a deep breath and made the long walk across the bar into the restroom area. When you pushed open the door you felt relieved that no one else was in there and quickly made your way to the sink to pat some water on her face. You let out a breath, leaning both of her hands on the counter and then took in your appearance to make sure you was satisfied with the way you looked.

I'm being ridiculous, you thought. I'm too old to feel this out of control over a guy... or a man.

Joel was a man. He wasn't at all like the college boys you had been surrounded by who loved to crush beer cans on their heads, brag about how many consecutive beer pong games they'd won and worst of all when they threw the cheesiest lines at you and your friends to try to get laid. Joel didn't have to say or do anything in particular. He could simply look at you the right way and you found yourself ready to obey any request or demand he threw your way.

I’m in over my head, you thought, but I don't care.

You took in another deep breath and felt like you had the quick break that you needed to hold a sensible conversation with him without the constant interference of your out-of-whack hormones.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself and fiddled with your hair before pulling the door open to head back into the short, dark hallway. When Joel rounded the corner at the same time from the bar both of you stopped abruptly.

His eyes stalked the length of your body before finally re-settling on your gaze.

"Checking to make sure I didn't bail?" you joked, nervously laughing just after. Your tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but look him up and down the way he had just done to you.

Joel swallowed hard, tipping his mouth up into a half-smirk before walking past the men's room door in your direction.

You didn't have time to process all of the questions in your mind because he marched up and planted his lips against yours, immediately penetrating them with his tongue as his hands successfully shoved you up against the door to the women's room. It opened a few inches beneath the force.

You felt an explosion of adrenaline filter through your body as you kissed him back even more savagely than in your daydreams.

Joel pushed the door all the way open with one hand, not separating himself from you as he gripped your ass with his free hand and pushed his hips firmly against yours.

You tangled a hand in his hair, kissing him back with a heated passion that you didn't bother to try masking now that he had initiated the fantasy that had been playing out in your mind since you had him.

He moaned into your mouth before taking a breath and crushing his lips back against yours. Your back collided with the tile wall at the back of the bathroom, and you arched your neck as he began to ravage you, sliding a hand down the front of your pants while gripping your face with the other to kiss you hard again.

It all was happening so fast. You struggled to keep up but couldn't process a conscious thought when his first two fingers slid inside of you.

You bit down on your lip in a break in the kiss and spread your legs wider to give him more access.

Joel left a single kiss on her lips and spoke against them in a husky whisper, "Let it out honey," he kissed you again, "Let it out."

You knew the bar was nearly empty and there wasn't another woman that had been there. Even if there had been you didn't know that you would have cared. When his fingers twitched, arcing perfectly in his technique to make your entire lower body shiver with pleasure, you groaned.

"Fuck Joel," your whined his name, desperate for his tongue to dominate your again as he continued to finger you relentlessly until you felt like you were going to explode.

Joel's arousal heightened when he traced your lips with his thumb of his free hand, prompting you to take the tip of it into your mouth.

"God," he closed his eyes relished in the feeling, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

You whimpered again, writhing beneath his touch and attempted to reach for the belt buckle on his pants. "I want you."

He removed his hand from beneath your slick panties and placed his hands against the wall on either side of you as you managed to undo his buckle and shove his pants down off his hips.

Instinctively, you dropped to your knees, taking in as much of him as you could. Joel moaned and bucked his hips once as he grasped the back of your head with one hand. You looked up, watching his head fall back as his closed eyes pressed shut tighter. Joel allowed you to have your way with him as you continued to go down on him like you might never get another opportunity to do so. "Fuuucckk." He drew the word out, encouraging you to continue as he grabbed a fist full of your hair. "Ohh shit..."

Had anybody walked by the door there would have been no way to mask what was going on. Joel didn't hold back and felt an additional jolt of pleasure when you stroked him with your hand before quietly demanding him to come.

He opened his eyes, letting his mouth hang open as he glanced down, making eye contact with you as you engulfed him again.

"Jesus..." Joel's eyes closed and he felt an unmistakable buildup brewing below his waist. He couldn't ask you to stop, not when he was on the verge of exploding. "I'm gunna come." He shouted the words so loud that you thought for sure that someone had to have heard your encounter from somewhere in the bar. Still, you didn't let up and allowed him to push deep into you, gripping the back of your head with such force that you couldn't have separated your mouth from him if you tried.

He groaned, not attempting to hold back what he was feeling, alternating different curse words in between uneven breaths that ultimately left him panting as you finished him off. With a final breath he released your hair, letting his hand drop toward your face as you wiped a hand across your mouth and slowly rose to your feet.

Joel stood there for several seconds, breathing heavy with his pants at his ankles and a hand still on your face. When he finally came down off the high enough to speak, a chuckle left his mouth and ran a hand through your now-messy hair. "Shit honey... you didn't get yours." He let out another breath and then retrieved his pants from the floor and straightened out his appearance.

"It's alright," you told him with a sly smile, noting the heat that was still brewing between your legs.

He huffed another breath and adjusted himself over his pants before regaining your gaze. Joel smiled and drew his thumb gently under your eye, "Mascara's running. Sorry honey."

You closed her eyes as he continued to wipe the stray makeup away from your face. When you reopened them, Joel sported a half grin and he raised his eyebrows.

"Guess I fuckin' owe ya one."

You snickered, pleased to know that he wasn't at all expecting this to be your only encounter. "Yeah... you do."

Joel took a final, deep breath. "Well... you know where to find me."

"Next door."

"If you see me outside come on over to... borrow some butter or something.”

"Butter..." You snickered and then swallowed hard when he took a step toward her and slid a hand back down the front of your pants.

Joel touched his lips to yours as he spoke and this time gently began to massage up and down your wet center. When your mouth twisted up in a smile and you closed your eyes again he grinned and removed his glistening fingers. "It's a shame this is going to go to waste. Too bad you're so damn good at giving a blowjob. I had all the intentions of fucking you but I could just not ask you to stop.”

"Damn," she said quietly, but smiled, praying he might have it in him to continue.

Joel smiled, reading the disappointment on her face. "I'll be in and out tomorrow," he claimed, "You see me and you feel like bringing me over some butter…”

"I think you’ll definitely need some."

He looked down and made his way to the sink to wash his hands before turning to her with a smile. He ended the night the same way he had the night before, "I'll see ya around."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

[jamilynfx]

Do You Wanna Build a Snowman? (No, the fuck, I don't)

This is part 2 of this post 💖

Summary: Winter has come to New York and that means only two things: being cold and putting up with Wade's obsession with the movie Frozen.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: sexual humor, mentions of oral sex, referenced drug use

Winter. 

A time for singing carols, decorating a Christmas tree and eating unhealthy amounts of gingerbread. For some, an ideal season for various, cold-oriented activities that include skiing, snowball fighting or drinking hot chocolate right after ice-skating on the overpriced ice-rinks in the city center. 

You hate it all passionately.

Well, maybe decorating a Christmas tree is somewhat enjoyable and worth looking forward to but other activities that require being outside during winter are a hard no for you. 

Which brings you to the problem you encounter every other time that the weather decides it’s high time to spawn tons of snow in the city, or, more accurately, a problem with Wade’s obsession over that godforsaken children’s movie.

“Do you wanna build a snooooowmaaan?! COME ON, LET’S GO AND PLAY.”

Logan growls for, what seems to be, the hundredth time in an hour. Al looks defeated and only Laura completely ignores Wade’s crazy bouncing and twirling in favor of cutting out a perfect circle out of the cookie dough.

“Shut the fuck up, bub. No one wants to build a snowman with you,” Logan grumbles lowly, getting the volume all the way up on the TV, since it’s difficult to hear anything through Wade’s singing. 

Laura makes a face. 

“Ouch, that was a bit harsh, even for you.” 

“Sorry if I’ve had enough of this performance that’s going on for two hours now!” he exclaims heatedly but without real irritation behind it. That’s his way of saying that Wade really got on his nerves and he’s almost reached his daily limit for Wade’s bullshit.

“It’s fine, Lo, don’t shout,” you say with love, cutting out your own shape in a dough, a crooked star with rough, uneven edges. Making cookies is something that you enjoy doing, mostly because it’s all done inside the house, not outside, where all hell breaks loose. “Why don’t you go by yourself, Wade?” 

He looks kinda cute with Elsa’s costume he’s thrown on his suit and a plastic tiara set atop a blond wig he’s stitched to his head but hearing the same song being performed over and over again starts to tug on your nerves, too, especially when you know Wade is completely serious in saying he wants to build a snowman.      

“Because it’s BOOOORING! I would ask Al, but, well, she can’t fucking see, can you imagine what the snowman would look like if I did that with her? A fucking carrot up his ass, that’s what would happen! And the only snow she likes ain’t the one outside, hot pups.”

Al, sitting beside Logan on the couch, sighs loudly and nudges Logan’s side with her elbow. 

“What’s on now?”

“Hot pups?” you question, raising your brows and smiling at Laura, who tries not to laugh.

“That’s new,” Logan comments on a nickname that Wade’s just made up, simultaneously switching between the channels. “A western, soap opera or reality…”

“Reality!” Both Al and Laura are unanimous on this one. Logan changes the channel to trash reality tv without any protest.

“Exactly, hot pups or baby girl, that’s basically the same thing. Anyway, I’m not asking Laura because she’s our guest and I for sure won’t ask peanut, don’t wanna end up with that claws up my ass today. Something else would be fine, tho.” Wade winks to Logan who only rolls his eyes, not once looking in Wade’s direction. “I was gonna ask you but you hate winter activities, besides that one time when you sucked my dick in the park after we went to a Jonas Brothers concert.”

You almost get a whiplash from the way your head turns to look at him, your cheeks immediately turning a deep shade of red. 

“Wade!”  

Althea looks visibly disgusted, Laura blinks a few times muttering damn under her breath and Logan stares at you with and you haven’t done that to me? look on his face. You stifle an urge to run to the bathroom and not come out for the rest of the evening, covering your face with your hands.

“Motherfucker, I wish I was deaf,” Al laments out loud with Wade’s sick laughter as her background before he starts do you wanna build a snowman all over again. 

“Someone has to go out and build that damn snowman with him, I can’t hear a fucking thing!” Logan shouts abuse, his patience running thin judging by the way his claws unsheathe in his left hand. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Laura suggests good-naturedly for you to only whine in surrender. That’s enough chaos for this evening.  

“No, I’ll go with him,” you sigh with exasperation and get up to go get dressed. “But you’re soooo going down on me after this, Wade!” 

As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, Wade squeaks excitedly, running to get his brand-new Frozen mittens, which he managed to yank out of a little girl’s hands while you were at the thrift store last week. 

“You got it, baby girl!” he exclaims and high-fives Laura on his way out, not waiting for you to catch up. You can only hear his do you wanna build a snowman while he hurries down the stairs of your compound.

