#and Greg…immediately changed into it

[greenvertumna]

Not to be a Nick x Greg truther but in s1 ep 4 Greg is wearing a hideous shirt that looks suspiciously like the hideous shirt Nick was putting on at the start of the episode

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 1x22, "honeymoon"

somehow one of the show's tamest season finales still ended up rocking my world.

an episode full of actions speaking louder than words, making it an excellent season one send-off, if you ask me. this one has excellent synergy with the pilot, despite how radically things have changed in the last 21 installments. wilson agrees that house cares about him based on his actions, and in 1x22, house spends the whole episode working in spite of his words to express his love to stacy through caring for mark. even though he can't stand the guy. good one, david shore and co.

3 separate notes i want to make from the top of the episode:

have there always been at least 3 red mugs? i swear we've only seen 1 so far, but one of the earliest scenes showcases 3.

the first drugging incident is in the books! along with their goofy "you dosed me/them/him" lingo.

wilson immediately maxed out his season 1 hypocrisy scale when he told house to "treat the husband. stay away from the wife." just because you abandon your wife all the time does NOT make you the right person to distribute relationship advice. idiot.

my general thoughts on stacy are very positive - i cannot think of a better past love interest for house, nor can i think of anyone who could give a better performance than sela ward. the way she still fits in with house doesn't lessen house's strong characterization thus far, and her screen time feels interesting and warranted throughout. the way she shuts him down when he asks about potential infidelity here gives the instant impression that house cannot mess with her like he does with just about everyone else:

most importantly, what i like about stacy are the ways she problematizes the ethics, or lack thereof, that we've become adjusted to under the Greg House Regime. she strong-arms people all the time as a lawyer, but in a completely opposite venue as house. in her world, there are grey areas abound; she just has to navigate through them all to reach a favorable conclusion. from our experience in 1x21, this was a major point of contention between them, and i think it's a really clever way of showing 2 different life paths manifested in 2 wildly different people with similar moral codes.

but something doesn't sit right (intentionally so): are their understandings of, and respect for, patient autonomy the same?

that house never fights her on this point gives us a superficial answer, at least: yes. stacy demands that house make mark, her current husband, go through a highly dangerous test in the same way that house would have strong-armed any other patient into doing the same thing. he can't refute this point when she throws it in his face, and goes so far as to accuse house of wishing mark would die (more ofc to come of that later):

but, subliminally, there's 2 key differences at play here: stacy hasn't known house that much post-infarction, so she hasn't seen the full impact that her middle-ground medical decision had on him, and now she's advocating for the dangerous procedure, whereas amidst house's infarction, she wanted the more fool-proof, cautious option. they make a nod to the former point when she comments about house bouncing his cane: "some people would find that annoying."

i don't think stacy is aware of this irony - and who would be while their husband is dying of freak brain matter and nerve degeneration? she's operating from a place of love for mark and arguing - in a rather courtroom-esque way, begging house to forego the legal consequences - for him to do something drastic. when he gives in, we see a flash of house's most dangerous side.

this was the least surprising "plot twist" yet btw. house md writers i'm not idiot. i knew he had that Look in his eye and was gonna do it.

it's such a weird moment; house was choosing to be safe by not directly threatening mark's life with a dangerous test, but he was doing it out of selfishness. this highlights a persistent conflict of morals that reappears all over the show. these 2 make a pretty dangerous duo lol.

personally, i'd be lying if i said stacy's disregard for house's choice about his infarction didn't bother me, and i LOVE the discomfort that generates within me as a viewer. i have to hold house to that same standard, but we've been so endeared to his character over time that it's textually difficult to maintain that integrity. maybe it's something to do with how we're taught to consider house as god, too, no matter how often he fails us/the show emotionally? much to think about.

next, i want to highlight this moment of fellow solidarity:

this speaks louder than dozens of words ever could about where the fellows are at emotionally. despite the ways in which they're all like house and all the ways he's influenced them, they can still identify his tipping point. this in and of itself is a small act of love, i'd argue, and we can extrapolate that:

chase, despite being so deep in the shitter with house post-vogler, still cares enough for him to prevent him from making this crazy choice.

foreman hasn't been so corrupted by house as to abandon his morals; he's stood firm against the mini-house accusations by being so consistently upstanding.

cameron can see through house, like she's been trying to all along, and knows that a large chunk of his current motivations are not for mark's benefit.

they each have unique insights into house's breakdown in 1x22 based on their unique relationships to him, all condensed into this brief "three musketeers" formation. love to see it, the fruit of 22 episodes' worth of writerly labor.

circling back to stacy (sorry for how disorganized this recap is!), there's an interesting comparison to make between stacy and wilson's function in this episode. stacy enables house to act on his craziest, instinctive impulses, whereas wilson is demanding the exact opposite - that he keep everything repressed for the sake of the patient. ofc, the highest irony is that, had house done that, mark would have died. this episode doesn't feature wilson's enabling crimes (those haven't come up that much this season, i don't think), but more so acts as a precursor for what's to come on that front.

but i would be VERY REMISS if i didn't mention a scene that i had nearly forgotten about myself that had me open-mouthed, thinking about The Future of this show and of These Two:

something should go here about the sign above wilson's shoulder. very no-turning-back. a nod to how he's quite literally leaving his wife for house here?

wilson gets to do one of my favorite things here: be house's moral compass on the subject he's the least trustworthy about - relationships. but i think this exchange highlights why house comes to wilson with his feelings about mark and stacy; wilson's own imperfections lets the vulnerability come easier. house admits that he was glad that mark's tests were inconclusive, that mark is "probably a great guy...and some part of me wants him to die. i'm just not sure if it's because i want to be with her or if it's because i want her to suffer."

that stacy picks up on this very fact later in the episode speaks to how well she knows house; that house tells wilson and not her shows the high regard that holds her in. that wilson doesn't respond says a lot. in an episode where everyone's voices are especially loud, and when wilson has already scolded house on this whole unraveling stacy debacle, his silence is peaceful...

...and a little bit prophetic. (4x16 spoilers) this reminds me a hell of a lot of a future, much more serious dilemma wherein a certain Broken Moral Compass asks his best friend to undergo a highly dangerous treatment to save someone else whom he loves. it's not perfect, but there's definitely a parallel to be drawn here: does wilson wish for house to undergo the life-threatening brain surgery just to save amber, or is there a small amount of selfishness there that wants to see house suffer? once again, much to think about! check back when i finally get to season 4 lol.

regardless, what i find compelling above all else is how wilson's silence helps prompt house to act above his words -- even though the subsequent actions are exactly the opposite of what wilson had been advising house to do thus far! no matter what his feelings may be about stacy and mark, he solves the case in the end, undoing his previous commitment to wait "for something to change." it was an obvious scapegoat when he said that to stacy, coming from the man who rejects all notions of change.

wilson's influence is even visually represented, too. when house returns to mark's hospital room, determined now to do the crazy thing and give him the dangerous treatment, we get a very brief shot of the teddy bear that wilson sent stacy and mark (he's so annoying lol):

lastly, i liked the step 1x22 took in throwing one of the show's background themes into the spotlight: house's neediness.

we've seen traces of it growing throughout the season, especially in how he tries to maintain order among the fellows, keeping them at his side while also self-sabotaging. it's clear to anyone that he can be exhausting to be around, but stacy confirms that this exhaustion extends well into his romantic/intimate relationships as well. according to her, while he is The One: "i was lonely. with mark, there's room for me."

OOF.

this somewhat contradicts what i said earlier about stacy not knowing house as he is now; like she told cameron, he's been This Way for a while - this also has interesting implications for wilson's comment during "detox" about whether house's changing behavior is "just the leg" or not. the antisocial behavior predates the infarction - very important in the Gregory House Timeline, and i think it actually endears us to him even more. and the mystery just got deeper, too.

in stacy's POV, he's always been needy. the relationship was always consuming, all about him. and as we well know, this isn't a trend that goes away. each of the fellows will grow apart from house, though at different paces and for very different reasons, and his future romantic relationships do the same, too.

but there IS someone who has a house-shaped hole in their heart, someone who defies the relationships that house has worn out thus far and will wear out in the future, someone that goes so far as to say that we "can't really choose who our friends are" because house fits that empty space too well.

"my wife's gonna kill me. we're having company. she cooked."

"i got mark's latest bloodwork. he's not responding to treatment."

"i'm sorry."

stacy was completely right to say that her relationship with house was too all-consuming; we see that play out again in the first half of season 2. but we also lay the seeds for what happens when there are 2 people, stricken with that same neediness dilemma, who are balanced perfectly for the other person, no matter how toxic things may become.

are there more things i could talk about? absolutely! i think i'll be doing an overall season recap, so i can evaluate some more atp. for now, happy end of season 1. wow, has the show transformed!! i'm sure that the final shot of the season being house contemplatively downing some vicodin isn't foreshadowing how his addiction becomes much more destructive in season 2...

HE'S SO SEASON 5 HERE.

[mysterieyes]

Hey guys did you see that they changed this panel in the comics. It’s on the offical website. You don’tn eed to fact check this because I wouldn’t lie.

[lustagel]

౨౿ rodrick who is such a loser, the first time you kissed he moaned into your mouth. his body leaning into yours, his hand sliding around your waist—the movement is so confident you think he’s getting cocky until you hear it, the light sound of satisfaction. you do nothing but smile into his lips before pulling away, “you’re cute.”

now, the loser loves making out with you sitting in his chair. your legs on either side of his hips as your shorts ride up your legs. to center himself like before, his warm hands slide from your hips to your sides, slightly making you shiver. your lips are wet with one another’s spit, both your heads spinning, noses hitting every now and again as you breathe in each other's air.

“rodrick!”

as if nothing has changed, noises slip from his mouth while you taste each other, your hand scratching into the short hair on the back of his head, not making him any better. his hands slide further up until he’s grabbing a handful of your breast but before you can even think about getting the shirt off greg’s voice takes over the room.

“rodrick, mom sa- EW!” the two of you pull away immediately, you look over at greg with a shocked expression while rodrick simply stuffs his face into your chest with a groan. he mumbles something, but it doesn’t reach either of your ears. “i think i’m gonna hurl,” greg says, making exaggerated gagging noises as he begins to leave. “oh my god,” rodrick moans into your chest in aggravation. he lifts his head to shoo greg from the room further, “get out.”

you hear the soles of greg’s feet hit each step as he leaves. rodrick leans back into the chair and you finally get to take a good look at him; his hair messy, his lips almost as pink as his cheeks, the pinkness creeping up his neck a little, lips slightly agape. you can only grin, “you’re really cute.”

[pussyfever23]

white lotus is insanely good at showing capitalism and the state of western society as a prison that it is. the entire point of this ep was i think that so many characters got so close to breaking out of the cycle only to end up stepping back into the cage of it, locking it after themselves, and willingly throwing out the key.

piper, who like so many young people saw the injustice of the world and felt helpless in the face of it. wanted to give up her privilege and get away from her family who represented everything she hated only to let those values she resented pull her back in. the desire for comfort, the privilege of watching the world end from your comfortable seat at the top, the practiced line of “if we don’t enjoy what we have it’s a waste”. that was her breaking point and she will never go back. 30 years and she’ll be undistinguishable from her mother.

gaitok, whose story mirrors piper’s so closely in how he rejects his entire worldview because barely anyone is strong enough to uphold it in a system that will break you if you try to oppose it. to have once felt so helpless in the face of evil and to side with it since you can’t defeat it. to be pushed to find the violence within yourself when all you ever wanted was to treat the world kindly.

belinda, whose formative experience was being wronged by a millionaire, to have money and convenience prioritized over her, to experience the fickleness and complete lack of backbone of someone who has enough money to afford to have no morals. and to give up everything she believed in, all qualms about greg’s blood money, all dreams grounded in the reality of mortals to advance up to the realm of the wealthy. and to repeat what was done to her with the exact same carelessness and fickleness. to be so swept up in money that pornchai immediately becomes just inherently lesser to her.

rick, who had plans to kill the man who murdered his father and didn’t go through with them only to see that man again and get enraged by his words, again, and still, choose to control himself. he did not believe in therapy for a second at the beginning but, when everyone thinks he gets up from the table to give into murderous impulses, he actually seeks out mental help. only to be denied. to be denied when he comes to the therapist with tears, begging, willing to change and willing to believe in a better future he wants, needing just one chance, just someone to talk him through and believe in him in return. only to be turned down because another appointment is already scheduled. because the customer is king and because there is a line to wait in. he can’t take a chance he’s never given in the first place, so he reverts. the cycle never breaks.

laurie, who stays with the friends who make her miserable. lochlan, who drinks the seeds following in his family’s footsteps again but lacks conviction to fully commit, even in death. i could go on.

nothing ever changes. the status quo remains and the cycle continues and the wheel is never broken. you can never escape and, if you’re the one who the system benefits, why would you want to in the first place? lock your cage, throw the key away and enjoy a piña colada that won’t kill you anyway while the world burns.

