Autistic Reader and their overstimulating bright ass room that they LOVE.
All done by themselves, btw. They took hours to perfectly paint the room, watched through tutorials to properly tape the outlets into safety. Its a soft, calming pink on its own, but the posters covering it after are diabolical.
Printed papers, self-bought pictures, all taped nicely onto the walls before shelves are pushed in front of them and filled with plushies and figurines. There's a desk littered with an expensive set-up and trinkets, as well.
The LEDS are fucking blinding btw if you even care.
The first time the boys come over, they find your entire house decorated up with shiny furniture, organized furry rugs, etc.
Simon looks overstimulated immediately, awkwardly sitting on the couch until you told him there's a blank room specifically for overstimulation and guide him. He seems happy to watch TV there, at least.
Kyle and Johnny have a blast, poking at everything and asking you how much your figurines were. When you tell them, they nearly choke and die.
"This is what you spend your money on?" Price questions, but without any bite. He settles easily in the decked out home, looking obscenely out of place yet also at home. Likely for being surrounded by his teammates and feeling trusted enough to be in one of their homes. He looks like a father more than a captain.
You later dress him up in your clip ons and headbands while he sits there gruffly, not even bating an eye to his sergeants taking photos. He's extremely happy to be your Captain.
Frank had taken off your coat, laying it over the back of your chair before helping scoot you in towards the table, his hands gently traced along the exposed skin of your arms. You laughed, playfully slapping away his hands before telling him to sit so you could order.
A/N: hello! this idea totally hit me while I was working and I couldn't do anything until I got it written down. I based the piercings off myself, but the tattoos are strictly left vague to let people choose for themselves!
warnings: alcohol consumption(no one gets drunk), Frank is down BAD, smut towards the end, miscommunication(it's solved quickly)
No one was surprised to receive an invite for Robby and Heather's wedding, the pair having grown closer after the events of Pitt Fest. She'd finished her residency, choosing an attending at a hospital close enough to keep in touch with everyone over at PTMC. Rekindling a relationship that had a history was easier for the pair of them than trying for something new. Jack would listen to Robby gush over and over about how much better Heather was than he would ever be, ignoring the looks his best friend would give him.
Word spread like wildfire the moment that Princess caught wind that the pair were due to be wedded, not a single soul unaware of the news. Robby didn't bother to hide his amusement, chuckling under his breath when Perlah rounded the corner demanding answers. Santos followed almost immediately behind, brows raised up nearly to her hairline. He decided to make a statement after the end of shift, letting the crew know that yes, he and Heather were getting married.
Samira offered to throw her a bachelorette party, bringing along most of the crew from the pit to celebrate the life she would share with Robby. Mel sat in a corner, nursing a drink so she wouldn't have to worry about taking care of Becca after the festivities. Santos was talking animatedly with Samira while Princess ordered a round of shots for the table.
"I'm telling you! The kid is too cocky for what we do," Santos scoffed, rolling her eyes as Mckay did her best to hide her smirk behind the sprite she'd ordered.
"C'mon, that's the joys of dealing with all the newbies, you find out which ones are going to get too in over their heads."
Heather was always one to speak the truth, not afraid to call out a med student, or resident alike when they were putting patients in danger. The group could deal with any kind of reprocussions when they went back on Monday, for now it was time to celebrate!
"Hey, isn't that Langdon?" Javadi's caught everyone's attention, her eyes locked on the man stepping inside the restaurant with someone else.
"Yeah, he's kind of hard to miss," Mel's brow furrowed as she gently shifted her glasses up the bridge of her nose, trying to figure out who he was with.
"Huh, I didn't know he was seeing someone," Santos finished off her drink, sliding the glass towards the middle of the table.
Suddenly all eyes were on Langdon, watching as he ushered a mystery woman towards a table in the back, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. No one had even heard he was dating someone, he was more closed off after the grueling ten months he'd spent away.
"Would it be weird if I walked by to try and get a glimpse?" Princess, ever the nosy, slipped out from her chair before quickly making her way towards the bathroom.
Frank had taken off your coat, laying it over the back of your chair before helping scoot you in towards the table, his hands gently traced along the exposed skin of your arms. You laughed, playfully slapping away his hands before telling him to sit so you could order. Princess' jaw dropped as she took you in. Both sides of your nose were pierced, a simple horseshoe hanging from your septum, and were your ears stretched as well? Not to mention the amount of tattoos covering every inch of your skin.
Holy shit, had Frank started dating someone that was alternative?
Princess didn't waste a single second after using the bathroom to spill the news to everyone, telling everyone about the piercings and tattoos you had. You looked like complete opposites, where Frank was referred to as ER Ken, here you were looking like a tattooed model.
Heather was shocked, assuming Frank would be more attracted to someone that was more simple about their appearance. She couldn't fault him though, well done tattoos always made a person look better.
"I-," Santos plopped back down into her seat, having followed Princess' original idea to catch a glimpse of you. "Jesus, she is gorgeous."
Santos was not shallow by any means necessary, but how did someone like Langdon manage to get someone as gorgeously stunning as you to date him?!
"Do you think he'd tell us about her next shift?" Princess would absolutely find a way to get Langdon to spill the beans, even if she had to bribe the man.
"He might, but then he'll know we caught them out and about and freeze up," Trinity sighed, running a hand through her hair.
Heather gasped softly as if she'd suddenly figured out the secrets of the universe as a whole, eyes wide for a brief moment before a wide grin pulled up her lips.
"We're not going to say anything to him at work, because I know who she is," she glanced around, checking to see if you, or Langdon were hanging around. "She's the new social worker that's taking over for Kiara so she can help take care of her sister since she just gave birth."
That's right, a text had hit the groupchat the first day you'd showed up, smile wide as you greeted Robby before making your way upstairs until you were needed. Come to think of it, you'd been down in the ED more often lately, assisting whoever had called.
Huh, but you didn't show off your tattoos at work, and your piercings almost blended in with you as a person. No one batted an eye when you came down, the soft scent of your perfume gracing everyone like the sun on a cloudy day. Maybe you didn't want people judging you based off your appearance, as if that mattered at all when you were there to do your job. Trinity had gotten plenty of irate patients in the past when they'd seen her tattoos, scoffing loudly to themselves.
"How long have they been together then? She's only been working there for a few weeks," Princess was the first one to speak up first, brows slightly knitted in confusion.
"Who knows, she might normally work in one of the hospitals nearby and offered so Gloria wouldn't want the hospital to look bad only having male social workers," True, nothing that woman hated more than someone talking about the hospital around her.
Now it was time to do some digging and figure out more about the person behind the title, that of course being a doctor before even being considered Frank's girlfriend. Everyone had whipped out their phones, searching up your name on every platform imaginable. Princess found your instagram first, the first photo being of you and Langdon. His arms were wrapped around your waist, a bright smile on his face as your hand was extended towards the camera.
"Holy shit you guys, they're engaged!" Princess nearly screeched at the realization, jaw dropping open as her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.
How long had you been dating that you'd gotten engaged without anyone even knowing! Surely he talked about you at work, about the love of his life he wanted to spend the rest of his days with. The girls quickly swarmed, doing their best to see the photo, each having their own distinct reaction to finding out the news. Perlah shouted something in Tagalog, hand coming up to her mouth as if she was embarrassed. Trinity could barely comprehend what she was seeing, this was the same person that had questioned her ability to treat people? He'd apologized for everything a few months after it went down, a genuine apology at that.