Al, Laura and Logan all seem to breathe out in relief, focusing all their attention on the TV show that’s currently on. 

Even Mary doesn’t perk up from Logan’s lap and you can’t help but feel a little bit betrayed. 

______________

You have to admit, it’s not all that bad.

Wade does everything in his power to make it enjoyable for you, despite the low temperature and cold wind that blows in your face every other minute. There’s a lot of snow outside which makes for a really long snowman-building session, turning Wade into a literal five year old, but he still manages to make you laugh multiple times. You can’t really be cross with him when he’s having such a good time and, after your initial reluctance, you find yourself having a great time, too. 

The snowman turns out really cute and quite big, three sizable balls of snow each atop of the other, now standing guard in front of the entrance to your building. Somewhere between creating the top ball and sticking branches into the snowman’s sides to imitate arms, Laura comes down and says goodbye, reminding you both how late it is and that you should probably wrap the whole thing up. 

Now, you’re so cold it’s difficult to think straight. Your hands are shaking, teeth clattering and you’re sure that your lips have the color of a ripe plum. 

“We’ve made one hell of a snowman together, baby girl.” 

Your body trembles involuntarily but you smile happily, once again inspecting your work. 

“Yeah, we did.”

Wade hugs you closely and kisses your forehead, then your blue lips. 

“Come on, hot pups, let’s get you back to the warmth.”

Thank god you don’t have to go far. As soon as you’re back in the apartment, you ditch your shoes and outside clothes, which makes you feel even colder than when you were outside. It’s quiet inside, which means that Al is probably already asleep. Wade is somewhere behind you when you find Logan already in bed, Mary snuggled in between his legs, your old man reading a book. 

“All done? How was it?” he asks, setting the book aside and immediately raising the covers for you to join him. 

“COLD! Fuck!” 

You jump on the bed, choosing the quickest way to find yourself in Logan’s warm arms. Mary definitely doesn’t approve, getting her little ass up and pattering towards Wade, who has just entered the room. 

“Fuckin’ A, that’s what our snowman is, peanut,” he says, taking Mary up into his arms, kissing her and then setting her back on the bed to undress properly. Logan gives him a foul look.  

“She’s freezing, you idiot,” he grumbles at Wade, then smiles at you encouragingly. “Come ‘ere, bub,” Logan spurs you on, opening his arms for you and offering his chest to be your private pillow. You gladly accept, letting your body tremble and your teeth clatter as much as they want to while snuggling up in Logan’s embrace, your cold arms finding their way onto his back, your head falling into place half on his shoulder and half on his chest, allowing you to glue the front of your cold body to his heated one. He weaves his fingers into your hair while his other palm comes to rest on your waist, pulling you as close as it’s physically possible. 

Wade follows quickly behind to lock you in between them. When glorious heat starts radiating from both of them, enveloping you on both sides, you sigh contentedly, kissing up Logan’s chest, then finding the best slot for your cheek and straight up fawning on Logan.  

“I still want that head, asshole,” you mumble already half-asleep, feeling Wade’s hands roam over your legs and belly when he’s aligning himself with your back, covering your body with his and slowly heating you up from behind, making you melt against him. He throws his arm over your body to reach Logan, who growls warningly. 

“One day, I’m biting it off, you fucker.”

“Yeah, do it, it’s gonna grow back anyway, Wolvie,” Wade says mockingly, then trails the kisses behind your ear. “I’ll wake you up with it, snookums. Deal?” he asks, his low tone is making you shiver but this time it’s not out of cold. 

You smile dreamily, pressing your butt into his hips.

“Deal.”

[lucaswarmhotchocolate]

I think that the reason I love House (the show) is because House isn’t like.. some beautiful depiction of a drug addict who just tortures himself and never anyone else unless he makes the fully conscious decision to make them miserable because he Just Can. Like he hurts the people closest to him as a direct result of hurting himself, his addiction affects the people around him.

One of my favorite parts of the show is when House OD’d during the Tritter arc, and Wilson walked into House’s apartment, saw him on the floor passed out in his own vomit and thought “God. This is it.” And then he just left when House woke up. He left, walked out, didn’t stay. That was really important to establishing House’s addiction relatively early on in the show. And I know, it’s not romantic or easy to watch and if you ship Hilson you might even think that it was a cold-hearted thing to do, but it was honestly really great.

Wilson gets fed up with House but that was the moment where I think I first realized that 1. Wilson can leave, he has no obligations to be there. He has chosen House every step of the way, the only reason he deals with House’s bs is because he wants to, And 2. Wilson loves House. He didn’t leave House when Tritter was fucking with him, he didn’t do anything he thought was truly against House either. But god, seeing his best friend like that? It only hurt Wilson so bad because he loves House.

[michelle-is-writing]

Surprise, Surprise, Greg House

Word Count: 1.1k~

Surprising Greg at work is always fun. Most of the time, he's messing around with the items on his desk until I walk in which ultimately causes him to perk up right away. I'm always happy to see him, and going by the smile that pops up on his face when he first sees me, Greg is happy to see me too. Plus, it always helps that we've been together for several years too.

"House, you have a guest," Wilson states, quickly popping his head into the doorway of Greg's office before popping right back out. Watching him walk back to the elevators, I wave at Wilson before opening Greg's door.

"Surprising," I hear Greg mindlessly mutter before I walk in. Once he sees me, he lightly smiles and changes his words. "Not surprising," He corrects himself, sitting up in his chair. "But pleasant."

"I brought you lunch," I tell him, gesturing to the bag in my hand with a smile. Placing the paper bag on his desk, I sit down in the chair across from him with his desk separating us. "That way you don't have to steal anyone else's."

"You know me so well," Greg chides, placing the magazine in his hands down before opening the bag of food. Taking all of the contents out of the bag reveals two sandwiches and two bags of chips with a bottled drink for each one. "Funny," He notes. "These are the things I would have stolen from Wilson."

Laughing at his sad, yet true comment, I separate everything out and place a Reuben sandwich in front of each of us, Greg already digging into one of the yellow bags of potato chips. "I'm glad I got to come see you today," I confess, the sight of the food making me feel a little sick. "I have some... great news to share."

"Oh, really?" Greg asks, looking up at me. I nod, smiling as he pushes his chair back a little. "Well, then why don't you come over here and tell me all about it?" He suggests with that ever so sly smirk.

Knowing what that means, I gently roll my eyes and stand from my chair before walking over to Greg and sitting on his lap. Instantly, he wraps his arms around me and holds me close, leaning up a little to kiss my lips. This is one of the very few ways Greg shows his love. He always says it's because he gets to hold me closer to him, but I think it's just because I'm sitting on his lap.

"You know," he begins his sentence, nibbling at my neck. "With one simple movement, you instantly have me at your will. How odd is that?" Greg questions me, his voice sultry and low. Smiling at him, I lightly giggle before pushing him away enough so he can look straight at me.

"Greg, I need to tell you something," I state, my voice a bit serious. Even though I'm trying to keep a straight voice without letting my excitement show through, I keep my smile in hopes of him not getting worried. I hope this news finds him well, and it doesn't make him mad or angry... I don't know what I would do if he left me because of it.

Leaning back in his swivel chair to look at me, he continues smiling while running his hand up and down my side. "Go on," he encourages me, his blue eyes staring into mine. "I'm listening, my sweet."

My cheeks slightly blush at the endearment before I look away, sudden nervousness hitting me. "I'm, uh, I'm..." Just as I begin to speak, I choke up before sighing. "I'm pregnant, Greg," I fully answer him, having the guts to look him straight in the eye as I do so.

He takes a moment to listen to me, only to fully realize what I'm saying within seconds. In shock, he stares at me with wide eyes before breaking out into a nervous chuckle. "You're serious, right?" He asks, making my eyebrows furrow. My reaction causes him to become worried as his smile drops. "Please don't be joking," Greg begs, placing his hands on my arms.

His words slightly... befuddle me. Is the cold and emotionless House actually excited about me being pregnant? For him to question me to make sure I'm not joking makes me... I don't know what it makes me actually.

Does Greg want a child? I know we didnt plan this little one, but there's no going back now. I mean, Greg is quite a few years older than me and I would've never thought he'd want a kid this late in life, but Gregory House is Gregory House. If there's one thing that signifies Gregory House, it's that he's weird and unusual, and he never conforms to what is socially acceptable.

"No, I'm not joking, Greg," I tell him, placing his hands on my stomach. "There's a little baby right here," With Greg staring up at me with big eyes and an equally big smile, tears quickly make their way to my eyes. "You're going to be a father," I whisper, leaning forward and placing my forehead against his.

A few moments of silence pass before Greg grins and wraps his arms tighter around me. In a quick turn of events, he stands up with our feet planted on the ground and his arms still around me, a giggle falling from my lips as he does so. Before I know it, Greg is moving my shirt up to place his hands on my barely swollen tummy, resting them there as I hug him to me as well. “Thank you,” He murmurs, smiling before connecting our lips in another kiss. At the same time, he moves his hands to my waist to hold me there, his hold reflecting the passion behind our kiss.

[allbark-no-bite]

cowboy up.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.6k)

summary: Jake’s a tease. and a cowboy. it makes your friends sick

warnings: really none i think, just talk of and allusions to sex

authors note: very loosely based off of “Dirty Looks” by Lainey Wilson. it got me into the mood to write a little something. briefly mentioned that reader is Ice’s daughter

————————————————————————

"Well hello, mi cowboy."

It's the deliciously sensual roll of the endearment off of your tongue that has Jake hooking two fingers through the loop of your jeans and tugging you firmly into his side as he approaches the bar. It starts up an engine-like rumble in his chest that travels up his throat and catches, vibrating while he bows down to kiss you. Just the sight of your sweet smile has the weariness of the day melting off of him.

El cowboy, you mother had appraised with great enthuse the first time you had brought Jake home, and he greeted her with his smooth as honey southern drawl. Being Latino and having grown up just along the border in El Paso, her English was still licked with Spanish flare and it made everything she said sound rivetingly amorous. Even after three years of dating, she still widely referred to him as the cowboy—your cowboy.

"Hey, darlin'. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. There were some mechanical issues with my plane and I couldn't get away," he apologizes, hence the grease stains on his hands. He had probably only taken the time to change into a fresh set of clothes before leaving base and driving straight to the Hard Deck.

You only hum, tipping your head up to steal a second kiss before he straightens. "Glad you're here now."

Jake has to stop himself from chasing your lips for a third. Penny's warned him about getting too frisky at the bar. It's not his fault when you taste like strawberry margaritas and are wearing those jeans that you know drive him crazy.

But when he looks over his shoulder, Penny's sliding him an ice cold beer from across the bar. "This one's on the house, Seresin." The gleam shining in her eyes tells him that she's caught the two of you but is going to let it slide this time.