[balteredsworld]

turning point. gregory house

🥼🩺 | you and house despise each other. today's supposed to be any other night, but house kisses you.

warnings/tags! light enemies-to-lovers, angst if you squint your eyes, younger woman x older man, emotional revelations, no dialogue, and they kiss!

masterlist : greg house n all

a/n: i can't believe people are sending in things in my inbox wow if you have any requests/ideas or little topics of conversations don't shy away and send them my way! enjoy ducklings <3

house reaches for your wrist, taking you into his grasp, and pulling you flush against his body. you jolt at the sudden motion, left hand landing and pressing on his chest. sure eyes linger on your face for a fraction of a second. beauty eclipsing any and all thought working the cogs in his busy mind. all he thinks to himself is how breathtaking you are in this moment.

many a time the two of you would rather bicker, almost estranged in your sidings with cuddy. but you were legally bound by contract to side with her, serving as a board member this year.

tonight’s no different, you’re here because of house’s opposition to a hospital policy you and the board proposed. he’s been on a childish campaign to get you to concede to his wishes, after all he does whatever he wants in the hospital. but he makes a deductive confession that changes the tune of your usual argument. and tonight’s a little different, with it being the annual gala.

you wear this burgundy dress off some runway that he makes note of, and he’s in his well-pressed, well-tailored suit. you came here to declare a truce, but instead you let house press your buttons, somehow finding yourself ending the argument against his chest.

house’s hand snakes its way to the nook of your back. then, his lips were latched onto yours. he's kissing you.

gregory house is kissing you.

your tense body melts into his touch, reciprocating the kiss despite your initial surprise. you loop an arm around his neck, pushing him closer to you, causing the two of you to wobble, but he steadies your weight and deepens the kiss.

it’s sweet, passionate, and almost desparate, as if this was years of yearning. but you’re not so illusioned that you mistake this as something other than all your anger and hostility towards each other finally being squeeze out by the force of your locked lips—into this kiss.

it’s a kiss the two of you unknowingly wanted, hidden underneath the veneer of your harsh and clashing words. you’re not afraid to argue with house, equally venomous with your tongue during your time as a defence lawyer. and house is the same, sharpened tongue to prove his correctness in principle.

but you two fear that you’ve exposed yourselves to the possibility of tragedy. maybe it's because you two have been really eyeing each other all along, testing how you could handle each other. never once have you failed, nor has house. that scared you shitless, but the moment’s well worth it. house makes good work with his lips, and you float in some sort of heaven, feeling the frustration finally rupture. and he feels the same.

slowly, you both pull away from each other, breathless and flushed. you don’t pull away immediately, staying interlocked in his grasp. your eyes are both down cast, not quite refusing to look at the other, but rather frozen and unsure where to look. despite it, house’s eyes radiate blue.

it’s too intimate for you and house, and yet you keep still. he’s kept to himself all these years, only to have you cut into his bubble between the hookers he distracts himself with. he thinks that’s where his resentment of you stems from, but it’s never really been quite hatred, he realizes. you’re the same, lonelier than you would like to admit. no one, so it seemed, could tug on your heartstrings except this man you found nothing but annoyance for.

house is perplexed. his mouth is agape, nothing quite registering to allow his neurons to fire and form words. something of his old self manifests, and a warm feeling feathers his heart. a touch like this was no stranger to that ghost, but all the other flirtations he makes falls in comparison. there’s only you and him

his sense are faint yet heightened, just from his proximity to you. biologically speaking, he’s doing really well, and he can hear his pulse pounding, and feel yours mirror his. he’s forgotten what this feels like, but sure it was this, and that makes his heart race faster. it’s almost dizzying.

house continues to direct his eyes on your curled hair, unsure of how to look at you. he considers leaving without another word, but he feels stuck to you.

you mirror house, too dazed to do anything. an overwhelming euphoria shoots through you, the sort of nervous excitement that makes you feel like a teenager. you’re younger than house, and you bite your cheek like you were 17 with your crush. you’re all too aware of your inexperience now, unsure with your wild heart. nevertheless, you muster the courage to finally break your trance. so you push on his chest lightly, finally meeting his eyes.

you blink. he’s tall.

the realization makes you swallow nervously. you open your mouth, but like house, nothing quite comes out. your hand still rests on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his pulsing heart. you try again, this time with house. both of your lips fall open, tongue failing again. but his eyes are enough. all you want to do is kiss him, so you lean in and kiss him again.

luckily for you, house always wants to kiss you.

[maxxiemoa]

~Rodrick x babysitter fic~

An: This story has been in my drafts for a little while. I love my dorky emo boyfriend Rodrick <3

Summary: Susan Heffley knew you from the neighborhood and thought you were a responsible enough girl to watch manny for the evening. What you didn’t really grasp was that she was really asking you to watch all her sons while Frank and her went on a much needed night out.

I arrive 5 minutes early to the Hefley’s house. I rang the doorbell and was quickly met with a cheerful greeting from a younger brunette haired boy.

“Im Greg you must be y/n” says the young boy. Hes sweet but I can tell hes a bit awkward socially. I nod and introduce myself, “yeah I’m y/n I’m babysitting your little brother tonight. Is your friend here…erm Rowley? Right? Your mom said you two would be having a sleepover tonight.

“Yeah he should be here any second” Greg says moving out of the way for me to come into the house.

“Oh! Great you are here early!” Susan walks over to me quickly and in her arms is who I am assuming is Manny.

Manny waves at me and does grabby hands at me. I offer to take him from Susan and she happily hands him over to me. “I’m y/n and you must be Manny.” I smile at him sweetly and hold him close to me. God he is adorable. Oh how I wish I had a little sibling to carry around.

“RODRICK!” I jump a bit at Franks sudden yelling. I turn around to the sound of quick footsteps coming down the stairs. Down comes a boy who I vaguely remember from somewhere.

Susan points at her eldest son and says “this is Rodrick he goes to the same school as you.” I remember where I’ve seen him before, he is in my 3rd period English class….hes a bit of a…dumb dumb.

Rodrick looks me up and down and then runs back upstairs nearly tripping on his way up.

Frank nears the door and grabs the keys. “If he does anything stupid just ignore him. Hes in a rockstar phase right now” I giggled at his comment and so does Greg.

The two of them leave and I am now the adult in the house. “So Greg what are you and Rowley going to do tonight? Movies? Video games? Make a fort?” I ask curiously.

“We were probably going to watch a movie in my room and play some board games” he says. I nod my head and tell him that sounds nice. “I can make you two some cookies or brownies if you’d like. And I can order a pizza for dinner” I offer. Greg’s eyes light up immediately and he hugs my side tightly and says thank you.

About 20 minutes into the night manny and I are at the table coloring when Rodrick comes into the kitchen. “Sup” he says in a forced deep voice as he leans against the table.

I look him up and down much like he did when I first came over. He has changed his clothes and is now wearing….eyeliner? He runs his fingers through his hair and makes it even messier than it was mear seconds ago.

“Did you come down to join in on the coloring?” I motion towards the coloring books and crayons laid out on the table. “Umm..no…I..I came down for..umm….DRINK…a drink.” He says nervously. He walks over to the fridge and pulls some stuff out. He walks back over to Manny and I and sets a juice box in-front of Manny and three different drinks in-front of me. “Pepsi, juice, or water? Or uhh I think we have milk too…” I smile at his kind gesture and pull the Pepsi close to me. “Thanks….ummm do you remember me from class?” I ask while I take a sip of my drink.

Rodrick sits down next to me and takes the straw off of Manny’s juice box and pokes it into the little hole at the top sliding it back over for Manny to have.

“English class, right?” He says to me fooling around with the bottle of water he’s holding.

“Yeah, English class. The teacher doesn’t really like you does he? Can’t really blame him I guess. You are never paying attention and it really shows when he asks you a question about what we are reading”

“Well maybe if pay attention if the stuff we were reading wasn’t so damn boring” he says kind of slamming his hands on the table as a sort of attempt at making a point

I laugh a little at how serious he seems about hating English class “Don’t you have better things to hate? Like I don’t know…the government or like poverty? What is it your punk band stands for?”

“I don’t know if I’d really call is punk. We are more of a chaotic unlabeled band” he says pulling his hands through his hair again.

“The hair and eyeliner kind of makes it seem like you are in an Emo band” I lean over and brush my hands through his hair. “Not that I want to admit it and float your ego but I do like the eyeliner”

Rodrick just sits there tensed up as I play with his hair. I will be the first to admit that I have a think for alternative looking boys like Rodrick but I’m babysitting and as cute as he is I should not be flirting with him. I have a job to do and I like this family.

“I never feel like I can do it exactly the way I imagine it looking in my head…..the eyeliner I mean.” Rodrick says in a soft voice looking me in the eyes. His brown puppy like eyes are looking right at me and they are melting my mind.

“I could help you with your eyeliner if you’d like” I brush my thumb across his cheekbone.

Rodrick brings me upstairs to his room after I put manny in his little play pen infront of the tv. His room is dim and there are clothes scattered around the floor. Surprisingly there isn’t any trash making his room messy. Just his stuff.

“Here” Rodrick hands me an eyeliner pencil and I sit on the bed next to him

“Close your eyes and try not to wiggle too much ok” I gently hold his face and paint the eyeliner on his eyes as neat as I can. “How do you like?” I ask him pointing to the little mirror in his room.

“Wow, it looks way less messy than when I do it” he comes back over to where I am sitting on his bed. “My turn to do your eyeliner” He says uncapping the pencil.

“Be careful ok I want to leave with both of my eyes intact ok” I say closing my eyes.

Rodrick starts putting the eyeliner on my eyelids while gently holding my cheeks and face still “there” he says as I open my eyes

His face is really close to mine and I can feel my face getting a little warm.

“It looks nice on you” Rodrick doesn’t let go of my face and instead slides his hands through my hair. I mimic him and tangle my fingers in his hair.

I close my eyes and lean in a little hoping he will close the space. And he does. His lips are sort of chapped and I can feel him breathing quickly out of his nose.

The kiss is gentle and sweet. It only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away. He looks at me and licks his lips. “Was that ok?” He says so quietly that I am surprised I heard him.

I smile at him and pull him in for a hug “I’ve never kissed anyone before…It was nice…really nice” I close my eyes and let myself enjoy the warmth of his body.

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

aloha again | part 1

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

You and Bradley haven't been in the same room for more than an hour in two years, not since the bitter divorce anyway - but when your kids ask for one last family vacation, you end up in paradise... with your new partners tagging along.

What starts as awkward co-parenting under the Hawaiian sun quickly turns into something else entirely. Old sparks resurface and tension builds, and your kids? They have a secret plan to get their parents back together, whether mom and dad like it or not.

length: 3k

masterlist

Bradley sat next to Amy in the airport, but he couldn’t focus on her too much. He knew she was talking, something about catching a tan in Hawaii or UV rays, he wasn't sure. He had his eyes fixed on the crowd, looking for you and the kids. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. 

It's not like he hadn't seen you in a while, in fact, he'd seen you just two weeks ago at Jack's baseball game. This was different though. This was a whole week with you in Hawaii, and not just you either. Greg too. He wasn't looking forward to meeting him. At least you'd already met Amy, then again, he knew you'd still be making sarcastic comments wherever you could.

And he would have to try his hardest not to laugh at them.

“You’re so fidgety, babe.” Amy sighed, snapping Bradley out of his thoughts. 

He glanced over at her, before his eyes quickly returned to the crowd. “Sorry,” he murmured, tapping his fingers on his knee. “Just excited to see the kids.” 

Amy grinned. “Me too! This trip will be so good for all of us to bond, you know? It’s healing. Don’t you think?” 

Bradley nodded absentmindedly, his mind still occupied with thoughts of seeing you. He couldn't help but think about the last time you'd gone to Hawaii, the kids had been young then, you'd been a family. Happy and carefree.

How things have changed.

“Yeah,” he muttered eventually. “Yeah, bonding is good.” 

Amy chuckled, “I’ll go grab you a bottle of water. Don’t stress too much, it’ll give you wrinkles.” 

She playfully tapped his forehead and sauntered off to the nearest shop, heels clicking and hair swishing, while Bradley kept his eyes on the crowd, trying to calm his nerves. 

He spotted you first – you, Ava and Jack, manoeuvring through the terminal like a mini hurricane of backpacks and carry-ons. Your hair was up in a bun, sunglasses perched on your head, shirt tied around your waist. You looked tired. And beautiful. Annoyingly both. 

Ava was dragging a suitcase half her size, chatting non-stop. Jack was trailing behind, clutching onto his stuffed turtle and glancing around the busy airport in awe. 

Bradley straightened up from the airport bench, clutching his coffee cup like it could shield him from what was coming. 

“Dad!”  

Ava broke into a run as soon as she saw him, nearly bowling him over with a hug. Bradley’s face softened as she ran up to him, wrapping her arms around him. He immediately leaned down and scooped her up into a tight hug. 

“Hey Bug,” he said, kissing her head. “I missed you.” 

Jack was next, rushing over to grab his leg, “Hey Dad!” 

“Hey, kiddo!” Bradley chuckled, ruffling Jack’s curls. 

And then there was you. 

You came up slowly, one hand adjusting the strap on your bag, a faint smile on your lips. That smile always got to him. It wasn’t soft or flirtatious. It was... knowing. 

Like you already had the upper hand. 

Then again, you always did. From the very first date. He had to quickly shake that thought away.

“Hey,” you said. 

“Hey,” he echoed. “You made it.” 

“Barely. Jack tried to smuggle a juice box through security like it was contraband.” 

“I was thristy,” Jack muttered. 

Before Bradley could come up with anything clever to say, he heard the sound of heels – fast, bright, chirpy.  

“Baby! I got your water!” Amy’s voice cut through the moment like a needle on vinyl. She strode over, all legs and lip gloss, her crop top reading Aloha From Paradise.  

She kissed Bradley’s cheek, then turned to you with a too-bright smile. “Good to see you again!” 

You gave her a smile with just enough curve to be considered polite. “Amy. I see your vacation wardrobe survived the glitter explosion.” 

Amy blinked, still smiling. “You’re funny.” 

“She thinks so,” Bradley muttered, mostly to himself. 

Before the awkward could settle, Greg arrived – power-walking with a manila folder in one hand and determination in the other. He was already sweating through his pale blue button down. 

Bradley didn't like him already.

“Hey!” he said, loud and breathy. “Sorry I’m late – parking was chaos. I almost forgot the itineraries, can you believe that? You know how I like to stay organised.” 

“Oh, we know.” you said, slipping the folder he handed you into your tote without glancing at it. 

Greg turned to the group like he was about to give a speech. “Greg,” he said, sticking out his hand to Bradley. “I’m - well – I'm the boyfriend, but I'm sure you knew that already.” 

Bradley shook his hand, firm and silent. 

Greg’s smile twitched. “Right. So. Looking forward to the, uh... blended-family bonding time. Big trip. Big memories. Am I right?” 

“Mhm,” Bradley said. He knew he was probably being a little harsh, intimidating the guy before even getting to know him. But he couldn't help it.

Greg coughed. “So. This must be your girlfriend.” he gave Amy a polite smile, who waved brightly back to him, clearly oblivious to the lingering tension. 

Bradley glanced at Amy, who was now checking herself out in a mirrored column. “Yeah. Amy.” 

“She seems... lovely.” 

“She likes juice cleanses,” you offered, too sweetly. “We’re all very proud.” 

Amy perked up. “Oh yeah! I brought powdered greens for everyone! We can start every morning alkaline.” 

