#Like i'll be fine in a few minutes after it's mentioned it just. AH do NOT like when people associate it with my comfort characters
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Swap your face
I woke up to the sound of a masculine voice above me
"It's good to see you're awake, Mr. Robinson. I'm Dr. Brown. How are you feeling?"
I opened my eyes. Confused by the sudden abundance of bright light. Then I noticed a handsome man in a white doctor's coat.
"What happened?" I asked with a wheezy voice from the dry throat.
"You got into a car crash and have been in this hospital for a few days. All your vitals are stable. What do you remember?"
"I'm not sure to be honest. I remember walking through the school corridor with my friend Archie. Then he told me he would get me home. And then I remember waking up here. Nothing between that."
"Your friend got out of the car crash unharmed and has been visiting you every afternoon. Checking on you. He will be very glad to see you awake."
"Can you... water... please" my throat was hurting from all the sudden talking and now coughing and choking.
It seemed to surprise the doctor. He started nervously looking for something to drink and finally noticed a kettle with tea and a glass. I must have scared him pretty hard cause while he ran to give me the glass he spilled it all on himself. He murmured something and then got me a newly filled glass. He then took of his wet and stained coat.
"Sorry for that. Don't know what got into me. How is your throat? Feeling better?"
I calmed him by speaking up, but he still checked my throat and used his stethoscope. This was the closest to such a hot man touching me I have ever experienced. What a manly face. Such a beautiful beard.
"All looks good. Now, I am leaving for vacation tomorrow and my shift is about to end now. I'll hand over your care to some other doctor, but I promise you they'll take great care of you."
He then rushed out of the room. What I noticed after a while was his coat lying on the chair. Hmmm. Maybe I could try it on, just for fun.
I got out of bed. Took the coat and took it with me to the bathroom. I put it on while looking at myself in the mirror and imagined me looking like him. His wavy hair. Big manly nose. Scratchy beard.
And then. Something started happening. A tingling feeling, turned into a sudden pain and then warmth all over my body. I tried to understand what just happened. But in the blink of an eye my vision change from my reflection to something undistinguishable and then into Dr. Brown.
I stood there mesmerized. And the reflection of Dr. Brown was shocked just the same. My left hand waved and so did his. I opened my mouth and he did the same. I tried to say hello ending up with "Hel.." coming out as a manly sound of the voice of my doctor leaving just a few minutes ago.
Then I took in the dact that I shapeshifted into my doctor. "Holy shit. I'm a doctor now! No. I am a sexy doctor."
No tíme to spare. I turned on the water of the bath in my bathroom. As the water kept filling the bath, I took of the robe. Looked in the mirror again. Nothing changed. With a big smile on my face, I went into the bath. Forgetting that I was full clothed.
"This is so fucking gooood. I am a man. Not a teenager anymore. My new dick was so throbing hard. I held it over my boxers and kept touching and squeezing everything that got in the way of my hand. I just enjoyed the warmth of the water over my manly body.
"Are you ok doctor?" a nurse came in with a surprised look on her face
"What? Ah. Eh. Oh yeah. Everything is fine. I just had to... Do you need me for something right now?" I tried not to explain what I just did to not get myself and Dr. Brown in trouble. Too late I guess
"Ok... well, where the patient from this room is? And then I need you to hand over the paperwork to Dr. Manfeld before you leave for holiday. Also. Your pager, phone and wallet have been found in the intern locker room. "
"Yeah. The... uh... patient woke up and has a visit from his friend. I checked him and his vitals were fine so I told him to take a short walk. I'll give you everything needed you mentioned. And Thank you"
The nurse looked at me strangely and then left.
I got out of the bath. Dried myself a went straight to the locker room. Found clothes wuth the name tag Dr. Brown. Yeah, these clothes fit much nicer than before. I took the belongings and put them in my pants. I stood in front of the mirror a started making goofy faces at myself. "I'm the sexiest doctor with a big cock! I'm gonna cum so hard" I said to my reflection. What made this moment kinda unpleasant was the fact that I didn't notice a bunch pf interns changing behind me.
"Are you feeling ok Dr.?" asked me the hot, tall, shirtless one. Man I have to make them scared of me. I'm their boss after all.
"What are you looking at? Have you finished everything you were supposed to? Or is standing around here and watching me more beneficial?"
They just ran away in fear. Man this is fun. Maybe I could take some of the bigger guys clothes with me just to try if the power still works on other clothes. I put his shir from the locker in my bag and left.
While walking out of the hospital the phone rang. "Yeah, Da.... Brown speaking"
"Dr. You won't believe what happened. We found the patient and he was wandering around and claiming to be you. We got him sedated and in bed. Maybe there will be more neurological damage than you thought? Sorry for the assumption. I'll let the other doctor know. Enjoy your vacation"
"What. The. Fuck. So, not only I shifted into Dr. Brown. He shifted into me as well? So I can basically swap bodies by wearing a piece of clothing with someone? Man. That's brilliant"
I took off my shirt, enjyoing such the view of my chest and proceeded to walk through the alley heading to Archie. He's gonna be mind blown
1 hour later I was standing in Archie's room. Explaining everything. He didn't believe at first, but after saying some stuff only I knew, he believed. I let him touch my new chest, which helped a bit to calm him down.
"That's really cool, bro. So he has your body now in the hospital and you're here in his body. Wow. What do you think that caused it?"
"Don't know and don't really care as long as the power works."
"So you're gonna swap with other people now? How does it work then? Does Dr. Brown turn back into himself or does he change back and your own body will swap with the next person you swap with?"
"Well, how about we find out?"
I took off his shirt he was wearing, smiled and put it on.
A moment of waiting. Then the same feeling as before came and suddenly I was a bit shorter, paler and weaker. In front of me was sitting Dr. Brown with a huge smile on his face.
"Holy shit dude. We can swap bodies with anybody. But you just lost your dream body to me. Don't you want it back?"
"Nah. I wanna explore it from a different point of view now. Besides. I already got a body in mind I can get."
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𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘.𝟝 - 𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕄𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜
Discord 18+ - Twitter
Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader
Episode Summary: After a drunken night of binge watching your (least?) favorite show, you find yourself making a grave mistake.
STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS
Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)
Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219 Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)
A/N: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE! I hope you guys enjoy this ride (that you're in charge of in later chapters!!!) I'll put up Episode 1 tomorrow after proofreading!!! <3
“God, this show is so stupid,” you mutter, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth while you get settled onto the couch.
“Please…It’s so bad, but I tune in to every season.”
You glance over when your friend reaches into your lap and dips her fingers into your bowl of popcorn and grabs a few kernels.
That was the perfect way to describe what was happening now. You’re currently huddled up on the couch, having spent the day binging the most recent season of The Bachelor until you’re all caught up. The new episode airs tonight and you’re eager to see who Joey ends up picking. Will it be Rachel? She’s gorgeous, funny, and her family seems to really get along with this season’s Bachelor. They have great chemistry. Or maybe it will be Daisy? Though you couldn’t see that working out. The girl is a total bore. Or it could be…what’s her name again? The one who looks a little bit like she could be his sister. Ah, whatever.
You’re not sure when you really began to even give a shit about this mess of a show. It’s corny. No one falls in love within a few weeks of knowing each other. And why does one man or woman need to date twenty people to find someone to marry? Are they that unlikeable in the real world? Not to mention, it’s totally unrealistic. Do these relationships even work out once the cameras cut off? Unlikely. You find the entire premise of the show downright stupid.
And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away as this season’s Bachelor takes each girl out on an extravagant date that…you can’t lie, you would love to be on.
Dancing in Malta? Sunbathing on a yacht off the coast of Spain? Getting to see Niagara Falls up close? Sign you up. You don’t think you would stand a chance being the object of everyone’s affection, but you could definitely milk being a contestant for free trips and good food.
“Why can’t he see that Rachel is the best pick here? Ugh, annoying. You know he’s going to give what’s-her-name the last rose.” Your friend downs her wine in one swig and you don’t bother to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest. She’s all red faced. You’re not sure if it’s from how passionate she is about the show or from the two empty bottles of merlot she’s managed to down practically on her own, but the glowing hue it gives her highlights the thick scar across her face. A product of her line of work, and said line of work being the reason she’s guzzling wine in the first place.
“Maybe take it easy on the drinks, Utahime.”
She hiccups next to you, slouching in her seat. “I haven’t even had that much to drink!”
“You’ve had most of the wine just on your own!”
“Oh my god, you have one or nine glasses of wine and suddenly you’re wasted,” she mutters sarcastically. “I’m fine.”
You roll your eyes, because you know there’s no going back and forth with her stubborn ass when she starts drinking.
The living room dims for about three seconds before it lights back up, the show now having gone on commercial break. The rose ceremony is next and despite shit-talking the show only ten minutes ago, you’re eager for the commercials to wrap up so you can see who goes home. It better not be Rachel. You use this brief intermission to go and get some water for yourself but mostly Utahime so she can sober up.
This has been your routine for the last few weeks. Every Monday night, Utahime comes over, peels you out of your bed and forces you on the couch to chug alcohol and watch this ridiculous show. While you find the entire premise of the show nonsensical, you’re grateful for the time it’s given you with Utahime.
You’re fairly new to the Kyoto area and Utahime was the first person you’d met on your first day at your new – how can you put this? – unique job. You see, you and Utahime both work in the field of Jujutsu sorcery. But there’s about where your similarities in the field stop.
Utahime is an active Sorcerer. She’s an instructor raising up the next generation of Sorcerers, building them up so that they can one day join the frontlines to protect the unaware non-Sorcerers of Japan. She’s strong– a grade 1 Sorcerer. Quite impressive. She could easily knock a curse’s head off if she wanted to.
But you? Well, while Utahime is at the top of the ranks of Jujutsu society, you are what some would refer to as a bottomfeeder – an unranked, unimportant, lowly Window. You’re someone who has just enough cursed energy to see a curse. But can you do anything about them? Not unless you want to end up in the nearest trauma center. So if you’re smart, you’ll do your job and whip your phone out to report it so that the real Sorcerers can handle it.
You’ve been in this field for several years now, but working outside of the major cities of Japan. Transferring to Kyoto was your idea of wanting something new and different. Utahime had quickly taken you under her wing. You were certain it was because she took pity on you. A weak, barely gifted Window. But as time went on, you came to realize that that was just Utahime. She was kind and funny, and had a good heart. Well, except when it came to –
“Hey!” Utahime calls from her spot on the couch. You can hear a slur in her words as she speaks and you know she’s opened yet another bottle of wine from who knows where. “Come here! Look at this!” You peer at the television from the doorway of your kitchen and see Utahime has it paused on a very ugly ad. It’s bright white with a background full of red rose petals across the screen. Your eyes roam over the words.
“THE SEARCH IS ON FOR THE ELIGIBLE WOMEN WHO ARE READY TO FIND TRUE LOVE! DO YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW HAVE THE CHARM, STYLE, AND PERSONALITY TO BE OUR NEXT STAR? IF SO, APPLY OR NOMINATE SOMEONE NOW!”
“Will you hurry up? Come look!” Utahime demands, messily pouring more wine into her glass. But it looks like a normal advertisement to you, so you’re not entirely sure what has Utahime’s interest so piqued.
She beckons you again, yelling “Come here!” So you quickly grab a couple bottles of water from your fridge and head back. Utahime is pointing insistently at the screen. “Look. Look really hard.”
You follow the path where her finger points, shuffling closer to the t.v. to get a clearer look. It takes a moment for you to see it, like really see it, but it’s definitely there. Underneath the last line, hidden from the eyes of those unable to see the horrors that you and those like Utahime can, is another message. You fall to your knees, eyes glued to the tiny additional message floating beneath, glowing with cursed energy that reads, “JUJUTSU SorcererS PREFERRED”.
Confusion slowly takes over your features, the corners of your lips turning down with a frown, a brow arched and skepticism in your eyes. Were you missing something? Was this some sick joke? Were Jujutsu Sorcerers huge fans of The Bachelor or something? You spin around to face your friend who has a look of mischief twinkling in her eyes. You know it all too well, mouth falling open and a finger pointing when you scream “NO” at the exact moment Utahime yells “YOU SHOULD APPLY!”
“Absolutely not!” You must be looking at Utahime like she’s grown two more heads because she looks just as confused as you.
“Why not?! You’d be great on there!”
Maybe she hasn’t grown two more heads. Maybe her brain was swapped while you were in the kitchen because why the hell was she suggesting this?
“Well, for starters, I’m not really looking to date.”
Utahime rolls her eyes, as if that’s just not a good enough excuse. You should just ignore her, snatch the remote from her hand and hit play so you can get back to the show and see who this guy chooses to potentially get engaged to. But for some reason (could be the single drop of wine your friend allowed you to have while she downed the rest), you feel the need to keep listing off reasons to not sign up. “Secondly, I– why would I even want to go on this show?”