When he opens his mouth to argue, already digging his wallet out of his pocket, she shakes her head. "Looks like you had a long day. Enjoy the beer."

"Really, Pen, I—"

Penny's back is already turned as she heads to the other side of the bar to serving an incoming crowd of aviators.

Jake glances down to his well worn boots while his hand goes to his jaw to feel at the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. Does he really look that worn out? He has to resist the urge to smell himself.

He looks back to you, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for showing up like this. Here he is, covered in sweat and engine grease, while his own girlfriend is standing next to him, looking way out of his league. Even the Dagger Squad looks fresh and put together. It would have been hard to guess that they had all been out sweating on the tarmac together earlier in the day.

"I probably should have cleaned up," he admits, running a hand over the cropped hair at the back of his neck. He's wondering if he can at least escape to the bathroom for a minute to stick his head under the sink.

What Jake doesn't know is that you might actually kill him if he does that. There's something about the combination of his off-duty khakis and dusty boots that is making your heart flutter. The tousle of his blonde hair after a long day and ruddy flush of his already tan cheeks give off the impression that he's more than just a pretty face. He looks hard working and very, very capable.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?" he hums, having been eyeing the bathrooms, contemplating even just splashing some water on his face.

Your heart squeezes painfully when his dazzling green eyes turn back to land on yours, eyebrows raised in question, fully attuned to whatever it is that you may need. "What baby—"

He stops mid sentence when you pull him down by the back of his neck to kiss him. This time it's a much less chaste kiss than the one you greeted him with, and he gets to really taste the strawberry margarita on your lips—a bit sweet, a little salty. The taste makes his mouth tingle and he's not sure if it's you or the tequila that's making him feel buzzed.

Jake's hand immediately slips around your waist, his large hand on your back, pressing you into him. A groan slips out of him when his fingers brush the warm skin just above the rise of your jeans.

The fact that you had purposefully chosen not to wear your khakis like himself and the rest of the crew makes Jake that much more hot and bothered. It's not that he dislikes your usual naval attire, because he doesn't. He loves how it fits you, who you become when you wear it, your signature "Frostbite" embroidered on the front—the name he gave you. It's the fact he's come in, dead on his feet from working all day, and his diamond of a girlfriend is wearing an outfit she put on just for him.

Really, Jake thinks his chest might just implode.

His free hand had been holding his beer out to the side, momentarily forgotten once you'd started kissing him. Blindly, he sets it down behind him, the glass clinking against the bar top so that he can get both of his hands on you without spilling. He prefers you, the taste of your skin anyhow.

"So damn sweet," he groans into the underside of your jaw, eyes shut as he fights the urge to say fuck it and take you home now. "Could just eat you."

You laugh, fingers gripping his blonde hair. "Is that a promise, cowboy?" Jake's teeth scrape your pulse point and your fingers tighten. His body is hot pressed flushed against you, moving as you move so that the contact never breaks.

"Baby, I'd devour you," he promises huskily into your ear. Mav has been working them to the bone for the past few weeks, and Jake has hardly had the energy to climb the front steps when he gets home, much less make it to the bedroom. To say you've both been left wanting is an understatement.

His lips press wetly to your neck. "You look good, Frosty Girl. You know how much I love those jeans..."

You hum, eyes fluttering closed as Jake sends you to that place. That place where only you and Jake exist, where the worries of the day melt away, and it smells like his cinnamon oak body wash and the hint of beer on his breath. It doesn't matter than he smells slightly of sweat and jet fuel because that's just him. That's what makes him Jake.

"Mmm, you do?" Of course he does. Jake Seresin drinks the air you breathe and worships the ground you walk on. "I think you'll like what I have on under them more."

If Jake had been twenty-one again, he'd have a raging hard on in his jeans right now. After two years of dating you, he's developed a bit of self control since then. He spent a lot of lunch breaks jacking off in the bathroom the first few months. All you had to do was rub up against him climbing out the back seat of the cockpit and he was sneaking off to take care of himself before any of the Dagger squad could see the missile sized hard on in his pants.

Jake smiles, his pearly white grin pressed into your neck. His jade green eyes peer up at you with a gleam of anticipation.

"Black?" he guesses, his nimble fingertips already dipping just past your waistband to brush across the lace he knows he's going to find.

"Uhh mm," you deny, enjoying the thrill of teasing him with your secret.

His warm breath fans across your neck. "Red?"

The corners of your mouth quirk up into a look that Jake can only describe as devilish. "I figured you deserved a treat. I know you've been—" Before you can finish, Jake is kissing you. His pink lips are cool and a bit wet from the beer he's been nursing, but his tongue is hot and slick and wet and it just feels so good.

"Jesus. Get a room, you two."

Despite the roar of blood in his ears, the buzzing in his veins, Jake recognizes the sound of Bradley's voice just a table away.

Begrudgingly pulling away from the kiss, Jake doesn't release you just yet, just moves his head to look over your shoulder. He had hardly even acknowledged the Dagger Squad when he walked in, too focused on you. And maybe that's on him.

"Sorry, Bradshaw. Didn't see you there." You can tell Jake's smirking over your shoulder, hand not so slyly cupping the curve of your ass as he reaches for his beer with the other, playing at indifference. He takes a slow swig of it, unbothered by the fact that your friends -you coworkers- are all watching. "I was busy saying hello to my unbelievably sexy girlfriend."

Without breaking eye contact with Bradley, Jake plants a filthy wet kiss to the pulse point of your neck. It's enough to make the other aviator's mustache twitch and his throat constrict with a impulsive swallow. Regardless of how they acted— always at each other’s throats— there was no longer any bad blood between the two pilots. That feud had been settled on the Uranium mission last year and was replaced by new found respect, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t seize every opportunity to ruffle the other’s feathers.

"This is a public space," Natasha reminds him, as if he were unaware of the extremely crowded bar.

Jake smirks. "Oh believe me, I'm holding back for Floyd's sake. Wouldn't want to ruin his innocence."

The weapon system officer emits a noise of protest from across the table, his cheeks flashing an embarrassed hue of red. "I've already told you, I'm not a virgin!"

You giggle into Jake's shoulder at his complait, content to bask in the temporary stronghold of your boyfriend's embrace. It's nice to get moments with him like this, away from the stress of work and without the pressure of success weighing on your shoulders.

Of course your friends knew about yours and Jake's relationship, had known since the very first date, but in nearly three years of dating, they had come to the realization that they knew very little about your relationship. Work was strictly professional for the two of you and even at the bar, the most intimate thing they'd ever seen occur was Jake greeting you with a quick kiss.

"Damn, Bagman, you walking in here, kiss Frost senseless, and now she's giggling? You're telling me that's all it takes to bring her from she-devil to—giggling?" Coyote asks from behind his pool cue, sauntering over to join the group.

Jake, his green eyes gleaming, slips his warm palm under your shirt to smooth over the exposed curve of your hip. "I can make her do a lot more than giggle, Machado."

You groan, burying your embarrassingly flushed face further into Jake's neck. Although your boyfriend may be able to play the nonchalance card, you can only take so much of their teasing.

You push away from Jake before he can start full on groping you in front of your friends. If there's one thing about Jake, he has no shame when it comes to showing you off.

"I don't giggle, Javy," you stress, choosing to ignore Jake's comment.

Fanboy, who is never far behind the other pilot, saunters over and slings an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Giggle? I've never even seen you crack a smile."

Before you can respond, Jake is sliding an impossibly large palm around to cup the back of your neck, fingers digging in to the tense muscle that he knows is there. Relax, is what that means. "Careful, she does bite." He's grinning, a smug, but knowing smirk on his face. 

"Fuck, man. I knew you were into that kinky shit," Coyote quips, and it evokes a few laughs from the Dagger squad, save for Natasha, who pretends to roll her eyes. 

Jake grins. "Damn straight."

"Easy, cowboy," you warn, your eyes narrowing at him in playful warning.

You're not necessarily embarrassed by Jake's insinuation of your sex life, the two of you were well established in your relationship and you trusted your friends too much to be embarrassed by that kind of thing. It's just that being Admiral Kazanky's daughter meant that too many people assumed you had only made it this far because of your old man or that you were sleeping through the ranks, which was far from the truth. 

You deserved to be here. And Jake knows this, which is why his thumb is still massaging at the pressure point at the base of your skull, just behind your ear. Everything about him, from the reassuring smile he directs at you to his relaxed body language is him letting you know that it's all in good fun, and no one here thinks that you don’t belong here in the slightest. 

Bradley's shaking his head as he lounges against the pool table. "I don't know what I'm going to have to tell my therapist about first, the fact that Frost calls you 'cowboy' or the fact you probably get off on that shit.”

Jake grins, toothpick bobbing in his mouth as his impish smile widens. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Bradshaw?”

The truth is, he does. Behind the cool and collected facade that he’s putting up, bantering back and forth with your friends while he sips his beer, he’s just the right amount of hot and bothered that he wouldn’t mind calling it a night just to go home and have his way with you. He hasn’t forgotten about the little red number you’re wearing.

Having lost the attention of the rest of the squad to the pool table during his and Rooster’s banter, Jake shifts his focus to you. Large hand coming to rest on your back, he dips down to murmur in your ear. “Think I’m about ready to turn in, kid. What do you say we get out of here?”

Your pretty face turns towards him, and you don’t miss the gleam in his green eyes. Smiling privately to yourself, you eyes reflect his knowingly. “Rooster will never let you live it down. You only just got here.” However, that doesn’t mean you can’t be coerced.

Jake hums, his lips pressing to your temple in a kiss that’s meant to hide the fact that he’s whispering— plotting— in your ear. “I’ll buy ‘em around on the way out. They won’t even notice we’re gone,” he reasons.

You smile, turning back to the game of pool as Jake leans over you before you give him. “Go on,” you finally encourage. “I’ll follow you out.”

Grinning and all too pleased with himself, Jake slips off behind you, but not before giving an affectionate pat to your ass. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him.

You wait a while before discreetly making your escape form the pool table, grabbing your things as you go. Jake’s waiting for you at the door, all too pleased to see you, as though he hadn’t just five minutes before. “Made it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they—”

“Well damn, goodbye to you guys too!” Rooster calls from across the bar. Obviously having noticed your departure, the Dagger Squad is all standing around the pool table, shaking their heads in varying levels of amused disapproval.

Payback crosses his arms. “You guys make me sick.”

Opening the door for you, Jake turns and tips his imaginary cowboy hat at them with an grin. “Sorry man. If you all will excuse me, I’ve got some riding to do.”

