someone who works on lego masters has my last name and its so weird lol
someone who works on lego masters has my last name and its so weird lol
Snatch (2000) dir. Guy Ritchie
Read on AO3
CW: Explicit sexual content, canon typical violence
prompt no 5: Science Fiction
Characters: Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves
Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves
Lila is sitting at the bar, twirling the facsimile of what she assumes is supposed to be some grain alcohol around in her glass. It’s amber and it burns, that’s all she can really ask for. But she’s had two already in quick succession so she’s in no hurry to down this one as well.
She’s trying to settle her nerves after the day she’s had, and luckily she found the skeeviest bar at the port, with very few patrons and therefore all she has to contend with is the slightly irritating buzzing of the neon tubes that barely illuminate the place but bathe it in a weird purple light.
And then the automatic door zips open and a far too familiar, tall figure walks in.
Lila rolls her eyes and unsuccessfully tries to hide her face, because the man with his distinct scars, shaggy dark hair, and a thick beard, makes his way straight over to her and sits down on the next barstool over.
He signals the barman for a drink of his own but doesn’t say anything.
It’s not the first time they’ve crossed paths today. No, the fucking Hargreeves, and consequently also the angry fighty one, who is sitting next to her now, almost cost her her loot and did get her shot.
The salvaging game is dangerous and only semi-legal, so she knows the risks and loves doing it anyway, but the fact that recently she keeps running into this stupid group of misfits that claim they are a family somehow, who fly around in their stupidly named ship The Umbrella Academy and are annoyingly proficient, getting there before her almost half the time now, is making her job an absolute misery.
“You here to steal my loot?” Lila asks eventually, quite exasperated with the brooding salvager disturbing her peace.
“Nah,” he says in a low voice, “I know you offloaded that the minute you got back to the port. And I’m not gonna rob you of your money, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he goes on, turning towards her and toasting her in the air.
Lila realises she’s never heard him speak beyond a couple of barked orders to his crew or insults directed at her, when they have been competing for the same abandoned cargo ship. The way he’s speaking to her now feels deceptively pleasant. He has a warm voice that trickles into her ears far too easily.
“What do you want, then?”
“Came to make sure you were alright,” he says simply, not looking at her this time around.
That takes Lila a little by surprise.
Sure, it’s not like the Hargreeves have been particularly violent towards her in their past encounters, but especially the one sitting with her now has, so far, never had any particular qualms about shooting his phaser at her or throwing a knife in her path. Granted, he’s never actually hit her with them, but she refuses to consider that that might be by design.
Also, who the fuck uses knives in enclosed corridors on space ships where you are guaranteed to hit some vital piece of equipment if you just randomly chuck a knife at the wall?
“Why do you care?” Lila asks maybe a bit harshly. It’s not like he shot her himself. Admittedly, they had been lobbing petty insults at each other while trying to race one another to the cargo hold and maybe that had made them a little too distracted to notice the group of far less scrupulous scavengers arriving.
The man next to her smirks into his glass, but doesn’t answer her question.
Instead, after taking a sip of his drink he turns to look at her with big, impossibly dark eyes, some part of her brain informs her unhelpfully, and asks, “That zippy little number you’re flying around in, that’s far too nice a ship for a salvager. Where’d you get her?”
The question is so conversational that Lila answers before she can think better of it. “The Commission? A… uhm…” she hesitates, “a parting gift from my mother.”
“Oh right, so you’re one of those rich kids who go into salvaging for the adventure?”
Lila bristles at the accusation and shoots back, “Oh please, it’s not like we haven’t all heard of Reginald Hargreeves!”
But she doesn’t get a response to that conversational thread either.
Instead the Hargreeves sitting next to her, who apparently is reluctant to acknowledge his patriarch, asks her, “What’s your name, anyway?”
She decides he doesn’t need any more than that, no point in giving up too much information to the competition, “What’s yours?”
“Diego,” he says and then holds out his hand to her.
When she shakes his gloved hand, Diego holds on to hers for just a little too long and the penny finally drops for Lila.