Utahime sips her wine, eyes low as she falls into her drunkenness, but you can still see the sparkle of mischief in those brown hues…and it scares you. So you keep talking, chatting away and listing excuse after excuse to your friend, eventually finding yourself back on the couch trying to drive your final point home.
“Besides, they want Sorcerers.” This seems to get Utahime’s attention again, makes her set her glass down as she looks at you.
“I’m sure it’s fine. You are a Sorcerer.”
“I’m a Window.”
“Semantics. You can see curses, can’t you?” Utahime argues.
“...yes.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “But I can’t do anything about them.”
It’s not something you should be ashamed of, but there’s just the tiniest bit of you that is ashamed. Because being able to see these monsters and not having the power to do anything about them…well, it feels like a curse in and of itself.
To this, she sighs. “Sorcerers, Windows. They’re just terms used by the higher-ups to keep their stupid, fucked up heirarchy intact.”
You know it’s the wine that’s loosened her tongue. In public, Utahime would not dare to speak so freely. The Jujutsu politics in Kyoto were a lot stricter than they were in Tokyo. Not that that said much anyway. The politics were shit regardless. But Utahime worked closely with those connected to the higher-ups, so outside of this little bubble in your apartment, she kept pretty hush hush about her true feelings.
You watch Utahime closely as she fiddles with her wine glass. She really is beautiful. You think she’d be incredible on a show like this. Which gives you the idea.
“What don’t you apply?”
Utahime leans back, a cackle so loud and abrupt leaving her tiny body.
“No way. I would never date any of these Sorcerers.”
“And you want me to?!” You ask incredulously. You don’t know whether to be offended or not.
Your friend fixes you with a deadpan stare. “You don’t know them the way I do. The only good one out of all of them is Nanami Kento…and Shoko.” She mutters the last name quietly, like it’s a secret that she thinks so highly of her. And maybe it is a secret…the way she feels about the doctor in Tokyo who you couldn’t help but notice has Utahime’s cheeks glowing red whenever she’s mentioned.
“Besides,” Utahime continues. “If I signed up for this and got paired with Gojo –” she shudders at the mere thought of being near the man. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from projectile vomiting just at the prospect of having to kiss him.”
It’s your turn to laugh obnoxiously now, because – “Why the hell would the strongest Sorcerer in a thousand years sign up for this shit? You don’t think he has anything better to do? Like, you know…keep all of Japan safe?”
“Satoru Gojo does whatever Satoru Gojo wants.”
You can’t argue with that. Utahime would know best. She did grow up with him after all. She knew him well. You’ve never met the man, being just a Window, you doubt you ever will. Out of all the Sorcerers, you’ve only ever met Utahime and Principal Gakuganji. You’ve never even met any of the students. You all run in different circles, but that doesn't mean you don’t keep up with the going-ons of the Jujutsu world. Everyone knows Satoru Gojo.
“You should really sign up, though,” Utahime suggests once more. “You might meet a good person. If anything, you’ll get a good vacation out of it.” With that, she stands. It’s clear that the wine is hitting her again, because she wobbles clumsily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
If it’s anything like every other week before this, you’ll be peeling Utahime out of your bathtub because she will have inevitably fallen asleep.
Your eyes fall back on the hidden message on the television, reading it over and over before you finally just hit play and let the finale finish.
Joey chooses whatever that girl’s name is. You’re only halfway paying attention because against your better judgment, you’re actually thinking about applying to this. But you think the show is stupid, right? Why would you waste your time? But what if Utahime is right? What if you do meet someone? It’s not that you’re against dating. You’re just not actively in the market for romance because you’ve found that dating non-Sorcerers is more stress than it’s worth.
The constant obligation you feel to regulate their emotions so you can avoid the creation of a cursed spirit that you’ll have to call in and do paperwork for? Exhausting. Not to mention, if you ever grew to truly love this person, you’d be overwhelmed with guilt if a curse manifested and harmed them in any way and you couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as you made a phone call.
You’d never really given any thought to it, but perhaps dating a Sorcerer is what you needed. You could end up meeting an amazing man!
But also, semantics or not, you were not technically a Sorcerer. You were simply a Window. Why the hell would an actual Sorcerer want to be with you? Better yet, what were the chances of this show even choosing you as their next Bachelorette?
- - - - - -
Apparently, the chances were extremely high, because one phone call, four video interviews, a nearly five hour drive from Kyoto to Tokyo, and days of promotional video and photo shoots later, you find yourself standing outside of the Bachelor Mansion, donning the most expensive gown that money could buy.
This is not what you expected. Not at all. There is so much going on. You want to run and hide from every single camera you see being propped up. You want to curl into yourself when the lights come on and the director calls, “Action!” And you see some man you’re just meeting for the first time approaching as he speaks directly to the camera.
“...and she’ll be making history tonight as The Bachelorette’s first Jujutsu Sorcerer,” you hear him tell the camera as he stops just a few feet short of you. Tall, blonde and handsome. He looks like an American football player. “I’m Jesse Palmer, ladies and gentleman. Now, let’s meet our Bachelorette!”
He turns to you, wearing a bright smile. The cameras follow, moving closer to catch a close-up of your face, so you smile as naturally as you can and try not to flinch when Jesse moves forward to embrace you in a swift hug.
Jesse calls your name as though you’ve been friends for a long time. “So nice to finally see you. You look great.”
The camera pans down your body and back up to your face. “Likewise, Jesse.”
“How’re you feeling?” he asks.
“I’m nervous! Definitely nervous, but feeling good! I’m so excited for this,” you lie. You’re dreading this process. But it’s too late to back out now. So you just hold your smile, conversing politely as Jesse makes small talk and gets to know you before the first contestant pulls up.
And you hope that if Utahime is watching, she sees the message behind your eyes screaming that you’re absolutely going to kill her.
#jjk x y/n#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk fic#getou suguru x y/n#jjk x you#anime x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#sukuna x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#nanami kento x reader#hiromi higuruma x reader#choso x reader#suguru geto x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#kento nanami x reader#higuruma hiromi x reader#higuruma x reader#nanami x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#toji x reader#choso kamo x reader
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OMG PLS PLS PLS do a third part to the “best friend’s sister” fic🔥
you are literally the only good and active Tim writer left
my best friend’s sister-part three//t.c.
in case you wanna read/need a refresher, I'll paste part one and two here:
part one part two
Warnings: explicit smut, dirty talk, secret relationship, cursing, scratching, light choking, cumshot, brief male oral sex
18 & over readers only, please!
“Oh my god Timothée!” Y/n cried out the words in a string as Timmy bucked into her. He held her down on the bed in the missionary position, ramming his hips like a mad man.
“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, “Who owns this pussy?”
“You do! I’m yours!”
He pushed his whole length inside of her wet, throbbing orfice, and laid his chest on hers and whispered, “And it’s our secret, how good I fuck you, isn’t it?”
“Ahh,” she arched her back, closing her eyes in ecstasy, “yes, I love keeping our secret.”
He put his hand on her throat, "You're so good." he cooed, then put his mouth on the side of her throat, letting his teeth sink into her skin.
Y/n didn't protest, instead she let out a soft whimpering moan, her arms clung around him.
Timmy sucked on her skin, devouring her and picking up pace with his hips.
She knew the pleasure would increase for both of them if she clenched her pussy around his cock, so she did.
He groaned in response to her action, "Ah, god." he breathed out.
Y/n dug her nails into his back, his arms, marking him up with red streaks.
He let out a deep growl that hung in his throat, put his hand around her neck, holding her down. He rammed into her with merciless thrusts, pumping his cock in and out with fierce smacking sounds.
Once he let go of her throat, she squealed, crying out his name, clutching his sheets as he fucked her roughly.
After a couple more minutes, he huffed, "I gonna come." He pulled his cock out of her, and pulled her downward, to allow her to catch his cum in her mouth.
She was more than willing, and ready. She plopped her tongue out, ready to taste each drop.
Timmy jerked his cock, and the white, creamy ropes decorated her mouth. His chest heaved, he panted as he finished, and he watched her gulp down his sperm.
“Mm.” she hummed, using her fingers to wipe his cum off of her lips. She sucked the milky substance off her fingers, and grinned up at him. She carefully put her hand around his spent cock, and sucked the deep red head of it.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” Timmy said, his breath still ragged.
Y/n could not get enough, she smiled up at him, his cock still in her mouth. The scene below him was so erotic he nearly thought he would come again.
She took him out of her mouth, saying, “You’ve ruined me, Timmy. I’m just going to want it more and more. Can you keep up with me?” she gave a falsely innocent smile, laying her head back on the mattress, relaxing.
Just as he opened his mouth to answer her, his cell phone rang on the nightstand. He looked over to see the caller ID screen and said, "It's your brother."
"Well, just ignore it." she said, sitting up.
"I can't ignore him. He's probably checking on me since I had to leave his party early." Timmy sat on the bed. The phone continued to ring.
"Wow, I forget that you two are like boyfriends." y/n teased.
Timmy shot her a mocking mad look, "I'll just make it quick."
"Fine, you were just inside me, but go ahead and talk to my brother."
He winced at her comment as he picked up his phone, "Do you have to mention him and you in the same sentence like that?"
"Yes, I do." she remarked, smirking to herself as she got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom as he answered the call from Trent.
.............
She cleaned up from their sex act within a few minutes, and she walked back into his room with only his t-shirt on.
He was sitting on the bed with an odd look on his face. He had put on a pair of sweatpants. "So, your brother is kind of on his way over here."
"What?!" her eyes widened, "Why? Did you tell him I was here?!"
"No! Of course I didn't.” he ran his hands through his I-just-had-sex hair, “So what are we gonna do?" His eyes pleaded with her for action.
"Shit, how long is he gonna stay?"
"He wants to have a few beers and play video games." Timmy got up and started slowly pacing, which was kind of comical to her but this was too serious of a moment for her to acknowledge it.
"And you said yes?" she rolled her eyes at him.
"Yeah, I mean, I panicked. I didn't want him to suspect anything." he was still walking aimlessly around his room.
"Why would he suspect anything?"
"I don't know. You left the party early too. I didn't want him to think we were meeting up." he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"He wouldn't have thought that. He's a guy, men don't put two and two together like that. Ugh, Timmy! You're an actor, and you couldn't come up with a way to get out of this?"
Timmy frowned at her. "That's mean."
She put her hands on either side of her head out of frustration. "And I can't leave now, Trent will see me for sure. He'll know I was here. Shit!"
"Look, it'll be fine. You can just hang out in the bedroom, and not make any noise." he suggested.
"All night?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.
Timmy shrugged, "I mean, yeah? What's wrong with that?"
"I'm not a dog you can just put up for the night, Timothée. What about when I have to go to the bathroom?" she pointed out, annoyed.
"Well, I don't know what to do!" His phone pinged in his hand, he read a message and announced, "Trent's here."
@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @mel-vaz @thatoneweirdgirl17 @iwishchalamet @jindongdongie @elloise0 @timotheechalametsgfnotclickbait @rennyd26 @briefkittenearthquake @that-one-fangirl69
#timothée chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothée imagine#timothee x reader#timothee chalamet smut#timothee chalamet#timothée chalamet fanfic
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mingyu - practice
word count : 572
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you were standing on the football field with your boyfriend. he was practicing for a game he had in a few days with you passing the ball back to him when the ball was close to you.
"are you sure i'm helping you, mingyu?" you asked your boyfriend. "i feel like i'm not doing anything," you mentioned to him as you kicked one of the footballs back to him. you started walking to another one that was closer to you than it was to mingyu.
"of course you are, baby," mingyu said to you as he placed another football down on the grass.
"how am i helping? i'm just passing the ball to you when necessary," you said to him as you kicked another ball towards him.
"you're helping me why watching me practice and being my pretty girlfriend," mingyu claimed. you saw a big smile on his face as you watched him back up. he ran and kicked a football. the ball flew straight into the goal. "see? i just scored a goal. you're my good luck charm," he said to you, still smiling.
"personally, i don't see how any of those reasons are valid," you replied.
mingyu grabbed the other football and kicked it into the goal. you started walking to the goal so you could pass him the footballs that he just kicked in along with two others that he had gotten from the storage room.
"are you getting tired?" mingyu asked you as you made it to the goal. you kicked a football towards him.
"i should be asking you that. you're the one practicing after all," you replied. you kicked another ball. "how long do you wanna stay out here? it's getting pretty cold," you asked, wishing you had brought another jacket with you.
"i still need to practice some other stuff," mingyu mentioned. "how about you go pick us up dinner while i keep practicing? you can be in the car and warm up," he suggested to you.
"are you sure? what if you do worst without me here? i wouldn't be able to watch you," you said to him, referring to what he had said earlier about you being his good luck charm.
"ah...you're right," mingyu replied. "how about we stay here for another thirty minutes and then we go eat together?" he suggested. "the sun is about to set anyways, and i don't know how to turn the field lights on."