[hypertechnica]

i just finished watching season 3 of house. eric foreman is the best and most underrated character and i will not be taking questions on this.

like yeah, im a huge Big Three (house, wilson, cuddy) fan too, and the shipping aspect is obviously going to be the biggest thing people talk about (it’s tumblr) but if we can look beyond shipping for like one millisecond foreman is such an interesting character and i don’t see anyone talk about him!!!!! he’s an analytical ‘straight man,’ he’s friendly and desires human connection yet pushes people away the moment they start to get close. he doesn’t outwardly care about what people think yet still craves to be the best because if he’s not the smartest person in the room he’s worthless.

he’s morally grey. he’s pinned between his strong sense of justice and his desire for cold scientific problem solving. he’s primarily ethical yet not afraid to prioritize himself over others, even if callously. he has principles. he’s horrified at the side of his personality house brings out in him. he has a complicated relationship with religion and his family. he has imposter syndrome due to racism and classism in the medical community. he has internalized so many biases and when they show, it’s not pretty. he spends 3 seasons simultaneously loathing house and envying him. cameron wants to fix him, chase wants to be him, wilson (and cuddy) want to fuck him, but foreman? he wants to study this man like a lab rat. and possibly strangle him. he’s the ideological bridge between cameron’s ethics and chase’s fuck-all attitude. he tries so hard to be a healthy functioning adult and in many respects he succeeds but he will always be haunted by his chronic loneliness and inferiority complex (one which he hides well with his ego.) he’s just like house and he hates it. he’s a vindictive jerk, but he’s a really good person at heart. he tries very hard to be, anyways. and he’s the only one of his colleagues who actually took the initiative to stop enabling house and just quit. the others will bitch and moan about it but he was the one who actually prioritized his mental health over remaining psychologically obsessed with him. (will that last? no idea, i know he comes back later but shh. spoilers. him folding and coming back would be great though lol)

his character arc so far has been amazing and i hope seasons 4-8 do him justice 💥💥💥

[marshes-to-mountains]

I like this little parallel between house and wilson

in the episode ( I dont remember which one ) where wilson realises house still has feelings for stacy and suspects that something happened between them, he goes to stacy and tells him something along the lines of "I saw what happened when you left the first time and if it happens again I'll be the one putting him back together again."

and in season 6 episode 18 when house finds out about wilson and his first ex-wife, Sam, getting back together he says "you're a cold-hearted bitch who ripped his heart out. I watched him struggle for years to overcome the damage that you did. there's no way I'm just gonna let you wheel him back in so you can do it all over again."

I love how they both look out for each other in their own ways. wilson with his pleading and house with his threats.

[girlofthesunxoxo]

porn star dancing | james wilson

synopsis: y/n is a neuro-oncologist in wilson’s department and whenever she gets out of work, she works at a strip club. tonight is masquerade night which works in her favor when she sees her boss and his friend.

note: i have no medical knowledge or dancing knowledge so im flying blind here 😭 so if anything seems a little off, its because of that LMAO. also y/n is in her mid to late twenties while james is in his mid to late thirties.

y/n was just finishing up with a patient, making sure they were feeling fine after their surgery when she got a call from her friend, sheila. she excused herself from the room and went into a random hallway.

“oh hey, sheila ! whats up ?”

“hey, y/n ! im sorry to ask but can you take over my shift today ? my mom has come down with a really bad cold and i have to take care of her.” her apologetic tone evident in her voice.

“oooh um yeah im already finishing up here so i’ll be on my way over there in about thirty minutes !”

“oh my gosh, thank you thank you thank yoooou. i owe you big time !”

y/n lightly chuckled, “okay okay, ill call you later ! i need to talk to my boss really quickly.”

“okay bye !! also in case you forgot, tonight’s theme is masquerade.”

“yes yes, i remember the theme, i think i saw my costume there a few days ago. okay we’ll talk later, bye bye !”

she hung up before making her way towards her dr. wilson’s office. she knocked on the door and went inside after hearing a quiet, “come in.” she stood in front of his desk with her hands clasped in front of her, nervous about what she was about to ask.

“hello dr. l/n, what do you need ?” he asked with a polite smile on his face.

“hi dr. wilson, um i was wondering if i could leave a bit early today, i am already finished with our brain surgery patient and i think i have all my clinic hours done for this week !” she nervously rambled which james took notice to.

he quietly laughed and shook his head, “yes you can but if i may ask, what is the reason you need to leave early for ? you never leave early. are you feeling okay ?” his casual expression slightly changing to a more concerned look.

“oh no im feeling alright !” she knew she couldnt tell him the truth. how many people have gone to their very attractive boss and told them they couldnt work because they had to go to their second job which is a strip club. not a lot, she assumed.

“i just have to babysit m-my sister’s kids, shes not feeling the best !” her lie came out with little struggle.

“oh well i hope she is feeling better soon but yes you can go for the rest of the night.”

“okay thank you so much, dr. wilson !”

she quickly turned and walked out of the room with fast beating heart and blushed cheeks. there were times she hated how she had a slight crush on her boss. this was one of those times and it didnt help that his friend, dr. house was standing outside his door staring at her with a smirk. she tried to move past him but he put his cane in front of her stomach which stopped her movements.

“what do you need, dr. house ?” she tried to ask politely but she was in a little of a rush.

“yeah, why are you coming out of wilson’s office looking like you just finished riding him into oblivion ? oh im sure you would like that, right ?” his words made her blush as the thought of her on top of james has been a recurring dream of hers.

“u-um well im - im sorry, im in a r-rush to be-“ she was interrupted by the door opening and james’s annoyed voice filling her ears.

“house ! let her leave, please.” he rolled his eyes while shoving his cane away from y/n’s stomach. she smiled thankfully while rushing to the front doors to leave seeing as she had a few minutes before her shift started. as she was leaving, she heard dr. house’s fading words, “you know she has a-“ she didnt know what else he was going to say.

she drove to the club and quickly greeted all the other dancers while getting into her clothes which was black fishnets with very short red shorts that looked like underwear with little sparkly fringe that flowed every time she moved and a matching bra with the same fringe. (think of the girls from “but its better if you do” music video 😉).

she picked up some random black high heels that were covered in black glitter and she heard the crowd cheering as it was almost time for the dancers to come out .

she hurriedly did her makeup which was just more eyeliner and eyeshadow than she used for her day job.

sheila let her know on the drive that she was going to be in the spotlight which meant she could pick the song and be right in the center of the stage.

y/n was very anxious, she had only been in the center stage maybe two times despite being told by everyone that she was awesome but having that many eyes on her was very nervewrecking. that says a lot considering she literally works as a doctor and has to perform surgeries sometimes.

she picked the song “porn star dancing” considering she practiced at home days prior, just in case somebody needed her to take on their shift.

the microphone crackled before a loud voice came on, “lets give a biiiig round of applause for our dancers !” two girls gave y/n a “goodluck” before heading out to their poles which were on either side of the center pole.

“and let us let our main dancer for the night know how much we looove her, welcome to the stage, mrs. vibraaaant vixen !”

y/n quickly put on her red, glittering mask with tall feathers which only covered her eyes. she let out a big breath to calm her nerves and strutted out the curtain, the song she chose began playing in the background.

kelly wont kiss my friend kassandra

jessica wont play ball

y/n slowly strutted to the pole and grabbed it with one hand as she circled it making sure to sway her hips.

mandy wont share her friend, miranda

doesnt anybody live at all

amanda wont leave me empty handed

got her number from a bathroom stall

she squatted behind the pole before slowly getting up with her ass up first and slowly moving her body up. the cheers made her feel confident and her nervousness slowly went away.

brandy just got way too much baggage

and that shit just gets old (hey)

she rolled her hips in a circle while her hands wandered up her body then behind her neck to flip her hair to the side.

but i got a girl who can put on a show

the dollar decides how far you can go with her

she wraps those hands around that pole

her movements followed the lyrics as she wrapped her hands around the pole then crouched down while rolling her hips to every beat.

she licks those lips and off we go

she takes it off nice and slow cause thats porn star dancing (hey)

she slowly pick herself up with the pole and pushing her chest flush against it before she circled it and stopped right in front of it, giving the audience a full view of her ass. she turned around and started looking at the crowd while she circled her hips.

she dont play nice, she makes me beg

and she drops that dress around her legs

and im sitting right by the stage for this porn star dancing

as she looked over the crowd of men and the occasional woman, she spotted one familiar face and her heart almost stopped. it was her boss, dr. james wilson. at her strip club. with dr. house who was grinning as if he won the lottery. they were both cheering before dr. house muttered something in james’s ear before he turned wide eyed towards her on the pole.

she quickly circled the pole and stopped behind it keeping her head down slightly, her hands roaming her body and rolling her hips as she turned around, her ass on display as she crouched while rolling her hips. she felt mortified knowing her boss was more than likely watching her ass.

your body’s lighting up the room

now i want a naughty girl like you

theres nothing hotter than that

she turned around on her knees and flipped her hair to the side, her eyes catching james’s eyes. he mouthed “y/n ?!” she averted her eyes as she got up, ass first.

stacy’s gonna save herself for marriage but thats just not my style

shes got a pair thats nice to stare at

but i want girls gone wild (hey)

groping her boobs (😭) at that one lyric, she felt her body go hot, the thought finally registered that her boss/little crush was seeing her half naked body while she should be helping people. shame gnawed at her as she kept her head slightly down.

but i know a place where theres always a show

the dollar decides how far you can go with her

she wraps those hands around that pole

she picked herself up onto the pole and swung herself around it a few times. the cheers got even louder and people tossed some dollars on the stage.

she licks those lips and off we go

she takes it off nice and slow cause thats porn star dancing (hey)

she dont play nice, she makes me beg

she drops that dress around her legs

the pole and the swinging was making her muscles ache but she kept on going. her back flushed against the front of the pole, she picked herself up until her legs wrapped around the pole and her upper body was spinning around. she took her hands off the pole, waved and blew kisses at the crowd which caused them to cheer harder.

she could see james clapping with his mouth open and smiling while house was cheering louder than anybody there, she smiled at the sight.

and im sitting right by the stage for this porn star dancing (hey)

your body’s lighting up the room

i want a naughty girl like you

lets throw a party just for two

you know those normal girls wont do

as she slowly descended down the pole, she put her hands on the floor and unwrapped her legs from it so she can kick her legs away and landed upright like a half cartwheel.

the part of the song where no lyrics are on is her favorite because she can do some random dance on the pole and the crowd will go wild. she swings herself on the pole, holding it with her ankles before climbing and wrapping her inner leg/knee around the pole while her other leg is standing on the pole. still spinning, she straightens her leg so it is poking outwards.

then she bends both legs, one on the outside of the pole and one inside holding her and takes her hands off to let go of the pole so she can clasp them behind her while spinning so shes spinning sideways.

she can hear people cheering and whooping and some just plain yelling.

she wraps those hands around that pole

she licks those lips and off we go

and she takes it off nice and slow

cause thats porn star dancing (hey)

as the spinning slows down, she grabbed the pole and unwrapped her legs while positioning herself upright again. now that shes upright, she tries to gauge everyone’s reactions, some of the dancers not performing were clapping and yelling as were a lot of the men. some had their mouths slightly open and others were just cheering.

but only one had her interested, james had a full blush on his cheeks and he stood there in disbelief while house tapped his shoulder to telling him that shes looking at him. he waves and she let one hand let go to wave back.

she dont play nice, she makes me beg

she drops that dress around her legs

and im sitting right by the stage

for this porn star dancing (hey)

she hopped down from the pole and rolled her hips like she did when the song first started. she was completely out of breath while her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. her muscles ached when she walked back towards the curtain but not before turning around and looking james straight in the eye and blew a kiss while the crowd started cheering and whooping.

she passed the curtains and let out a deep breath. her whole body ached and she knew she would be a little sore the next day but it was worth it. seeing everybody’s expressions, especially james’s expression made the whole thing worth it.

all the girls came up to her and hugged her while telling her how much they loved the dance and how beautiful she did. all the compliments made her blush as she changed into her regular clothes which just consisted of jeans and a black long sleeve.

y/n made her way out the dressing room and managed to avoid seeing her boss and house. she still felt shame and embarrassment that her own boss, the person who signs her paychecks, saw her half naked body sensually dancing on a pole. she’s had nightmares about that. she was already half way out the front door before a cane stopped her from walking.

she only closed her eyes and sighed, “what do you need, dr. house ?”