She’s a tad annoyed that he won’t just come out and say what he’s looking for, but it’s been a little while since she’s had another warm body in her bed and this one’s definitely a very nice body with a handsome face, and he seems clean and so far relatively respectful, and it’s not like she hasn’t thought about him that way before.
She thinks he’d probably end up being scandalised if she just outright asks him if he’d like to fuck her, so she goes with a barely disguised euphemism, “So if you’re that interested in my ship, d’you want to come take a look at it?”
His eyes widen a little, but he otherwise hides his shock at her straightforwardness and after a beat says, “Sure.”
“So this is the galley,” Lila says nonchalantly, pointing towards the stainless steel kitchen aisle in her cramped living quarters.
Diego just nods, arms crossed, looking otherwise a little forlorn before they move on.
“This is the propulsion reactor,” she says, pointing to the contraption with its bluish glow in the hull of her ship. She doesn’t really care about it and doubts Diego does, and right now she’s entirely distracted by the way he’s standing decidedly too close behind her, but to her absolute annoyance, not touching her yet.
“And this is my cockp-”
Lila doesn’t get to the end of her sentence, because Diego has apparently reached the end of his patience with their weird little cat and mouse game as well and wraps his arms around her, crushing her flush against himself so he can fuse his lips to hers.
Lila loses no time in slinging one arm around his neck and wrapping both her hands around the straps of his weapons holster so she can pull herself even harder against him while kissing him back fiercely.
Next thing she knows, Diego twists them around and he slams her into the closed cockpit door, making Lila gasp on impact and Diego uses her surprise to lick into her mouth and tangle his tongue with hers.
A thrill runs up her spine at the prospect that, contrary to her concern after he was too chickenshit to make the first move at the bar, this is apparently not going to be any kind of gentle love making.
They start undressing each other roughly, though to her surprise Diego is particularly mindful of the bandage on her arm covering the phaser burn, and then, when he pulls off his tactical gloves, she is momentarily distracted by his unexpectedly long and elegant fingers.
Without thinking about it too much, she grabs his hand, takes his index and middle finger into her mouth and closes her lips around the base, then painfully slowly pulls the digits out again, making sure to press her tongue against them the whole time.
She doesn’t miss the way Diego’s pupils blow wide and a muscle jumps in his jaw, as he whispers a breathless “Jesus!”
To her delight, she’s apparently given him ideas, because the moment she lets go of his hand, he shoves it down the front of her jumpsuit, the top half of which is pooling low on her hips, past the waistband of her underwear, to drag his fingers along her already wet folds.
He knocks her knees apart with his own, and Lila has barely any time to grab ahold of his broad shoulders before he pushes both long fingers inside of her, reaching deeper than she ever could herself.
For a little while he drives her absolutely insane with every twist of his wrist and curling of his fingers, his lips on her throat, sucking and biting at her pulse, but eventually she gets frustrated. It’s just not enough, so she tells him as much.
“I need more!” she gasps.
Without a verbal acknowledgement, Diego pulls his hand away from her and they get each other fully naked as fast as possible, before he pushes into her with a hard thrust.
And this is exactly what she needs. Stretched to a point just shy of being painful, one leg wrapped around his waist as he slams into her, every inch of him pressed against her body, still holding her flush against the door.
Lila has her arm firmly wrapped around Diego’s neck so she can keep his remarkably soft lips on her own, she’s savouring the feeling of his long fingers digging into her thigh where he’s keeping her steady on her one leg, while she’s gripping the biceps of his other arm, which he has up by her head so Lila can lean against his forearm instead of the hard metal door.
He’s far too good at this and her combative nature takes over for a second and she gasps against his mouth, not losing the rhythm of her own movement, “Don’t think for a second this changes anything! I won’t go easy on you if you try and take my cargo again!”
Lila feels a smirk stretch across his lips where they are still touching hers and for some inexplicable reason, that makes the knot building in the pit of her belly tighten even more.
“As if I wanted you to go easy on me,” Diego growls before he kisses her again deeply and his self-satisfied tone riles her enough for her to bite him sharply on his plush bottom lip.
“Ow! Fuck!” he cries out and then smacks her hard on the back of her thigh in retaliation. It stings bad enough that for a second she can’t breath but, Christ, if it doesn’t almost tip her over the edge.