"thirty minutes is fine," you said to him. you kicked the other two footballs back to him. "as long as we aren't out here in the dark, then i'll be fine."
"alrighty," mingyu said. you moved out of the way and mingyu kicked another ball into the goal.
"can i try?" you asked mingyu.
he smiled, "yea. come over here," he gestured you over with his hand.
you walked over to him while mingyu moved a ball on the grass. once you made it over, mingyu took a few steps back.
"go for it," mingyu said to you.
you backed up before running and kicked the ball. the ball flew but landed and rolled just outside of the goal.
you looked at mingyu, who walked over to you, "so does that mean you're not my good luck charm?"
"i think that only applies to actual football players, not their pretty girlfriends," mingyu replied to you while a chuckle before kissing your cheek.
#sweetiesicheng#kpop#sweetiesicheng seventeen#seventeen#seventeen x reader#seventeen x y/n#seventeen x you#seventeen fanfic#carat#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen kim mingyu#kim mingyu#mingyu#mingyu x reader#mingyu fanfiction#mingyu x y/n#mingyu x oc#mingyu x you#mingyu fanfic#seventeen mingyu#seventeen hip hop unit#svt mingyu#svt kim mingyu#svt x reader#svt x you#svt x y/n#svt x oc#svt fanfic#svt fluff#seventeen fan fiction
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If Only.
Worst mistake to write angst while listening to a sad playlist oh my god I kid you not, I started ugly sobbing during the climax that I needed a quick break before continuing. Don't mind me, just gonna sulk in a corner for a while.
Love,
Mint
Summary: Hanahaki disease. That’s all I’m placing here.
Tags: Miles Morales x reader, Hanahaki disease, angst (no happy ending again), death, don't forget your tissues, not proofread, maybe I'll do it later
Warnings: Major character death, mentions of blood
Your eyes pried open on another normal, already dragging, Tuesday morning. The alarm clock on your bedside table wasn’t even loud enough to wake you, seeing as how you slept through it. You carefully laid to your side, as the all-too-familiar cough climbed up your throat. This went on for a minute until you see a small pile of petals on the floor.
“Shit…” You muttered to yourself, groggily grabbing the glass of water that you’d already prepared the previous night like always. This was the normal morning routine for you.
Wake up. Cough those stupidly red petals. Get through the day. Cough even more petals. Go home. Sleep. Repeat.
On this particular morning, however, it was quite different because you could hear the voice of your best friend outside your dorm.
“Hey, you awake yet?” Miles asked, knocking softly to make sure he doesn’t wake you if you were still asleep. You always thought that was kind of him.
You forced yourself up and out of your bed, shoving back the blankets then dragged your feet to open the door.
“I’m awake. Why are you here? Thought you’d be waiting at the school entrance like usual.” You said huskily, still with that morning voice. Your best friend shook his head, “I kinda woke up a little early today so I thought I’d come to pick you up from your place instead.”
You couldn’t help but smile.
He was just too good for you.
“Fine. Let me get changed at least.” You chuckled, before closing the door in his face. You laid your back against it, sliding down to the floor as you felt that familiar ache in your chest.
In just a few seconds, you started hacking once more right then and there.
Ah, was it because I wasn’t expecting him here this morning?
“H-Hey, you good?” You hear Miles ask from the other side, making you scramble up. “I’m fine Miles just um… choked on my saliva.” You lied. Your hands quickly grab the tiny broom and pan you kept and started sweeping up all the red petals that decorated your floor.
You then threw every single last one in your already overflowing bin. I’d have to clear that out before he sees it.
You quickly changed into some more decent clothes before grabbing your bag and heading out to see Miles laying against the opposite wall of the door, he gave you a small smile and stood up. “Ready?”
You nodded in response, making sure to lock your door before you both head down.
“Oh right, Gwen is actually coming with us to class today if that’s okay,” Miles said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his hair.
You made it like your life’s mission to ignore Gwen at all costs. It was entirely selfish, but it wasn’t like it really did you any favors with your… disease. Miles had confronted you about this a couple of times, but you just came up with lie after lie. You didn’t want to, because you can’t exactly tell him the true reason.
Of course, your best friend knew you were lying, but he just didn’t want to pry because it might make you uncomfortable. And you were thankful for that. Until now.
“Miles—”
“I know I know I just… It was a last-minute thing.” Miles said, trying to reason with you, “It’ll be just this once I swear. I know you’re not exactly a fan of her but, can’t you still try? I mean maybe if you got to know her better—“
“Fine.” You sighed, finally agreeing.
Doctor Sanchez’s words suddenly echoed in your head like a siren that was loudly warning you.
“Stop feeding yourself even more hurt. Ignore, lie, and do anything you can to stop. It’ll slow it down, but not much.”
Oh, how you knew. This was practically engraved into your mind, heart, body, and soul. You said this to yourself so many times like an oath. Avoid the hurt.
But you can’t keep being a bad friend to Miles any more than you already have.
The both of you continued to walk to the lobby of your school in complete silence. Miles could only bite his lip in nervousness, though he just wanted to ask why you happened to dislike Gwen so much, he just didn’t want to make you mad. His grip on his backpack’s straps only tightens at the thought.
What is really going on with you? He thought to himself.
Your eyes stared straight forward as you both reached your destination. It wasn’t long until it spotted the familiar blonde girl from a distance.
Gwen gave a light wave to the two of you as she walked toward where you both were standing.
“Hey Gwen, what’s up?” Miles greeted, his face lighting up in an instant like some Christmas tree in New York.
You forced yourself to look away but still got a glimpse of it.
Why did I agree to this?
Your chest tightened, and you instinctively covered your mouth with a hand. No please, not here. Not right now.
“Um hey…” Gwen cautiously greeted you. She tried to give you a friendly smile to which you only nodded.
Miles could already sense the growing tension and suddenly clapped his hands together. “So, physics class? We gotta bounce or we’d all be marked late.”
“Yeah, we should go.” You mumbled, walking past them while still covering your mouth as if it would stop the cough that was threatening to let out.
Gwen and Miles looked at each other worriedly but silently followed behind you.
You could hear them talk in hushed voices behind you, but your entire focus was on trying to not cough in the school hallways.
The Hanahaki disease isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone knows what it is. And you’d rather burn in hell than have people find out. Especially him and her.
Your other hand clutched your chest as you tried to walk faster because you wanted to keep a safe distance between you and the other two as much as possible before you practically start vomiting those red petals on the school floors.
“Is… she okay?” Gwen whispered to Miles with clear concern. She knew you didn’t exactly like her, she wasn’t an idiot. Gwen believes that it’s because she suddenly entered your two-man friend group without warning when in reality, it was so much more than that.
“Sorry about her…” Miles sighed, his head hung low and a frown decorated his lips. You were his absolute best friend, and to see you being like this with Gwen makes him ache. If only, he could know what was wrong, but he also wanted to respect your space. It has him torn between two cautious choices that could end up in the worst way possible. He just didn’t know how deep the consequences would be.
Other than the different morning you had, it was just like any other day. You were able to stop yourself from coughing for the most part, but if you couldn’t take it you’d excuse yourself to the bathroom, letting out a few petals in the toilet and flushing them away.
During lunchtime, it was usually just you and Miles at the cafeteria, but Gwen decided to tag along once again. So you had the utmost pleasure to see the two joke about and discuss things that you never understood because you weren’t a Spider person like them.
You watched as Miles laughed and smiled at everything she said, and all you could do was mindlessly stab your food in hopes of drowning out and forgetting what you're currently witnessing. However, you immediately started coughing. Your hands instantly flew to your mouth to keep the petals in your mouth.
You gave Miles a panicked look before running out the cafeteria and into the bathroom, immediately vomiting all the petals that had accumulated inside your mouth, and for the rest of lunch, you were stuck there, filling up the toilet with the petals that were such an eye sore to you as hot tears flowed down from your eyes.
Miles had tried to bring it up during the succeeding classes, only for you to turn him down every single time. He finally gave up, but was still worried because he sensed something different about you today.
Your doctor did prescribe you some suppressants for the disease, but you refused it time and time again. Taking those suppressants would make you slowly lose grip on your feelings for Miles.
As much as it hurt you, you didn’t want that.
To hell with those fucking petals, who cares if it’s taking your life little by little every day? Your love for him was too great, too good of a feeling. It was worth it.
It’ll be worth it.
When you asked your doctor how much more time you have left, they didn’t give a direct answer but you knew. You already knew that it wasn’t long. Few months give or take. Maybe even shorter than that.
Once classes were done, you gave Miles your usual goodbye hug before heading out of campus to the hospital for your daily check-up for the Hanahaki disease.
Your doctor did the usual tests, examining a petal of yours, conducting blood tests, scans, etc.
After an hour, she called you back into her office for the results. You were halfway into taking your seat as she already shoots the question that you’d been dreading to be asked.
“Have you been taking your suppressants?”
In truth, you didn’t tell her that the pills were just laying on the floor somewhere in your dorm. You weren’t going to be lectured by your doctor.
“Yes.” You lied, eyes looking everywhere in her office but her. Your eyes focused on this particular vase, where a single flower laid there. It was the same shade of red as yours, making you chuckle.
Before your doctor could start telling you about how important commitment was to the treatment, you start wheezing.
But this time, it felt different.
Your lungs felt like they ran out of air, your throat was like it had been clogged and you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes widened as you took sharp inhales, but for some reason, you couldn’t exhale at all. You fell off your chair and into the floor, gripping your throat, nails digging to scratch your skin from the excruciating pain.
Doctor Sanchez was quick to get down to you, rubbing your back as her face filled with worry. “It’s at its final stage, you have to tell him—“
“No!” You yelled, surprised that you were even able to utter a single word. Shortly after that however, you were back to heaving. Your hand was now in a fist, punching your chest in an attempt to get out whatever it was that was in your lungs.
Your mind started to fog up, and your vision was slowly going black until you saw it.
The fully formed flowers on the ground.
There were no petals, this time they were fully bloomed roses.
They were so pretty that it was almost laughable. Something beautiful was stemming from your despair and suffering. At least there was one thing good happening from your godforsaken disease.
Miles, on the other hand, barged into your dorm to bring the textbooks he borrowed from you, or at least that’s what his excuse was gonna be to you. It was your number one rule that he shouldn’t just come into your room when you were gone, but he could sense something off with you today. Much more than usual. And he was determined to find out.
He had an extra key for emergencies, so he entered without any problems. He took in your room, setting down the textbooks on your desk as he took a seat by the edge of your bed.
She’s not here. He thought to himself, sighing.
As his brown eyes roamed the different bits and bobs around your dorm, he suddenly spotted something behind your desk. Miles squinted his eyes, wondering what it was. “Is that… a petal?” He wondered out loud. He crept up to it, crawling under your desk to grab the petal. “What the…” His fingers examined it carefully until he spotted something from the corner of his eye. There were more.
A lot more.
His eyes slowly widened at the bin of red petals. It was so full that the petals had dissipated around it on the floor. Miles’ eyebrows scrunched up together, wondering where all these could be from until… it dawned on him.
“Hanahaki? But… but how I…” He stuttered. He pulled the bin towards him with shaking hands, inspecting the petals that had a rich shade of red. Almost similar to that of his Spiderman suit.
She… She had this all along and hid it from me I…
He spots another item, it was a pill bottle. Except its contents were scattered, and the bottle itself was cracked as if it was thrown against the wall and fell behind your desk.
Miles picked it up, dreading to see what it was. He slowly turned it around to see the words “Hanahaki suppressants - Y/n L/n 30 pills 150 mg” written in big bold letters that stared back at him.
He drops it out of shock, chest heaving and breaths coming in quickly.
He was confused, so confused about everything.
Why would you hide such a thing from him…?
Doctor Sanchez called for emergency assistance, she grabbed the intercom in a panic. “Code blue! I repeat code blue! Medical assistance to room 1304 now! Code blue!”
In a matter of seconds, doctors and nurses have already carried your body to a hospital bed, as roses continuously shook out of your mouth.
Your entire body was flaring up and all you could do was scratch your neck so hard that it almost draws blood. Your nose and ears have started to bleed out, and it was as if your skull was being cut open and stabbed repeatedly.
You couldn’t even form words as the nurses continued to push you into room 1304 for emergency treatment. The people at the hospital looked over in pity and nervousness as they watched the girl with the Hanahaki disease being pushed across the hallway as roses start to flood after her bed like a trail.
Even if it felt like the pain was eating your entire body alive, all you could think of was him.
Please, I need to see him. Even for just one more second, please.
But Miles doesn’t even know anything about this, and it just increases your already large amount of regret.
I should’ve told him. Even though I know he doesn’t like me back, I should’ve told him.
He’s my best friend. And I can't even say goodbye.
But maybe this was for the best. I wouldn't want him to see me in such a pathetic state.