“woah how did you know that was me ?!” his childlike glee was a little annoying to y/n, any other day she wouldve indulged in his jokes but her entire body ached and she just wanted to sleep.

“hm i dont know, maybe the fact that i saw you earli-“

he interrupted, “while you were sexy dancing and getting all the guys turned on, i swear i saw all of them with tents in their pants !” he rolled his eyes and lets out a little grunt, “ugh men.”

she sarcastically smiled, “ugh men indeed, including the one that is wasting my precious time right now.”

“what, are you taking one of those greasy little guys home ? you know im sure you’ll have a lot more fun with me.” his smirk is enough to tell her that he’s joking and he reached out to touch her arm before the front door creaked open and another hand gripped his wrist.

“house.” wilson’s slightly irritated voice cuts in.

house let out a big gasp before whipping his head around to face her, “daddy caught us ! i wonder how he’s going to punish us.”

y/n didnt let her eyes travel to james, still embarrassed by what he saw. she chuckled at house’s words before she stood on her tippy toes and leaned close to house’s face, “hm i dont think i’ll have fun with you, i actually like it when a man is below me and you seem like the type that cant handle that.” she leaned back down and pushed his cane away from her, walking back to her car while hearing james’s laugh.

she waved her hand and said, “goodnight guys, hope to see you here another day !” she heard house say “i hope so too !” she shook her head and laughed.

“wait, y/n !” james shouted while jogging towards her.

oh god, this is where she gets fired or he suspends her. she braced herself for bad news and turned to face her boss.

james had a wide smile, “y/n, you were incredible !”

she blushed and looked at her feet which were starting to hurt from standing and dancing all day.

“thank you, dr. wilson.”

“james, call me james.”

“okay well thank you, james !” she said softly.

he still had a soft smile on his face, “why didnt you tell me you worked here ?”

“i thought it wasnt appropriate, imagine telling your boss that you work at a strip club. how embarrassing ! i mean, im embarrassed right now !” she laughed.

he laughed with her, “i guess that’s true but i wouldve preferred that over finding out from house and losing twenty bucks.”

“you lost twenty bucks to house ?”

“he said that you worked at a club and i didnt believe him so we bet on it. imagine my surprise when i see my prettiest employee dancing on stage.” he rolled his eyes as he glanced at y/n, noticing her biting her lip to contain a smile and her blushed cheeks.

“well i guess i owe you twenty bucks, huh ?” she teased. his eyes creased as he chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face.

“well i wouldnt object.”

“okay how about i get us both muffins in the morning ! my treat, obviously.” she mused while tapping a finger to her chin in thought.

he grinned at her as they stopped in front of her car, “i would love that.”

“i would love to continue this conversation but i need to sleep because my body is killing me.” she tiredly groaned. he lightly smiled and waited for her to get into her car before saying goodnight and walking back to the strip club.

“also !” she yelled from her car window.

he turned around.

“tell house that i meant what i said. him and his leg wont be able to handle me on top.” she winked and rolled up her window, finally making her way home.

his eyes twinkled as he laughed, “i will keep that in mind.” he muttered with a flushed face.

[glorious-spoon]

finding excuses to be alone with each other - Buddie

hi, and thank you! sorry this has taken a while, and also i have no explanation for why i decided to write new year's eve fic in june. BUT: here you are!

a stolen moment

1200 words | buddie | developing relationship | secret relationship | kissing | fluff

-

There are too many people at this party.

Normally, this isn't something Buck would even think to complain about. Maddie and Chim are hosting, since Bobby and Athena are still living out of a tiny one-bedroom while work continues on their house, and Hen and Karen are still trying to get Mara settled back at home—New Year's parties are apparently not conducive to a quiet, predictable bedtime routine, and the Wilson family unit will probably be heading out well before the ball drops anyway—and nobody else has even close to enough room. It's still packed to the brim, overflowing onto the back patio, clusters of people chatting over drinks in the kitchen while the kids have taken over the living room TV for a vicious Mario Kart showdown that Chris is currently winning. Maddie's in the back bedroom putting Jee down for bedtime, and Chim is holding court over the dessert table, and it's all—great, honestly, it's great. It's awesome, having his family here, and happy, and together under the same roof after the year they've all had.

He glances up and meets Eddie's eye from across the dining room. Gets a quick smile in return. Eddie's cheeks are pink, maybe from the warmth, maybe from the two glasses of wine he's had, since Buck will be the one driving them home. He's wearing a green Henley that Buck knows is exactly as soft as it looks and worn-in jeans that mold lovingly to the lines of his thighs as he leans back against the door frame, and it's all pretty distressing, honestly. Buck's hands are itching to touch.

When he meets Eddie's eyes again, Eddie is grinning broadly. Caught, Buck ducks his head. He's blushing, he knows, and he doesn't have the excuse of the wine.

They're keeping it to themselves, at least for now. That was the decision they both made after Eddie kissed him in the loft two nights ago, after Buck kissed him back, after they didn't actually manage to make it all the way up to the bed and ended up on the couch instead, gasping into each other's mouths, fumbling and eager as teenagers. They're keeping it to themselves until Eddie figures out how he's going to tell Chris. He's skittish about that still, and Buck isn't going to push. So he'll probably be sleeping on the fold-out couch tonight instead of in Eddie's bed, and he's not going to kiss Eddie in the middle of the party, no matter how much he wants to.

It's okay. They have time.

"Hey, didn't someone bring dessert plates?" Chim calls from the kitchen. "Please tell me someone brought dessert plates, we're all out of the big ones and I'm really not up for doing dishes tonight."

Ah, shit. Right. That was Buck's job. He's pretty sure he did pick some up, actually, but they're probably still out in the Jeep, which is parked somewhere in the snarl of cars crowding the Han driveway and pulled off to the side of the street in front of their lawn.

"I got 'em," he calls, setting his soda down.

"My hero," Chim retorts, only half-teasing by his tone. Buck rolls his eyes and goes to find his shoes.

He doesn't realize that Eddie is following him until he's already slipped them on in the entry hall, a few steps away from the party. "What's up?"

Eddie shrugs, guileless, and crouches down to retrieve his shoes as well. "Figured I'd help you."

"You figured you'd help me…. bring in a package of paper plates?"

"Yeah," Eddie says innocently, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and god, Buck really wants to kiss him.

"Okay," he agrees instead, and pulls open the door. Eddie follows him out into the night, cool and dim even with Christmas lights still lit up all down the street. There's a dampness to the air that feels like rain; it's not that cold, but it's enough of a contrast to the warm house that a shiver goes through him. Eddie falls into step beside him, then reaches for his hand.

Buck shivers again, for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold this time. Eddie's hand is warm and broad, and he strokes his thumb lightly against Buck's, lighting up nerve endings he didn't even know he had.

It's such a small thing. But they've never actually done this yet. It all feels so new, sparkling like fireworks through his veins.

"Okay?" Eddie asks, and Buck realizes that he's stopped walking. 

"Yeah," he says. He's not doing a very good job of keeping the smile off his face, or out of his voice, but Eddie's got the exact same dopey smile on his face, so it's fine. They weave through the cars to where Buck's Jeep is parked, close enough to the street that they'll probably be able to get out without playing vehicle Tetris. Far enough from the house that they're shielded from view by Bobby's truck parked alongside them, so he's not all that surprised when Eddie lets go of his hand only to push him gently against the side of the Jeep and kiss him.

He gets lost in that for a little bit. The heat of Eddie's mouth, his hands moving from Buck's shoulders to cradle his jaw—he did that the first time, too. Held Buck like he's holding him now, like he's something precious and worth treating with care, and Buck's already hooked on it. He slides his hand up Eddie's back, feeling the warmth of him, to cup the back of his neck as Eddie licks into his mouth with leisurely sweetness, like he's got all the time in the world to kiss Buck just like this on the sidewalk on New Year's Eve.

Sooner or later, someone's going to come looking for them. It still takes a while for Buck to break the kiss, and when Eddie tugs lightly at his lower lip with his teeth before pulling away, he almost dives back in again. Almost.

"We should probably get back to the party," he says, very reluctantly.

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. He leans in and kisses Buck again, a sweeter, softer thing before leaning past him to open the door. Buck ducks into the back seat to retrieve the package of plates and the bottle of wine they forgot to bring in earlier, and when he straightens up, Eddie is watching him. He looks—hesitant, almost. Nervous. He looks the way he looked two days ago, right before he kissed Buck.

"What's up?" Buck asks.

"I want to tell Chris," Eddie says, all in a rush. "Maybe not—right now, at the party, but when we get home, I want to tell him. About us."

Buck takes a quick, sharp breath. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been as sure about anything in my life as I am about you."

"Eddie."

"It's the truth. And—I want him to know. Even if it's an adjustment, even if it takes some time to—I want him to know. I want everyone to know. If that's okay with you."

"Eddie," Buck says again, and then, "yeah, yeah of course it's okay."

"Good," Eddie says, with a sudden, brilliant smile. And well—Chim can wait a few more minutes for his paper plates. Buck sets them down and pulls Eddie back in.

[marc--chilton]

for house, his friendship to wilson is like finally getting warm after a lifetime of being cold. he might have managed, adapted, to the ice before, but now that he knows what it's like to not have to shiver, he holds on. he holds on so tightly he burns his palms, even when the warmth is incandescent, so hot it feels cold again, because he'd rather blister than freeze again

[housethemd]

Headcanon:

House was a heavy smoker when he and Wilson met.