In the end she comes when he has her bent over one of the consoles of buttons and switches, buried to the hilt inside of her, chest flush with her back, his teeth scraping the shell of her ear.
And afterwards, for reasons she really doesn’t want to examine too closely, she takes him to her bed so she can fall asleep wrapped up in his arms.
i said what i said
i’m convinced that when pitts has a nightmare and wakes up in the middle of the night, he hums one of his favorite songs until he falls asleep
the top of that guy’s head tho…
The poor maid...
Meeka baby, 12 week pitt 💕
things the dead poets remind me of:
neil: shakespeare, theatres, the colour green, the woods, golden retrievers, knitted sweaters, old trains, foggy mornings, polaroid cameras, converse hi-tops, soft pink lighting, hot chocolate, cloudgazing, dew on cobwebs, growth, holding hands, fluffy blankets, piano, wine, leaves in hair, the sun, typewriters, latin, sharing sweaters, autumn leaves
todd: cats, flower crowns, rain, the smell of old books, washed out blue, stacks of books all over, ink stained hands, stargazing, dried flowers, cold hands, rosy cheeks, acoustic guitar, gentle smiles, sarcasm, moonlight, sunsets reflected in lakes, snow, soft laughter, poetry written on arms, salt lamps, fairy lights, grass stained socks, the moon, reading under willow trees, potted plants, curling up with a book during a thunder storm
charlie: electric guitar, fighting over the front seat, poster covered walls, LED coloured lights, burgundy, doc martens, long road trips, contagious laughter, running down hallways, odd socks, midnight adventures, dark eyeliner, sitting on rooftops, swimming in lakes at night, swings, cigarette smoke, scribbled notes, patches, stained band shirts, nostalgic smiles, dirty jokes
meeks: old movies, vinyls, microscopes, corduroy trousers, wheat fields, cuffed jeans, the colour yellow, paint pallets, bug charts, tortoise shell glasses, muffled laughter, science books, sci-fi movies, cursive notes, candles, plaid shirts, bright screens in the dark, post-it-notes stuck around, badges, walkmans, bad dad jokes, sweater paws, bucket hats
pitts: the stars, telescopes, tripping over things, ghosts, constellations, piggyback rides, goofy smiles, quips, glowsticks, old newspaper clippings, wide open windows, splashing in puddles, warm hugs, comforting words, arcade games, dinosaurs, fluffy socks, untied shoelaces, dimples, old radios
Knox (fanon): tote bags, soulmates, holding hands, carding hands through hair, bunches of flowers, denim jackets, whispering, the ocean, dim lamp light, love poems, notes with heart doodles, clouds, crystals, fake vines, candid polaroids, forehead kisses, golden hour, picnics by rivers, country tracks, long bike rides
(Omar Ulmer x Female!Reader)
For the lovely @tsukkimochi really hope you enjoy this fic ❤️❤️
"(Y/n) are you sure about this?" Omar asked as he exited his sleeping cot. (Y/n) smirked, patting him on the back as a means to comfort him. "Don't worry so much, we will be back before they even notice we're gone." (Y/n) reasoned, turning her back to him and beginning to walk slowly, avoiding any small twig and or stone that might cause noise. Omar sighed, before following in her steps.
Throughout their relationship, (Y/n) has always been the more daring one. Even before the war, she would be constantly chastised by her mother for putting herself and Omar in danger. Not that (Y/n) really cared for her words. The thrill was too great. She would never put anyone in danger on purpose, but sometimes, the trouble would find them. "Where the hell are we going anyway? Won't the enemy have swarmed every town in France by now?" Omar inquired. In hindsight, his question would have brought up concerns, but (Y/n) was prepared for that.
"From the last patrol report, there's still one more town that these fucks haven't taken over. Just so happens that this town has got the best drinks. Besides, if shit hits the fan, we got fake papers and you can just pretend you're mute." (Y/n) proposed, giggling when she saw Omar's expression. She would always tease him about his inability to learn languages. "Fine but as soon as we see one Kraut, we are leaving." Omar stated. (Y/n) grinned and placed a loving kiss on his cheek. "You're the best."