Miles was quick to suit up, flinging himself out of your window in a matter of miliseconds. He didn’t know where to find you, and all he could do was rack his brain on the places that you could be in. As he continuously swung around the city, tears formed in his eyes behind his mask.
He was angry. So angry at himself for not noticing. Furious at the fact that he already knew something has been off with you for the past months, but he didn’t try hard enough to know what it was. He was mad because he just let you suffer alone.
Some friend I am. He thought on repeat.
He tried to use his senses to see if he could pinpoint your location, running and swinging between endless crowds and roads, because something felt terribly wrong.
Miles didn’t know what exactly it was, but he knew.
He had to hurry.
“Time of death… 5:47 pm.” Your doctor read from the monitor in a monotone voice. She wrote down the information with trembling hands. Her eyes crept up to see you on the hospital bed, frozen and still.
The static sound of the heart monitor was so deafening and seemed louder than it normally was. There was a heavy silence in the hospital’s emergency area as everyone present stood still.
Another poor youthful soul had been taken by such a cruel disease.
Suddenly, the door banged open, and there stood Miles who was breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.
His brown eyes spotted you and it was as if time had stopped running, as if the world around him disappeared just like that.
Miles slowly took in the sight before him, your doctor who stood by the edge of your bed with a deep frown, you who was laying still, eyes closed. He also tried to process the flowers that filled up the entire floor of the room. These were roses, but he knew their petals.
“I believe you are him?” Doctor Sanchez asked with a poor attempt at a professional tone. Miles’ mouth was still agape in shock, his mind refusing to process what he was seeing as he slowly looked at her. “Wh-What?” The doctor sighed, hugging her clipboard to her chest. “You’re her unrequited love, yes? You’re Miles Morales?”
The poor boy couldn’t muster a single word right now, so all he could do was slightly nod at her. “Time of death was 5:47, the cause is… Hanahaki.” She reported with an aching heart as she sees Miles’ expression.
“I… I never knew until I saw the…” Miles couldn’t even bring himself to say it, that maybe if he didn’t then all of this wouldn’t be true. He took slow steps towards you, each one being heavier than the last as if they weighed a thousand pounds.
It felt as if his heart stopped beating, and his body no longer functioned as he stared down at you. His quivering fingers tried to grab your hand, only to find that it was cold… Too cold…
Right at that second, tears had already started to stream down his cheeks silently. Miles bit his lip hard as he started to harden his grip on your hand. He placed it between both his hands and he rubbed violently.
Maybe if he did so, he’d be able to bring back some warmth into your body. Maybe he’d feel that familiar tingling sensation that he always felt when both your hands would touch. He was silently praying that it was a prank, that he’d feel your fingers wrap around his, and that you’d tell him you were fine.
But it never came.
Your chest wasn’t rising up and down, there seemed to be no more color in your face, no more life. Your lips have turned a faint blue as dried blood surrounded your nose and ears.
He refused to think of what this meant. He wasn’t going to believe it. He… He just can’t.
“But I… I love her too.” Miles hiccuped between tears. He felt his legs give out, making him fall to his knees but the flowers had cushioned him from hitting the floor. Even in this state, you manage to keep him from feeling pain.
Doctor Sanchez’s breath hitched in her throat and she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “She thought you liked someone else. She didn’t want you to worry so she hid it I… I’ve tried to tell her that she should confess, to tell you how she felt but she… she was dead set on thinking that… she was never enough for you.” After one last breath, she walked towards the door. “I’ll… give you some privacy.”
Once the door closed behind him, Miles weakly stood up and that’s when it started. He let out the most painful cry so loud that everyone outside the room could hear.
His hands gripped his hair, pulling at it vigorously as he continued to bawl his heart out in agony.
The truth was, he loves you more than anyone in this entire world. He loves you with every fucking fiber of his being, with every cell in his body. All of it was yours, every heartbeat of his was dedicated to you. You were a major part of why he wanted to keep being Spiderman, so he could protect you.
So he could shield you away from any harm or danger.
And yet, he still couldn’t save you.
He started to feel suffocated as he punched the floor with his fists, almost cracking it in the process.
He was so goddamn furious at himself.
He felt like the biggest fucking coward in the entire universe.
If only, if only he had mustered even the slightest of courage to tell you of how he felt, then this wouldn't have happened. You'd still be alive.
Miles was now wailing in anger and pain that he couldn’t even begin to describe.
The realization has finally started to kick in.
He had lost you.
You suffered alone because you thought your love for him was unrequited and would never have been returned.
You didn’t believe in the possibility. But oh how wrong you were.
You didn't see the passion, love, and admiration in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You failed to notice the little things he did for you, like remembering your favorite things, or bringing you to your favorite places.
How he would pluck flowers from the school garden and gave it to you, or maybe even the times where he'd let you copy his answers on a test.
You just thought he was such a good friend.
If only… If only the both of you have tried a bit harder. Maybe then, it didn’t have to end this way.
Fin.
More of my Miles content here babes!
(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)
#i'm so sorry this was so long#oh my god i'm still crying#i hate this sm pls#miles morales x y/n#miles morales x reader#miles g morales#across the spiderverse#miles morales x you#miles morales angst#angst with no happy ending#atsv fic#atsv
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Not so innocent
Jung jaehyun x male reader
Hello everyone. Orecana here! I've written and post another fic for you guys to enjoy. Thank you to whoever read and support my fic so far. Love you guys.
Warning: this fic contains the following that may disturb you
Alpha beta Omega second genders
harsh sexualization
Sexual assault
Murder
Description of blood and gore
Pet names
Belly bulge and cum inflation
Most importantly, my first time writing a smut which will go extremely bad......
If any of the things listed above annoys the hell out of you, you are more than welcome to get the hell out of this fic and do something else.
Y/n is a young omega that has just recently transferred to neo academy, a prestigious school for talented individuals like himself.
Neo academy, is a prestigious school that will send an application letter to the most gifted individuals in the entire world.
He jumps happily as he looks at the academy in front of him, he can't believe it! It's like a dream come true.
He goes into the academy and is extremely happy and surprised on how luxurious everything is.
He goes into a room which he presumes to be the office, so that he could get his schedule and dorm key. However, that will have to wait a bit because the person behind the desk is currently talking to someone.
He waits until they're done and when the person turns around, y/n feels his heart beat faster.
The man is ridiculously handsome with brown hair and that sharp jawline. The alpha seeing y/n admiring him, sends him a wink before going out of the office.
Are you y/n l/n?
Y/n snaps out of his daze and looks at the direction of the woman.
Yes i am
The woman hands over his schedule and dorm key to him. The woman frowns when she sees his key.
Uh there's seems to be a problem with your key, I need to take a quick call.
The woman phones someone. When the called picked up, they engaged in a serious conversation. Y/n doesn't know what they were talking about because the woman used her magic to conceal her conversation, but he knows that it was not going well, seeing that the woman keeps rubbing her forehead with a permanent scowl on her face. She reluctantly stops the call before facing y/n.
It seems that the omega and beta dorms have all been booked, so the only available rooms are in the alpha dorms. I truly apologize for this.
Y/n smiles before holding the woman's hand which has his key.
Don't worry miss, I'll be fine. Besides you read my application form you should know what I can do that other omegas can't.
The woman seems to contemplate before remembering. She smiled at y/n before sighing.
Right... I totally forgot about that. Still try to stay safe, the majority of alphas there Don't really respect omegas.
Y/n only giggles as his once (eye color) eyes turn into purple ones.
Oh. They will turn into new people by the time I'm done with them.
He thanks the woman before leaving, the woman only smiles as she thinks.
"this boy.... Is really incredible."
Y/n looks at his schedule that also works as a map around the school. Biology first then lunch break then we can do extra courses and last but not least battlefield fighting.
He smiles at the last one, eyes turning blood red once again at the mention of fighting. As an omega, he was badly sexualized in the past by so many unruly alphas but today he can change that.
He stops in front of the biology classroom and knocks. *Knock knock*
Come in!
He enters into a full classroom with many students. They all turn towards him as he closes the door. The professor adjusts his glasses before looking at y/n.
Ah! Are you y/n l/n? Please have a seat in one of the empty chairs. You're not late at all, we're just starting.
He smiles at the professor's kindness before bowing and sitting in one of the empty chairs on the left.
Shortly after a few minutes though, he slowly begins to regret sitting there. The alpha near him keeps releasing his toxic pheromones onto him and it's making him lightheaded. Fortunately, a student sitting across from them seems to notice and alert the professor, which immediately groans and clog his nose, an action that most students there do as well.
Mr. Samuel... We would appreciate it that you don't stink the whole room with your pheromones.
That alpha only smile cockily as he slides his hands down y/n's waist. Y/n was shocked at the action. How dare he!
And what do you want me to do professor? I got a real delectable omega sitting next to me right now. How can I keep my hands to myself? Besides those hips and that asshole just looks like he's begging to be fucked.
Many students were shocked that he say stuff like that with no remorse, he discreetly tries to slide his hands into y/n's shirt so he could play with the nipples. Y/n was about to act when a fist made its way into the alpha's face.
The entire class was shocked and Samuel holds his face in pain as blood started to come out, dripping down his broken nose and lips. Y/n looks up at his savior to see the handsome man from before, his left fist was covered in blood.
He goes and holds the other man's knuckle and raises his palm. Everyone was wide eyed when y/n's absorbed the blood from the knuckle into his hand as he moans.
Ahhhhh.... (The relaxed moan) I haven't felt blood in my veins since ages ago.
He says this as he looks at Samuel who cowardly tries to run while injured.
Oh? Where are you going? Didn't you wanted to grope me and feel me? Why are you running away?
Y/n says these lines with the most sinister face everybody could of imagined, even the man from before was awestruck at such a personality.
Samuel ran out of the class.
Typical alphas. Always acting so tough on the outside, but a bloody coward on the inside.
He turns around and look at the professor.
Shall we resume class professor?
He says this with such the sweetest smile ever that everyone wondered on what the hell happened to the person they saw just now?
Eventually, the professor did resume class and all students listened. Even y/n, who was new to the school managed to answer some of the difficult questions, which made a lot of people in the class respect him.
It was lunch break and students were hurrying out of the classroom. Y/n was putting his books back into his bag when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looks behind him to see that man.
Hey, wanna eat lunch with me?
Y/n could not believe his ears as he just stared at the alpha in front of him.
"this handsome god wants to hang out with me?!"
Y/n feels a blush coming on to his face as he mutters a weak "yes", which made the alpha smirks in satisfaction. The alpha leans into his ear as he whispers sultry.
My name's Jung jaehyun, baby~.
And boy did it make y/n squirms in his seat. His face flushed so hard it could be compared to a ripe tomato. Jaehyun smirks even more as he pats the Omega's shoulder.
I'll see you later at the cafeteria baby.
Once y/n hears the door shut behind him, he summons a concealment aura around him before screaming his lungs out.
"did he just got asked out by a hot guy? It feels like a dream come true."
He was smiling so happily as he imagines the alpha dreamy looks. He eventually snaps out of it and heads for the cafeteria.
When he reaches the cafeteria, he is even more awestruck. The whole cafeteria is divided to suit each person's personal taste on places they want to eat and the food there is absolutely divine. There are so many options to choose from though, y/n is at a lost on what he should eat.
Eventually, he decides to eat webfoot octopus with a side of iced milk tea. He has always enjoyed milk tea, to him it's like a special drink that will always make him relax.
Soon a boy is walking towards his table with a tray of his food.
Enjoy your food
He nods and quickly dig in.
Hey baby~
Y/n freezes, there's only one person with that voice.
Y/n: jaehyun? Is it you?
Jaehyun chuckles and sits down in the same table as y/n. They started talking about each other, from likes and dislikes to preferences.
One point during their talk, he could feel someone staring him down. He looks around him carefully, to see a lot of omegas staring him down. There were also alphas staring jaehyun down for being next to him.
He smirks as he looks at jaehyun, signalling him to come closer with his finger. Jaehyun lean in while chuckling.
I'm gonna make these omega and alpha drop their jaws, do you wanna help me?
And what are you gonna do baby?
Y/n pulls jaehyun closer to him before locking their lips together. Jaehyun, not even surprised immediately follow up by pushing his tongue into the other's mouth.
All the omegas and alphas watch them make out as some scream in anger while most are turned on.
They pulled away with saliva connecting their lips. They smirks at each other as y/n eyes turns purple yet again. Jaehyun notices this but doesn't act on it because he doesn't want the omega to be uncomfortable. He does think about others.
I'll see you later baby
The bell rings signaling the end of lunch break as most students grumble on their way to extra lessons. Y/n however don't have an extra class to participate in though. He did see a few request into certain classes but he's just not interested.
He decided to call it a day today by checking into his dorm room early. He goes into the alpha dormitory and scans his key card on the elevator. *Ding*
The elevator opens. He walks towards the dorm rooms counting them down while looking for his number.
500? Ah this must be it!
He uses his key to open the door. It went in!