Like a pack day, chain smokes on his lunch break, type smoker.

Wilson, being an oncologist, hates it. Once they’ve developed a close enough friendship Wilson nags constantly about how terrible cigarettes are for you, and how if House had to see as many cases of lung cancer in a day as he does he would quit cold turkey.

House comes back of course with sarcastic comments and deflection and sometimes immediately lights up another smoke just to annoy Wilson.

But after a couple years they are out together and Wilson notices House hasn’t been smoking, but has been chewing a lot of gum. He realizes House didn’t come annoy him to go outside with him at lunch either.

The next time House pulls out the gum, Wilson asks for a piece. House says no and they scuffle until Wilson manages to get the package from House’s hand and lo and behold - it’s nicotine gum.

Wilson is floored. House is actually quitting smoking. For some reason this seems to embarrass House, so Wilson keeps it to himself how proud he is of him.

It backfires slightly though, because now instead of pestering Wilson to go outside and sit with him while he smokes, House is pestering Wilson into buying him lunch, because “If you won’t let me smoke, you can at least buy me lunch.”

[vigilante-3073]

Cancer

James Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: Wilson gets diagnosed with cancer and decides to administer his own treatment. House and Doctor Y/N L/N assist him and have a discussion about the future.

TW: ANGST, pre-established relationship, cancer, treatments, pain medications, mentions of grief and death.

James Wilson had cancer.

A Stage 2 Thymoma that had started invading the surrounding tissue.

Wilson knew that his chances of survival with conventional treatment were slim to none. He managed to stockpile supplies in order to administer his own treatment.

L/N thought he was crazy, but promised to be there for him in whatever decision he made.

Wilson convinced House to assist him, knowing that the side effects alone would make L/N want to discontinue the intense treatment he had decided on.

Wilson needed someone who was going to stick to the plan, even if he thought it was an idiotic one.

They started his treatment in the living room of House's apartment. House was able to utilize his stash of morphine and vicodin to lessen the pain, but the side effects were still atrocious.

L/N was kneeling on the floor beside Wilson, dabbing the sweat from his forehead with a cool cloth. He mumbled incoherently, his cold hand wrapping loosely around her wrist. She lowered her hand, sending him a reassuring smile as he stared up at her with tired eyes. His skin had lost all color, dark bags forming underneath his eyes as his entire body shivered.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled, she shook her head, "You don't have anything to be sorry for," She assured, brushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead.

His fingers tightened around her wrist minutely, "You don't have to stay," Wilson said softly, "I would understand if you wanted to go," He continued.

"I'm not going anywhere. I love you and I'm not letting you go through this without me being right here to hold your hand," She said.

"I'm tired," Wilson stated, grip loosening as his fingers slid down the soft skin of her forearm.

"I know... Why don't you try and get some sleep? The infusion still has a while to go," L/N said, palm resting against the skin of his chest. His hoodie was saturated with sweat despite the chills that rattled his bones every few seconds.

He shook his head, "I wanna look at you," Wilson said, eyes flickering over her face.

She smiled slightly, "I'll still be here when you wake up, I'm not going anywhere," She assured.

He inhaled, breath stuttering in his chest before he began to cough and gasp. L/N reached over and turned on the oxygen, bringing the mask to his face as he wheezed.

"You're okay, deep breaths," She instructed softly, holding the mask in place for him. Wilson rested his hand over her's, muscles trembling with the effort before letting his arm fall aside limply again. He blinked up at her, taking deep breaths before he allowed his eyes to flutter shut as his exhaustion took over.

"I'll be right back, okay?" She said, he nodded without opening his eyes. L/N lifted the band of the oxygen mask over his head to keep it in place before standing up.

House watched her walk into the kitchen, he knew that seeing Wilson like this couldn't be easy for her. A selfish part of House wanted to tell her to leave, he could handle Wilson on his own without crumbling under the pressure like she inevitably would. But House knew that L/N loved Wilson and she would be beside him no matter how things ended.

House grabbed his cane and stood up, making his way into the kitchen. L/N stood in the farthest corner of the room with her hand over her mouth and her other arm wrapped around herself as she sobbed quietly.

L/N quickly wiped her tears away when she noticed him, taking a shaky breath as she attempted to calm herself down.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want him to see," She said softly, breaths stuttering in her chest as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

House walked over, hesitating for a moment before pulling her into his arms. He could feel her body trembling before she let out a quiet sob, pressing herself against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him as she broke down in his embrace. He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt, allowing her to release her pent up emotions.

She had put on a brave face for Wilson, focusing all her attention on him throughout this process. L/N had attended every appointment and been in the room for every scan since his diagnosis. Then she stood by her husband even in the face of his god-awful plan to give himself treatment.

This treatment regimen was not recommended and there was definitely a reason for it.

L/N pulled away, leaning back against the counter as she wiped the tears from her cheeks with a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry for crying on you," She said softly.

"Don't apologize," House replied.

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the soft hiss of the oxygen in the adjacent room.

"I-I don't know how to do this," L/N admitted quietly, twisting her wedding band around her finger, "I know that you're probably the worst person to ask, but you won't sugarcoat it... How am I supposed to let him go if this doesn't work?" She asked, voice shaking as she tried to keep from falling apart again. More tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked up at him, waiting for a reply.

House let out a breath, "You don't," He stated.

L/N nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks before more quickly fell to replace them. House looked down at the floor between them, tapping his cane against the wood.

"You love him... You're going to keep loving him even after he's gone," House stated, grip tightening on his cane.

"You either feel everything or absolutely nothing when you first get the news. Then you go numb or you shatter under the weight of your loss. You'll see him everywhere and miss him every second of every day. It could take a year or more for you to get through that initial wave of grief... Some people never get through it," He continued, eyes briefly meeting with her's.

"Then maybe you'll miss having someone around, the silence will feel like it's suffocating. You'll go out on a date, but realize how different they are and you'll miss him."

He glanced into the living room to where Wilson was laying on the couch before his eyes returned to the floor, "You'll grieve again. You'll feel like nothing will ever be right without him. Every day will feel like a battle until one day you can think about him without crying. You'll pack his things away, pretend that life didn't stop when he died. Then you'll see something that makes you think of him, smell his cologne on someone or hear a stupid joke that will throw you right back into that grief," He stated.

He looked up at her, finding her staring up at him with tear-filled eyes, "The pain never stops, you just learn to live with it," House said.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Cold Jax" Geechee!Erik Killmonger

Pairing: Geechee!Erik Killmonger x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Smut, Supernatural Horror, Period Piece, Erik Stevens AU, Black American Folktale.

Summary: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens is a Geechee wanderer and lover of big-legged women and good moonshine. On a trip to visit his favorite juke joint in 1940s Mississippi, he entertains a lover of sorts, Lulabelle, the juke joint owner and Madame of the nearby whorehouse. Erik battles two mythical creatures from Black American folklore, the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man in order to save Lulabelle and her establishment. The tale is told from the perspective of a ghost who was once Lulabelle's best friend.

Word count: 5.5K

"The winter time is coming

And it's going to be slow

You can't make the weather baby

it's dry long so

You betta come on in my kitchen

because it's going to be Raining outdoors..."

Cassandra Wilson – "Come on in my Kitchen" (Written by Robert Johnson)

There were two things Lulabelle Humphreys knew how to sell in Itta Bena Mississippi and that was moonshine and other people's pussy.

She did that very well until one night of the Harvest moon when cotton would soon be harvested by the local sharecroppers and itinerant Mexican men who traveled through the delta region looking for work like every other Negro or poor white trash far and wide. On that night under a sweltering heat full of drunk patrons and her smooth-talking whores inside her juke joint with the "special ladies" house attached by a rickety bridge that crossed over a tiny creek full of frogs and singing crickets, Lulabelle witnessed the showdown of all showdowns between the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man, shonuff, right inside her little rambling hot music-havin' and ice-cold beer havin' establishment.

And if it hadn't been for that slow walking city-to-city wandering Geechee man with the gold teeth, slick smile, and flashy suit standing by her with the smarts of his low country kin back in South Carolina, why Lulabelle might've lost everything that night like she lost me so many years ago when that Plat Eye stole me away when we was teenaged girls in these backwoods. But thank the Lord up above for Erik Stevens ramblin' through with that shiny switchblade, and his Gullah ways, cuz shonuff, that was a night to remember and I'm gonna tell it exactly how it happened from top to bottom and all the sides in between. I ain't been dead long enough or forgotten long enough to not tell it all...

"Mavis, how much lavender water is left in there?"

Lulabelle shouted into the open door that led to one of the "loving" rooms inside her special house.

"There's one bottle left," Ruth called out.

The young woman was nothing but string bean arms and toothpick legs, however, she was a favorite among the darker-skinned Black sharecroppers who admired her fair skin and limp shiny black hair. Even the high yella gals envied what Ruth could pull in because the men were willing to part with more money to fuck what was as close to a white woman as they would get.

Lulabelle knew clearly what a fetish was, so she used Ruth for the high income, but she also had Mavis, a crystal Black pearl with a dark hue so deep that negro soldiers from the military base lined up for hours waiting to part her dusky thighs to taste the sticky sweets within. There was someone for everybody at the house. Big women. Little scrawny women. Big Bodacious titties and itty-bitty mosquito bites. For the richly endowed there was Starla with a pussy so fat and deep that blues ballads were written for her. For the poorly imbued, there was Tweety Pie, a tiny woman with a small tight snatch that rivaled Starla in particular-sized fans.

For the men who didn't fawn over the womenfolk, there was Honey Boy, a twenty-something pretty little thing with bow lips, high cheekbones, and a fat ass that posed as a houseboy who brought fresh after-sex towels, water for the whore baths, and rubbers for the men who forgot to prepare for penetration. Honey Boy could dress like a pretty woman and serve clients fat wood if that was to a patron's liking. Lulabelle was surprised at how popular he was becoming on the low low, especially from the men in the military. Men with men had always been a reality, but Honey Boy was multidimensional. He could turn into a Butch boy from a chain gang, to a bullying Army sergeant to dominate and spread male ass cheeks that needed fat balls against balls. Or he could be a dainty femme movie star in a bra and heels with his hard dick swinging. Lulabelle kept a ready supply of costumes for him, more than the women. All the ladies needed were pretty underwear, strong garter belts, and lipstick. She kept quiet that she paid Honey Boy more than anyone else.

The second world war was putting money in her pockets. 1942 was a profitable war year for Lulabelle. Her pocketbook was fat with cash, and she could now afford real jewelry instead of the cheap costume fare she sported the last three years. She could even maintain a steady hot comb appointment at Mamie's Wash and Curl uptown. Her latest favorite style was imitating Joan Crawford's immaculate curls that she saw in the talkies at the Bijou theater. When she really wanted to look glamorous, she would have Mamie swoop up her thick hair on top of her head with a pinned curl on the front and an under curl in the back. The rich white women she saw in the new color catalogues wore their hair like that.