"Do you think I'd get in trouble if I call her down to see a patient on monday to interrogate her?" Heather wasn't passed doing something reckless in order to get information.
"I'll cover for you, if you do," Javadi sat upright, hand wrapped loosely around her mocktail.
"Damn, Crash, you're really willing to get in trouble knowing your parents work at the hospital too?" Trinity was shocked, not many people would put their neck on the line when they weren't even a resident.
Heather shut down anymore talk of anyone risking their place at the hospital, turning it back towards the reason they were there in the first place. Perlah laughed before joining back in on the conversation, discussing what she was going to wear to the wedding. It was as if their lives weren't upended on finding out the news, that their coworkers were hiding a secret.
✨✨✨✨
Frank was busy charting when Princess locked her gaze on the side of his head, eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out the best way to go about asking him about you. Shit, they couldn't corner the guy, he'd probably clam up and refuse to talk about you. They couldn't run that risk, there were things that needed to be discussed, and your relationship with Frank was one of them.
"Hey, thank you for being able to make it down, I heard it's been super busy upstairs," Heather stepped around Princess, quickly making her way over to where you were standing.
"It's never a problem, especially you or any of the girls call," you giggled at the mock offense that painted Robby's face who was standing by Jesse at the nurses station.
"I've never felt more betrayed, you'd come running to my wife before me?" Robby pressed a hand to his chest, as if he was struck with horror by your words. It was so over the top that you couldn't help but laugh.
"Considering your wife and I are close? Yes, I'll maybe walk a little faster if Whitaker calls, kid's adorable," your eyes narrowed as Robby tried, and failed, to hide the amused smirk on his face.
Princess had seen a lot in her days, but the way you joke with Robby like you're nearly family was more startling than who your fiance was. Okay, maybe just a little more shocking, seeing you stand close to ER Ken threw her off. He hadn't even glanced away from the screen in front of him, the only difference he'd even noticed was the small smile on his face.
"I take full offense to that, and here I thought you and I had something special," he wiped a fake tear from his eye, sniffling softly.
"Aww, does the doctor need a kiss from his wife to feel better?" You were clearly patronizing the other man, and damn if it wasn't hilarious.
"I can get plenty of those later where I don't have an audience," Robby chuckled, grabbing the tablet off the desk before heading off to attend to his patient.
Heather scoffed, shaking her head before ushering you to the closest room nearby, but there was no one in the room? Why would Heather need to bring you to a-, oh! That's right! The interrogation so they could get information out of you.
She looked around slowly, stepping over to the room hoping that no one would catch her trying to slip inside. By some grace she was able to open the door, the conversation flowing out into the hall before she swiftly stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
"I mean, we've been together for about three and a half years in total, I normally work at Westbridge Hospital, but with Kiara out they needed someone," it sounded so simple, but wait, three and a half years? And no one had ever found out about you?!
"How is he, by the way?" Heather's voice was soft, her head tilted in your direction.
You almost seemed to clam up in that moment, your eyes flicking over to hers as if the sudden thought of talking about, whatever it was, had annoyed you.
"Oh? Did he not tell you he's been sleeping on the couch for the last week?" Oh! This was much more than she was expecting.
"No, Robby doesn't tell me much of anything when it comes to Frank, whole bro code thing," Heather wouldn't hesitate to tell you the truth, it wasn't smart to lie.
You took a deep breath, forcing out a sigh that reached the very lowest depths of your soul. Shit, was it a good idea for Princess to be overhearing this? Especially since she worked closer with him than she did with you.
"There were these texts on his phone from some unsaved number," you glanced around for a brief moment, focusing back on Heather who was giving you her full undivided attention. "Saying how they had an amazing time with him."
Holy shit, did Langdon cheat on you?!
"He keeps insisting that he has no idea who the person is, but I just can't shake this weird feeling," you didn't want to cry, to let the situation take over more than it already had. "What if he had slept with someone else?"
"I know Langdon, and I promise you that you're the only person he ever talks about," Heather had overheard him talk about you constantly, how amazing you were and how he couldn't wait to finally marry you.
"He's given me no reason to ever doubt him, not like either of us have time to even go out together, let alone separately," Langdon typically worked upwards of seventy hours a week.
It was his promise to you that he would work enough so you could both enjoy a proper honeymoon after your wedding, moreso because he'd be an attending by then. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, someone giving a fake number to someone who wouldn't take the hint? It had happened to you before, having to pretend to be your fiance in case the person didn't leave you alone. Maybe it was that, just some person giving a stranger a fake number in hopes they'd get the hint.
"I trust him more than anything, and he hasn't given me a reason not to," the room was thick with tension, Princess could barely keep herself from running from the room to tell Perlah everything.
Heather smiled softly, resting a hand on your arm, ready to head back out into the chaos of the Pitt to check on her patients. Princess quickly ran out, silently thankful neither of them had realized she was in the room eavesdropping. Had you admitted something that a little more funny and lighthearted she would've felt fine, but that? There were some rumors and gossip that absolutely wouldn't be shared on her time, not if it meant ruining a relationship.
"I'm telling you, they're together!" Langdon whispered lowly to Robby who was doing his best to ignore the man beside him.
"Langdon, I'm gonna tell you this once and for all, don't think too hard about what Jack and Samira have going on," Robby looked over at him, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.
Holy shit! Now that was some gossip that would make for a fantastic betting pool, plus it was absolutely harmless. Perlah was busy charting, the soft clacking of the keyboard echoing around her as she tried to finish up before checking on another patient.
"Perlah!" Princess whisper yelled, throwing herself into the seat beside the other woman.
"What information do we have?" It was smarter to speak in code, especially with so many people rushing around.
"Potential attending and resident relationship, Abbot and Mohan," she didn't have much to currently go on, but Lena would absolutely spill if she bribed her.
Perlah's brows rose up just slightly, forcing the shocked expression from her face before it could take over and give away that they were gossiping. Nothing worse than getting caught by your boss for talking about other doctors while on the clock. Before they could get into the nitty gritty of the potential budding romance, Langdon's voice boomed over the entire department.
"It was you?! My fiance thought I was cheating!" His face was nearly red, with what they could only assume was anger. "Warn me next time you use my phone number to get someone off your back."
Santos looked embarrassed, as if she'd forgotten about giving Langdon's instead of her own a few weeks ago. It was before anyone had even known the two of you were together, building a life while everyone went around thinking Langdon was nothing more than a perpetual bachelor.
"I'm sorry! No one knew you were even engaged!" Santos was ready for any kind of fight from him, ignoring all the eyes locked on them.
Now everyone knew, even the patients that were definitely doing their best to not be caught eavesdropping, as if everyone didn't enjoy drama that wasn't there's.
"And now you do, so if you ever do that again I will make your life a living hell," he was downright fuming, staring her down as if he could melt her with his gaze alone.
"I don't do it to anyone I know that's seeing someone, had I known-"
Langdon held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence as he angrily pinched the bridge of his nose to stop himself from yelling again.
"That's the thing, Doctor Santos, you didn't think about if I was seeing someone or not, and that's a stupid thing to assume," his voice was calm, even. "Just give me a damn warning so I'm not forced to sleep on the couch for a week."