He opens the door to a welcoming vibe as he drags his bag into the room and sit on the sofa in the living room. He decided to unpack early so he could get it done much faster and don't have to deal with it later.
Y/n takes a quick shower to relieve his stress and apply his favourite powder. This magical beauty product was always capable of making anybody the fairest by just a few pats on the face.
He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring his appearance.
I look so cute
He puts his make up product back in its place before he goes back into school for the last lesson.
Fighting.
When he arrived at the battlefield location, most of the students there has already fought. People noticed that he was here, some catcalled him because of black kimono he's wearing. It had a unique design of many Sakura flowers and burning spirits. The teacher approach him.
Hello y/n. Would you like to fight someone too?
He look around to find an alpha who is mocking everyone he fought.
Hah! You are so weak! Why did you even come to this academy, you bugs? Haha.
Y/n smirks as he found his target for the day.
I wanna fight him teacher!
Oh really? He is a bit strong tho, please be careful.
Y/n chuckles as he steps onto the stage. Once he was on the stage, he levitates off the ground and sits in the air in a meditating position.
(sth like this)
The alpha who he chose, smirks as he steps onto the stage as well.
Well well well, looks like another person have decided to challenge me. I have thought it would be a beta or an alpha, but it's a just an omega slut.
Most of the people in the battlefield feel disgusted as the alpha keeps talking about how useless omega is to society, only viable as a breeding tool for the whole society to use.
Y/n did not react at all, he just levitates there in the same position. The alpha slowly starts to get angry.
Oy, bitch! The hell are you ignoring me for?
Y/n didn't reply
You f***ing useless slut! Answer me!
Y/n didn't reply. The alpha got so angry that he goes in to hit y/n hard with his fist, until it collided with something in front of y/n's body that made a sickening crack to his hand.
Ahhhhhhh! My hand!
Y/n opens his eyes, his eyes were purple and he slowly drops onto the floor, walking slowly towards the alpha who tries to crawl back in fear.
How dare you insult the nature of my kind? Just because your kind is of higher stature, doesn't mean you can make fun of my people. The omegas...
People watch in fascination as y/n drags out a sword from the middle of his chest through his kimono as a glowing purple aura surrounds he stage.
SHALL SHINE ETERNAL!
He slashes with that sword as the alpha stops screaming. He sheaths the sword as the alpha lets out a large painful wail before collapsing.
He goes off the stage before going back to his dorm room not bothering to talk or look at anyone right now.
He unlocks his door and try to go in before someone grabs his arm. He pulls his arm away from the person before turning around with the deadliest glare ever. Jaehyun was scared shitless because of y/n. Once the omega see him tho, he softens a bit before pulling him in his room.
I'm sorry. I'm just mad.
Jaehyun only hugs y/n as he hugs him back.
Through a couple of days in the academy, y/n was a popular student among campus. He was the "his excellency the almighty Narukami ogosho god of thunder."
He has deepened his relationship with jaehyun and even met some of his fellow friends. He found himself getting along with taeyong the most, who was like a parent to him.
Things were going smoothly for y/n until that day
Y/n wakes up to the harsh feeling of nausea and headache. His dick was brushing against his shorts as he sighs at the uncomfortable feeling. He already knows what this means. His heat has just arrived. He groans as he just takes off his shorts and plays with his hole, moaning at the feeling of emptyness.
His mind keeps wandering to jaehyun and his well built body, packed with muscles and a six packs. He subconsciously licks his lips and his fingers goes in and out of his hole more aggressively. He moans out loud as he climaxes.
He breathes in and out, tired but his erection is still hard. He groans.
This is going to be a long day.
Jaehyun wanted to go see y/n, hearing that he was absent today in class because he was sick. In his hand was a box of hot soup. He knocks on the door of y/n dorm room
Y/n I'm coming in!
He lets himself inside the house as he immediately freezes and the box of soup fell onto the floor. Y/n was there, stretching himself with his fingers yet again as he moans lewdly.
Jaehyun wants nothing more than to fuck y/n at this moment, but he controlled himself. Y/n however pulls the alpha towards him as he looks at him with a lustful gaze. He flicks his fingers and they were teleported into y/n's bedroom.
Alpha! You're finally here.... I've been waiting for so long for you to show up. My fingers aren't enough to satisfy my heat at all. I only crave for more and more.
His fingers slithered around jaehyun's uniform as he swiftly dispose of them with his magic, quickly leaving jaehyun in his boxer. The omega mouth waters at the large bulge the alpha is carrying. He pulls it off and was slapped in the face with his cock.
IT'S SO LONG VEINY AND THICK.
Y/n knew that jaehyun was packing, but not to this extent. His purple glitters as he wasted no time and suck off the cock in front of him.
Jaehyun grunts as he feel the hot mouth of the omega sucking him off. It feels so good. He looks down at y/n who was busy savoring his cock like a starved man, filthy slurping sounds were heard all over the room. He sees how the omega took his long and thick veiny cock like a champ.
Y/n felt jaehyun dick throbs inside his mouth and begins working on it faster, determined to make him cum. Jaehyun groans in arousal.
Fuck! Baby, that feels so good. I-i'm gonna-
Jaehyun didn't even get to finish as he finally cums inside y/n's mouth. Floods of potent alpha cum is continuously being released into y/n's awaiting mouth, who slurps and drinks it all up.
Hah..... Hah...... Hah.....
Y/n takes jaehyun's cock out of his mouth while leaning his tongue out to collect any leftover cum. Jaehyun moans as his cock returns into its former condition only even bigger than before.
He quickly uses 3 of his fingers to play with the Omega's hole. Y/n moans out loud at the sudden intrusion of such thick fingers.
I'm gonna get your hole ready for my cock baby. Gonna breed you full of my pups *groans*.
Jaehyun whispers these words so hotly in y/n's ear that he immediately cums. His white semen covering his and jaehyun's body. Soon jaehyun removes his fingers and y/n knows what coming up next.
Jaehyun lines up his cock with y/n's hole, before pushes his cock in with one big thrust. Y/n moans loudly at the intrusion while jaehyun moans as well.
F-fuck baby, you're so tight. You're gripping so hard onto my cock.
J-jaehyun, f-fuck m-e. fill my hole with your pups. Breed me with your know, please alpha. I beg you~.
Jaehyun lost his sense of control and immediately rams into y/n's hole mercilessly as y/n just moans lewdly with his tongue out. They were both loss in the pleasure.
Jaehyun switches their position as he holds y/n against his chest and holds y/n's head. He kisses y/n as he continuously rams into the tight hole.
A-alpha~ look how good your cock is fucking me.
Jaehyun moans when he sees y/n's stomach and it only urges him to fuck him even harder and deeper. Everytime he rams into y/n's hole, it creates a noticable bulge inside the Omega's stomach fueling the two desires to mate.
Your ass feels so good around my cock. I'm gonna cum!
M-me too.
They both kissed as they chase their climax.
They both moaned into each other's mouth as they climax, jaehyun knots into y/n's hole as he pumps gallons of cum into y/n's tight clenching hole. The omega also came.
They both pants, out of breath as they recover from their sex. They miss each other sweetly before pulling away. They look at each other in the eye and smile.
I love you y/n l/n. I have fell for you for a while.
I love you too Jung jaehyun.
They look down at y/n's stomach that has a considerable bulge because of the amount of cum that jaehyun is dumping in him.
Heh how much cum do you have?
It's all for you my love.
Y/n blushes. Even in times like these, jaehyun never fails to make him blush.
After a while, jaehyun's knot shrink down and he pulls out of y/n's hole as the omega whimpers from the lost of being filled. Cum did not fall out of the omega though because y/n uses his magic to keep it all in him.
You really want my baby huh?
Of course, you're my alpha after all.
They lay down on the bed that is now cleaned thanks to y/n's magic. Jaehyun embrace his lover as he leans in close.
I love you my not so innocent omega.
*chuckles* I love you too my hot alpha.
#fanfiction#romance#gay#male idol x male reader#jaehyun x male reader#jung jaehyun#nct x male reader#nct 127#nct 127 x male reader#kpop male idol x male reader#x male reader
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Helping Hand 10
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, manipulation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
You toss and turn, as much as you can with your injured shoulder. You fall asleep caught up in your exchange with Jonathan, replaying it until it distorts to dreamy nonsense. Just the sight of his face skewed in your subconscious.
When you wake, it is less than peaceful. You almost scream at agony tearing through your muscles. You must’ve rolled the wrong way. You manage to push yourself onto your back and grunt, wheezing out the pain as your eyes prick with tears.
You shake as you push yourself up, cradling your arm as you fix your sling to support it. It is unlike anything you've felt before. As if a rusty blade is sawing through your muscle.
You look down at your shirt, the borrow cotton tugging at your nerves. You still don't remember what happened to your uniform. Your assumption unsettles you too much to acknowledge. Would he really do that?
You stand slowly, moving at a snail's pace as you take in the unfamiliar place. You can't help but admire it. He keeps a fine house, the type you never could, the kind Andy nagged you for all those years.
You wander into the kitchen, as pristine and stylish as the rest of the house. It's like stepping into a lifestyle magazine. You stop short of the end of the counter and muse at propriety. It doesn't feel right to disturb the perfection, or as a guest to help yourself.
You turn back as a yawn greets you, wafting down the hall. Jonathan enters in only a towel, his blond hair speckled with beads of water as his skin glistens. He drops his arms and fixes the knot at his waist, clearing his throat as he gives a grin.
"Morning," he purrs, "I thought you'd still be asleep."
"Uh, no," you try to cross your arms out of habit and cry out.
"Oh, dear, do not tax yourself," he rushes closer as you shy away. Anyone with a body like his would be so unbothered in his half-naked state, "please, coffee? Tea? Whatever you've come in search of, I can take care of it."
You sigh and run your fingers along the seam of the sling. You chew your lip and your eyes list to the wall.
"Coffee, please," you relent. "Just something to get me going, then I'll be out of your hair."
"I am in no hurry to have you gone," he assures.
"But I should be," you sniff.
He sighs and goes to work. You listen as he opens and closes a cupboard, working swiftly at the counter. Soon the aroma of coffee brews and tickles your nose.
"Come, you should sit, it will be a few minutes," he gestures you into the hall, "after you."
You put your head down and go ahead of him. Even with the sling, you arm feels heavy. You step onto the runner that trims the hardwood and carefully pad across the embroidered pattern.
The world shifts suddenly and it's as if the rugs been pulled out from under you. Literally. You stumble forward, jarring your tortured muscles, twisting around desperately so you land on your hip with a startling force.
You lay on your side, whimpering as you peek down to your feet. You see the rug crumpled as Jonathan pulls his foot from atop it. He shows his teeth and tuts.
"Ah, no, darling," he nears and looks down at you, "my designer did mention I should put some trackpads under that to keep it in place."
You tremble as you try to sit up, your lower back struck with an electric pain. You writhe and clutch your shoulder, legs bent as you whine. It was an accident right, he wouldn't…
"Are you hurt?" He asks with enough concern to muffle your doubts. Why would he do that? No, you're just paranoid.
You push with hand, trying to sit up and yelp again. Your tears break through as you collapse. You shake your head.
"No, I'm… hurt."
"Darling, you really can't help yourself," he chuckles. "Here, we can't have you on the couch, you'll need proper support."
He kneels and scoops you up easily, lifting you to cradle you against his naked torso. You groan as your head lolls, the pain rippling in your vision. It's too much to think straight but you know this isn't right. You have bad luck but it can't be that bad.
"What are you doing?" You hiss.
"Taking you to bed," he says, "I've a guest room. I would've shown you earlier but I didn't want to overextend you."
"Ah, ah," you cry out, "I… I should see the doctor–"
"Hush hush, darling, we'll get you abed and figure all that out," he climbs the stairs, unhindered by your added weight.
You squeeze your eyes shut and gnash your teeth. You have no choice but to surrender to his control. You can't do much more than fold like a broken doll.
You open your eyes as he enters a room and you glance over at the crisp white bedding. He lays you over it, carefully pulling back the blanket and leaving it folded back beside you. He stands straight, looking down at you with his hands on his hips, smirking. He's smirking.
"Jonathan," you murmur, "why–"
"You've fallen. Very unfortunately," he tisks, "you're in no state to return to work or be alone."
"Why would you–"
"How could you trip so carelessly? It is only lucky I was here to assist you," he lifts a finger in reproach, "and to see you well."
"Jonathan…" you croak.
"Not to worry, I'll fetch the painkillers. Ah and your coffee, it should be ready," he declares as he wags his finger and struts to the door. He pauses and looks back over his shoulder, "and I'll be certain your ex-husband cannot impede your recovery. No calls."
He winks and sets back on his path. You gape after him, choking on agony as you cling to your shoulder. This can't be real.