Ava made a gagging sound. Jack muttered, “I don't wanna drink seaweed water.” 

You bit back a laugh and cleared your throat, “Alright, come on,” you said. “Let’s find our gate before we start a custody battle in the food court.” 

As you started to walk, Ava leaned in beside you and whispered, “This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?” 

You smiled, eyes straight ahead. “That’s what makes it a vacation.” 

-- 

The cabin lights dimmed as the plane levelled out somewhere over the Pacific. The kids were mid-movie, headphones on and snacks in hand. Greg was nose-deep in a printout titled ‘Suggested Cultural Activities by Island’, and Amy had brought a travel neck pillow, a face mask, and exactly zero chill. 

Bradley sat two rows back from you – diagonal, with just enough visibility to not look like he was watching you. Except... he was. 

You had your hand curled around the armrest, white-knuckled. Your foot tapped a silent rhythm on the floor and you hadn’t touched your ginger ale. He knew that look. Knew the way you clenched your jaw during takeoff, the exact point in the flight your stomach dropped even if the plane didn’t. 

Amy nudged him. “Are you even listening to me?” 

Bradley blinked. “Huh?” 

“I said we should look into a couples’ massage when we land. Loosen up.” her manicured fingers ran lightly up his arm. “You’re tense.” 

“Just thinking,” he muttered. 

“About your ex-wife?” she said, fake-joking. “Because you keep glancing at her like she owes you money.” 

Bradley shrugged, trying to seem casual. “She’s scared of flying. I was concerned.” 

Amy huffed and pulled her eye mask down. “Wake me up when there’s champagne.” 

Meanwhile, you took a deep breath in your seat, trying to stay calm.

Greg glanced your way. "I really don't know why you get so scared. The probability of this plane crashing is extremely low-"

"Can you not say the word 'crash'?" you groaned, taking another slow breath.

Greg chuckled. "I'm just saying! It's like.. 1 in 1.2 million, or something like that. You're overreacting. Just... have some champagne."

You bit your tongue, holding back the urge to take his stupid pamphlet and rip it to pieces. "I'm going to the bathroom." you mumbled instead.

As you got up, glancing over at the kids briefly to check on them, you bumped straight into someone in the narrow aisle. Not someone, you realised, Bradley. Just your luck.

“Of course,” you muttered. “Can’t even pee without a territorial dispute.” 

Bradley gestured with mock chivalry. “Ladies first. Always happy to be assaulted mid-air.” 

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. He waited a beat, then followed you into the galley, where you both had to pause – trapped by the beverage cart and a flight attendant sorting coffee stirrers. 

Bradley glanced sideways. “You uh, doing okay?"

You frowned, barely glancing at him. "What?"

"Flying." he said awkwardly. "I know you don't like it, just wanted to make sure you're okay."

You straightened up at that. "Yeah. Fine. Greg's been... helpful."

You had to hold back the eye roll, because really, Greg had been as helpful as Jack's stuffed turtle.

Bradley nodded slowly. "Yeah. Greg.” 

You sighed. “What about him?” 

“You’ve been dating him almost a year and this is the first time I’m meeting the guy?” 

“Well, we’re usually not sharing an itinerary, Bradley.” 

Bradley leaned against the wall. “Still. You introduced him to the kids, not to me.” 

You smirked, “Would you have taken him out for a beer?” 

“Probably not." Bradley smiled a little, amused despite himself, "But I could have at least braced myself for the endless zip-off cargo shorts.” 

You snorted at that. “He’s a practical dresser.” 

“He looks like he packs snacks in his socks.” 

“At least he doesn’t carry an emotional support water bottle everywhere,” you shot back. 

Bradley blinked. “Amy’s water bottle is for hydration.” 

“It’s a Stanley cup the size of a toddler,” you deadpanned. “She looks like she’s about to rappel down a canyon every time she enters a room.” 

He bit back a grin. “That’s rich coming from someone who’s dating a guy that brings an itinerary on vacation.” 

“Bradley,” you said sweetly, “your girlfriend asked the TSA agent if she could bring her rose quartz in her carry-on for ‘energetic alignment’.” 

He laughed, despite himself. “She’s into wellness.” 

“She thinks sunscreen clogs chakras.” 

“She said that once.” 

“She said it twice. Once to Jack.” 

Bradley rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, fine. Yes. She’s... a lot.” 

“She’s a yoga instructor who refuses to bend her knees when she walks,” you muttered. “it’s like watching a giraffe in stilettos.” 

He shook his head, but his voice softened. “You really don’t like her, huh?” 

You shrugged, then said, not unkindly, “She's not my problem. Just... surprising. You always went for sharp. Amy’s... smooth.” 

Bradley didn’t answer right away. 

You shifted your weight. “Look, this week isn’t about her. Or Greg. Or us, either. This is for the kids. We need a truce.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Temporary?” 

“Obviously.” 

Bradley extended his hand. “Temporary friends.” 

You shook it, eyes narrowed. “With terms.” 

“No snide comments.” 

“No pouting.” 

“No subtle jabs.” 

You raised a finger. “Except about Amy’s alignment crystals. Those are fair game.” 

He smiled. “You got yourself a deal.” 

As the bathroom door opened, you stepped forward, but before you ducked inside, you leaned toward him and added with a smirk, “Also, don’t pretend you’re not curious about Greg. It’s showing.” 

Bradley watched the door close behind you. 

“...Yeah.” he muttered. “It really is.” 

-- 

The sun dipped low as the car pulled into the resort driveway, casting long shadows over the palms. The ocean glittered just beyond the edge of the property, and Ava let out a delighted gasp as the sleek hotel came into view, pressing her face to the window. 

“We’re staying here?” she breathed. 

You smiled. “Told you it wouldn’t disappoint, birthday girl.” 

You both climbed out of the car, and Bradley stepped out beside you, adjusting his sunglasses. “You really went all out, huh?” 

You shrugged. “I like making our kids happy.” 

He glanced at you behind his aviators, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Then Amy arrived at his side, snapping a quick selfie with the entrance behind her. “This place is everything. Healing vibes! Right, babe?” 

Bardley gave a noncommital hum. 

Greg joined you last, brushing invisible lint from his polo and nodding appreciatively. “This is very tasteful. I read they serve fresh papaya every morning.” 

You looped your arm through his – casual, but purposeful. “That’s why I picked it. You love papaya.” 

Bradley didn’t say anything, but he looked. 

Inside, check-in was smooth until the clerk explained the suites weren’t adjoining, just next to each other – each with two bedrooms and a pull out couch. 

“So,” you said, glancing over the layout. “Two rooms per suite.” 

“We’ll take the kids tonight,” Amy said brightly, already grabbing one of the key cards and gesturing between you and Greg. “Give you two some space to unwind.” 

You tilted your head. “That’s sweet of you to offer but-” 

“You look exhausted, sweetie." Amy added, cutting you off. "You should enjoy a quiet night. Maybe turn in early with Greg?” 

Bradley’s posture stiffened. You didn’t miss it. 

You let the comment hang in the air before gently squeezing Greg’s arm. “What a great idea.” you forced out. 

Greg smiled, clearly pleased. “We could sit on the balcony. I brought a list of local architecture we might spot from the view.” 

You forced a smile and patted his arm. “And that is why I keep you around.” 

Bradley snorted, but after a quick glare from you, he covered it with a cough. 

Ava tried to hide her smile too. “So.. Tonight me and Jack stay with Amy and Dad, then we can stay with you and Greg tomorrow?” 

You tousled your hair. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Amy clapped. “Great! I’m so excited to hang with you two!” she turned to you then, “Seriously, get some rest. You deserve it.” 

You smiled too sweetly. “Thanks, Amy. You too. Dont tire yourself out trying too hard.” 

Greg blinked. “Trying too hard at what?” 

You patted his chest. “Nothing, darling.” 

You all moved towards the elevators, divvying up keys and bags. You and Greg peeled off toward your suite, while the kids and Amy headed into the one next door. 

Bradley hung back a second, catching your eye as you passed. “You two seem... solid.” he said quietly. 

You smiled, voice breezy. “He’s sweet. Reliable.” 

“You like reliable now?” 

You shrugged. “It makes a nice change.” 

Bradley watched you walk away, Greg’s hand resting lightly on your lower back. 

“Have fun with Amy,” you added wihtout looking back. “She seems like a lot of fun.” 

Bradley stared after you, jaw tightening. “Yeah. Tons.” 

-- 

Later that night, the sky outside the suite was an inky navy, moonlight streaking across the waves like spilled silver. The first night in paradise should have been peaceful. 

But inside the suite, chaos had a name.

And it was Amy. 

“Okay! So who wants to do lava rock face masks and manifestation journalling?” Amy called from the kitchenette, waving two tiny notebooks she’d bought at the airport gift shop. “We’ll do it in matching pyjamas! Wait, did I pack those?” 

Ava and Jack sat side by side on the couch, both blinking like polite hostages.  

“I mean, we’re kind of tired.” Jack offered. 

“Aw, nooo, come on!” Amy flounced onto the couch beside them, pulling Ava in for a squishing hug. “Vacation isn’t for sleeping – it's for bonding! This is so special! You guys and I finally have a chance to get to know each other!” 

Ava gave her a faint smile, then looked over her head at her dad, who had emerged from one of the bedrooms with freshly brushed hair and a worn Top Gun t-shirt. 

“Alright, that’s enough excitement for one night.” Bradley said, his tone gentle but firm. “Let’s let them crash.” 

Amy pouted, but he gave her a look, and she lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Ruin all my fun."

Bradley smiled tightly and led the kids into their bedroom. Each chose a bed and settled onto it while Bradley kneeled between them. “You two good in here?” 

Jack nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Need anything?” 

“Maybe a dad who doesn't date people who say ‘manifestation journaling.’” Ava muttered under her breath. 

Bradley chuckled and stood, kissing her forehead. “Watch it, birthday girl.” He turned to Jack and ruffled his hair. “Night, buddy.” 

“Night.” 

He gave the room a final once-over, then quietly shut the door behind them. 

The room went still, the only sound the gentle hum of the ceiling fan. 

Ava rolled onto her side to face Jack. “That was... a lot.” 

“She hugged me so tight I thought I stopped breathing for a second.” 

Ava snorted. Then, after a moment, “Do you think Mom’s night was any better?” 

Jack was quiet for a beat. “Probably not. Greg said he brought conversation cards. I don’t know what they are... but they don’t sound fun.” 

They lay in the dark for a moment, side by side, but worlds away in thought. 

“I wish they were still together,” Ava whispered finally. 

Jack didn’t answer right away, then, “Me too.” 

She turned toward him. “They were happy, right? Like, for real?” 

Jack's face scrunched up in thought. "Mom definitely laughed more before. And it didn't sound as fake."

Ava nodded. "And Dad wasn't always frowning." she paused. "I don't even know why they got divorced. Everything was so much better when Dad lived with us and they were together."

A beat passed, then Jack sat up suddenly, “I have an idea.” 

“Oh no.” 

“Operation Volcano.” He said excitedly, turning to Ava.

Ava blinked. “What?” 

“That’s what we’ll call it. Our secret mission to get them back together and get rid of Amy and Greg. Once and for all.” 

Ava sat up slowly, “...Why Volcano?” 

“We’re in Hawaii. Duh.” Jack shrugged. "It makes perfect sense. We'll sneak around, annoy Amy and Greg, and show Mom and Dad that they belong together."

“Jack, this isn’t a spy movie-” 

“Exactly! It’s a heist. But for love.” he grinned. “And we’re the team who saves the day.” 

Ava stared at him, then slowly grinned back. “Can I be the leader?"

“Hey! This was my idea." He huffed, then sighed, "Co-leader.” he insisted. 

“Fine." Ava rolled her eyes.

They fist-bumped from across the two single beds. 

"Alright, where do we start?” 

---

taglist:

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@britt217

@minnie-rae

@heartz4chucky

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@shanimallina87

[fallingforfred]

maybe it was just because you guys were best friends ⸝⸝ 𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒚 (pt. 1)

a/n: the rodrick heffley hyperfixation is coming back so you already know how EXTRA i'm going to be with this... expect more of rodrick to come haha context: you're rodrick's best friend and you came to see greg's play--in which rodrick embarrasses him by bringing a camera (you already know this scene) warnings: tad bit of swearing, rodrick is kinda clingy, reader is the opposite of rodrick (i made her similar to rory gilmore if you can't already tell by the banner!) wordcount: 2.7k

you and rodrick have been best friends ever since you could read–meaning the two of you had been stuck together since childhood.

your family was next door neighbours with the heffley’s, meaning that you often spent a lot of time with them.

it was a chilly afternoon of early february as you had your nose dug into a book while your dominant hand absentmindedly scribbled doodles into your journal.

It was a saturday so you didn’t have anything better to do.

you could hang out with rodrick, but he was having band practice and he didn’t ask you to come watch yesterday–so you thought it’d be rude to come uninvited.

besides that, you spent the entirety of yesterday with him anyway. rodrick, the “evil” older brother that he was, was scheming ways to humiliate greg for his play today of the wizard of oz–but had no idea on just what to do.

and so, you brought up how your mom used to record you during your old plays in elementary, how embarrassed you used to feel.

when you told him that, however, the look on his face lit up like it was the cure to cancer or something.

you didn’t expect rodrick to take that advice seriously because it was merely just a story, but he prepared his dad’s digital camera anyway.

“sweetie!” your mom knocked on the door before opening it, her lips curving up into a warm smile which you were all too familiar about.

as she leaned against the doorframe, she looked over at you with her arms pressing against her chest.

“your father and I are going on a little date tonight, think you can stay home alone or do you want me to ask susan if you can stay over?”

“mmm, maybe ask mrs. heffley–only if she doesn’t mind though.” you said considerately as your mom smiled and left your room.

placing your bookmark inbetween the two pages you were on in your book, you tidied up your desk before eventually getting up to stretch.

it was probably around 4:30 or so and you were still feeling a little bored.

unlike other teenagers in your grade, your parents didn’t trust you with a phone which you honestly thought was for the best given how distracted rodrick easily got with his.

rodrick.

you wondered when his band practice would end. it usually ended late at night but given that mrs. heffley was mostly likely forcing the entire family to come to greg’s school play that evening, you were sure his band would end practice soon enough. “honey, get ready! we’re leaving soon!” your mom called from downstairs as that only rushed you to start picking out the clothes you were gonna wear. it was guaranteed you’d be attending the play too.