She wore her hair like that for that evening. It was a special night. The Harvest Moon was going up, and the men would be arriving in droves to drink, dance, and fuck.

He was coming too.

The Gullah man. That sly Geechie with the gold teeth.

Erik Stevens.

His arrival always coincided with some new moon every few months. She'd dress up extra special when she thought he was coming through. Her pussy was already twitching thinking about him.

"I'll have Honey Boy get you a fresh bottle," Lulabelle said patting the back of her hair.

It was hot already, and she worried that her hair wouldn't maintain until Erik saw it. Ruth stepped out of the room. The yellow silk camisole Lulabelle bought for her came to her thighs and had enough lace in the front to cover the baby bulge that was threatening to peek out. The girl got knocked up and none of the home remedies the cook Eva concocted worked in knocking the unwanted pregnancy out. Ruth could probably hide the truth for another month or so, but eventually she would have to go on convalescence and Lulabelle would have to rely on the other women to please the Ruth fans until the woman returned or left for a new life in the North. Until then, Ruth was about making her money and camouflaging the bump.

"Can you tell?" she asked.

Lulabelle squinted.

"These men will be too drunk to notice. Keep the garment on and don't worry about it."

Lulabelle checked in on the other ladies and all was well. Seven rooms, seven whores, seven sources of revenue on top of the juke joint next door. She peeked in on one of the mirrors inside a room and felt satisfied. Her beige dress hugged the curves of her big wide hips and large backside. Her heels made her short body have a little height. She needed a little more powder for her round nose, and the grease pencil she used for her eyes held the dark wings she gave herself.

"Eat your heart out, Joan," she muttered to herself.

She crossed the little wooden bridge that led to the juke joint making sure her crème bow top summer pumps didn't get dirty. Her name was painted in fading blue letters above the entrance. By Christmas she hoped to get a fancy electric sign that sparkled "Lula's". Honey Boy swept the porch entry and she could smell the grease being heated on the kitchen stove inside by Eva. There'd be fried chicken, black-eyed peas, collards with ham hocks, and plenty of buttermilk cornbread to sell with the ice cold Jax beer and corn liquor.

Her eyes scanned the lowering sun over the canopy of Tupelo trees. A loud shriek startled her and made Honey Boy stop sweeping.

"What was that?" Honey Boy asked.

His pressed hair was slicked back, and his copper brown skin was moist with sweat from the oppressive heat.

Lulabelle clutched at her chest. The sound came from deep in the woods. The darkness there shrouded any mysteries that lived within it.

"Sounded like something caught," she said.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

A memory.

Being a young teen girl with...

No. Don't think of her. That was the past.

Lulabelle pushed down on the terror in her throat and hid her shaking fingers in front of her dress.

"Probably some unlucky racoon ran across Old Man Rickers trap," she said.

"Yeah, you prolly right, Lulabelle. The man been hunting out there this week."

She heard the doubt in his tremulous voice. The lie hung in the air like dark sap on a dying tree between them.

"That sounded like death is on his way," Eva said.

The older plump woman opened the screen door of the juke joint while wiping down a plate.

"Don't say that, Eva. It's just an old coon, or a slow wild pig—"

The shriek pierced the air again.

"Lord have mercy," Eva said.

The older woman cradled the cheap gold-plated crucifix around her neck.

Rifle shots sounded in the distance and Lulabelle jumped, then smiled.

"See? Just some hunters putting some fresh meat down. Let's get ready for tonight, y'all."

Not one of them moved from the porch until Archie started tinkling on the piano keys inside the juke.

Pussy poppin' in the whorehouse, music jumping, bodies swaying, lips sucking down moonshine and dark beer, Lula's juke shook on its foundations. Dollar bills came in hand over fist as Lulabelle strolled around the property checking in with customers and hustling Eva to fry up more chicken plates. She rounded the corner of the makeshift stage shaking her hips to the hot sounds when her eyes slid to the entrance and saw Geechie Erik swagger in. Double-breasted gray suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Steel-blue silk tie, and black and gray woven Oxford shoes had the Geechie man draped. Lulabelle already knew he smelled like a million bucks even though she was standing nowhere near him. Erik took off his black fedora hat. He had kicked up the waves on his close-cropped hair, and his lightly bearded cheeks gave him a pronounced sophistication compared to all the clean-shaven military men taking up most of the space in the joint.

His eyes scanned the wide room and when they fell on her, her heart sang a minuet in his honor just to see those dimples in his cheeks. He strode toward her with long confident strides and when he circled his arm around her waist, she shivered at his touch.

"Lulabelle, Lulabelle. You get prettier every time I see you."

He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek, and she swooned. His scent was expensive leather, imported cologne, and Murray's hair pomade.

"Lemme get you a drink, Daddy," she purred.

"No, let me get you a drink. Stay right here."

He sauntered over to the big counter and within minutes he brought her back a small glass of whiskey to match his own. They toasted, tossed the liquor back, and he led her to an open table in the low-lit corner as bodies pressed together dancing around them. His thick lips were on her neck before she could gaze into his eyes, and his thicker fingers were already under her dress creeping over a seamed stocking, her garter belt, and the bottom of her girdlette. He inched closer to her core.

"Goodness gracious, you already hot down here," he whispered in her ear.

His finger swiped across Lulabelle's panties bringing her clit to life.

"Oh... there it is... my jewel," he crooned before he slid the garment aside and fingered her slit.

Erik had her sopping wet by the time the band switched tunes. Two of his warm fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making her pant and writhe on her seat next to him.

"You gon' sweat my hair out already!" she yelped reaching for the back of her neck.

Erik flipped his digits over palm-side up and finger fucked her until a puddle of creamy juices flowed out onto her chair. Once her legs shook and she squirmed uncontrollably, he bolted up from his seat and grabbed her hand. His dick jutted out from his pants and he dragged through the side door that led to the wooden bridge and the loving house.

"Get the fuck out," he told a patron having his dick sucked in the first room they came to.

Tweety Pie was on her knees, her bright red lips puckered around a small light brown penis. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Erik and the rigid length straining against his zipper.

Erik whipped out his switchblade and flicked it open.

"Out!" he barked.

Tweety Pie scrambled from her knees and pulled her customer by his hand with his trousers dragging around his ankles to another room. Erik slammed the door shut on the gawking eyes of the other whores and pushed Lulabelle against a mahogany cabinet that held lingerie.

"Turn around."

The snarl in his voice made her spin and toot her big ass out toward him. He dragged the cool blade up against the bottom of her stockings until it dipped just under the hem of her dress. He yanked her dress up around her chest and the sharp blade skimmed across her black satin-covered ass cheek. With just a little more pressure he could break the skin on her fat rump through the material and make her bleed. Erik jerked the blade and sliced her panties off. She gasped and clutched at the smooth wood of the cabinet for balance. She heard his zipper peel down slowly and felt his hands fumble for a rubber.

"You miss Daddy?"

"Yes!"

He parted her folds before she could catch her breath. The fullness stretching her out made her shout his name and grit her teeth. Pumping into her slowly at first, he teased the hell out of her by pushing in deep, then pulling all the way out so that her pussy lips throbbed needing his dick back inside of her.

"I missed this pussy... so much... taking me so deep!"

His switchblade rested on the middle of her naked spine and tickled her skin purposely.

"Take this dress off!"

He helped her wiggle her arms out of it before unfastening her bra with his hands. Cradling her heavy breasts, he made her cheeks clap as his weapon clattered to the floor. His full concentration was on pleasing her body. Rough wide palms spread her ass cheeks wide as he grunted and pushed down on his thighs to hunch over her.

"Lula, shit... Lula..."

Erik gripped her hips and slammed into her before pulling out and lifting her up. He tossed Lula on the soft lumpy bed, undressed, and plunged back into her. The gold in his mouth glinted above her as he thrust harder and faster knocking the breath out of her body.

Her garter belts bunched up then stretched with her girdlette when he pushed her thighs back.

"Big legged girl... mmmm," he groaned.

He shoved his head down to her folds and sucked on her lower lips before spitting on them and sinking his girth back inside her walls.

"Daddy hittin' that bottom yet?"

"You in there... real deep, Daddy."

"Lemme get deeper..."

Her ankles met her earlobes and the heavy pressure from his dick made her cock-eyed a spilling gibberish from her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus!" she yelped when his fists rested on her sides and he bucked into her, slapping his balls against her ass.

Before he could press his mouth into her swollen pussy again to glisten his face, she clenched up around his dick and squeezed it with rhythmic pulses she had no control over.

"That's a good girl... let that pussy talk to Daddy's dick, Lula."

His eyes watched her contractions yank on his length, and when he finished talking her through her release with high praises and slow wet kisses, he pulled off the rubber and stroked himself against her clit. The silky curls of her pubic hairs were wet with her creamy orgasm and became even wetter when Erik splashed hot cum all over her vulva. His shouts of pleasure filled her with quiet confidence.

"That's it Daddy, cum all over your fat pussy."

He hissed when she said that, and his heated glare encouraged more of his release. A thick rope of semen painted her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her with hard ragged gasps.

"God, I wish I could be in this pussy every day, Lula."

"You could," she said stroking the waves on his hair.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with her.

"Not with the work I do. I try my best to get here when I can. But shit, baby. If I didn't get this pussy for free, I would pay a fortune for it."

She rolled on her side to look at him, happy that he thought of her like that. His eyes were still on the ceiling, but there was a frown on his face.

"She's in the room, y'know. Up there hiding in the corner."

"Don't say that, Erik. You know it scares me."

"If you did what I told you to do, she'd go away."

"As long as she don't start no foolishness around here, I can live with a ghost."

"Can you? Then how come you're scared?"

"She was my friend. I know she blames me for getting away and not her."

"A good coating of haint blue all around the doors would keep her out..."

"I can't. I can't do that to her. If she's just lingering as a ghost, it makes me feel like she can live a little."

"If you say so."

"Let's not talk about her."

His eyes were still focused on the ceiling, looking at Elizabeth, her childhood friend from so long ago. She couldn't see the dead teenager at all.

"She mad?" Lulabelle asked.

"She loves you. It's why she stays around... floating from room to room... following you."

Lulabelle pulled his chin toward her.

"Don't look. Please."

Erik slipped his tongue in her mouth. A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Lulabelle, sorry to disturb you and your Mister, but I need this room," Tweety Pie squeaked out.

"Give me a minute."

Lulabelle peeled the rubber from Erik's dick and tossed it inside some tissue and chucked it out of the window into a well-placed bucket outside.

"You ruined my panties," she scolded as she jumped up to rinse her privates and stomach in lavender water at a large basin sitting on a maple console table.