#jonathan pine#dark jonathan pine#dark!jonathan pine#jonathan pine x reader#the night manager#drabble#series#au#bookstore au#helping hand
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Baby gazing part 2 The weekend
Just fluff mentions of pregnancy, babies brief mention of changing diapers and some good-old nature fooling 18+ just incase . Chris wvans as a father if that's a warning Comments Welcome and reblogs welcome to not repost translate or publish anywhere
Part 1 here
With our little one on my hip I poke Chris awake with one foot.
He groans
But the minute she giggles his head pops up
"Is that a giggle my little Oh come to daddy:
He holds his hands open then its like he sees her on my hip and freaks instantly so:
"You shouldn't he hold her like that give her to me, come on."
"Chris I-"
"Give her to me and you sit relax."
"Chris I have to chang-"
"I'll change her you sit there relax I'll bring her back to be fed then ill make us breakfast. just relax"
"No buts I got her baby." He kisses me on the forehead
"Ok."
"You ready to get changed all cleaned up baby? yea we gunna dress you cutie hu? ill put you in a cap. shirt." He bounced her as he walked out of the room.
Why argue when he wants to do everything? I could get used to this again. He hasn't been like this since the first few weeks after bringing her home but to be fair we are both sleep deprived and now were gunna be more so because- shit I had to make sure things were ready for Miles. But they won't be here till 2. Though ah no worries its easy just an extra.
Baby we'll tag team.
Chris comes back in with her and while I. Ferdinand her he comes back with a huge breakfast.
Did the fridge break or something.
"No I just wanted to make sure we had enough food here. It's not just you, you have to worry about."
He wrapped his arms around me and then petted her on the head she looked up at him and then smiled as much as she could. Which is unusual as she doesn't like to be disturbed when she is eatting.
So much fruit and sweets my brian is wanting the sweets but the baby- God she'll be too hyper with sugar from the fruit. Maybe some will be ok.
When she was done Chris took her back
Chris wa-
Let me hold her
Chris
Babe no I'm holding my baby
"She's my baby too" I pouted
"You always hold her let me"
"I want to"
"No, please babe," he gave me this sad woe is me look.
"Fine fine but if she has to be changed."
"I'll be all over it."
"Oh you will?" I thought." I've been eating broccoli the past two days and boy is Chris in for a surprise.
She kept reaching for me but Chris said no she tried to crawl but nope daddy dragged her back to his side. He had 2 girls who aren't happy right now. Both of us pouting and fo once I wasn't going to try and make her laugh she has good reason to pout- daddy has to learn.
He insited on putting her down for her nap and me taking a nap- who was I to argue with that. Ill take any nap. Then the glass alarm woke me up leaving me to wonder what he did to our guard-baby now....Then he came running in with her
"Ok it's ok see look mommy is right there" he came standing right next to the bed but wouldn't give me her. I'm wondering where the tissue box is so I can knock him over the with it then she had screamed so loud and high
"Here here here's mommy" he has never handed me the baby so fast in her life. The second I brought her to me she quieted down.
"I hope your happy your made your baby girl cry."
"I wasn't trying to I just-"
"It doesn't matter"
"But I"
"right now she wants her mommy all day she's been wanting her mommy"
"Honey but... look Let's just lets all lay down ok."
"Ok"
Then He slid his hand to support her belly and her and was able to move her enough to that a lot of her weight was on him and not me. I still didn't get it but hey he wants her butt in his face let it
He he was rubbing her butt, which is also his way of checking her diaper, then she shot him a dirty look and shuffled towards me more ans layed her head down on my chest. Her favorite pillow. I couldn't help but laugh.
Not like that I smacked his shoulder
But the rest of this day he was going crazy not letting me get up. I had to sneak to make sure we had stuff for Miles.
"What are you doing"
I jumped hearing Chris voice behind me hold our baby who had reached for me but Chris put her arms down.
"Chris what are you doing? Give me my baby!"
"No you're supposed to be resting-"
"Christopher Robert Evans I swear-"
The door bell rings. Great it's gotta be Jamie and Kyle and Miles.
"This is not finished" I point. pushing past him and walking to the door.
"No honey whose here? you shouldn't be around people its flu season." He comes after me.
"Hey guys"
Miles reached out for me.
"Hi Miles,"
"Someone got an admirier" Jamie said handing him to me
"Who wants a baby biscuit?"
His face lights up. This is going to be an easy weekend.
Nah I just give him cookies. I found it works on dogs and men. Uh that's not what I meant," I chuckled
"Babe no what are you doing?"
he tries to take Miles from me.
"Chris stop what are you doing"
"You shouldn't be holding him"
" What come on."
"Fine gime me her-"
"No."
"Chris we have company "I say through my strained teeth.
"But you still shouldn't be holding him. Think of the baby."
They look at me.
I shrug my shoulders. I
"fine but put her down please."
"Its fine I can handle two. i'll have to get used to it anyway."
Kyle and Jamie give me a look my shoulder goes up and down. I'm completely lost.
"Alright its just the weekend."
"Exactly"
"Ok he is expecting a baby biscuit it is in the pantry ill get it"
"No you sit I don't want you straining"
"Chris"
"Go"
"Ok ok"
Chris puts both of the babies down in the play pen and then to go get then thier cookies.
"Come on you guys sorry about him I wish I had an excuse he's just acting nutty today."
"You guys want coffee" He yells from the kitchen. They both nodd thier heads.
I reply "3 coffees"
"Nice try"
"That man is pushing me right now. I'm allowed the odd coffee while breast feeding and right now I need it or he'll need a new place to live. He driving me nuts Won't let me hold her at all."
"Are you- He's acting like you're pregnant again"
"Oh you have no clue I mean the breakfast me made it was so huge and -oh god."
"You aren't"
"No no I made a joke last night I totally forgot it was about watching miles that we'd have 2 babies in the house I made a joke hed have less than 9 months who knew he'd not realize this morning we have everything ready for miles I swear just-Wait a minute this could work."
They look at me
"I get a weekend off and Chris plays daddy for two babies oh this would really work. You think I can pull this off all weekend?"
"Oh yes," Jamie nods "You have to for women everywhere."
Chris comes back in to give the babies their cookies in the pen and then returns,
"two coffees and a non caffeeinated slightly sweetend ice tea for you."
He sits down and puts one hand on my stomach. Yep he thinks I'm pregnant.....
This is going to be a fun weekend.
Taglist (sorry if I missed you let me know if you want to be added
@nana1000night @sapphire-rogers @sparklybarbarianninja @patzammit @coltrainbat @hawkeyes-queen
#ransom drysdale#ransom drydale x you#ransom x reader#soft!ransom drysdale#softransom x reader#chris evans imagines#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans#steve rogers#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans comfort#chris evans drabble#chris evans fic#chris evans imagine#chris evans fluff#chris evans x wife!reader#chris evans one shot#chris evans x plus size reader#chris evans x female reader#steve rogers x reader#jake jensen x reader#lloyd hansen x reader
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Sarcastic maid Pt2
The daughters being little shits as usual.
Cassandra about to slice a maid's face with her sickle: hehe
Maid: I swear to Mother Miranda's cult if you don't step away from her I will kick your ass out into the Romanian winter faster than your mother can down a bottle of wine
Cassandra: You're not the boss of me
Maid: No but the castle's alcoholic is and she wants the maids alive and healthy until she can replace the dead ones after last night's fight
Cassandra: bitch
Maid: oh I'm sorry, do I remind of your uncles failed experiments? No? Then leave before your mother cracks the tile with her shoes chasing after your sorry ass
Cassandra: alright, geez. No need for death threats
....…………......…………..…….….….….…….......…...........
Daniela sneaking around in the dark like a dollar store batman: *sneak*
Maid: *unimpressed as she's trying to peacefully drink her tea in the kitchen* you know I can see your flies right?
Daniela: *hisses as candlelight is blasted in her eyes* what are you doing up after curfew!?
Maid: I could ask you the same question little miss ninja. I won't because I can see the arm in your hands but I also want to know why you're sneaking
Daniela: mother said I wasn't allowed any more late night snacks after the Irma incident
Maid: ah, I see. Well, goodnight
Daniela: you aren't going to tell mother?
Maid: I don't want to lose both my job and my life for staying up three hours past curfew and name calling. I'm already on thin ice after the Cassie thing
Daniela: Cassie thing?
Maid: it's better if you don't know. Besides, I'm willing to do a I won't tell if you don't tell kind of thing
Daniela: *holds out arm that isn't hers for a handshake*
Maid: no, I will not shake hands with Sheila's detached arm. I can tell because her bracelet is still on there
Daniela: *cackles as she zooms off*
......................................................…………………...….
Bela: *Reading in the library*
Maid: *Ignores Bela as she goes to dust the shelves*
Bela after a few minutes: can you be quieter, I want complete silence as I read
Maid: yeah, and I want my parents back but we don't all get what we want, do we?
Bela: *utter disbelief* what?
Maid: you have ears, I know you heard me
Bela: I'm just gonna *flies off*
.......................................................………………………
Alcina: *frantically looking for the maid*
Maid: *peacefully walking in the gardens*
Alcina: *power walks*
Maid: *jogs*
Alcina: *power walks faster*
Maid: *starts running*
Alcina: *catches up to them and picks them up like a child*
Maid: hey Alci, how's your near immortal life been recently?
Alcina: my daughters are now traumatised
Maid: I wonder who did that? Mother Miranda's been looking a bit suspicious recently
Alcina: (maids name), you are going to hell
Maid: and you're not?
Alcina: *tosses her over her shoulder and starts walking off with them as the ground keepers watch with concern for the maid*
Maid: is this really necessary?
Alcina: you threatened to kill my caring Cassandra, called my darling Daniela an awful name and then scared my beautiful Bela by mentioning your parents are dead without an ounce of grief
Maid: it's not my fault they're dead
Alcina: *puts her down in the main hall* are you feeling alright?
Maid: I'm fine
Alcina: right, well, go and sit in your room until dinner and think about what you said
Maid: you sound like my mother
Alcina: I am your boss, I control your paycheck, now go before I change my mind and our you on dungeon duty
Maid: fine, I'll go and stew in my non existant misery
Alcina: make it quick, I have a meeting to attend
#lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#alcina x female reader#alcina x y/n#alcina demitriscu#alcina x maiden#alcina x reader#lady dimitrescu x reader#re8 fanfiction#re village#re8 meme#re8 village#re8 dimitrescu#x reader#resident evil#re8#re8 shitpost#re8 x reader
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MC: Aren't we being a bit too close?
Barbatos: *cuddling them while he's lying on the top*
Barbatos: I'm warming you up.
MC: *chuckles* Shouldn't you be taking care of the young master instead of me?
Barbatos: You visited me in my dreams. I wouldn't be here if you were just being careful enough.
MC: I am doing fine, my friend.
Barbatos: ...
Barbatos: Haven't you done it again with him?
MC: He's interested, but he's way too cautious.
Barbatos: So it seems.
MC: ...
MC: *smiles* Honestly, you don't have to do this.
Barbatos: Hush. I'll leave once you get better.
MC: *looks slightly troubled*
Lucifer: Barbatos isn't here?
Diavolo: Yes. He would be back after a few days after he's done taking care of MC.
Lucifer: Why? Did something happen to them?
Diavolo: He mentioned that MC was weak and he needs to nurse them back to health.
Lucifer: ...
Lucifer: Wait a minute.
Diavolo: Hm?
Lucifer: Aren't they just experiencing sexual deprivation?
Diavolo: ...
Diavolo: Why would you think that?
Lucifer: There are certain demons who feel that way especially around this month. Asmo starting to have this that's why he's in the bar most often.
Diavolo: Oh...
Diavolo: Do you think Barbatos and MC are having sex right now?
Lucifer: That could be our lucky guess.
Barbatos: You're getting more and more feverish.
MC: I'll be fine soon. You should go home now.
Barbatos: *frowns slightly* Are you worried about something?
MC: *smiles* Yes.
Barbatos: ...
Barbatos: We have no connection other than being acquaintances, but I can make an exception for now.
MC: Don't force yourself. I'm sure there will be someone more willing to help—
Barbatos: *has kissed them*
MC: ...
MC: *tentatively slides their tongue in his mouth*
Barbatos: Hmm...
MC: *takes it as a confirmation to continue*
Barbatos: *stops for a second* Do as much as you like.
MC: You're being too generous today.
*and they continued kissing*
Diavolo: Ah, Barbatos! How's MC?
Barbatos: *his hair disheveled* They're doing fine now.
Diavolo: Oh...
Diavolo: So it seems. *giving him a meaningful smile*
Barbatos: ...
Barbatos: It's not what you're thinking.
Diavolo: Yes, yes. I'll take your word for that.
Barbatos: ...
Barbatos: ...
Barbatos: *takes off his shirt and looks at the mark MC has given him*
Barbatos: *sigh* I'm stupid.
Barbatos: Why did I say yes. *remembers their face while asking him to bear their child*
Barbatos: *blushes then chuckles to himself*
Barbatos: Maybe it's fine. We're friends after all.