It was nearly silent as Langdon stormed off, heading off to bring back another patient to be treated, Whitaker quickly pulled Santos into the closest room, talking loudly about needing her assistance. Robby turned towards everyone, ready to bark out an order, annoyed that everyone had seemingly just stopped. Everyone forced themselves to pretend they hadn't just witnessed something downright insane, the groupchats would definitely be blowing up later.
✨✨✨✨
Things happened in quick succession, everyone found out Langdon was engaged to you, and word spread faster than a wildfire that Jack and Mohan were seeing each other. It was still new in their relationship, not even Robby finding out until they'd made it official. No one batted an eye after finding out, less shocked that two of the biggest workaholics in the entire hospital had gotten together? Yeah, and water is wet, where's the surprise in all of that?
Santos apologized to you instead of Langdon, spilling the beans and that it was actually her giving away his number to a woman at the bar that didn't like hearing the word 'no'. You didn't hold anger animosity or anger towards her, laughing it off like it was some joke rather than something that should have bothered you. Well, you did find out that your fiance hadn't been cheating at least. It helped ease the tension between Langdon and Santos, him apologizing as well after yelling at Santos.
"Shit, I think I left my hairspray at home," Santos muttered softly, digging through her bag for a third time.
"It's not in the green bag?" Whitaker had his back to her, digging out a pair of pajamas for himself to change into.
"Green bag? We didn't grab a green bag?" They'd each only packed one bag, clothes for the night before, the wedding day, and then something to drive home in.
His head whipped around, flannel pants clutched tightly in his hands.
"Trinity, that had over half of your makeup in there!" He'd helped her pack throughout the week when each of them had time, wanting to be prepared instead of rushing.
"Shit!"
How the hell did one manage to forget something that was super important? Maybe she could call Javadi and ask her to swing by the apartment. Damn Robby and Heather for having a damn destination wedding, they were too far out to justify driving back to the apartment for a bag. One that of course obtained her makeup and hair products, along with some of Whitaker's clothes.
"Hey, it's okay, maybe one of the other girl's can lend some of their stuff?" He shrugged, turning to head into the surprisingly large bathroom.
She'd need to ask Robby how much he paid for a room here, they were really nice with a small deck to sit out on if the weather was nice.
"Maybe, god I feel like such an idiot for forgetting it," a groan slipped through her lips as she grabbed her own set of pajamas, changing quickly and tucking her clothes into one section of the suitcase.
Javadi arrived a little while later, knocking on the door since they had only been allowed two different keycards, something about security or whatever. She'd been smart enough to drive down in more comfortable clothes, soft lavender hoodie half zipped up to just under her sternum.
"How was the drive for you? Since your mom basically threatened us with bodily harm if anything were to happen," that was something she'd take to her grave than ever admit to anyone outside of that very room.
"Wasn't too bad, I think I missed most of the traffic, it was really smooth," Javadi had been thanking her lucky stars there weren't any distracted drivers on the road.
It was one thing to be overly cautious regarding everyone else that was around you on the road, it was enough thing to get into an accident because someone couldn't put their phone down for a single drive. They'd all seen too many car accidents, ones caused by someone driving with their phone in their hand, disregarding everyone else's safety for their own selfishness.
"At least you did, we nearly got rear ended by some idiot doing almost ninety in the right lane," Santos absolutely hated driving for long periods of time, and this was no different.
"Seriously? What time did you drive down?" She dropped her bag onto the bed designated for her, hanging up the dress she'd brought for the wedding.
"Left around ten this morning, wanted to make the most of a free day instead of waiting til the last minute," it was true, Santos had been the one to offer to drive the entire time as long as Whitaker was alright with that.
He didn't have any objections, waving off her concerns regarding her driving. Plus she got them there in an hour and a half instead of the two hours and fifteen minutes like Google Maps said. Conversation flowed eaily, the trio talking about work, how exhausted they were after these last few weeks. Javadi wanted to bring up the elephant in the room, that she'd be around her…what were they exactly?
"Hey, what's going on with you and Garcia?" Okay, just rip the band-aid off, don't beat around the bush.
"I-," her head whipped towards the wall to her left, brow furrowing slightly.
No one spoke, waiting to see if Santos was suddenly having a nervous reaction to the question asked, until a second sound echoed against the wall.
"Holy shit!"
✨✨✨✨
Frank chuckled against your skin, lips trailing along the length of your throat as you squealed from beneath his frame.
"Baby! C'mon, you've been working so hard lately, why not relax and enjoy the free room service?" You pushed against his chest, smirking at the hunger in his eyes.
"I know, but we're getting married in just a few months, why would I waste my time relaxing when I can make you feel good?" His fingers were so gentle, tracing beneath the oversized shirt you had on.
"Maybe so you don't fall asleep while eating me out like you did last weekend?"
His cheeks flushed at the memory, he'd come home absolutely exhausted but couldn't get the thought of you off his mind, and had thrown himself face down in your cunt. You hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep for a few minutes, the afterglow of the intense orgasm he'd given you overtaking all senses.
"C'mon, I'd worked a double that day, give me some slack," he looked adorable pouting, lower lip pushed out as he slid the shirt up your torso.
Your skin was delicate and supple beneath his hands, a reminder that you'd chosen him as your life partner. He refused to let you worry about your body, about the way your pants began to fit tighter after a year of being together. He'd buy you anything you wanted or needed as long as it made you happy, even if it meant having to buy you new pairs of your favorite panties because he ripped all your old ones.
"Mmm, I did give you slack, you got me off and proceeded to fall asleep immediately after," at the time it had been mortifying, having to wake him up so he could clean up and actually go to bed.
Now you could look back and laugh at how just silly it was, even after telling him you didn't need him to get you off that night, he always went out of his way to make you happy. It could be something like ordering dinner when you were both too tired to cook. To eating you out until your legs were shaking and you had seen the light of heaven.
"C'mon, you loved it anyway," he chuckled against your neck, pushing the shirt fully up before tearing it off your body and tossing it towards the end of the bed. "Besides, we have this hotel room all to ourselves, you think I'm going to ignore that?"
"Mmm, you make quite the argument, are you sure you're meant to be in medicine?" Your breath caught low in your throat, his tongue tracing along the skin of your chest.
Frank ignored everything else, nipping along the skin before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. He suckled gently, reaching with his hand to caress and pinch your other nipple, relishing in the way you squirmed beneath him. You'd been wet the entire drive down, having ridden him that morning before heading down. He bit down slowly, gently pulling with his teeth wrapped around your nipple before letting go with a soft pop. Not willing to wait a single second longer, he latched onto your other nipple, tongue swirling around the hard bud.
"Frankie, baby," your hands threaded through his hair, eyes squeezed shut, knees pressing harshly into his ribs.
"Just lie back and relax for me," his eyes never wavered from your face, taking in every small detail, his lips sucking on your skin.
You were nearly dripping onto the sheets below by the time he reached your inner thighs, the scent of simply you overtaking all rational thought from him. He was like a rabid animal, mouth descending down onto the wetness of your cunt, tongue sliding from your entrance to clit. Your grip tightened in his hair, back arching off the bed as pleasure seeped into your veins. His grip tightened on your thighs, the plush skin surrounding him entirely as he ate you out like a man starved. Growls reverberating against you, bringing forth your first orgasm of the night.