The two continued to walk until they reached the small town, which seemed to have a small festival of sorts. Beautiful lights were lit, their holders decorated with various flowers. It looked as if people were also dancing. Which made (Y/n) giddy. Omar smiled, he knew what a swinger his girl was. "We have to go and dance after we drink." (Y/n) suggested, still keeping a low voice. The town might not have been captured, but those weasels had eyes, basically everywhere. They couldn't risk being heard speaking English. Once the two entered the bar, (Y/n) ordered two bourbons, taking a seat next to Omar. Bourbon has always been a go to drink for them. It tasted amazing and the burn of the throat provided a high that few liquors could match. Apparently, they underestimated the high.
"Do you *hic* remember when the *hic* Lieutenant nearly fell over?" ( Y/n) asked. Omar clutched his stomach, letting out a bellowing laugh. "Stooooop!" He begged. The couple continued to have their fun, completely unaware that it was well over three AM. When they walked back, trying desperately to hold each other up, they still thought that no one would be awake. "Phew, thank God the Lieutenant ain't awake, huh?" Omar said with a grin, making (Y/n) nod excitedly. Just then, the camp lamp was lit up.
"Try that again, Ulmer." That southern twang in the voice made both of them stand at attention. There was Aldo, sitting on a tree stump, with a very displeased look on his face. "Explain. Now." He ordered. They had never heard him sound so serious. Omar began to shake and stumble on his words, while (Y/n) was trying to think of something to say. "W-we were with the Staff Sergeant sir!" (Y/n) stated, thinking it would work. Aldo raised an eyebrow, turning his finger to point to a passed out Donny near a tree. (Y/n) swore under her breath and Omar felt like he was gonna die. "Now how is our Sergeant passed out over there, while you two come here, last midnight, drunk as all hell? How the fuck does that work?" Aldo inquired, voice raising in anger, though he tried to avoid waking the others. Trust Aldo when he says you don't want to see a Hugo who has had his sleep disturbed.
"Do you two have any idea what danger ya'll could'a put us in? We're in enemy territory goddamnit!" Aldo stated. "Not only did you sneak out, you went and got drunk! Fucking great!" Aldo exclaimed. It wasn't that he was mad at them directly. He understood that sometimes, especially during times like these, people would need a little breather. But this was something else completely.
"I ain't finished (L/n)."
Aldo interrupted, effectively shutting (Y/n) up. The man sighed, his fingers squeezing his temple. " I don't need to worry about you two acting like fuckin' kids! Who's idea was it?" Aldo asked. Omar and (Y/n) looked at each other, Omar opening his mouth to speak when (Y/n) jumped in. "It was my idea, sir. We were just trying to have fun and I dragged Omar-" (Y/n) stammered, before she was interrupted. A pair of strong hands dragged them both into a bear-like hug. To say that they were confused would be an understatement. "Um...sir?" Omar asked. Aldo sighed and pulled away, his hands remained on both of their shoulders.
"You two had me scared half to death... I promised I'd get ya home, didn't I?"
The two looked down, feeling guilty. "We are sorry, sir. It won't happen again."Omar stated and (Y/n) seconded that. Aldo smirked, before a strong yawn broke through. "Good, I accept both of your apologies but you will be punished accordingly for it." Aldo announced with a grin, making (Y/n) and Omar both groan. Aldo patted them on their backs. "Go on, off to bed and if I catch you again, I swear on my momma lll whoop both ya' asses. Do I make myself clear?"
(Y/n) and Omar returned to his sleeping cot, Omar still shaking a little. They huddled close, Omar placing a hand over her. "I am never following you anywhere again." Omar stated. (Y/n) laughed, placing a kiss on his jaw. " Whatever you say, sweetheart." She said, drifting in drunk sleep. Omar smiled. Despite the inevitable hangover tomorrow, Omar was thankful for the time he got to spend with you. It was through you that he figured out what love was...and that you should never underestimate bourbon.
@jiejie-eonni-onee-sama @empress-writes @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 @tsukkimochi @jokersqueenofchaos @aurelie34-43 @sergeant-donny-donowitz @struggling-bee
how my brain sees pitts
whats the duct tape for? i’ll let you decide