“did susan say yes??!” you shouted back to your mom as you closed your door, changing into some jeans and a light blue long-sleeved top with a sheer panel across the shoulders and chest.

“yep, come on, pumpkin!” your dad called out from downstairs as well, causing you to panic and get ready even faster.

you put on some lip-gloss and did a coat of mascara before clipping some portions of your hair back in a half-up half-down style.

“honey!” your mom called out again as you immediately turned the light off in your room and swiftly left, making your way down the stairs.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you giggled as your parents stood by the door, ready to go as they had on their coats and winter wear already.

“come on! reservation is at 5:30, we don’t got all day missy.” your mom hummed playfully as you slung your black coat on with a purple scarf, slipping into your chestnut uggs.

“okayyy, what are you guys waiting for? let’s get in the car. ” you smiled, leaving the house first before them as you hurried over to the suv your dad drove.

a little later you were dropped off at the front porch of the heffley’s as you rang the doorbell, your hands held together as you patiently waited for someone to greet you.

though even from outside the door, you could hear the distinct chaotic voices of the family living in the house.

you could tell that rodrick did something to greg again as mrs. heffley’s voice was the loudest out of all of them.

given that it was a little chillier out, you rang the doorbell again–which was something you never really did–so in a matter of seconds, the door swung open.

“h-hey!” greg said with a dorky smile spreading across his face.

he was getting a little taller by the years, it made you realize how much time had passed.

“hey, may I come in? It’s freezing.” you said with a breathy chuckle as he made space for you to enter, giving you time to take your boots and winter coat off.

“I didn’t know you were coming over today…?” greg mumbled with a slight hint of trepidation given that he was going to perform in a play in about an hour.

“well my parents are going on a date and your mom said she’d watch me.” you replied casually, unwrapping the scarf off your neck as greg guided you to the living room.

you flopped down on the couch as he settled down on the ground, looking up at you.

“ohhh, but aren’t you already too old to be babysat?” greg said a little bluntly, causing you to let out a small chuckle in amusement.

“babysat?” rodrick repeated greg’s words with a smirk on his face, leaning against the doorframe from the hallway that led to the kitchen.

but as his gaze averted to the sight of you, he hurried over and tackled you on the couch, ruffling up your hair.

“hey you dork! why didn’t you come see me play today?” rodrick huffed, his actions were always so touchy and forward when it came to you.

it was a little ironic really because he was a complete loser when it came to other girls that weren’t you.

perhaps he thought of you differently, or maybe it was just because you guys were best friends.

“well you didn’t ask me to yesterday so I thought it was some private practice or something…” you shrugged your shoulders lightly, giving him the opportunity to capture you in a playful headlock.

you couldn’t help but giggle as he did this, causing you to try and swat him away but he wouldn’t budge.

“since when were my band practices private when it came to you? I told you were my special spectator, didn’t I?”

“spectator.. ooh, big words rodrick, big words.”

“hey are you indirectly calling me dumb?”

mrs. heffley entered the room, instantly noticing the proximity between rodrick and you.

it was common to see them all close with each other, almost as if it was a natural thing to do.

however, she still couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of the two adolescents.

they were a stark difference to each other, with rodrick in a band shirt and messed up hair while your hair was neatly done and wore freshly cleaned clothes.

“hey sweetie, it’s lovely to see you!” mrs. heffley hummed as your head instantly turned to look at the woman.

“hi mrs. heffley, thanks for having me over.” you smiled in turn, getting out of your spot beside rodrick–who followed behind you–towards mrs. heffley.

“it’s my pleasure! we always love having you over, especially a special someone.” the woman smirked smugly, winking her eye in an obvious manner as rodrick mumbled under his breath in embarrassment.

you couldn’t help but laugh at this exchange as you shrugged your shoulders and slipped your thumbs through the belt loops of your jeans.

“mom it’s almost 5:30, I’m supposed to be at school by now!” greg panicked as all their attention shifted to him, watching as he ran out the room towards the stairs to get changed.

“goodness…! oh, sweetheart, would you and rodrick watch over manny for me while I go get changed?”

“of course, mrs. heffley.” you chuckled, looking up at rodrick as your eyes met, sharing a smile with each other.

as mrs. heffley left the living room to head upstairs to wear something more presentable for the play, you and rodrick made your way over to the kitchen where manny was eating a snack at his high chair.

“hey manny!!” you smiled, bending down to his level to greet the toddler who babbled in excitement at the sight of you.

manny picked up a baby carrot from his tray, handing it over to you as you gratefully accepted it.

“hey that food’s supposed to be for manny, shortstack.” rodrick smirked, taking a carrot of his own from his baby brother’s tray though manny smacked his hand in the process.

“watch it little dude..!” rodrick huffed, causing you to chuckle at that.

“careful, that’s stealing.”

“oh, as if you aren’t eating manny’s carrot yourself.”

“he was sharing it with me, there’s a difference.” you said in a playful matter-of-fact tone before he shoved his carrot between your lips.

you rolled your eyes in response, taking a bite of the carrot regardless as you looked up at him in a mix of fluster and annoyance whereas he was looking down at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"aww, looks like someone's getting a bit grumpy.. how cute.” rodrick said smugly as your cheeks heated up, causing you to bite down on his fingers in which he yelped.

“you’re evil, you.. you woman!” he stuttered, bringing his injured fingers to his chin as he hid it away from you, making you giggle in satisfaction.

"hey I’m not evil, I'm just tired of that conceited grin on your face." you said defiantly, trying to cover up the fact that him feeding you that carrot was getting you a little flustered.

“conceited??? is that another word for charming? how generous of you, shortstack.” rodrick smirked while you rolled your eyes in disbelief.

“ha ha, very witty. finding every opportunity you can to boost your ego, huh?”

“I’ll pretend to act like I know what that means.”

“rodrick..”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, you think I’m that dumb?” he sniggered, crossing his arms.

“did you get the camera ready?” you sighed, pursing your lips to the side as you glanced up at him with a little smirk.

“I knew I was forgetting something! bless your pretty little head, c’mon, let’s go to my room–”

“and manny?”

“oh, right, I mean I’ll go to my room. I’ll be back quickly, swear!”

you watched as he left the kitchen quickly, a smile plastering on your lips before you looked down at manny with a soft sigh escaping your lips.

“lemme clean you up, little guy.” you hummed, taking his bib off as you grabbed a napkin to clean his mouth.

mrs heffley, mr heffley, manny, rodrick, and you were situated at the crowd of families that went to go watch the play act out.

it was busy alright, but you couldn’t help but feel a little excited to see the play take place.

you enjoyed seeing entertainment, so how bad could little kids performing the wizard of oz be?

before the curtains opened, rodrick took out the digital camera he had mentioned from earlier.

after he finished setting it up, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he scooted you closer to him.

"god, you shouldn’t have come y’know? I just know this’ll suck.” he murmured as your turned your head to look at him.

you felt a little shy at how close your faces were and it seemed as though he noticed it took as his cheeks turned into a shade of pink, causing him to clear his throat and avert his gaze towards the stage.

but as the first scene played out, you couldn’t help but awe at how adorable the girl who played dorothy looked in her blue plaided dress.

you were quiet the whole time, your attention focused on the stage in front of them as you forgot all about your surroundings.

rodrick, on the other hand, had noticed your engrossed appearance as he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning over towards you.

"ugh, this is so dumb… why are you getting so into it..?" he whispered over to you, his eyes trained on the play.

“cause it’s adorable, mind you. you’re lucky you’ve got younger siblings.” you chuckled quietly.

though as the scene continued, rodrick still had his body pressed against yours, and so you instinctively rested your head on his shoulder.

"adorable? no. obnoxious and annoying? yes.” he joked, rolling his eyes. he felt your head on his shoulder, and smiled to himself.

trying to be slick, (in which he literally never is) rodrick wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"and trust me, you do NOT want siblings… It sucks ass.." he murmured as you let out a chuckle.

rodrick felt comfortable being close to you like this. It was nice, considering he was a bit more of a.. 'physical' kinda guy.

he liked having some physical interaction. physical affection. physical ANYTHING.

he pulled you a bit closer, his hand tightening on your waist absentmindedly. however you didn’t fail to notice as your own cheeks were heating up.

thank god the lights were directly on the stage or rodrick would see how beet red you looked at the moment.

"why is everyone else so obsessed with this anyway..?" he groaned, referring to the play.

“because it’s adorable seeing these little kids perform. c’mon, have some mercy, rodrick. everyone starts somewhere before they’re majorly talented, y’know, like how you are with löded diper.”

"oh please don't put Greg's acting in the same category as my band. PLEASE."

rodrick looked down at you, admiring your face as you watched the play with all that attention and fascination in your expression.

rodrick continued to watch you, he really couldn't care less about the talent show, and more about how adorable you were.

he felt a bit of a possessive feeling wash over him, and he moved his hand from your waist, to your hip.

he rubbed it with his thumb, and pulled you even CLOSER. closer than you already were.

“keep pulling us closer and we’ll mold like clay, rodrick. it’s hot in here with all the heaters,” you tore your eyes away from the stage as you looked up at him again.

rodrick chuckled, a smirk on his face. he held your gaze for a moment, before his hand moved down to your thigh.

it’s safe to say that he was feeling INCREDIBLY confident today.

"you act like that's a bad thing, or something." he jokingly said. he was a bit surprised at how easily he could be so… 'touchy' with you considering you guys were just best friends.

perhaps he thought of you differently, or maybe it was just because you guys were best friends.

his thoughts started to wander a bit, and his gaze shifted back to your face. he couldn't help it, he found you extremely attractive.

but not only that, you were his best friend–he already loved everything about you.

he knew it might end badly to start something like this with one of his best friends, but his feelings for you were getting the best of him…

“BUBBY!!” manny babbled out, turning everyone’s attention from the stage to manny, then back to the stage again where greg looked nothing but humiliated.

laughter filled the crowd, but rodrick’s was the loudest as he took out his digital camera.

he was embarrassed for his little brother, and he was already waiting to make fun of him for it later.

he was definitely going to be teasing him about playing a DAMN TREE for a long ass time..

“oh god.. he looks ridiculous..” you whispered, releasing a fit of soft laughter at greg’s mortified expression.

"I know, right?" rodrick snickered, starting to film and pointed the camera directly at greg who caught onto what he was doing.

he was trying really hard to hold back his laughter, seeing his little brother getting embarrassed like this was too good to be true.

"he looks like an absolute idiot.. I'm going to tease him about this forever," rodrick snickered, you still giggling away by his side.

[itneverendshere]

pogue reader getting sick but she can’t call out, but rafes fr mad at you about it

changed it a bit just bc i want to show reader's progress regarding her hyper-independence, they're already dating and past the "i love you" phase, i felt like some progress had to be made by this point, especially bc this is after their big fight in this. hope you enjoy <3

don't want less, don't want more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The ground under you feels unstable, moving under your feet like you’re standing on a seesaw that won’t settle. You blink a couple of times, hoping that’ll shake the haze taking over your vision, but it doesn’t do much. 

Overhead, the bar lights sear down at you, white-hot and merciless. The bass from the speakers drills into your skull. Every clink of glass and cackling laugh lands with the precision of a sledgehammer. You swallow hard, trying not to gag. Your throat’s raw, and your chest's cinched too tight to take a full breath, but you’re powering through it because you don’t have much of a choice.

"Whiskey sour, extra sour!" some preppy douchebag hollers from across the bar.

His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You fake a smile and nod, reaching for the bottle, but your hands are shaky. You catch yourself on the edge of the bar before you can drop it.

This morning, getting out of bed was a battle, an entiral ordeal. You were burning up, skin flushed and drenched, head pounding so violently it made brushing your teeth feel like surviving a concussion.

Your voice was nearly gone.

You tried to call out. Croaked your way through a voicemail to Greg, told him you were wrecked. He didn’t pretend to care, only gave that classic grunt and said, “We’re short-staffed.” Like the entire operation hinged on you showing up to serve overpriced drinks to trust fund parasites.

So here you are.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to loosen up some of the tension building there, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does at this point.

"Hey!" The whiskey sour guy snaps his fingers inches from your face. "What’s the holdup? I said whiskey sour."

"Yeah," you rasp, holding your voice together as you pour.

Your vision swims as you set it down in front of him, and for a second, you think you might faint right here at the bar. That’d be something. Collapsing face-first into some douche’s cocktail. Greg would sigh, step around you, and ask if you were done being dramatic.

You lean against the bar for a second. Your stomach rolls, threatening to revolt, but you choke it back down. You can’t afford to be sick here, you’re already in trouble with your manager for barely making it on time.

You think back to the half-assed breakfast you tried to eat, if a single piece of dry toast even counts, and how your stomach rejected it like poison.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Rafe coming in, and suddenly, you’re even more aware of how wrecked you are.

You straighten up without thinking, or at least try to. Your spine's doing its best, but your legs are rubber. You’re suddenly hyperaware of how awful you must look—washed out, glassy-eyed. You know he still struggles with how independent you are sometimes. You’ve always been the get-it-done-yourself type, and somewhere in his brain, that translates to doesn’t need me.

Today, though, you need him more than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call for help. You immediately know it’s gonna be a thing.

His eyes lock onto you from across the bar, and even through the fog in your head, you can see that look on his face. He’s pissed. Of course, he’s pissed. His jaw’s clenched like he’s biting back whatever rant he’s about to drop on you, and you can already feel the tension creeping up your neck.

Great, as if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

You try to stand a little straighter, look a little less like you're one second from collapsing, but your legs are jelly, and the room’s still spinning like you’re on some messed-up carnival ride.

You don’t want him to see how bad you’re hurting right now. But today? You’re too out of it to even try and explain.

He strides up to the bar, looking sharp, as usual. Meanwhile, you probably look like death warmed over. His eyes are scanning you, taking in the pale face, the way you’re gripping the edge of the bar.

You see his lips tighten, and yeah, he’s definitely about to lay into you. You try to look alive, less like you're seconds from faceplanting into the floor. But the room won’t stop rocking, and your knees don’t seem interested in cooperation.