Your eyes rolled back into your skull, jaw slack as you gasped desperately for each breath to fill your lungs and weep for the man surrounded by your legs. That didn't stop him, his lips and tongue moving in tandem with his fingers this time. Middle and ring finger pushed deep inside your warmth, walls squeezing tight from the first orgasm still working through you.
"Fuck, love how messy you get," his words were muffled against your clit, tears streaking down your cheeks as you cried out, a second less intense orgasm washing over you.
"Need you baby," your hands tightened in his hair, pulling his body overtop of yours.
Before you could get your hands on his briefs, desperate to shove them down and off his hips his hands stopped you. Your cunt clenched around nothing, body craving him like the very air you needed to live each day. Frank wasn't doing any better, his skin burned where it pressed to yours, hands hastily shoving down the black fabric of his boxer briefs.
"Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, call you my wife," your knees were pushed up towards your chest, the tip of his cock grazing your soaked entrance.
"My man, my Frankie, my husband," words slipped out breathlessly as he pushed in slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size.
Two orgasms had you soaked, welcoming his girth happily, your hips pressing flush together as he bottomed out completely. You whimpered softly, one hand tangled in his hair while the other dug into the muscle of his shoulder. Euphoria, there was no other word to describe the way Frank Langdon made you feel each time you fell into bed together. His cock stretched your body in ways no one else ever had before, didn't matter if it was a man, woman, or someone that didn't identify as either.
"I love you, so fucking much," his lips pressed to yours, hips never faltering as you kissed hungrily.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, a hiss escaping his teeth at the pain from your grip. A shiver if pleasure raced up his spine, mixing with the pain of your nails in his shoulder. Breath shared between each harsh thrust of his hips, bringing you closer and closer to the pleasurable edge.
He gripped your hips harshly, hooking your legs overtop of his shoulders, relishing in the loud whine that slipped free. Frank would ruin you in every bed he could, the echoes of your coupling bouncing off the walls the same way you would bounce on his cock. His wrists handcuffed to the bed while you pressed kisses to every exposed inch of his skin, ignoring the way his cock throbbed.
Listening to him beg and plead, watching your lips hover so close to the tip of his cock, begging to feel the warmth of your mouth. He was always so good for you on those nights, giving in to every single thing that would leave your lips, happily resting in your arms. Those nights were few and far between, Langdon usually coming home and bending you over the closest surface to help relieve tension for you both. You'd end up face down more often than not during the week, his mouth eagerly eating your cunt from the back.
"Fuck! Right there!" You barely had a second before your third orgasm ripped through your body, vision whiting out for a brief moment.
"Shit! 'M close," his thrusts began to grow sloppy, the large wooden headboard slamming harshly against the wall.
His hips pumped once, twice, three times before stilling, his cum filling you to the brim. Your thighs shook from overstimulation, body begging for a small reprieve. Frank pressed his lips to yours, distracting you as he quickly, and carefully, pulled free from your warm cunt. You barely noticed he was stepping away to grab a cloth to clean you up, mind fuzzy as you basked in the afterglow. Sweat glistened on your skin, the setting sun catching the slope of your breasts and belly.
Frank hadn't been more in love with you than that moment, his heart swelling at how beautiful you looked in that very moment.
"See something you like, handsome?" You were barely conscious, a bright smile on your face as you relaxed.
"Every single day, and even when I die and go to heaven, I'll have an angel with me," damnit, he was being too sweet after wrecking you again.
"More cleaning less talking please, and thank you," you smiled up at him, gasping softly at the sheer warmth of the cloth as it graced along your sore cunt.
✨✨✨✨
Trinity sat stock still, jaw slack as the reality sunk in that she'd just had to listen to her coworker and his fiance fuck for the last, she wasn't even sure how long it was. Whitaker and Javadi were no better, the pair staring between one another.
"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that next tuesday, or else I'm requesting a transfer and escaping forever," nothing would ever prepare her for something like that.
At least there would be an open bar at the wedding, they'd be able to drink away the memories of everything that happened.
Summary- You hated how everyone loved him. You were polar opposites, bucky was his fraternity president and you an alternative 'outcast'. Opposites definitely don't attract...or do they?
Word count- 2.3k
Warnings- Walker being a bully and just a prick, angst, yearning bucky, just angst really, tintsy possible fluff near the end. Not proof read/ part wrote on phone
AN: part 3 coming soon :) let me know if you wanna be in the tag list
My masterlist
[1] 2 [3] [4] [5] [6]
The cafeteria was loud enough that you should’ve been able to disappear into the noise, clattering trays, espresso machines hissing, someone’s terrible indie playlist crackling through a phone speaker a few tables over. Perfect place to forget the way bucky had looked at you a few days earlier.
Except you couldn’t forget. Not when the memory kept replaying like a glitching video. Yelena plopped her tray down across from you, sliding into the seat with the grace of a brick wall. “Okay. Spill.”
“Theres nothing to spill Lena.” You muttered, stabbing your fork into your pasta like It had personally offended you. “Mm.” She took a sip of her drink. “Then why are you staring at your food like it’s going to turn into him.”
You choked. “Yelena.” She smirked. “Barnes flavoured soup. I told you!” You were about to argue again when something prickled at the back of your neck. A strange, heavy awareness. You didn’t want to look. You really didn’t. But you did.
Across the cafe, at the table full of football players and frat boys, Bucky Barnes was staring at you. Not glancing, not peaking, staring.
Elbow on the table, chin resting on his hand, blue eyes locked onto you like you were the only person in the room. His friends were talking, laughing, shoving each other, but he wasn’t paying attention to any of it.
He was watching.
You stomach flipped so violently you nearly dropped your fork. Yelena followed your gaze, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh. Ohhhh. Hes not even being subtle.”
“Shut up.” You hissed, heat crawling up your neck. “I’m just saying” She whispered, leaning in. “If a man looked at me like that, I’d be pregnant.”
“Yelena!” your voice was aloud whisper
Before you could tell her to be quiet, walker noticed. You saw it happen, the moment his eyes tracked buckys line of sight, then landed on you. His grin spread slow and mean. “Oh, great.” You muttered. “Here we go.”
Walker elbowed bucky,” Dude. Seriously? Her?”
Your blood ran cold. Bucky didn’t look away from you. Not even for a second. Walker laughed louder, making sure half the table heard. “Barnes has a crush on the campus cryptid.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped. “I will kill him.” You grabbed her wrist before she could stand. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”
Walk kept going, voice carrying across the café. “What’s the plan, buck? Gonna ask her to read your aura? Maybe summon a demon together?”
You face burned. People were looking now, whispering, snickering. You wanted to sink into the floor, willing your face to stay stoic.
Before walker could say anymore a girl walked over to their table, her long blonde hair cascading down her back. It seemed every thought walkers small brain could muster disappeared at her presence.
Her manicured nailed brushed across the table as she stopped, standing right in front of bucky cutting you from his view. “Hey Jamie” she purred using her other hand to twirl her hair. “Larissa” he gruffed back at her, trying to look around her to see you, but she angled her body each time.
A sigh fell from his lips as he looked up at her. “So, I was thinking, I’m throwing a Halloween party and would love for you and your team to come.”
Her voice filled his ears like an itchy velvet. “Yeah sure” he agreed just trying to get her to leave. As he spoke a high pitched giggle rippled from her throat, he winced at the sound. Rolling his eyes.