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Hi again, so the second chapter! I hope y'all like this fluff. I gave my best on this chapter, however this is my first fic and english is not my first language, so apologies if anything sounds confusing, and please let me know in the comments. Again, any spanish spoken will be translated in the end, so don't worry ;)
Title: One And The Opposite
Rating: Teens and Up (swearing, mentions of sex)
Summary: After filling the shoes of his alternate self in a parallel universe, Miguel O'Hara swiftly discovers that embodying a different version of himself is far more challenging than he initially anticipated. As he juggles with the complexities of family dynamics, with a wife and daughter who both expect him to be the man they remember, he tries to stay afloat, grappling with the pros and cons of navigating two lives simultaneously.
OR
A domestic Miguel trying his best.
Chapter 2: Sweet reunion
"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!" he hears a voice shout from down the hallway, as the door slams shut, followed by the loud noise of keys rattling and plastic bags crinkling.
Miguel turns around to look at her for the first time, and it's nothing like he thought it would be, to say the least. He imagines it’s like if he were living life immersed in tiger illustrations, and then got to see the real thing for the very first time. It feels like he’s standing in the presence of a real tiger, with its raw power, the rhythmic pulse of its fur, and the untamed wilderness echoing in its eyes. His breath catches as he steps back to really look at her in awe.
Moving through the kitchen in a busy sway, she goes about putting the groceries away, all the while speaking almost too fast to understand like every Spanish speaker ever. It’s as if she hasn't even spotted him there yet — so comfortable with his presence.
"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a... estas bien?" She asks, getting on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss.
As much as he tries not to, Miguel is startled by the sudden contact, and it must show on his face because she notices too.
"Que te pasa, mi amor?" She asks, a look of confusion in her face that makes her look even more beautiful.
"I uh... I... Just got robbed." He blurts out.
Even after a day of practicing his Spanish accent, English still instinctively surfaces as his immediate response — it's become much more natural than his native language at this point. The perplexity in her eyes immediately turns into worry as she puts a hand on his face and examines him up and down.
"Are you ok? Did they hurt you!?" She thankfully also speaks English, although with a slight accent that Miguel can’t quite figure out where it’s from.
"No, no, yo estoy bien. I'm fine just... A little shaken. He had a gun." He answers, gently holding her hand back.
She stares at him, a twinge of shock coloring her features, then looks down at his hand. He gets worried for a second that even though his talons are concealed, something else might be giving him away. Something he doesn’t know about. He can't help the way his heart must be beating a mile a minute, threatening to jump out of his chest.
"Well, you're safe now, okay? Don't worry about it too much." The way she casually utters it confirms for him that this sort of thing happens frequently here. She only smiles sympathetically at him, not even asking what they took — if anything.
He sighs in relief as she says that, and smiles back, taking the chance to get a good look at her face.
Brown eyes like his, a few moles here and there. Worry lines between her brows that paint a picture of a woman who hasn't had everything handed to her, or the easiest life. He can't help but think he chose well.
"Listen, I can go pick up Briella, you stay here and I'll-" she says, swiftly turning around to grab her keys.
"No, no, it's okay, I can do it. It's fine." He quickly insists, knowing he has to use every opportunity to get to know his family, and his alternate version better.
"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor." She warns, placing another kiss on his lips.
*
He gets there early, watching from his car as some parents start making their way towards the entrance. While he contemplates waiting inside the front office — an idea that might be a bit excessive, though it would allow him to catch an earlier glimpse of Gabriella — staying in the car seems neglectful at best. So he settles on waiting near the front of the school until the bell rings.
When it finally does, a crowd of kids emerges from the building, and with them a cacophony of screams and voices as he nervously shifts his weight around, willing himself to stay calm while trying to spot his daughter in the crowd.
“¿Apá?” She asks, right next to him . Miguel looks down at her, startled.
He must have been so distracted looking through hundreds of faces, that he didn’t even notice her coming up to him. It doesn’t help that she’s tiny, barely reaching past his hips, and the school uniform makes her blend right in with the navy blue crowd.
“Oh hi there! You scared me!” He tells her with a laugh, trying to play it off.
Gabriella blinks at him. “You didn’t wait in the car this time.”
Uh oh. Is that bad? Maybe she was embarrassed of leaving with her father, maybe the kids would make fun of her for it now. He quickly scans the surroundings, seeing not that many kids leaving with their parents.
“Uh… Right. Well, I wanted to walk with you, if that’s ok…” He explains, fighting the urge to lean down so she doesn’t feel as small to him.
Thankfully she just shrugs, and turns to leave after he offers to carry her backpack for her. They start walking in silence, with Miguel more afraid of being found out than he was earlier, with her mother.
It’s silly, really: She’s a child, barely nine years old. However, his mind keeps racing trying to figure out what to say, what to ask that’s not going to give him away immediately, while at the same time reassuring himself that it’s okay, that she doesn’t know yet.
“So… How was school?” He asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.
“It was alright.” She answers dryly, staring at the floor as she walks.
“Soo was it alright as in boring, or…?” He risks the question, wanting to know more about her day.
She seems pensive for a moment, considering him. “It’s just that the boys keep making fun of me and Isa again. Even Sam joined in, and he doesn't even play soccer!” She frowns, continuing. “They keep saying we’re never gonna play like Messi Jr because we’re girls.”
He can feel his fists closing into tight balls when she says that. He knows first hand just how insufferable boys her age could get, especially dealing with Kron and all the hell he’d put him through at school, but he also knows that when it comes to girls they act ten times worse.
So even though he has no idea who ‘Messi Jr’ is, he figures instead of speaking out of anger and cursing the hell out of these boys, he should at least try and help her with her insecurities instead.
“Why are you worried about being exactly like Messi Jr when you can be so much better than him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.
She keeps silent for a moment, seeming hesitant. “Really? You think so?”
“Of course I do! You’re great!” He answers honestly.
Miguel remembers watching her play a little fútbol prior to coming here. He had been surprised to find out how good she played for her age before…
Suddenly, he’s almost overwhelmed by the thought of what would have happened to her had he not been here. He has a vision of this lovely little girl he just met being thrusted into a childhood filled with grief.
No paternal figure there for her. A perpetual sadness that got particularly worse on every father’s day, an endless list of things he would never get to teach her. A constant wondering of what it could have been, what would have been like to have him there.
He can’t help but feel glad that he could take his place. That he could be there for her in this way and fill this void. It’s an impossible responsibility, yet one he’s happy to take nonetheless.
Shaking his thoughts away, he continues. “And besides, it’s like you said, right? What does Sam know about soccer, he doesn’t even play! Also, there are some great women players around the world too.” He smiles with a sudden enjoyment, excited to play this role the best way he knew how to.
Gabriella looks like she notices his thrilled state, eyeing him sideways with a curious look. “I know, I know. It’s just that it annoys me, you know?” she says, back to looking pensive.
“Yeah, that’s… True. And the more it annoys you, the more they do it…” He admits, more to himself than her.
Miguel didn’t want to be a walking cliché. He didn’t have much advice to give her, besides things he really wanted to say but couldn’t. Like: She’s a lovely little girl, that he’s glad to be here for her and she’s actually so much more than he ever imagined, that she could be anything she put her mind to, and already he couldn't think of a single thing he wouldn’t do if she asked him to. No, that would be too much in too little time. Instead, he had to go with what was appropriate.
“You know, you’re gonna find people like that everywhere you go. I have people I don’t like at work, too. The thing is how you deal with them. But don't worry, you’ll learn that with time. it’s not like there’s a recipe for it, you know?” He tells her.
She keeps quiet for a moment, listening to him. Was that also too much?
But then she just nods in understanding as he opens the door of the car for her to get in.
*
“Not again, Gabriella. Again!?”
“¿Qué?” Gabriella asks, rubbing her feet on a rug by the entrance of the apartment when the both of them come in.
“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” María raises her voice, pointing to her daughter's legs.
“But mooom! It was just a quick cascarita! And I’m not even that dirty!” Gabriella insists, gesturing towards her white socks, which funny enough are covered in green and brown spots, especially by the knees.
“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda, take it off and give it here.” She orders after letting out a breath.
“Sí mamá.” Says Briella, pouting and dragging her feet to her room, looking annoyed.
Miguel also drags his feet by the threshold, setting his keys on a hook next to the door. He takes off his boots, eyeing the three pairs of slippers nearby. Hesitantly, he puts one of them on, the irony in the mundane gesture settling heavy in his chest, the weight of deception tugging annoyingly at his conscience.
Since he’s already taken a quick look around the place before she arrived from work, he gets to inspect things a little closer this time around.
The entryway is adorned with sleek porcelain tiles that extend seamlessly into the living space. A smart home system panel mounted on the wall offers control over lighting, temperature, and security, right next to the hook where he hung his keys. To the side, there’s a wall-mounted shelf holding a curated display of art and what looks to be some personal mementos.
A water bill sits on top of it, the sight striking an odd chord — in a time where holographic displays and digital transactions were the norm, a paper bill practically seems like a relic from another time — but also allowing him to find out her full name, which he immediately commits to memory.
“I think she thinks the socks make her look more like a professional player.” María tells him a while later, while slicing some meat by the sink. “We should buy her a pair of those so she stops ruining her uniform.”
He nods in agreement, putting a plate down as he lets the reality sink in, that this is really happening. This is his life now.
He’s married, he has a beautiful wife, and he’s also father to a beautiful little girl. And he couldn't be happier. Couldn’t have asked for anything else in life.
It’s like he just woke up from a bad dream, straight into the life he’s always wanted to live.
Like he’s exactly where he belongs.
So he helps María with the food. Luckily, he must be incompetent at the kitchen in every universe, because her instructions are extremely detailed, as they prepare carne a la tampiqueña for three.
María yells for Gabriella to come, and they all eat in silence after joining hands around the table for a quick, silent prayer.
*
Later, María is washing the socks while he cleans the table, and Maná plays in the background. She grooves with the rhythm, singing and humming now and then, completely oblivious to it all.
Objectively, he knows that he’s hiding a lot from her, but his heart can’t help but ache a little at how she’s not intimidated at all by his presence, in fact, she’s used to it. For once, he doesn’t feel like a freak or a monster the way he inadvertently does among the other spiders.
She spots him there, lost in thought as he finishes up, and says “I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx.”
“What?” He’s pulled from his thoughts by the weird phrase.
“Maná. The vocalist, I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx to help the A.I replicate his voice better. Can you believe that!?” She explains “That’s why I’m listening to their original songs, I heard it on the news today.”
He blinks slowly, trying to figure out if he’s supposed to be used to things like these. “That’s… Crazy, honestly.”
“Right? I mean, the fact that we aren’t able to tell the difference for most artists nowadays is already pretty insane to me, and now they’re reconstructing the larynx of a dead guy to make a robot replicate his voice better? Come on now!” She remarks, turning back to look at him.
“I know, it’s so wild to think about.” He says, taking the chance to look around the room.
Sleek countertops adorned in marble, bearing the scars of a few culinary adventures that her and his alternate self probably didn’t have the time to clean yet; Rectangular windows above the kitchen sink, lined with cheap plastic containers labeled “basil”, “rosemary” and a few other herbs, bringing a nice green contrast to the brushed metal accents; A smart fridge on the corner, adorned with Gabriella’s drawings held by magnets all throughout it. Some things never change.
He approaches the fridge, taking one of the drawings to inspect it closer. It’s a crudely drawn version of him… His alternate self, with exaggerated triangular shoulders and, most tellingly, what looks like a phone buzzing in his hand.
María seems to notice his curiosity, approaching to look at the drawing too.
“Listen I know, you must be still a little shaken from… Before,” She tells him carefully “Just… Try not to think too much about it, okay? You’re here, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
He puts the drawing back as she places a cold hand on his face again, gently willing him to meet her eyes.
“I know, I know. It’s just… I was afraid for a second, that’s all.” He says, sincere in his words but not the real meaning behind them.
“And that’s okay. I’m here.” She assures him, pulling him by the arm gently.
The low hum of the city outside is a distant lullaby as they settle into the living room.
She takes a bottle from on top of a cabinet, wordlessly pouring two cups. He takes a sip, letting the burning soothe his nerves.
"I didn’t think I'd make it back." He lies, gaze lingering on the symmetrical floor panels.
Her hand finds his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You did, and you're here now."
“Yeah… I am.” An inward glow softing his expression, the sensation of a smile blooming from deep within as he stares into her eyes.
As the night unfolds, the room is filled with shared glances and unspoken understanding. María lays her head on his shoulder, caressing him.
And he can’t help but think that this could work.
This could really work.
*
When they go to bed, after making sure Briella did her homework and wishing her goodnight of course, María takes off her bra in front of him, and slips on a loose nightgown.
He hates that for so many things that he had considered before coming here, this hadn’t even crossed his mind at all. Hesitantly, he pulls off his own clothes, not able to help how flushed red his face must be.