“You didn’t call,” he says, definitely annoyed. He leans in, trying to keep this between just the two of you, but with how loud the bar is, it still feels like a confrontation.

“I’m good,” you lie, tossing out a smile that feels more like a twitch.

Rafe’s eyes narrow, not buying it. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Guilt burns its way up your throat.

“I’ve got it,” you say, quieter now. Even you don’t sound convinced.

He crosses his arms and looks at you like you’re something delicate and infuriating all at once. “You’ve got it? Baby, you look like you’re about to hit the floor.”

You exhale, shaky, trying not to cough. That might break the illusion entirely.

"I’m fine," you repeat, but even you know it sounds pathetic at this point. Your head feels like it's full of cotton, you’re not sure if you’ll make it through the next few minutes, let alone your entire shift.

But pride’s a bitch.

Rafe’s posture is stiff, jaw locked, gaze pinned to you like he's waiting for the truth to slip out whether you say it or not. He’s not raising his voice. His his eyes keep flicking over your face, his fingers are tapping against his arm, holding himself back from just scooping you up and carrying you out of here.

"I heard from Topper," he finally says, like he’s been holding that card in his back pocket.

You blink, mind foggy, trying to piece together what he’s getting at.

"He saw you at the club earlier, said you didn’t look right."

Great.

Freaking Topper. Of course, idiot couldn’t mind his own business. Probably spotted you from across the course, smug in some overpriced polo, and sent a little report straight to Rafe like it was his civic duty.

Your boyfriend's still watching you, waiting for a reaction, something you don’t have the energy to give.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with an excuse, some way to brush it off, all you manage is a weak, "I was fine then."

He arches a brow. “Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked ready to puke on the ninth hole.”

"Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked like you were about to hurl on the 9th hole." He’s trying to keep his voice low, but you can tell he’s annoyed. Not at Topper, not even really at you—just at the whole situation.

You think about arguing, spinning an excuse, but you’re too wiped. “Greg wouldn’t let me call out.”

He tilts his head, like he didn’t hear you right. “Come again?”

“He said they were short-staffed,” you mutter. “Told me to come in anyway.”

Rafe’s mouth flattens. His fingers uncurl from his arms, hands flexing at his sides , deciding whether to punch a wall or keep breathing.

“You serious?”

“Dead-serious.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches so tight you think you hear his teeth grind. He runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something he’ll regret. But you know him—he’s never been great at holding back when he’s pissed.

“You’re telling me you tried to call out sick,” he says slowly, “and he made you show up anyway? You should’ve called me. I would’ve come down here, I would’ve—”

“I know.” You cut him off because you do know.

That answer doesn’t make it better.

He would’ve dropped everything and come running, that’s why you didn’t call. You don't want to be the a burden again.

Rafe leans against the bar, his whole body radiating this intensity that makes you feel both comforted and nervous.

“You’re sick as hell, and that asshole wouldn’t let you stay home?”

You wince. He’s drawing attention now, people at the bar starting to glance over. You hate seeing him like this, but you don’t have the energy to smooth things over.

“Rafe—please—”

“No, fuck that.” His tone cuts through the whole bar. “You’re sick, and he doesn’t give a fuck.”

You glance toward the back. Of course Greg’s coming out now, clipboard in hand, scowl already in place.

Rafe spots him immediately—and any restraint left in him evaporates.

“Greg!” he barks.

You glance toward the back, hoping Greg’s still in the office and not witnessing this meltdown. The last thing you need right now is more heat from him. But of course, your luck sucks, because just as Rafe’s ramping up, Greg strides out from the back, clipboard in hand, that same stupid scowl on his face like he’s already annoyed at everything.

Greg stops dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking to Rafe and then back to you. He knows.

“Yeah, Rafe?” Greg’s voice is weak. Rafe’s family literally owns half the island—Greg’s just some middle manager with too much attitude.

Your boyfriend steps forward, closing the space between them.

“You made her come in today?” His voice is calm, but it’s that scary-calm that’s worse than yelling. 

Greg opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is this pathetic mumble. “We… we were short-staffed.”

Rafe raises a brow, his lips pulling into this cold, humorless smile.

“Short-staffed?” He glances at you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You didn’t want this to turn into a scene, but here you are. “You see how she looks right now? You made her come in like this?”

Greg’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Rafe, and you can see the panic starting to set in. He’s sweating now, realizing that this power trip he’s on is about to bite him in the ass.

“She didn’t… uh… say she couldn’t work…”

“She told you she was sick,” Rafe snaps. “You’re the manager, right? Thought that meant taking care of your staff. Guess I was wrong.”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights, knowing any move he makes right now could get him fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted from every job on the island. The Cameron’s have that kind of pull.

“I-I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Greg stammers, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

Rafe takes another step forward, towering over Greg now. “You didn’t realize?” He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Look at her, man. How could you not realize?”

You wince as the room seems to get quieter, everyone watching the power struggle unfold. You’d rather be anywhere but here.

Greg takes a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I-I was just trying to keep things running. We… we were slammed.”

Rafe’s smile drops.

“You think that’s a good enough reason to put my girlfriend’s health at risk?”

Greg looks like he’s about to pass out himself at this point.

“No… no, I—I didn’t mean…”

“Here’s the deal, Greg,” Rafe pats his shoulder, making him wince in the process. “You’re gonna back off. Let her finish this shift if she wants. If she doesn’t? She’s out, no questions asked. And next time, when she says she’s sick, you listen.”

Greg nods so fast it’s like his head’s on a swivel. “Of course, of course, Rafe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—”

“Good,” Rafe interrupts, already turning away, done with the conversation. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Your manager stands there, wide-eyed and frozen, too scared to even argue. He blurts some half-hearted apology, even though you're already following Rafe.

You look up at him, still in shock at how quickly Greg folded.

“You really didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs.

“Yeah, I did,” he says, his tone softening now that it’s just the two of you. “I’m not gonna let some nobody push you around like that.”

You sigh, feeling both relieved and embarrassed. “You know he’s probably gonna hate me even more now.”

Rafe smirks, that’s the least of his concerns. “Who cares? He won’t say a fuckin’ thing. Trust me.”

“Everyone’s going to say a thing, baby. They’re gonna think I have some kind of privilege because I’m dating you.”

Rafe’s smirk softens. He lowers his voice so only you can hear him over the dull roar of the bar.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he coos, hand brushing against yours. “You’ve been busting your ass here long before I ever stepped in. Nobody can take that from you.”

You bite your lip, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, judgment and curiosity. He’s right in a way—you’ve been working extra hard.

But still, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that everyone’s going to assume you’ve got some special treatment just because of Rafe’s name.

“It’s not about that,” you murmur, “I—I don’t want people thinking I can’t stand on my own. I don’t want to be the girl who hides behind her boyfriend’s power."

"This wasn’t about power, baby. This was about someone treating you like you didn’t matter. And I’m not letting anyone—anyone—do that to you.”

He’s not wrong.

Greg didn’t give a fuck about how sick you were, only about keeping the bar running, you were replaceable to him. You hate that Rafe is right, how much you needed him to step in. You swallow hard, the tightness in your chest easing slightly, though your body still feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“And you’re not working anymore today, or the next week for that matter. You’re gonna get your ass in my car and we’re going to the doctor.”

You nod, knowing there’s no arguing with Rafe when he’s like this, but part of you feels guilty, not for needing help exactly, but for not being able to handle it, or setting boundaries in your workplace.

Rafe’s watching you closely, waiting for you to argue, but you don’t.

The adrenaline from the confrontation with Greg is wearing off, and now all you feel is this bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m not going to a doctor,” you say, even though you know you probably should. “Just home. I need to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes, trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying. “Fine. But if you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m dragging you to urgent care. No arguments.”

You give him a weak smile, showing you appreciate it even though you feel like crap.

“Deal.”

Without another word, he moves around the bar, ignoring Greg’s gawking and the way everyone’s still sneaking peeks at you two. He gently takes the towel out of your hand, sets it on the counter, and slips an arm around your waist.

It’s the first time you’ve felt stable all day.

“I don’t think I can afford an appointment.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Not worried about the money.”

You try to shake your head, but the movement makes you dizzy, and you stop.

"I just don’t want to be that person, you know? Relying on you for everything."

He gives you a side glance.

"Baby, you’re not relying on me for everything. You’re literally sick, and I’m not about to let you tough it out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. We’ve talked about this a million times.”

"I guess," you mumble, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you walk towards the door.

"Let me take care of you for once."

Rafe keeps you close, leading you toward his car. Your legs are weak, the fever still simmering under your skin, but his body warmth keeps you upright.

"Thanks," you whisper, even though it feels weird to say. You’re not used to thanking people for basic care.

He pauses, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don’t gotta thank me, okay? I’m just doing what anyone who loves you would do."

Your heart skips at that.

“I love you too, sorry for being a pain in your ass.”

Rafe chuckles as he helps you into the car, leaning down to make sure you’re settled as he bends down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You're always a pain in my ass," he murmurs against your skin, grinning as he pulls back. "But you’re my pain in the ass, and that’s what matters."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite how shitty you feel. It all takes a backseat, at least for a moment. 

Knowing Rafe’s always got your back makes it a little easier to breathe.

[biahouse]

Perfect for him, Gregory House x Reader

You're House's girlfriend. Wilson doesn't like you, but... 3 times Wilson realized you were the perfect person for house, +1 time he finally admits it

There was something about you that James Wilson made to hate you.

Maybe it was the way you were the silliest nurse at the hospital, and always fell for the patients' stupid conversations.

Or because you always do your coworkers' duties.

Or the way that in every surgery he performs, you insist on being an assistant nurse and talking to her throughout the procedure.

Or maybe he hated having his best friend stolen.

Wilson didn't hate people. That was House's job. It was even comical that in your situation, House adored you and Wilson hated you with all his being.

Don't get me wrong, you weren't a bad person.

He just doesn't like you.

1

The first time Wilson realized you were perfect for his best friend was at lunch. Since the beginning of the relationship between you and Greg, the doctor in question used to have lunch with you in his office.

But on that particular day, you were very busy in surgery. So with no other alternative, House had to have lunch with Wilson.

It was a surprise for James to see his friend entering the room with a packed lunch. House was known for eating junk food with all his meals. So Wilson assumed that if that hadn't changed with your relationship, he was wrong.

"What is that?" Wilson asked with an incredulous look at the lined pots that Gregory placed on the table.

"Food?" House responded as if it were obvious and mocked his friend.

"Okay, I know. But, I mean... you don't usually eat that."

"I know" House threw himself into the chair and opened one of the jars and started poking a carrot. "Carrots are a horrible thing, you know?"

"House" Wilson called his friend carefully. "Is this some kind of diet for addicts that I don't know about?"

"No. Y/n told me that I should eat more vegetables if I wanted to live longer" The doctor rolled his eyes when he remembered the argument he had with his wife a few weeks ago and since then she usually makes him lunch. "So I'm pleasing my girl" And with that he stuffed the orange vegetable into his mouth with a grimace.

Wilson could only look at his friend in shock.

For years he had tried to get House to eat a healthier diet, and you had achieved it in just a few weeks. Wilson had to admit, he liked you a little more now.

2

The second time Wilson realized you were perfect for his best friend was a week after the lunch incident. He and House were bowling, like they did on Wednesdays.

However, there was something strange about House. He was limping and in more pain than usual.

"What is it? Are you afraid of losing to me or did you forget the Vicodin at home?" Wilson mocked his friend as he threw the ball into the pins.

"Neither" House limped closer to the track when it was his turn to play.

"Is the pain getting worse?" Now James asked worried that Greg's leg was getting worse.

"No"

"Okay House, you win. Why are you in pain?"

"Because I'm trying to taper off the Vicodin" House replied with a shrug and celebrated without a strike.

"What?" Wilson raised his voice making people look at him. Which made him apologize immediately. "You. Gregory House, are you trying to stop Vicodin?"

"Y/n said it's going to kill me. She didn't suggest I stop taking it, but she was upset that I took so many. So I'm trying to cut down."

Wilson opened his mouth in astonishment.

Who was that man?

Gregory House would never cut down on your daily Vicodin cocktail.

But he did, for you.

Only for you.

3

The third time Wilson realized you were perfect for his best friend was on a random day at the hospital a few months after the second time.

House entered his office as he always did, without knocking and suddenly, which made Wilson jump out of his chair every time, even though he was used to it. But something felt wrong that time.

The way House for the first time looked nervous and really confused. For a while, James watched his friend limp around the room as if he was begging for something very deep in his own mind.

Wilson waited, he knew that like every other time House would start telling him about his doubts and he would give him one of his beautiful pieces of advice, which House would probably never follow.

"I want to ask Y/n to marry me" House blurted out and looked at his friend nervously.

"What?" Wilson blurted out the question with a laugh. "Marriage?".

"Yes" Greg said, shaking his head and plopped down on the armchair in his friend's living room. "I thought about it all week"

"All week?"

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say or are you going to tell me your opinion on this?" Greg scoffed at his friend and adjusted himself in the chair, his leg hurting a little.

"What do you want me to say House?" Wilson asked and looked through his patient's files once more, before closing the folder and focusing fully on the matter at hand. "I thought I would never get married"

"I know" House passed his hand across the gap in his forehead. "I don't know why I want it. I just want it."

"Gregory House doesn't know why, that's something I never thought I'd hear" James smiled playfully.

"For the first time I want something more. I want her to be my wife. Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Wilson answered honestly. "It just means you're better House."

"Does that mean you'll help me pick out a ring?"

"As long as you don't make me pay."

Wilson would never understand his relationship with House. Or how two very different people could do such great things together.

Wilson didn't hate you. He understood now. It was just jealousy that you achieved everything he always tried to do. Improve House.

He didn't hate you. Now he respected you.

+1

“Hey Y/n” Wilson called out your name when he saw you walking down the hall with a clipboard.

"Wilson, hi!" You waved at him enthusiastically. It was the first time he willingly spoke to you.

"I just wanted to say thank you" James said making the woman frown in confusion.

"What are you thanking me for? I don't remember helping you" Y/n questioned.

"But it helped, with House" Wilson explained. "I'm sorry for treating you badly all this time."

"You didn't treat me" Y/n shrugged with a smile. "I stole your best friend, it makes sense that you don't like me that much. But it means a lot that you like me now."