“Oh my god! I can’t wait! We should totally do matching costumes” he tuned her voice out, nodding his head as he stood brushing her off, as he moved around her leaving the table.
His eyes shot back over to the table you were sat at, only to find empty chairs at empty tables. His brows furrowed instantly eyes scanning the room for you, as he began to feel hopeless that you’d already gone, he caught a glimpse of your signature jacket, his heart quickened.
And so did he pace, rushing through the crowd of people trying to leave, bumping past people, shoulders colliding as be moved, a quick sorry and excuse me fell from his lips.
As you saw the blonde arrive at their table you were quick to finish your lunch and drag Yelena out of there, although she was still furious at walker.
As you walked through the corridor to your next class, unaware that a certain buff jock was trailing you. Yelena’s arm was wrapped around yours, grumbling about how much she hated walker.
Yelena was till muttering curses under her breath when she suddenly stopped walking. You didn’t notice at first. You were too busy trying to swallow the humiliation burning raw in your throat.
Then she tugged your sleeve. “He’s right behind us.” Your stomach dropped. You turned before you could stop yourself. Bucky Barnes stood a few yards away, chest rising and falling like he’d run after you. His hair was mussed, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on you with something sharp and unreadable.
Something that made your ribs feel too small. Yelena’s expression hardened. “If he’s here to apologise for walker, he better- “
“Lena” you whispered, but your voice cracked. She heard it, her eyes softening for a second before she stepped back, giving you space.
Bucky approached slowly, like he wasn’t sure if you’d bolt. You almost did. You didn’t answer. He swallowed, glancing away for half a second before forcing his eyes back to yours.
“I…wanted to check if you were okay.” You let out a humourless breath “why wouldn’t I be.” He flinched at your tone. “Walkers an idiot, he shouldn’t of said any of that.”
“You didn’t stop him.”
That landed like a punch. His jaw clenched “I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“It was already bad. “You said quietly, “you staring at me while he made fun of me didn’t exactly help.” His brows pulled together, hurt flickering across his face. “I wasn’t staring to make fun of you.”
“Then why?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. He opened his mouth, closed it then looked away and that hurt more than anything walker had said.
“Forget it.” You muttered, turning to leave. “Wait.” His hand shot out, catching your sleeve, but he froze before he actually touched you, fingers hovering like he was afraid your burn him. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Yeah, well it did.” He looked wrecked. Actually wrecked, like hed been holding something in for too long and it was starting to crack through. “I wasn’t staring because I was judging you.”
He said his voice rough, “I was staring because I can’t stop looking at you. And that’s the problem.” You caught you breath. He kept going, words tumbling out like he hated every one of them.
“You make me- “he shook his head. “I don’t know. Forget things. Lose track. I don’t get distracted. And then walker noticed and- “
“You let him humiliate me.” He shut his eyes like the truth physically hurt him. “I’m sorry” he whispered.
You wanted to believe him, God you really did, but the ache in your chest was louder than anything. “Sorry doesn’t change anything.”
He opened his eyes, and the look in them made your throat tighten. Desperate. Frustrated. Like he was trying to hold onto something already slipping through his fingers.
“Just…tell me you’re not mad at me.” He said quietly. “I don’t know what I am.” That broke something inside his expression. He stepped back, hands curling into fists at his sides. “Okay. Yeah, I deserve that”
You didn’t say anything. He nodded once, jaw tight eyes glassy in a way he tried to hide by looking at the floor.
“I’ll leave you alone. If that’s what you want” he murmured, your chest twisted painfully, but you didn’t answer, couldn’t.
And Bucky who had chased you through a crowed cafeteria, who had looked at you like you were the only thing he could see. Took your silence as an answer.
He turned around and walked away.
Yelena stepped beside you again, voice soft for once “you, okay?”
You weren’t. Not even close but you nodded anyway.
You didn’t see bucky for the rest of the day, not in the hallways, not outside your next class, not even across the quad where he usually held court with his teammates.
It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did, more than you wanted to admit. Yelena kept glancing at you like she was waiting for you to crack open and spill everything you were feeling, but you kept your face neutral, your voice steady, your step even.
You were fine. You were absolutely-
“Okay, you’re walking like someone just stole your spine,” Yelena muttered as you left your last lecture. “Just say you miss him.”
“I don’t.” you said too quickly. “Theres nothing to miss.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sure. And I don’t want to punch walker in the throat.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because the truth was sitting heavy in your chest, pressing against your ribs like it wanted out. You didn’t miss Bucky. You missed the version of him you thought existed.
The one who looked at you like you were something he didn’t know how to name.
The one who chased you through a crowded cafeteria.
The one who apologized like it physically hurt him.
You were halfway across the courtyard when you heard footsteps behind you. Heavy ones. Familiar ones. You didn’t turn around.
“Hey.”
His voice was rougher than before. Tired. Like he hadn’t slept. You stopped walking but didn’t face him. “What do you want, bucky?” A beat of silence, then quietly “To talk.”
You exhaled slowly, staring at the ground. “I thought you said you’d leave me alone.” “I know.” His voice cracked just slightly. “I’m trying.”
You finally turned, he looked awful, not physically, he was still bucky Barnes, all broad shoulders and stupidly pretty eyes but there was something strained in the way he held himself. Like he was bracing for impact.
“I didn’t come to bother you,” he said. “I just… wanted to explain.” You crossed your arms. “Explain what?”
He hesitated. You could see the war happening behind his eyes. The part of him that wanted to stay guarded. And the part that wanted to tell you everything. “I didn’t stop Walker because I didn’t want him to make it worse for you,” he said. “But also, because… I didn’t want him to know.”
“Know what?”
“That he was right.” Your breath caught. Bucky looked away, jaw tight. “I do stare at you. I do get distracted. I do… feel something. And Walker would’ve turned that into a joke. I didn’t want him to use it against you.”
You swallowed hard. “You could’ve told him to shut up.” I know.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I should’ve.” Silence stretched between you, thick and fragile.
You didn’t forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not for a while. But something in your chest loosened, just a little.
He took a step back to give you space. “I’m not asking you to like me, or talk to me, or even look at me.”
You hated how your heart reacted to that. “I just… wanted you to know I’m not ignoring you because I don’t care.” He swallowed. “I’m ignoring you because I care too much, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
Your breath hitched, he turned shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll uh… see you around. I hope.”
He started walking away, you didn’t call after him. You watched him go, feeling something warm and painful twist inside you.
You didn’t sleep that night, every time you close your eyes you saw him walking way, every time you tied to breath you heard his voice. I care too much, and I don’t know what to do with that.
By morning, you’d convinced yourself to avoid him. Not out of spite out of self preservation. You weren’t built for whatever storm lived behind Bucky Barnes’ eyes.
But fate, apparently, didn’t care. You ran into him outside the library. Literally.
Your shoulder collided with something solid, and your books went flying. You muttered a curse, dropping to your knees to gather them. Then you heard him.
“Sorry,” Bucky said quietly, crouching to help. “I wasn’t looking.” You froze.
He handed you a notebook without meeting your eyes. His hair fell forward, hiding most of his face, but you could see the tension in his jaw. He looked like he hadn’t slept either. You swallowed. “It’s fine.”
He nodded once, still not looking at you. He started to stand. Something inside you twisted, sharp and desperate and before you could think you reached out. Your fingers brushed his wrist. He stilled instantly.