She dried her folds and fixed her bra back around her breasts.

"Don't need 'em, I'll be back inside of you soon enough," he said.

Pulling her dress back on, Lulabelle tried to fix her hair and make-up in a mirror.

"You look fine," he said zipping his pants.

Erik picked up his switchblade and opened the door.

Tweety Pie had a new man with her, a handsome young soldier with lust in his eyes.

"Pardon us," Erik said as he guided Lulabelle back to the juke joint.

Lulabelle sat on Erik's lap as he joked with some patrons and slammed back shots of moonshine. She fed him cornbread and pieces of chicken bites with her fingers, and occasionally she would bounce on his hardness that rested against her backside. He tortured her clit with occasional strokes under her dress, but he wouldn't let her cum. That would happen later when he was ready to plunder her pussy once more. Tradition held that he would fuck her at least four more times before he disappeared until the next new moon in the future. She sat on that hard meat all hot and bothered knowing he was going to be cruel by plucking at her bud and sticking his tongue in her ear all night. She watched him dance with a few women and flirt while she checked on her women out back and collected her money, stuffing it in her bra.

Erik was a little too handsy with a couple of fancy ladies and she had to check him. He'd become contentious then, argued with her until she argued him down threatening to cut his balls off if he cheated on her. If she pushed him, just a little too hard, his neck would move in a hostile way that put her in her place and made her drip down her thighs. He liked her mouthy and jealous, but not too jealous if he caught her rubbing her ass against some other patron to provoke him. He'd spank her hard and tell her about herself until she stopped being bratty and soothed his ego. That was his way every time he came to the juke. Arrogant. Loud. Threatening other men who got too close to her, then all seductive when he needed her loving once more.

When no one was looking, Erik unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and slid her on top of it raw at their private table. Her dress covered the action, and he lifted her up and down.

"You bet not cum," he ordered with harsh breath.

"I won't, I promise," she insisted with clenched teeth.

She was snug on his dick, and the friction was too much to bear. She clutched onto his knees and leaned forward, dropping her weight on his thighs. The rhythm was perfect until a slender man as tall as a Tupelo crept over to their table and sat down. He didn't seem concerned that he was witnessing a woman getting fucked within an inch of her life in the midst of her own rowdy and lascivious establishment.

The man's face was long, and he had long teeth... and long fingers... and long legs... and a long tongue that lolled around in his mouth. He had skin the color of a soft sunset and one big eye in the center of his face. The music and dancing slowed all around her, and all she could see and hear was the long man with his long deep breaths.

"Lulabelle... Lulabelle..." the slender man said, and the voice that spoke her namesake was not pleasant and inviting like Erik's. It was sinister. Conniving. Filthy to her ears.

Erik thrust up into her walls, and she gasped. The slender man smiled with his long teeth, and his one big black eye blinked and Lulabelle fell forward and down into a vortex of hideous darkness until she landed on soft grass in front of the crossroads that led into the dark woods near her juke joint.

"Lulabelle, hurry up! If we don't go now, we'll chicken out!"

Elizabeth ran ahead of her. Dear sweet Elizabeth, eighteen and glowing with a gorgeous figure and good hair, and the good sense to know that Itta Bena was to be left behind. They were going to New York to become showgirls in Harlem, leaving all that country backwoods shit living behind. No sharecropping or cleaning after white folks for them. They were young. Beautiful. Full of life and ready to see the world. That meant crossing through the woods at the old dusty crossroad just as the sun was setting. The last train outta town was due in an hour. Going through the woods was the fastest route to a new life.

But then the slender man came. The Plat Eye. The Haint that haunted the trees and lingered in the darkness deep inside the woods.

Lulabelle, full of eighteen-year-old spunk, dropped her heavy suitcase and pulled Elizabeth back with a hard tug on her arm.

"Dontcha see him, girl?" Lulabelle shouted.

"Oh, he's just another traveler headed outta here too, pick up your suitcase-"

"It's the Plat Eye. You don't see its face. The one eye? The long teeth?"

"You so silly girl! Look at him... just a man tryna run like us."

"No!"

Elizabeth dropped her suitcase and stood with arms all akimbo.

"If you don't wanna go, then say that, Lulabelle."

"You don't see that monster right there?!" she shrieked, and it startled Elizabeth.

The Plat Eye smirked.

"Fine, stay here then you big baby. Hey, Mister, wait up!"

"Elizabeth!"

An arm grabbed Lulabelle's elbow stopping her from running after her friend.

"Don't move, gal."

The voice didn't have Mississippi in it. It was low country and slower than cold molasses. South Carolina lived in it.

"She done made her choice and if you move one inch, I can't protect you."

Lulabelle didn't turn to look at the stranger. His words were wise, and she did as she was told.

"Elizabeth! Come back!"

"It's too late, Lulabelle."

"How you know my name?"

"I've seen you 'round here before with your friend."

She tried to turn around, but firm hands held her shoulders in place.

"Don't hurt me, Mister."

"Nah, I wouldn't do nothin' like that."

The Plat Eye grew taller almost reaching the height of the nearest tree.

"She can't see what it is?"

"She see what she wanna see."

The thing that was as tall as a Tupelo bent down and opened its tall mouth and Elizabeth stepped into the dark maw...

Lulabelle gasped and her thighs sensed the strong muscles of Erik's legs holding her up once more. He fucked her still, hitting her walls harder. His hands gripped her breasts as he grunted and rolled her nipples with agile fingers. The slender man of her past smiled, his greasy lips splitting wide as he was long. That single eye a tainted monstrosity to behold on its face.

The juke joint partied on, and men filed out through the side door to pay their money for an extra good time with her girls. The Plat Eye reached out for Lulabelle's arm and Erik slammed his switchblade down on the table.

"Nah, haint. This one here belongs to me."

The Plat Eye blinked that Cyclops eye in shock and its mouth fell open.

"Should've known you'd be around here," The Plat Eye grumbled sitting back in his chair.

A clammy wetness dampened Lulabelle's neck. Memory boomeranged back into her chest. The low country voice. The strong hands that held her waist so that he could rut into her pussy.

Lulabelle turned her head and the glint from Erik's gold teeth became a glowing source of ethereal light. The full lips and bright white teeth still looked human but the reverb of hidden power sat under the guttural rasp of his voice.

The man from the Crossroads.

The one who stopped her from entering the throat of the Plat Eye and turning into a floating haint that lived in the ceiling like Elizabeth.

The Geechee Man.

"Ya don't play fair," The Plat Eye grumbled again.

"And?" Erik said.

Erik's firm hands skated up her sides and rested on her shoulders. Lulabelle's pussy squelched on his dick all rude and loud. Plat Eye licked his fleshy lips.

"This here the one I wanted. Not that other one—"

Lulabelle snatched up Erik's switchblade and jumped up from his lap. Her pussy throbbed from being removed from his erection. She held the open switchblade against his throat. Why couldn't anyone else in her juke joint see or hear what was happening?

She knew the stories. All kinds of frightening things could be met at a crossroads. And if the Crossroads Man himself showed up—

"Put that down, Lula. It's not a toy to be played with," Erik said zipping up his pants.

The Plat Eye leaned forward and shot his arm out to grab her, but Erik was quicker. He snatched the switchblade back faster from her grip than she could blink, and he slashed the creature's arm. Black festering ooze seeped from the wound and sizzled as it splashed on the table burning holes through the wood.

"Give her to me," the Plat Eye demanded.

Erik stood up and straightened his tie.

"Nigga you ain't getting shit but an ass kicking if you keep playing with me. I told you already. This one is mine. Get on about yourself before I send you on your way to a very bad place."

"There are rules!"

The Plat Eye leapt to his feet and towered over Erik. Not by much though.

"I make the rules," Erik said.

An arrogant chuckle tumbled out of the Plat Eye's mouth. He gripped the lapels of his suit and blinked that one beastly eye. His open wound continued to drip ruining her good table.

"My man," The Plat Eye said and held up his long fingers to placate Erik.

The creature slid out from the juke joint with no one the wiser. Erik turned to face her and Lulabelle jumped away from him.

"Stay back!"

"Lula... c'mon, baby. I've been coming to you ever since you opened this place. Have I ever harmed you once?"

"No."

"I just give you good lovin' when I can."

"That's why you can't be with me all the time?"

He nodded.

"I guard the way, and I open it up. Everywhere."

Lulabelle ran to the bar and made Eva pour her the biggest glass of moonshine possible. She gulped it down. Erik sauntered over to her.

"Don't be scared of me, Lula."

"What are you... really?"

"Your man."

"You ain't no man."

"I'm no demon if that's what you're worried about."

"God forbid if I'd been fucking the devil."

"I'm no devil, girl. Far from it."

He stroked her face.

"Let's go to the back. I need you... right now."

His voice made her insides tingle. This was their time. But how could she go back and make love to... to a what? Spirit? Guardian angel? Supernatural being?

He never did hurt her. And never once did she suspect that he wasn't anything other than a switchblade carrying Geechie that made her backbone slip.

"Are there others?" she asked, "Others like you around here?"

"Always. But you don't have to worry about nothin'. You got me. No one fucks with me.'

"How come you didn't save Elizabeth?"

"She didn't want to be saved."

"But I loved her. She was my best friend. Why would she leave me?"

"She's still here. She'll never leave until you chase her on."

"Is she happy?"

"Like I told you, she loves you. If you're happy, she's happy."

"God won't punish me for being with you, will he?"

"She won't. I promise."

"What about me selling pussy and a little dick?"

"Not even on her mind."

Lulabelle smiled.

Erik slinked over to her and rubbed his big body against hers and nudged his bearded face against her soft cheek.

"How many women have you seduced over the years?"

"You my favorite."

"That didn't answer my question.," she said putting a hand on her hip.

"You wanna argue or get some more dick, gal?"

Lulabelle checked the room. Her patrons were happy and not having a care in the world. Eva cooked more food, Honey Boy kept the girls refreshed in their loving rooms, and the Harvest moon spilled in through the window behind the juke band.

Moonlight bathed Erik's face and he slid his hand under her dress again.

"Daddy needs to take care of you... oh see now, my sweet jewel is all plump again."

He removed his hand and licked his fingers sticky with her essence. She rubbed on his crotch and he gifted her with a hard bulge. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

"Elizabeth wants you to get all this," he said grinding against her.

"Can you tell her that I miss her? That I love her?"

"She already knows."

Erik lifted her up and carried her across the rickety bridge and back to the soft lumpy bed.

That's their story, and I ain't tellin' it twice. Lula and her Geechee Man played nice for a long, long time. I keep watch and makes sure that stays true. Until we meet again on the next new moon...

Part 2 "There's Some Whores in This House" HERE.

A.N:

This was a birthday story I wrote for @soufcakmistress back in 2021.