"I think you two are perfect for each other," Wilson admitted for the first time out loud. "I can't wait to be the godfather."

"Godfather?" Y/n asked.

"You'll see" Wilson smiled knowingly. “I’ll see you around Y/n.”

[op1umeyes]

— late night therapy?

🩻 synopsis. late night conversation, greg wants to know why you’re with him of all people.

🩻 warnings. suggestive content, foul language.

“Why do you like me?” 

Y/n looked up from her book. “What?” 

“I’m old. I’m a cripple. I… literally have two friends and no people skills. I know my amazing fashion sense and long, hard wood is enticing, but by golly, if those are your only standards-“ 

Y/n closed her book. She noticed the television was off, Greg had been clearly been thinking about this for awhile. Not only that, but his jaw was clenched, and his left eye was just slightly narrowed- all indicators of (over)thinking. “Besides the fact your ruggedly handsome and extremely masculine voice makes me purr like a motorcycle?”

At least y/n’s comment made Greg crack a smile. “Yes, besides the obvious,” he murmured, tilting his head to the side.

“Because… you’re one of the only people who calls me out when I’m wrong. One of the only people who can put up with me. One of the only people who makes me laugh, with your morbid, dry, perverted humor,” y/n listed. 

House turned these over in his mind. Why, though? Why would such an amazing, smart, sexy wonderful woman settle for an old cripple? “Wilson thinks you could do better,” he drawls, not actually knowing if Wilson thinks this. 

“Do you care what they think?” Y/n asks, quick to notice the change in Greg’s voice. The way his eyebrows furrow, his Adam’s apple bobs, his eyes narrow even more.

No. “Do you?” 

“I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you,” y/n shrugs. “You’ve always got me, if that’s what you’re thinking about. I can’t imagine my future without you in it, I guess.” Y/n tried her best to play of the sentiment, but Greg was already smiling widely at her statements. 

“Is this, like, a hint? Am I supposed to propose now?” Greg asks, tapping his finger to his chin. 

“Oh so you’ve got a ring?”

Scoffing, House looks away from y/n’s piercing eyes. “Oh, shut up, you.”

“Make me,” y/n’s teases. 

Greg tsks. “I would but I’m pretty sure my hobble steps would immediately turn you off. As fast as a light switch.”

“Oh goody, does that mean if I go over there I get to be on top tonight?” Y/n asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Get over here and see, you weirdo,” Greg chuckles, opening his arms for a woman he knows would place her faith in him forever, even if he knew he didn’t deserve it.

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 1 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 3 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

The morning rush had ended a while ago, leaving you with a few stragglers tapping away on laptops, a couple on their second hour of an intense whisper-argument, and some guy in the corner who had been staring at a single muffin for a concerning amount of time. Business had been slow after the morning rush as per usual, this meant you’d had plenty of time to reflect on things that didn’t deserve the mental energy you were giving them. Namely, Choso. It had been a few days since your encounter with the world's most socially inept man and his human golden retriever of a brother.

That guy had been… odd. Not in a bad way, necessarily—just in a "probably spent his childhood in a cave and was learning about the modern world in real time" way. The guy had stared at you like you were a cryptid when you asked what kind of coffee he wanted. You had spent way too long trying to figure out if he had just been raised extremely sheltered, or if something was actually wrong with him. Either way, the guy had stared at his latte like it held the meaning of life, and you weren’t sure whether to find it unsettling or endearing.

Because, seriously. That was not a normal interaction.

Most customers came in, ordered their drink, paid, and left. Some lingered. Some had weirdly specific orders that made you question their sanity. Some just sat there typing aggressively on their laptops like they were composing an email that would change the fate of mankind.

None of them, however, had ever been like Choso.

Since then, you’d been left in peace, which was all you could really ask for in life. Life at the café had returned to its usual monotony. The usual entitled customers still came and went, Greg the Manager still did absolutely nothing while pretending to be busy, and the espresso machine still sounded like it was trying to contact the underworld whenever it turned on. In other words, business as usual. Everything was normal.

Which, naturally, meant something was about to ruin it.

The bell above the door jingled. You sighed, plastering on your most convincing Hello valued customer, I sure do love working here! expression before turning around.

The first person to walk in was a tall blond guy in a suit, carrying himself like he had somewhere better to be. He looked exactly like the type of guy who drank his coffee black and silently judged people who put sugar in theirs. He had the air of someone who used Google Calendar religiously and paid for everything with a metal credit card. The second he stepped into the café, he surveyed it with the deeply unimpressed expression of a man who had already decided he hated it here. You immediately got "overworked businessman" vibes. He looked like he hated fun. You respected that.

The second guy, however…

Oh, no.

Oh, this one was going to be a problem.

He was even taller than the blond one. Very tall. Like, shouldn’t be allowed to exist in regular human spaces tall. He had white hair, wore sunglasses indoors, and was dressed like some kind of high-fashion hobo. He had a self-satisfied grin that made you think he had never experienced a single consequence in his entire life. Something about him screamed problem. His whole vibe was just "that one coworker who does absolutely nothing but still gets paid more than you."

"Nanamin!" Tall Guy whined, dramatically throwing an arm around his companion's shoulder. "See? This place is cute! You never wanna go anywhere fun."

The blond man—Nanamin?—exhaled through his nose with the weariness of a man who had dealt with this for far too long. He shrugged the arm off. "I don’t need fun. I need coffee."

"Okay, but coffee can be fun—"

"Coffee is a means to an end."

"See, this is why you have no joy in your life."

You plastered on your most professional smile, already dreading whatever was about to happen. "Welcome! What can I get started for you?"

Nanamin exhaled slowly, the sigh of a man who was one bad decision away from quitting his job, leaving the country, and raising goats in the mountains. "A black coffee. No sugar."

Bless. A simple, no-nonsense order. You liked him already. You punched it into the register. "Sure. What size?"

"Large. The biggest you have."

"Got it."

You turned expectantly to the taller one.

Tall Guy hummed, tapping a finger against his chin like he was making a deeply philosophical decision. "Hmmm. What do I want? What do I need?"

You resisted the urge to check the time.

"Do you have anything sweet?"

You gestured to the massive menu behind you, which had an entire section labeled Sweet & Flavored Drinks. "Yeah."

"Okay, okay. But like, really sweet?"

"Yeah."

Tall Guy nodded, his wide grin never faltering. "Good. I’ll take the sweetest thing you have."

"...You sure?"

He leaned forward, grinning like a child about to cause chaos. "Hit me with your worst."

You stared.

Alright.

You rang up a Death By Sugar—an abomination of a drink loaded with caramel, white chocolate, vanilla syrup, and enough whipped cream to suffocate a small animal. It was the kind of thing you usually only made for children with zero parental supervision.

Tall Guy looked downright delighted when you told him.

"Yay!" Tall Guy beamed. "And make it with love!"

"I am physically incapable of that."

Nanamin gave a single, approving nod. "Good work ethic."

Totaling their order, you glanced at them. "You want your names on the cups?"

Tall Guy nodded adamantly. "Of course! That’s the most important part!"

Nanami exhaled heavily. "Nanami."

Ah, so not 'Nanamin' then.

"Just put 'The Strongest' on mine," Tall Guy added with a wink.

You didn't know what the hell he meant by that exactly, but you did not react.

You took your sweet time making their drinks, mainly because Tall Guy was watching you with the shameless enthusiasm of a child at a magic show.

"You’re really good at that," Tall Guy commented as you poured steamed milk into Nanami’s coffee.

"Yeah, it’s almost like I work here."

Nanami sighed. "Gojo, stop harassing the barista."

"How is that harassment? I’m being nice!"

"You are being a nuisance."

Tall Guy—Gojo, you guess his name is—gasped, utterly scandalized. "I’m adding joy to their day, Nanamin."

You handed Nanami his drink before he could respond. He accepted it with a grateful nod, took a sip, and immediately looked one step closer to inner peace.

You handed Gojo his monstrosity. "Look at all the caramel drizzle!" He took a sip and moaned. "Ohhhh yeah, that’s the good stuff."

Nanami looked like he had just witnessed a public execution.

"Please never do that again," he muttered.

Gojo, of course, did it again, staring directly into Nanami’s soul as he took another dramatic sip.

You were so glad these people weren’t your problem outside of this café.

"Glad you like it," you said dryly.

To your mild horror, they stuck around after getting their drinks, settling into a table near the counter. Nanami was reading a book. Gojo was not reading a book. He was watching you.

Oh no.

"Hey barista," Gojo called. "You ever get bored working here?"

You stared at him.

"Like, when it’s not busy. What do you do for fun?"

You considered telling him you started counting ceiling tiles just to make him go away. Instead, you said, "Mostly, I wait for my shift to end."

Gojo laughed. "You sound like Nanamin!"

Nanami did not look pleased with that comparison. He exhaled through his nose like he was actively restraining himself from committing a felony.

It was at this moment the door opened again.

You glanced up—

And nearly dropped the milk frother you were holding.

Because there, standing like a glitch in reality, was Choso and Yuji.

Yuji, ever the golden retriever, grinned. “Oh, hey! You guys are here too?”

Gojo turned. “Huh?”

Your eyes darted between them.

They all knew each other?

Of course they did.

Choso approached the counter, completely ignoring the other two men. His expression was blank as ever, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something shifted.

“Barista.”

You braced yourself. “Choso."

“I have returned.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

“I would like another latte."

You nodded, trying to ignore Gojo’s eyes burning into the side of your skull and the way he was grinning like he knew something you didn't. “Got it.”

Gojo crept towards Choso with that same knowing grin. “Choso, buddy, pal. This is a big deal.”

Choso frowned. “What is?”

“Oh, you know,” Gojo drawled, “you like the barista.”

Yuji coughed violently. Nanami looked ready to walk into the ocean.

Choso, to your utter confusion, considered this. Like he was running some kind of internal diagnostic.

Then, after a very long pause—

“Yes.”

Silence.

Yuji choked once again. Gojo lost his mind, cackling. Nanami, to his credit, simply closed his eyes as if this entire experience had finally broken him.

You, meanwhile, stood there with Choso’s latte in your hand, processing the fact that a man who seemed to barely understand how cafés worked had just admitted, without hesitation, that he liked you.

Nanami, who had been spectating in exhausted silence, shook his head. “I regret coming here.”

Gojo pouted. “Oh, don’t be like that! It’s fun!”

“Nothing about this is fun.”

"I think it's fun!" Yuji piped in with a wide smile.

Ignoring them, you turned back to Choso. “So. I guess you, uh, really liked the latte, huh?”

Choso nodded, looking far too serious. “It was the best thing I have ever consumed.”

You stared at him. He stared back, intense as ever.

God. This was your life now.

Choso, completely unaware of the sheer weight of his words, took the latte from you with his usual blank expression.

“Thank you, barista.”

And just like that, he took a sip, eyes half-lidding like it was the greatest thing he had ever experienced.

You exhaled. “You’re welcome, Choso.”

Gojo, still wheezing, turned to Yuji. “You have to let me know how this plays out.”

You just stared at Choso, who was still enjoying his latte like nothing had happened, wondering how your life had spiraled into this.

"Alright," Gojo said, standing up and stretching like he’d been working hard at sitting down. "We’ll be back!"

You had never heard a more ominous sentence in your life.

Nanami placed a few bills on the counter—far more than necessary—and gave you a knowing look, like he already pitied your future.

You watched the four of them leave, took a long breath, and checked the time.

Somehow, you still had four hours left on your shift.

Great.

[beansprean]

Familiar interviews continue...

My Familiar’s Ghost part 82

Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Upholstered chair on a mottled brown background. Sitting on it is a tall thin white man with short blond hair and a goatee, wearing a light blue leopard print suit over a white vee neck with white heeled boots and a chunky pinkie ring. He is lounging confidently, legs crossed, one hand poised up in the air as he says smugly, 'I graduated top of my class at New York Familiar College.'

2a. Reverse shot, waist up of Nandor and Guillermo sitting on the couch opposite. Nandor brightens and replies, 'Really? That is very impressive...' Guillermo glares at the applicant suspiciously, arms crossed and finger tapping rapidly. 2b. Reverse shot of the man on the chair as a stream of water sprays in from offscreen and hits him in the cheek. It burns and steams where it hits his skin and the man shrieks, rocking back and pulling his legs up from the floor in shock. His disguise immediately poofs away to reveal none other than... Simon The Devious! 2c. Reverse shot, full body, of Nandor sitting at one end of the couch, clipboard in his lap, as Simon rushes past and out the door, hissing and smoking. Guillermo has leapt up from his seat and is posed with feet shoulder width apart, holding a spray bottle in both hands like a pistol and pointing it at Simon's retreating back. He shouts after him, 'Get out of here, Simon! You're not welcome!' Nandor shrinks back against the couch to stay out of the line of fire.

3. Back on the chair, now featuring Sean, who is hoisting himself out of it by the armrests with a confused expression. He mutters, 'I was just, uh... lookin' for the bathroom...'

4. Reverse shot waist up of Nandor and Guillermo on the couch. Guillermo is slumped in fatigue, eyes closed, briefly removing his glasses as he groans, 'You live next door, Sean...' Nandor cups his hand around his mouth and turns toward the hall, calling out, 'Laszlo! Come collect your friend, please!'

5. Close up of Guillermo's clipboard, which has a few handwritten pages clamped onto it. The top page is divided in half by a line of ink, the left side labeled 'Applicant' and the right side labeled 'Recommended by'. Every line has been crossed out in red ink. The list of prospective familiars includes: Clara Tran, John Merkt (recommended by Nancy the Relentless), Farrah Baker, Sarah Colleton-Hampstead (recommended by Pamela), Kayvan Novak (recommended by Nancy the Relentless), Sky Velasquez, Marshall Vu (recommended by Elvis), Devon Simmons II (recommended by ???) scribbled out more than the others, Katie Blum (recommended by Greg Blum), and Muhammad S- before the panel cuts off. From offscreen, Nandor calls out, 'Thank you for your time; we will be in touch. Please do not get eaten on the way out. Next!'

6. Back to the chair, this time with Sam the cat sitting in it and letting out a polite mew. From off screen, Guillermo says, 'Well, that's disappointing to hear, Sam.'