You snatched your hand back like you’d touched fire. “Wait.” He looked at you then. Really looked.
And the exhaustion in his eyes nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. You scrambled for something to say, something that didn’t sound like I miss you or I hate how much you matter.
Instead, you shoved your notebook against his chest. “Can you just hold this for a second?” you blurted. He blinked, confused, but took it.
You pretended to adjust your bag, heart pounding so hard you thought he might hear it. When he wasn’t looking, you slid a small scrap of paper behind the notebook he was holding.
Your number, folded twice, hidden. You took the notebook back, acting like nothing happened. “Thanks.” He nodded, stepping aside. “Yeah. Sure.” You walked past him, pulse roaring in your ears. Letting the small piece of paper flutter to the floor.
You didn’t look back. Not even when he bent down grabbing the paper of the floor . Not even when you heard his breath catch as he opened it.
Not even when he whispered your name like it hurt.
You kept walking.
He watched you walk away, hope burning in his chest, the piece of paper heavy in his hand.
————————————————————————
AN: okay i said next week but its here now! Thank you for all of the love for this series, hope you guys like it
Taglist for this series- @dpr-teag @mfstargirlsworld
reader wears makeup / reader has a job at the Daily Planet / kind of shy!Clark /nsfw at the end / slight angst / mentions of : transphobia, xenophobia, harassment.
notes : I hope it suits how you pictured this one, thanks again for the request ;)
wc : 1.9k
english isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes ♡
Females DNI
FIRST MEETING :
He was..surprised to see you, walking through the Daily Planet offices. It had to be said that most of the staff were looking at you too, with eyes that mixed curiosity with incomprehension – because there are always idiots –. You stood out from the crowd, and Clark could only see it with the look of a deer caught in the headlights of car.
He may have been Superman, but at first he was just a little guy who grew up on a farm in the middle of fields. His parents were great, but at school he had seen all too well how cruel kids could be to each other. So it was this idea that pushed him to talk to you for the first time, yet another proof of his constant heroism.
“Hey! Are you new here? Oh, and I love your style, by the way,” were his first words to you, though due to his stress-induced awkwardness, it sounded more like this: “H-hey ! You were huh, I mean are you new here ? Oh and..by the way, I euh really love how you look”.
You immediately fell for his dimpled smile, how could you not?
FIRST STEPS OF THE RELATIONSHIP :
Clark was not subtle at all, even though he believed he was.
He always brought you a cold drink before everyone else, greeted you at eight in the morning with his voice going a little too high, held all the doors for you – even the fridge one – during the day, and so on.
Of course, he hoped you would be receptive to him, that you liked men. But that anxiety quickly left him as soon as you laid your dark-lined eyes on him.
Let's talk about makeup. He loved it. And you'd have to be blind not to notice.
The second you walked into the office, with a new makeup routinely changing, Clark would melt in place. No, but literally, you'd see him slump in his chair or lean on a piece of furniture to support his suddenly fragile frame. When someone pointed this out, he'd quickly come up with an excuse—the worst—like "my back hurts" or "drank too much coffee."
When you two were talking, he had to fight—so hard—to keep his gaze on yours. The black of your eyelashes was so deep, the touches of color around them made him dizzy, and your lips, oh your lips, he sometimes took advantage of your attention being elsewhere to just devour them with his gaze.
This little game lasted several weeks, a little over a month to be exact, before one evening after work you suggested to go for a drink somewhere “to celebrate the success of your article,” you said.
Once together, you naively thought Clark would be a little less obsessed with you, but you were wrong. Now he had constant permission to have his hands and eyes on you.
He was less shy, even though at first he asked a lot of permission to touch you: “Can I here?” “Can I kiss you?” “Does it feel wrong if I hug you like this?” But that was also why you had fallen for him.
He researched as much as he could about transgender people. In fact, he did it as soon as he found out you were, because the thought of doing or saying something that might make you uncomfortable scared the hell out of him.
He memorized all the medical and social terms, explored the most famous transgender figures, and was surprised to discover how many had existed for hundreds of years. He even learned the meanings of the colors of the trans flag—just in case you were wondering.
If you were taking hormones or planning to have surgery, he would have read absolutely every article on the subject. He’d have used his reporter skills to find the best specialists. And of course, he would probably be more stressed than you at every appointment.
About Superman.
He had been sure of one thing when you first kissed: you had to know.
He didn't want to lie to you about it, he couldn't see himself repeatedly inventing lies to justify his absences.
So, right after your first kiss, he slipped in an “I’m Superman.”
He could have said it differently, I agree, but he was so stressed about you leaving him because of that.
“You’re Superman?” you repeated puzzledly, and then he clumsily took off his magic glasses. Your eyes immediately widened, your brain associating the shy and kind Clark with the life-saving superhero.
“Wow, you beat me there,” you replied, “my ‘oh, by the way, I’m trans’ announcement looks out of place.” And you burst out laughing, Clark’s stress evaporating and your love growing.
ESTABLISHED RELATION :
You steal his clothes, how can you not? The farmer-style shirts he has look so good with the right accessories.
Clark loves seeing how you transform simple clothes into a perfect and complex outfit, especially when the centerpiece is one of his t-shirts or pants.
He sometimes asks you to show him how you do your makeup, so he can understand and possibly do it again for you if one day you don't feel good.
And of course, you do his makeup. He doesn't feel like going out with it yet, but he's always happy to see his reflection when you're done.
Clark is like your outfit approver. You show him several versions of the same outfit and he gives you his opinion. He's actually quite good at it.
There are days when you wear tights, for example, but as the day goes on you end up feeling dysphoric. Clark is there to save you. He always keeps an oversized sweater and sweatpants nearby, just in case.
One habit he's gotten into with you is pulling you into a kiss by tugging – gently – on one or all of the necklaces you're wearing.
He enjoys searching for you with his super hearing when you have to meet somewhere or when you come home after him. He would recognize among a thousand the distinctive metallic sound of some of your jewelry, the rubbing of the layers of fabric you wear, or the leather’s soft creak of your belt.
ANGST :
You only had one argument.
You were walking home from shopping when a man deliberately bumped into you, causing you to drop your bag of food. You opened your mouth, but you were cut off by a comment about your clothing style. You were unfortunately used to it, but it still hurt, and when you got home you started crying in the hallway.
Clark came running, having heard your shortness of breath, and you explained everything to him. Of course, he reassured you, he listened to you as he always did. But that wasn't enough for you at that moment. You wanted someone to approve your anger towards this man and humans in general. Except that Clark has always loved humans, and he desperately clings to hope.
So that's when the argument started.
“Don’t you see the rottenness of human beings? How can you still defend people capable of such horrors?” you told him.
He tried to hold on to his ideas, to his faith, but hearing your voice break under your sobs, he finally gave in.
“You’re right,” he told you, letting his head fall back against the wall with a sigh. “Humans are cruel, so cruel to people who aren’t like them.”
The conversation goes then a little more calmly, you explained to him more kindly that you obviously liked his optimism, but that the idea that he remained stubborn about it when you, next to him, experienced transphobia and xenophobia on a daily basis was unbearable for you.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see it that way, forgive me please” were the words that concluded your one and only argument.
Ever since a similar event happened, Clark was there for you more than for humanity. He defended you.