7. Reverse shot, full body of Nandor and Guillermo on the couch as Sam walks toward the door, tail held high. Nandor is slumped toward the center of the couch, head propped up on his hand and clipboard abandoned at his side. Guillermo, clipboard in hand, waves after Sam with an awkward smile and says, 'Good luck at your new position! And let us know if anything changes?' Sam meows in reply. /End ID

[rodrickrulezz]

Hiii, I saw that your requests for Rodrick are open, and I had an idea that the reader is Rodrick's girlfriend, but she's also Greg and Manny's nanny. Rodrick complains that every time he goes to the house (even when he's not working) he pays too much attention to Greg and rowley, he gets angry, and she's like 'Rodrick, they're kids. Besides, rowley is a sweetheart'. To be something like Rodrick jealous of three kids, and trying to compete for their attention

ahhh this is too cute!! ( ´∀`) pairing: sleepy!rodrick × fem!reader

┈⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺┈

Rodrick emerges from his cave for the first time today (even though it is 2PM) his messy hair framing his face with his even messier eyeliner from the day before outlining his brown eyes. He stumbles down the stairs groggily until he makes eye contact with you. A surge of elation runs through him moving his body close to yours.

While you're tidying the crumb ridden plates of Greg and Rowley, you feel a familiar body mould into you. "Oh hi Roddy," not having to turn around to know it was Rodrick. "You didn't tell me you were working today." He mumbles into your neck. "I did text you," you say simply, hastily moving to the kitchen. "Oh. I didn't see it." He utters in return.

Lathering soap onto the used plates, carefully you scrub, then rinse them. You chuckle seeing him still glued to you, "still sleepy? go watch a movie with the boys.. I'll be right there." Rodrick immediately shakes his head, "no. I don't want to watch a movie with those dorks," he whines as if he's a child, " go to my room and watch a movie with me."

"Your mom will kill me if I don't keep a close eye on Greg, we don't want Greg filming any more stupid videos with Rowley." He thinks for a solution, but to no avail, he couldn't. So, he made his way to the sofa and draped himself over the cushions next to the boys.

As you make your way back to the living room, you hear two sets of stomps up the stairs. Entering the room, your eyes take in the sight of your sleepy boyfriend leisurely watching the movie.

He perks up, sensing your presence behind him, and immediately pulls you next to him. You smile warmly at him as he snuggles into you, his face resting on your chest. His hands disappearing up your shirt, tracing shapes on your skin. Rodrick finally mumbles, "Rowley and Greg went up to play video games.. " You hum, caressing the strands of his hair as mindlessly as his fingers move on your side.

Time passes as you both watch the movie both too comfy to move to turn it off. Two sets of stomps make their way back downstairs, Greg and Rowley make their way into the living room.

"[Reader]?" Greg spoke, "is it dinner time yet? Rowley and I are hungry.." Rodrick snaps back. "Go eat something in the cupboard, dork. She's clearly busy." The redhead shifts uncomfortably.

"Ignore him," you quip, "What do you fancy boys?" You start to sit up, breaking away from Rodrick. "Uh..pizza? " Greg requested. You nod in return, "coming up."

Before you could fully split from Rodrick, he grabs onto your waist, "I'm hungry too." he mutters, "Okay baby, what do you want?" He thinks for a moment only to finally say "noodles." You smile at him, nodding "coming up."

As if he's your shadow, you return to the kitchen with a sleepy boy trailing after you. "I'll help," he declares. "I'm okay, Roddy. I only have to throw frozen pizza in an oven and add hot water to a block of noodles," he shakes his head at your answer, repeating himself, "I'll help,"

"Okay, hun." You say, "Put the pizza in the oven for me," you rummage through the freezer once you stumble across the frozen pizza you pass it to Rodrick. He does what you ask, turning the oven on and slotting the pizza in. You turn to start Rodrick's food, and you pour tap water into the kettle, flicking the switch.

The deep rumble of the kettle floods the room until the rumble changes into a high whistle as if it was screaming it was ready. You grab the handle, pouring the boiled water into the plastic cup. The frozen noodles relax from the warmth.

The noodles settle, becoming soft. You sprinkle spices onto the strings of flour and squeeze the sauce out. You pass the finished noodles to Rodrick. "Here, baby, eat up while it's still hot."

He utters a thankyou and presses a kiss to your temple before taking it to the living room. You eventually follow after him, holding two plates. Each plate holding 4 slices, covered in a plethora of toppings. You set the plates down and the boys like wolves.

Happy they're enjoying their food, you smile.

A sudden sound of small steps start dawdling down the stairs. A small boy appears rubbing his eyes. You immediately walk up to him, keeping that same warm smile on your face.

"Hi manny! Woken up from your nap?" You pick him up, settling him on your hip. "Smelt the food, did ya? " You continued, "You hungry? I saved you some pizza. Bubba is having some too." The young boy nods at the mention of Greg. "Okay..coming right up.."

The two of you make your way to the kitchen, passing a grumpy Rodrick on the way. You're feeding Manny a slice of pizza when a pair of arms wrap around your waist. "I've just woken up from a nap too.." he pouts. "When have you not just woken up? " You smile at his jealous remark.

He sulks, "I don't know why you bother with these dweebs so much anyway," his hands wander along your abdomen. "Rodrick they're kids. Besides, Rowley is a sweetheart."

His sour expression refused to leave his face. You think for a moment. "How about this.." His eyebrows furrow in anticipation. "I'll stay the night if you stop pouting." you squeeze his cheeks with your one free hand.

"I'm not pouting! " He shot back, his voice quieted immediately "...but yes please."

┈⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊┈

ahhh I'm so sorry this took so long (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) I made it longer than normal to make up for my absence. ヽ(●´ε｀��)ノ

hope you enjoyed this!! I'm open to kind constructive criticism and tell me what you liked so I can improve :33

[crowsofdarkness]

A Fight For Darkness: Chapter Six

-gif not mine. credit to owners-

Pairings: Eric Draven(Bill Skarsgard) x Female!Reader.

Content Warnings: language, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of taking own life, blackmail, blood, smoking, drinking, mentions of drug use, arranged marriage, 18+ smut that I will mention at the beginning of the chapter.

Summary: An unknown text and a list full of questions for what happened to your sister leads you down to the underground fight ring that belongs to none other than Eric Draven, The Crow. Once he captures your eyes with his, the web you were desperate to untangle suddenly tightens.

Authors Note: This is not cannon to The Crow(2024). Shelly nor her and Eric's love story does not exist in this series. Eric does have his fast ability to heal, though. Tags are open for this series as well!

Okay, so yes, this chapter does end on a slight cliffhanger, but only because I need some time to figure out how I want to explain that part.

Tags: @corawithfanfiction @malenoradgn @voidofsunlight @muchwita

A Fight For Darkness Masterlist

READER

No. 

No. No. 

NO. NO. NO. 

I stood frozen in the middle of the bathroom, watching the bathtub water turn a murky crimson as Eric lay contorted underneath. His top half was underneath the water while his legs hung off the edge and I kept a hard gaze on them, hoping for some sign of life. 

Nothing. 

Eric was dead.

“No,” I choked out, nearly falling to my knees to crawl over to him. 

I know we fought moments before and I found out some truth about my missing sister. I know I told him seconds before he was shot that I wished he was dead. But now seeing the scene in front of me, my heart shattered. I didn’t mean it even though I was angry. There had to have been a reason why he kept the revelation about my sister to himself but now he was dead and I’d never know why. 

The sound of a gun cocking sounds behind me followed by a disgusting chuckle. 

“The bullet was meant for you but I guess this will do.” 

My scalp burned when my head was forced back with a harsh grip and that’s when I finally saw who pulled the trigger. 

“You son of a bitch,” I spat in his face. 

Greg let my spit linger on his cheek, not being bothered to wipe it away, and gave me a sinister smirk. 

“I’d watch your mouth if I were you. I still have two bullets left,” he held up the shotgun with the hand that wasn’t buried deep into my hairline. 

My screams echoed in the apartment as Greg dragged me through it and tossed me onto the bed. The bodies of Roeg’s men still lay scattered throughout and one of them was on the bed next to me, their throat slit from one end to the other. I tried to scurry away from it but Greg was two steps ahead of me, quickly tying my wrists to the metal rods of the headboard, forcing me in place. 

“Help me!” I screamed, hoping someone who was downstairs in the fight club would hear me. 

Although I knew it was futile. If there was someone, they would have come upstairs to check at the first sound of a scuffle when Roeg’s men busted in. 

“Shut up!” Greg bellowed, hitting me in the mouth with the end of the gun and immediately I felt blood pool in my mouth. 

I was still reeling from my other injuries, my eye throbbing and left side hurting every time I took a breath, but now my mouth exploded in pain. 

“Why?” Was all I could ask, blood pooling down my chin onto my neck. 

Consciousness was slowly beginning to fade in and out as my body was succumbing to my injuries but I forced myself to stay awake, not ready to give up the fight yet. I would fight against the darkness that was consuming me. 

Greg let out a long sigh before sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, watching Eric’s body lying still in the bathtub. 

“Eric was a friend; a good friend. But the second you came into his life, shit changed. You brought bad luck and nearly cost him his fight club.” 

I raised a brow. “What?” 

“Remember that muder you stumbled upon? With the hooker and Russian mob leader?” 

All I could do was let out a weak moan in response. 

“Well, Alexi Sokolov’s men were looking for revenge for their boss being killed so they showed up a few nights after the murder to beat Eric into giving them the club,” Greg informed, slowly running his fingers up and down the barrel of the shotgun. 

“He never said anything,” I wheezed. 

He made a low noise. “That’s because it wasn't any of your business. Just because you’re married to him doesn’t mean he should tell you everything. Plus, I still think this whole marriage is a scam.”

Now those dark eyes sliced down at me. “What do you want? His money? Bragging rights?” 

“Fuck you,” there was no malice in my words due to my body beginning to fade away. 

Greg’s fingers yanked my chin to force me to look up at him. “I never trusted you.” 

“Feeling is mutual,” I sneered, weakly pulling on my binds only to fail. 

“Did your husband tell you about your sister?” 

Suddenly what one of Roeg’s men told me earlier sprang into mind and I felt my blood drain once more. Eric knew where my sister was yet refused to tell me. Why was he at Roeg’s place to work out a deal? I had so many questions that went unanswered because Eric was dead. 

Greg took my silence to continue with his revelation, his grip still tight on my chin. “Your sister was a frequent visitor to the fight club. Hell, she came so much, Eric and her got pretty close. If you catch my drift.”

Jealousy and disgust boiled deep within my gut at the thought of Eric and my sister together like that. Although, the logical side of me tried to remind myself that I had no reason to feel this way. Eric and I technically weren’t together, this whole marriage was just for show, so in the end I told myself I felt this way because of the fact he was lying about not knowing my sister. 

How do you know Greg isn’t the one that’s lying?

“You’re lying,” I licked my lips. 

With an annoyed sigh, Greg rolled his eyes and let go of my face so he could pull out his phone. It only took him less than ten seconds to find what he was searching for and when he showed it to me, my stomach fell out of my ass. 

It was a picture taken from some distance in the fight club. Two figures locked in a tight embrace with each other, completely oblivious to the phone taking their picture.

Eric and my sister. 

“They were extremely close, we all thought Eric would marry her. So needless to say we were all surprised when we found out he married you instead,” Greg said, pocketing his phone again. 

I turned my head towards the bathroom, heart shattering at the sight of Eric’s limp body. “I don’t believe you.” 

Just because they were shown together in a picture did not mean they were dating. Yes, Eric lied to me about knowing my sister but there had to have been a reason why. If my sister was involved with Roeg and from what Eric had told me about him, my sister wasn’t being held willingly. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he clicked his tongue while rising from the bed to point the barrel of the shotgun at my face. “I’ll get rid of you and then tell everyone that you both died in a shootout with Roeg’s men. No one will miss you. The fight club will be mine. All is right in the world.”

Fear filled my veins like ice as all of the air was pulled from my body. I was seconds away from death and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Images flashed in my eyes in such quick succession that I barely had time to focus on all but one. 

A pair of bright blue eyes and a bright smile that made my heart flutter. 

Before Greg pulled the trigger, the sound of splashing water echoed in the apartment causing me to turn towards the bathroom to see a body emerge from the tub. I let out a bloody sob, the copper taste lingering on my lips, when I saw Eric stand tall. The large wound on his stomach from where he was shot slowly began to dissolve back into his skin, vanishing right in front of me. 

I know I couldn’t see all that well from one eye but I also knew what I was seeing wasnt a hallucination. 

What the actual fuck? Did Eric just heal in front of me?

Okay, maybe it was a hallucination due to my injuries. Eric is still dead in the tub and my mind is playing what I want it to before I die. 

Greg cocked the gun causing me to look at him. 

“Tell your husband I said hello,” he smiled grimly. 

“Tell me yourself,” a deep voice spoke behind Greg seconds before he fell to the ground. 

Eric stood over his crumbled body holding a baseball bat. I immediately realized that’s what he used to knock Greg away from me. The shotgun clattered to the floor but before he could crawl to it, Eric snatched it up and turned it over in his hands so the end of the gun was pointing up at the ceiling. 

“It’s true,” Greg whispered, astonished at what he was seeing, a small glimmer in his eyes. “No one believed it because there wasn't any proof that you were immortal but here you stand as if I didn’t just shoot you.”

I tried to yank on the handcuff around my wrists which were still bound to the head board, the noise not breaking the trance Eric seemed to be in as he glared down at Greg, slowly raising the shotgun. 

“Believe it, asshole,” Eric snarled. “You deserve a death worse than what I’m about to give you for putting your hands on my wife.” 

“Really? You’re going to kill me for this broad?” He snickered. 

“Fuck you!” I seethed, still pulling on my binds. I wanted to be the one that brought death upon him but something told me with the darkness in Eric’s eyes, he wouldn’t let me. 

“I should skin you alive then hang your body in the middle of the cage so everyone can see what happens when they touch something that’s not there’s,” were Eric’s last words as he brought down the barrel of the shotgun on Greg’s face. 

Not once.

Not twice. 

But five times. 