NSFW :
He didn't want to be too clingy at first in intimacy. He wanted you to feel comfortable, and above all, he was terrified of doing something wrong that would make you feel dysphoric. So he held back, enjoying every other moment with you. Until you made the first move—once again.
“I don’t want to seem starving or too needy,” he explained to you, a little embarrassed, to which you replied with a small smile, “I actually like it, I find it sexy and flattering.”
From then on, he couldn't hold back. Perhaps also because he simply couldn't do it anymore.
Clark, who, no matter how much he dreams of fucking you right now, absolutely wants to remove all your layers of clothing without damaging them.
One day you were so impatient that you ripped one of your tights yourself while trying to take them off. Clark immediately fell to his knees at the hole and said something like "no baby! I loved this one, it looked so good on you with the denim shorts" but you just responded by pulling him into a long kiss, interspersed with "it gives it style, ‘like it" to reassure him a little.
When he found out about leather harnesses that could be worn over tops, that was all he could think about. Until the day you surprised him by buying one and putting it on. Needless to say, you kept it on as your only "item of clothing" throughout the night.
One thing he loves: seeing your ruined makeup.
If that's what you like, he'll fuck you so good until he makes you cry over and over again, just to see your makeup completely ruined because of him.
He loves holding you close, seeing the eyeshadow marks on his chest or in the palm of his hand.
If you wear rings, you have to keep them on when he goes down on you. He wants to feel your hand pulling his hair, your rings getting caught in his brown curls, and the weight of your rings on his scalp as you push his head down even further.
Most of the time, he knows when you're feeling more dysphoric than normal. He hears the change in your heartbeat, your throat tightening, and your shortness of breath. So he always avoids the risky areas, focusing on the gentle ones.
“I know my love, sensitive here huh ? It is not a problem, we can still have fun, do you want that darling ?”
Lots of words of affirmation with him.
“Such a good boy for me” “I’m so proud of you angel” “Look at you, you are so brave”.
You discovered that he also really liked to be praised. In everyday life: “Don’t listen to what they say, you’re great Clark.” Just like in bed: “Make me feel so good love,” “Please do that again, love it,” “You’re good at this Kent.”
SENTENCES SCREAMING “CLARK KENT” :
❝ - You look so cool darling !
- How do I take this off? No wait, I don't want to ruin it, this top is so beautiful..
- I don't understand how you manage to put pencil in your eye, it doesn't hurt you’re sure?
- Come in my arms, let me hold you strong boy. ❞
pictures : Pinterest
dividers : @/cafekitsune , @/saradika-graphics and @/cursed-carmine
[✮’!] warnings - fem! reader, reader is having a smoke break, just pure hdc!
[✮’!] - i couldn’t find enough chase fics so i wrote this cuz i KNOW i wont be finishing a oneshot, i may or may not have inserted myself here? WHERE ARE MY EMO GIRLS AT..?!
in my perfect world he absolutely loves alternative people doesn’t matter what kind,
goth? he stares at you while you do your pretty makeup and loves when you wear flowy and lacey things
punk? definitely thinks it’s way too cool, big necklaces? he tugs and lets his finger run across them because he thinks the texture is funny, also adores the big cuffs around your arms, matter of fact the chunkier the better
emo? oh he loves, loves you, big eyeliner and the big and chunky layers in your hair? he’s sold, maybe controversial but the og emo hair was his inspiration for his side part, (in my opinion)
now he may not be the person you expect to be into the alternative style but he adores it when people express themselves
especially his girl! he’s so into it it’s kinda creepy he loves it when he can help choose your outfits or what kind of eyeliner you want to do
honestly first time he saw you he was staring real bad, like mouth open and all, foremann probably needed to snap his fingers in front of robert’s eyes
he did not have the guts to talk to you because you looked so peaceful and in your element, even if you were just sitting and having a smoke break like every person needed after a hard shift
so he did the natural thing! which for him was also going into the park were you were sitting after your shift endet and just subtly looking at you while he had his lunch
which he now knows it’s weird so no hard feelings
he looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon just for him, his eyes literally sparkle and it’s just wholesome
when he walks with you somewhere, doesn’t matter where, he feels so proud to have such a beautiful and loving girlfriend and you can see it on his face
always reassures you when you think you’re ‚doing too much‘ for a simple lunch because for him he doesn’t care if you throw on a trashbag you’re still the prettiest in the room in his eyes
always buys you stuff, mostly trinkets you can put on your shelf’s or necklaces he thinks matches you
also partially because he is always working long hours and he knows you love getting reminded that he thought about you
defends you when somebody makes a stupid and inconsiderate joke about your appearance, he is not always the good guy but you best believe he is defending his girl like his life is on the line! (bare minimum)
let’s you style him one evening and he looks so good, mouth salivating kinda good with guyliner and you always remind him of that (bring guyliner back)
he thinks it’s the cutest thing when you wear his button ups and style them with something or even when you don’t, something in him warms up seeing you engulfed in his shirts
another thing is knee high socks, he goes feral when you wear them, par them with garters and he’s gone
one of the only things which he needed time with was your music, now he likes it but in the beginning he wanted to stuff his ears for some parts especially the screaming,
foremann and house absolutely love to tease him about his emo girlfriend, how they like to say it even if you aren’t emo
wants to match outfits with you but doesn’t have the guts to go through with it
heyyy i have a request :) could you do alternative reader (black hair, tattoos, piercings, listens to heavy metal) being first time at the paddock and people are making fun her, that she doesn’t fit, and then oscar defends her while during interview someone asks nasty question? love your work!!
YES AS AN ALTERNATIVE WOMAN YES I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH
This might be long because it's 1 am but i know i have the inspo NOW LOL and also this didnt specify smut but ofc im a smut acc im gonna make it a lil spicyy
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort vibes (not really), Possesive and defensive Oscar, The media being...the media, Heating making out, Lando and you are nosey little shits and Lando is legit your best friend lol, Very aggressive praise(???), semi-public touching and thigh riding-ish (motorhome). And idk i'll probably forget something man LMAO
The stares—you’re plenty used to them. Being alternative has its pros and cons. The shiny metal along your face glimmers under the hot sun. You get just a bit too warm in your black clothing… the ink that shows along your body like perfectly placed birthmarks—like they belong there. Your bulky, yet sexy, platform boots pound against the ground, while Oscar’s feet are light and softly padded next to yours. The dark, deep perfume you wear drives Oscar up the walls every time he catches a whiff.
And then there’s the makeup and hair—Oscar’s personal favorite part about you. Some days, your hair is teased and highly styled; other days, it’s messy and loose like you’ve just had the best sex of your life. It pairs perfectly with your rough, smudged black makeup—like you took charcoal to your eyes and called it a day.
You’re seated in the McLaren garage during a media day, It's finally hit evening and you're having light conversation with Lando—wearing a tight-fitted, alluring outfit with sharp metal accessories and matching face jewelry. A gorgeous metal coffin clip adorns your hair, and your nails are done to vampiric perfection.
Just a few feet away, Oscar is mid-interview, answering general questions about his life. You’re content to ignore it—until you hear your name slip from the lips of the girl interviewing him. Your head turns slightly, curiosity piqued. Lando catches on quickly, and with a smirk, he also tunes in to the newly lit-up question..