The sound of flesh and bones breaking made me grimace as I turned my face away from the blood splatter that coated the walls. I felt sick to my stomach at the disgusting squishing sound as it lingered in the air and it wasn’t until an eerie silence fell that I finally looked back at Eric. His bare chest was rising and falling with each deep breath and blood covered his entire face and torso, making the fear fill me again like concrete, weighing me down to the bed. 

I’d seen him covered in blood from his fights but this was different. Eric killed another person for me. Greg’s face was unrecognizable and I felt the bile rise in my throat when I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye. 

“Eric,” I sobbed. 

My voice was weak, barely able to speak above a whisper due to how weak I'd become from the beatings tonight and the blood pooling in my mouth which meant he didnt hear me. 

I cleared my throat, calling out to him once more. “Eric.” 

Finally, after another few long beats, he finally gazed my way. His bright eyes seemed dull beneath the blood that covered every inch of his face and torso. They roamed over every inch of my broken body handcuffed to the bed then with a shaky exhale, Eric was quick to kneel in front of me. His large hands brushed away the matted hair from my face so he could gaze deep into my eyes. 

“I’m here, baby,” he murmured. “You’re okay.” 

I didn’t realize it but I was still crying, the tears hot on my face. I stumbled over my words as I tried to ask him how he was alive but the only thing that came out was a blubbering mess. With strength I’d never seen before, Eric broke the handcuff away from my wrist to free me from the bed so he could gently cup my face again. 

“Stay with me, little crow,” his bottom lip trembled. “I’m going to get you some help, alright? You’ll be okay.”

I thought I felt myself being lifted from the bed but my surroundings were bleak, a white noise haze creeping on the edge of my vision. My body felt heavy, like I’d been filled with concrete, and the fight to survive began to slip away. The questions I wanted to ask Eric were meek in comparison to the need to sleep. I began to let the darkness win, slowly allowing myself to succumb to it as my eyes rolled back and I fell limp in Eric’s embrace.

ERIC

The car glided along the darkened road as I sat in the backseat with a sleeping Y/N laying in my lap. I watched her chest with intense eyes, making sure she continued to breath while Jay drove. With the revelation that Greg was the one who shot me, I could only trust one person among my men and that was Jay. As soon as Y/N passed out back at the apartment, I called him for his help. I needed to get far away from there and the fight club for the time being so Y/N could heal from her injuries and get Roeg off our backs. 

Mostly for me to come up with a plan. There were quite a few things revealed tonight, things I didn’t want Y/N to know, so now I had to figure out the best way to explain things to her without her getting upset and leaving. 

Easier said than done. 

“How’s she doing?” Jay’s voice broke through the silence of the car. 

I flicked my gaze up to the rearview mirror, my blue eyes pinning his brown ones. “She’s breathing but I won’t know the extent of her injuries until we get to the safe house.”

Jay gave the smallest of nods. “We’ll be there within the hour. You really should shower once we get there.” 

I’d been in such a haste to pack our backs back at the apartment I hadn’t had a second to rinse the blood off of me, it drying to my skin like a tattoo. 

“Y/N needs to be taken care of first,” I said, looking back down at her. 

Her eye was swollen shut, her lips were double in size, she had bruises littering almost every inch of skin on her ribs, and her ankle looked to be sprained. Anger roared inside of me like I’ve never felt before when images of Roeg’s men beating  her replayed in my mind. I’d been so helpless, handcuffed to the heater and watching her be so defenseless. I could have broken free but that meant I needed to explain to her parts of me I kept hidden for so long, afraid of how she’d react. There was only one person who knew the secret and he was the one driving us to my safe house. 

The safehouse was located a few hours north of Detroit, in a little quiet town that had less than five hundred people living there. It was remote on a small river bank, the nearest neighbors being two miles away. Perfect place for us to hide out for a while.

Again, the only other person besides me who knew about it was Jay and he promised to never tell a soul otherwise I’d skin him alive. 

“I locked up the apartment before we left. I’ll deal with the clean up once I’m back,” Jay’s voice pulled me from my thoughts once more. 

I nodded. “The fight club is closed and the championship fight will be postponed.” 

“Until when?” Jay’s brows furrowed as he took a turn down a dirt road. 

The gravel crunched underneath the tires of the SUV as I peered down at Y/N’s sleeping form, gently grazing a thumb over the bruise on her cheek. 

“Until I bleed Roeg dry,” I seethed. 

READER

I awoke on a silent scream, phantom hands around my throat as they pulled the air from my lungs, and hastily looked around the dark room. It was unfamiliar, only lit by the roaring flames of the fireplace. The all too familiar feeling of fear paralyzed me to the bed because I didn’t know where I was or how I got here. 

Did Roeg find me and drag me here? Alexi’s men?

“How are you feeling?” 

My head snapped to the left, seeing Eric leaning up against a closed door with his arms crossed over his chest. He was clean, the scent of soap and mint lingering in the air, and I sucked in a breath when I noticed no injuries on him. No bruises, no scratches, nothing. Then I remembered how his large bullet wound healed in front of me. 

“I’m alright,” I groaned, adjusting my sore body to the bed. 

I’d risen up so fast, it was just now settling how sore my body was. 

“Where are we?” I asked. 

“A safe house,�� Eric answered, still in his same spot. “No one will find us here.” 

I nodded with a hum and then looked down at myself noticing I was wearing a large shirt, nothing else. 

“I changed your clothes when we got here. I didn’t look, I promise. Your other clothes were covered in blood and didn’t want it to get on the sheets,” Eric spoke almost as if he could read my mind. 

“You didn’t wash me?” I teased with a brow. 

This made Eric chuckle while pushing off of the door to take a few steps towards me. “I thought we could shower together once you woke up so you could see me naked.”

Silence fell between us besides the sound of the fire cracking and popping. The orange flames lit Eric’s path as he tentatively sat on the edge of the bed across from me. Images of what happened earlier came rushing back, along with all of the questions I had for him. I expected to feel rage for him hiding my sister's whereabouts from me but instead, I felt relief that he was in front of me. 

“How long was I asleep for?” I asked, playing with the blanket that covered my lower half. 

“Six hours.” 

My eyes nearly dropped out of my head at his answer, not thinking I was out for that long. Maybe two hours but not six. 

“It did take about four hours to get here,” Eric continued. “Jay drove us.” 

“Do you trust him?” I couldn’t help but ask, given what happened with Greg. 

Something dark flashed over Eric’s face. “Jay isn’t Greg. Jay has been by my side since day one, we can trust him with our lives, little crow.”

I chuckled with no humor behind it. “I’m pretty sure you said the same thing about Greg.” 

A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Greg is taken care of.” 

Images of Greg’s face smashed in appeared rather quickly and I felt nauseous all over again. 

“He showed me something,” I said after a beat. “It was a picture of you and my sister in the fight club. She was wrapped in your arms and it didn’t seem like you were going to let her go.”

Eric hesitated but I didn’t give him the chance to come up with a bullshit excuse. 

“Don’t bother lying to me. Roeg’s men told me that you were at his house when you saw my sister there. You’ve been lying to me for weeks about not knowing who my sister is. Why?!” I tossed off the blanket to rise from the bed, nearly falling due to my bad ankle. 

“Y/N,” he reached for me. “You need to rest.” 

“No!” I yanked my hand away from him, all the anger from earlier resurfacing. 

From our fight in his office, to Roeg’s men attacking us, and then Greg. Today had been a long fucking day and I did not want to be brushed to the side with more of Eric’s lies. I wanted the truth and I wanted it now.

“Are you dating my sister?” I questioned with my hands on my hips. 

The color of the flames bathed Eric in a sunset like glow but I hushed the voices in my head telling me how good he looked. I needed to stand my ground to get those answers, I refused to crumble because of my growing feelings for him. 

“No,” he answered with a firm conviction meaning he was telling the truth. 

“But you know her?” 

Eric sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes. She was a frequent visitor to the fight club.”

I raised my hand up in the air. “Then why did you lie to me that first night when I asked you if you knew her?” 

“Your sister is involved with a lot of deep and dark shit, Y/N. I lied to get you out of my club. You had no idea what you stumbled on that night and I was desperate to get you far away.” 

I scoffed. “But you brought me back in. You invited me back to the fight club.” 

He ran a hand over his face. “I couldn’t stay away from you. The best way I can explain it is the moment I saw you looking so lost in my office that first night, I was hooked.” 

I did my best to ignore the way my stomach fluttered and asked my next question. “What is my sister involved in?” 

“Can you sit down, please?” Eric patted the bed next to him. “You need to be resting. You sprained your ankle pretty bad, I don’t want you to risk it.” 

As much as I wanted to be defiant, I had to admit that my ankle was screaming at me to sit down. Not only that but it hurt my ribs every time I took a breath which told me that those had to have been bruised. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know I had a black eye since it was difficult to see out of it. 

Eventually, I nodded and allowed Eric to help me back into the bed. He propped a pillow behind my head and then one underneath my bad ankle. Once I was comfortable, I urged him on with a nod. 

“Your sister is in deep with Roeg. When she first started coming to the fight club, it was innocent. Then she started betting on the fights and found herself deep in debt. So she went to Roeg for a loan but ended up losing more money.” 

“How much does she owe?” I asked, hopeful that if I pay off her debt she could come home. 

I didn’t have much in my savings but I’d drain it for my sister. 

“Half a mil,” Eric said. 

Well, shit. 

“How did you allow betting to take place? Isn’t it illegal?” 

“It’s an illegal fighting ring, Y/N. Betting is the most tame thing that happens there during fight nights,” Eric’s lip twitched with a smile. 

I stared past Eric’s shoulder towards the fire that began dwindling down to ash as I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, trying to make sense of everything. 

“One of Roeg’s men said you saw my sister at his house when you showed up to make a deal,” I said. 

He was still sitting on the end of the bed across from me when he nodded. “It was the night you moved in. I went there while you were asleep. I thought if I paid off your sister's debt Roeg would release her.” 

Jealousy stung deep into my bones. “Why would you do that if you aren’t dating her?” 

Eric shifted in his spot and I could see a flicker of indifference in his eyes as he fought with himself on how he should answer my question. 

“It’s complicated,” he finally spoke with a deep sigh. 

“How? If you’re not dating her then what? Are you fucking her?” 

His hesitation was everything I needed to know. The urge to run out of this safe house, far away from Eric and never looking back was strong but I didn’t know where I was and I wouldn’t get far due to my bad ankle. 

Eric was sleeping with my sister and he was willing to go pay off her gambling debts with Roeg in order to get her back. What did that mean for me? Would he kick me to the curb, divorce me, just so he could have my sister back in his life? The whole marriage was a sham, I knew that. But I could no longer ignore the feelings that grew every day we were together. 

“I’m glad I was here so you could pass the time until my sister gets back,” I sneered, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“It’s not like that,” Eric pleaded while rising to his knees so he could get closer to me. 

“Then what is it like, Eric?” I snapped, gazing up at him through watery eyes. “Because I just found out not only do you know where my sister is but you’re also fucking her!”

“She liked me. Your sister tried after every one of my fights to sleep with me but I turned her down every time. I never liked her that way. The picture Greg showed you? It was a night where Roeg’s men cornered her in the club so I had them kicked out. She was thanking me, that’s it. I don’t have feelings for her that way,” Eric said. 

“Then why were you willing to pay off her debts?” I shot back. 

“Because when I found out she was your sister, I knew I had to do whatever I could to get her back. But Roeg would only release her on one condition.” 

“Which was?” I asked with a raised brow. 

Eric swallowed thickly. “You. Roeg wants you.” 

I blinked. “Why? Why would he want me?” 

“Because he knows you stumbled on the murder that first night. The hooker? She was Roeg’s mistress and he thinks you killed her.”

There were too many revelations tonight and I was afraid if I heard one more, I would crumble to a matter of air. I let out a shaky breath and wiped away a stray tear from my tender cheek. 

“You could have given me up,” I muttered under my breath. 

Eric lifted my chin with a finger, his warm breath fanning over my lips. I traced over the lullaby tattoo over his eyebrow with my gaze, drinking in the sight of how deep his eyes were. It felt like I was sitting on the ocean's edge, the tranquil peace becoming my home. 

“You’re my wife, little crow. It may have started as something for your protection but now, I would rather die than let you out of my life. I like you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I would,” Eric proclaimed, resting his forehead against mine. 

My heart lurched in my throat as I reached for his shirt, holding him close to me. “I like you too, Eric. Even though you’ve lied to me.” 

“I did it to keep you safe,” he sat back on his knees so he could gaze in my eyes. “This life I dragged you in can kill you. Fuck, it has almost killed you. But I’ve realized my lies only put you in the crossfire.” 

“It’s not your fault. But can you promise no more lies? We will deal with Roeg and get my sister back together as a team.” 

He brought my palm to his lips, leaving featherlike kisses. “I promise.” 

With a deep breath, I sat up straighter. “I’m sorry for the hurtful things I said to you earlier. I didn’t mean any of it.” 

“I’m sorry too. It was wrong of me to say those things to hurt you. If you haven’t realized, I have sort of a tempter.” 

I chuckled in agreement, seeing it first hand. Once more, a comfortable silence fell between us and when he stood from the bed, I held him back. 

“I have one more question,” I said. 

When Eric’s face scrunched up with confusion, I bit my lip before slowly raising the end of his shirt over his stomach to where I dragged my fingers over smooth skin. He shivered underneath my touch and I swore I saw his cock twitch underneath his sweats. 

“I saw you get shot,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the spot on his stomach where there had been a large wound. “You died, Eric. How are you standing in front of me?”

My nails dragged over the chain and lock tattoo then the good boy tattoo before I finally looked up at him. Those blue eyes were now dark as sin as he stared down at me. The air shifted around us, bringing with it a cool breeze from the open window and in a flash, the fire had gone out blanketing us in total darkness. 

“Little crow,” Eric’s deep voice anchored me in the darkness. 

“Don’t lie to me, please,” I begged. 

Suddenly a soft click echoed in the quiet and the room was lit by the light on the end table next to the bed. Eric was kneeling in front of me on the bed and he held my hand against his chest. A different sound filled the air which gave me pause causing me to glance over my shoulder to the open window where a crow was perched on the ledge. 

“What the fuck?” I cursed at how perfectly still the bird was. 

Calloused fingers turned my face and I was met with Eric’s eyes again. “It all started a few years ago.”