“So… I do have to ask…” the reporter says, tilting her head with a look that shifts from soft to bitter and borderline offended. “Why on earth is a successful, talented, intelligent driver like yourself with what some would call a ‘Bad Luck Black Cat’ of a girlfriend?”
Oscar’s frame shifts from leaning in to listen to upright and pulled back—you can’t see his face, but you can already tell he’s beyond pissed off at the invasive and insulting question. Lando turns to you with wide eyes and a jaw dropped in shock, which slowly shifts into a massive smile of disbelief. Your own head snaps to meet Lando’s gaze with the same look, but instead of smiling, you stay perplexed and offended.
Lando’s about to speak, but he pauses, glancing over sharply before blurting, “Uh-oh, here he comes—” and as you're about to look over you're stopped by a large rough hand on your shoulder and Oscar's visibly vibrating frame leaned down almost hunched like a food possessed dog as he growls a whisper to you. "We're leaving—Come on."
Now you find yourselves locked up in the McLaren motorhome, pressed against the wall with Oscar’s meaty thigh forcing its way between your own—his heavy, angry breathing rippling across your skin as he bites and leaves sloppy kisses all over your throat and chest. You grab at his hair, your sharp nails digging into his scalp just right as he presses his thigh harder against your core.
“O-Osc—what—ah!—the fuck!” you whimper at his sudden roughness, only ever seeing this side of him after a bad race. You know he’s usually more in control, even when someone says something stupid.
“She called you ‘Bad Luck’… s’fucking insulting to you… Told her to fuck off and said you’ve done nothing but motivate me to push myself. Made her look stupid on a live broadcast.” You shiver at his words, a surprised grin spreading across your face. You go to open your mouth but are promptly interrupted by a breathy moan as Oscar’s hands move to grind you against his thigh—his head finally lifting to look at you. His eyes are blown wide with the need to prove that reporter wrong, his lips glossy with his own saliva, which you can feel drying on your chest and neck.
His words keep tumbling out, between kissing you hard and rough like a claim to show you just how much he prioritizes and adores you and your dark persona and that you do nothing but make him itch for more. "Just so pretty—such a pretty thing you are...my own personal eye candy whenever i want it.."
His teeth graze your jaw as he moves to whisper more filth—a grumbled laugh as he feels your knees buckle and your thighs tremble from him speaking ontop of how desperate your hips swivel down to grind on his thigh harder, He can sense just how close you're getting from just this. "She has no clue what she's talking about—you're a million times more cool and talented than me, i'm so plain and simple and you balance me so well by stealing all the spotlight with your appearance—fuckin' love how confident you look, s'fucking sexy."
Oscar's babbling goes on and on until you're shaking in his grip and gasping against his parted lips—now both loudly heaving into eachother, your breath mixing, minty sweet gum from Oscar and the cherry gum from your own mouth. One last needy whisper from Oscar has you gripping him for dear life as an orgasm washes over.
"Fuck just like that—use me like that, please you're so pretty like this—perfect like this on my thigh-"
Straight-Laced and classy Vincent Wittman who appears to be shocked by the alternative aesthetic and lifestyle on the surface, but when he starts dating you and you're around him all the time, he slowly becomes obsessed with it... And it really turns him on.
Vincent who finds it shocking that people wear chains, collars, and corsets as fashion. One day you catch him trying on one of your corsets. He initially acts embarrassed about it, but his enthusiasm when you suggest he tries on more of your clothes suggests otherwise.
Vincent who doesn't understand why people would wear heavy or graphic makeup that takes a long time to apply, but starts letting you put heavy eyeshadow, liner, and brash lipstick on him without protest, as long as nobody will see him.
Vincent who starts to express curiosity about piercings and is encouraged by you to get them. He knows you practically smother him with attention when he does, and he also loves the rush associated with getting a new one, especially the pain. He doesn't have to keep them in all the time, so nobody at the network is gonna know, right?
Vincent who never uses public transport having you dress him and make him up, then take him with you in that unrecognizable state. People are confused what his gender is by way he currently looks, and he's embarrassed yet also can't help but notice the rush of euphoria he feels. He looks down shyly and grabs at the fabric of his pants as he's blushing under the heavy makeup you put him in.
Vincent who is taken to a dark eerie club by you in this state, with hordes of other alternative people surrounding you. Watching a man who normally dances like a classically trained Hollywood Star devolve into gyrating and grinding while running his hands up and down his body. People of all ages and genders taking notice and rowdily cheering him on like a stripper. Nobody at the venue knows that the same man on their television screens in the morning with their latest news is in front of them decked out in lace, leather and chains while moving his body in a way that would put Prince to shame.
Vincent who would have considered a dingy, single-person, graffiti-filled bathroom a reason to straight up leave a venue and write a scathing review online letting you fuck him in it because of how aroused showing off in front of a bunch of strangers has made him. Nobody knows that the East Coast Entertainment Mogul himself is in the throes of his orgasm and crying black mascara tears while Nine Inch Nails can still be heard playing on the dancefloor. This is his dark secret, and he absolutely loves you for having brought him into it...
the barracks is quiet, but not really. the faint scrape of boots, the low hum of lanterns, the distant creak of the walls—it all fills the space while you sit on the edge of the table, legs crossed, dark eyeshadow smudged with glitter, lipstick chipping off. It doesn't matter; you mean business. your laptop is open, strategy maps scattered, but you’re barely touching them. you’re watching. always watching.
levi steps in without a sound, as always, and stops when he notices you. the way you’re draped across the table, black boots dangling, hair half falling in your face. he pauses. his brain tells him to keep moving, stay professional, but the quiet pull in his chest says otherwise.
“you’re still here,” he mutters, voice low. not a question, but not really a statement either.
“someone has to make sense of this mess,” you reply, voice soft but sharp, like a blade wrapped in velvet. you don’t look at him.
he tilts his head, studying you. “you make it look… easy.”
“nothing is easy captain, we just do it anyway” you say, finally meeting his eyes. the look you give him is something between curiosity and defiance, dark eyeliner making the color of your eyes seem almost… dangerous.
levi doesn’t answer right away. he shouldn’t be noticing, shouldn’t be letting himself get distracted. but he does. god, he does. every time you cross your arms, every time you smirk just slightly at something he said under his breath, he wants… more than protocol.
“you don’t talk much,” you murmur, tilting your head. “that’s fine. i like that.”
levi blinks. “you… like quiet?”
“i like honesty,” you correct. “quiet just… comes along with it. people don’t scream over me then.”
he nods slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching. he knows exactly what you mean. he also knows that if he doesn’t say it, he’ll regret it. “honesty,” he repeats. “i… like you.”
your smirk grows, subtle but deliberate. “you do?”
“don’t test me,” he says, voice dropping an octave, low and dangerous. but the words don’t mask the flush in his cheeks. the way his eyes follow you. the way… he wants you to lean closer.
you stand, moving so close that he can feel your energy brush against him, the faint scent of smoke and leather and something uniquely you. “good,” you whisper. “because i might like you too.”
levi freezes, then leans just slightly closer, just enough that you feel the tension between you. “might?”
you shrug, playful, teasing, but there’s truth in it. “maybe. depends if you can keep up.”
he smiles for the first time in forever, sharp, dangerous, amused. “i never slow down,” he says.
and in the quiet chaos of the barracks, strategy papers and maps forgotten, the two of you just… exist. the war can wait.