Thankfully, María doesn’t seem to notice this, as she’s busy settling into bed and pulling the sheets towards herself. He sits besides her underneath them, awkwardly stiff, and she pulls him into a sideways hug, humming quietly.
"You seem so different today." She observes, fingers lightly tracing circles on the sheets next to him.
He freezes, eyes widening but trying not to look at her.
"Yeah… It's been a long day.” He says, clearing his throat. “I'm just tired, that’s all. Besides, I gotta wake up early tomorrow. You know how it is, work.” He explains, thinking it’s a good enough excuse.
She turns to fully look at him, blinking in amusement. “It’s friday. Did you forget?”
He closes his eyes. Fuck.
“Yeah, yeah, right. I meant workout, you know? Gym? I just need some rest.” He corrects, pulling away from her a little and cursing himself inwardly for talking so much.
She seems to get the message, recoiling as well.
“You and your Gym. Should at least try eating those packed proteins just like everyone else.” She tells him, turning her back to him, reaching for the light switch on her side of the bed and then finally lying back down.
"Well, you know how I am," He says, turning off his side of the bed lamp as well but still remaining upright. She hums in agreement.
“Goodnight?” He asks, reluctantly.
“Goodnight.” She replies, sounding already half asleep.
*
"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!” = Fatty is that you? I’ve arrived!
(Keep in mind that ‘gordo’ is a wholesome way to call someone in spanish, and doesn’t mean she actually thinks he’s fat nor that she is body shaming Miguel).
"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a… estas bien?”
=
“... Your brother won’t stop calling me, you should see what he wants. Ah, and the weather forecast says the air will be unbreathable for a few hours, so remember that when you’re heading to… Are you ok?”
"Que te pasa, mi amor?” = “What’s up with you, my love?”
“Estoy bien” = “I’m fine”
"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor.” = “Okay, but be careful my love.”
“¿Apá?” = “Dad?”
“¿Qué?” = “What?”
“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” = “How many times have I told you to not play soccer with your uniform? Look at you! You’re covered in grass!”
Cascarita = an informal, purely friendly soccer match in Mexico. The equivalent for a ‘pelada’ in Brazilian Portuguese, although if you search for the term, make sure to include the word ‘futebol’ after it, as ‘pelada’ on its own simply means ‘naked’ haha
“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda [...]” = “Who are you calling ‘mooom’? Come on [...]”
“Sí mamá.” = “yes mom.”
Carne a la tampiqueña = a traditional mexican meat dish
Lyla, play Mi religión by Maná :) Also you can read it on ao3
#across the spiderverse#atsv#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#marvel#spiderman 2099#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#original character#my fics#shameless self rec#my fic#fic rec
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Stained Glass
pairing : choi san x gn!reader
mafia!au , soulmate!au , angst , hurt/no comfort
warnings : language (like a lot) , depictions of blood and open wounds , mentions of guns (not fired) and general violence
word count : 4.4 k
requested ? no
a/n : this was a fic i originally wrote for an entirely different person back when i was in my star wars phase and just never published. but i liked the general plot and changed up a few things to ateezify it . brownie points if u can guess what character it was originally for
[ part 2 ]
"You know, glaring at the clock isn't gonna make him get back any faster."
"Fuck off, Mingi." You mumble half-heartedly, eyes still glued to the analog clock mounted on the wall above Mingi, taunting you from across the room. Each second that ticks by twists knot after uncomfortable knot in your stomach, the feeling climbing up into your throat and nearly making you choke. It's been too long.
"Someone's snippy today."
You cut your eyes at the boy in one last warning, "I don't like being sidelined."
Mingi, long immune to your threats and sour attitude, stares back with an amused expression. "And I don't like babysitting, yet here we are– ah!" He shrieks as the blunt toe of your boot connects with his shin under the pristine mahogany table. The resounding groan followed by Mingi cradling his shin spreads a satisfied smirk across your lips.
"Why would you do that?"
"You know why."
"I'm never helping you and San out on another mission again." It's his pout that finally makes you feel a smidge guilty about kicking him. It wasn't his — or his poor shin for that matter's — fault you were in a bad mood. He was just the one unfortunate enough to be left with you and your anxiety-driven frustration.
"Sorry, Min." He seems decently pleased with your half-assed apology, a soft and empathetic expression returning to his otherwise sharp features. "I'm just worried, he should have been back by now."
"He's fine, Y/N." Mingi's eyes meet yours, genuine and comforting. "You guys have been partners for what? Two years now. You know he's more than capable of handling himself.
He's right and you hate it. Logically, it made more sense for only San to go while you and Mingi stayed back at the safe house and infiltrated their security to make sure he went undetected. Logically, San was the best choice between the two of you, he's been to this specific enemy base before and knows the layout like the back of his hand. Logically, the plan was sound and easy. "I'll be in and out in thirty, no sweat." He'd said when you tried to argue your case for tagging along.
But despite the mission being "so easy even a golden retriever could do it," — San's words — an uneasy feeling still settled into your gut the second he drove off. You don't like being too far from your partner, unable to provide backup or know his status. When you've been by his side every second of every mission for so long, it feels foreign being separated. Hongjoong had also drilled into everyone's heads the golden rule of always sticking in pairs, no matter how useless it may seem. It's a rule you and San have always followed; if not for the sake of saving yourselves from one of Hongjoong's lengthy, and terrifying, lectures, then because the two of you genuinely work well together.
You trust him to get it done, you really do. But his thirty-minute mission has long since turned into well over an hour with minimal communication and you can't help the gnawing feeling in your stomach. You shouldn't have let him go alone, this whole thing was stupid.
You huff, arms folded tightly across your chest and foot rapidly tapping the floor. "He's got twenty minutes before I go there and find out what's taking so long myself." Mingi, who you expected to immediately shut down that idea and call you dramatic, doesn't respond, much less acknowledge the fact you spoke at all. You glance up, only to find he's gone from nursing his shin to smiling down at his phone, fingers happily tapping away at the screen.
A frown spreads to your lips, you weren't quite done complaining about the situation at hand. "Mingi," you deadpan. "Stop texting your stupid soulmate, we're in the middle of a mission."
He rolls his eyes and releases an exaggerated groan, but does as you ask regardless, setting his phone face down on the table. "No. You're in the middle of complaining about the mission. There's nothing for us to do anyways until San gets back." He takes a beat, dragging his hands down his face then jabs a finger in your direction. "And soulmates aren't stupid, you're just chronically miserable and hate love."
"I don't hate love," you defend. "I just don't see how you can justify bringing someone into this kind of life, much less have time for them."
Mingi stares blankly back at you as if he's calling your bluff. "Not everyone is as cynical as you. Now, Yeosang? He comes close, but you definitely take the fuckin' cake."
Cynical. You much prefer the term realistic. Because in your line of work, the chances of loved ones getting caught in the crossfire are near certain. You've witnessed it first-hand multiple times; soulmates used as leverage and bargaining chips between rivals, lovers left lifeless and brutalized in the name of revenge, their partners soaked in blood and begging for them to just wake up. The thought haunts you more than you'd like it to. Realistically, it's irresponsible and selfish to expect someone to just be okay with that risk. Even if the universe itself begged to differ.
Of course, you'd be lying if you said you'd never at least entertained the idea of a soulmate. In fact, when you were little, it was all you thought about. Constantly fantasizing about the moment you first touched them, skin to skin. Your black-and-white toned vision exploding into a beautiful array of vibrant colors. Everything about it just seemed so magical back then. But now, meeting your cosmically selected partner fills your entire being with nothing but dread.
You've gone through indescribable lengths to ensure you never trigger the whirlwind of colors waiting to be released, avidly avoiding skin-to-skin contact with everyone possible. You refused to even shake San's hand when Hongjoong first introduced the two of you as partners. The way you saw it, if you never knew who your soulmate was, they could never get hurt because of you. You would never have to lose anything dear to yourself ever again.
"Still," you finally respond to Mingi. "It just doesn't feel right to put someone through that. Make them deal with our shit lives, constantly in danger. I can't do it, especially not after what happened to Seonghwa's poor soulmate—"
"Stop." Mingi abruptly cuts you off, eyes wide as if Seonghwa himself would somehow hear your words from miles away. "You know not to talk about that." You sink further in your seat at his scolding, like a child who knows they're in the wrong but is too stubborn to admit it.
Mingi draws in a deep breath and releases it in a long and worn-out sigh. "You seriously never wanna find your soulmate? Like ever?" There's a certain undertone of pity in his voice that you've grown to resent whenever he brings up the topic of soulmates. Like he can't possibly fathom how one could be so content without one when his entire life revolves around his. Like you're some sad charity case he needs to heal so you can finally be "happy."
You refuse to meet his eyes as you speak. "Why would I want something else to lose?"
Mingi shrugs, "I don't know. To give our shitty lives even the tiniest bit of meaning? To have something worth coming home to. I can't really explain it, life just feels ... complete now."
"Sounds overrated."
"There's a bright, colorful, loving world out there, Y/N. You deserve to see it with someone by your side, even if you don't think so."
"I much prefer the grey tones. Thanks." With that, Mingi finally relents, allowing you the silence to descend back into your worrisome thoughts.
You don't get to dwell on them for long. No more than a few moments pass when a loud series of crashes and thuds startle you and Mingi alert. You lunge for the spare gun holstered on the underside of the table, knuckles white as your fingers wrap around the grip. Mingi has his own in hand and you signal for him to follow behind, he nods without protest
"Y/N!" A voice yells out. It's strained, yet unmistakably San's. Your heart stops, but only for a split second, then begins to slam aggressively against your chest, like it's catching up with your racing mind. It takes less than a second for you to discard your pistol and bolt for the living room, Mingi hot on your heels.
The room is a mess compared to just a few minutes ago. Picture frames shattered and face down on the floor, furniture recklessly shoved out of the way, and a shelf's contents spilled about. At the center of it all is San, stumbling around and grasping at anything and everything to keep his balance as he treks through the room. He's clutching at his left side with his other hand, small dark droplets of an unknown liquid on the floor outline his path. The same liquid coats his paled hand and the all too familiar scent of iron stings your nostrils.
You allow yourself half a second. Only half a second to reign in your frantic thoughts, shove your emotions to the furthest corner of your mind, and put on a calm and collected face, just as you've been trained to do. Just as everyone in Hongjoong’s organization has been trained to do.
"Help him to that chair." Mingi follows your command instantly, ducking under San's arm to let him lean all his weight on Mingi's shoulders.
"I need a med kit," San instructs, teeth gritted in pain but surprisingly calm.
You nod to Mingi, allowing him to handle getting san into the nearest armchair so you can retrieve the med kit from below the kitchen sink. When you return, San is slumped in the chair, head thrown back against the headrest and sucking in deep breaths.
You kneel beside him, on his left side where he's still clutching at the space between his hip and where his ribs end. You talk as you open the med kit and sift through the supplies. "Mingi, take the car and get Yunho, he can do a better job fixing whatever this is than I can. Fast."
Mingi doesn't nod or even acknowledge you spoke. He just grabs the keys from the kitchen counter and bolts for the front door.
San groans and attempts to reposition himself in the chair to grant you better access to his wound. "There's a piece of shrapnel in my side, you need to get it out. We can't wait for Yunho."
"I'm sorry, what?" You ask, whipping your head to look at him with wild eyes and a bewildered look of confusion. "Why the hell is there shrapnel in you?"
"Because something blew up," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Good to know he hasn't bled out enough to dull his charming attitude. "Now get it out."
"Because something blew—? Shit, San." It's ticking you off just how nonchalant he is about the whole ordeal. As if he didn't just come crashing into the safe house, dripping blood all over the freshly varnished hardwood. As if he's not in the worst pain imaginable while trying his hardest to act unfazed.
You pick up a pair of long tweezers and a miniature flashlight from the now ransacked med kit. Shooing San's hand away from his wound, you click the light on and start inspecting the jagged wound in his side. More blood oozes from the wound at the loss of pressure, staining the light-colored chair. Hongjoong isn't going to be too happy about it, but the aesthetics of the safehouse aren't exactly a top priority at the moment.
"It's an easy mission, oh I can just go alone. In and out in thirty," you mock. San shoots you a glare.
"Okay, okay I get it. You wanna get this thing the fuck out of me? Feels like it's ripping my insides apart."
"Just stay still and don't bitch out on me." Rather ungracefully, you slot the tweezers into his wound and start digging around. The method isn't the most effective, but then again you weren't exactly as talented as Yunho when it came to treating injuries. Sure, you've roughly fixed up a couple of wounds when out on a mission, but nothing anywhere near this bad.
"Ow . . . ow . . . OW!" San writhes in his seat, making his displeasure with your technique known loud and clear. " You wanna be a little more gentle with that?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Does me digging around in your fucking shrapnel wound hurt?" You snip at him. You really were trying to make this as painless as possible, but your hands are shaking and his incessant complaining isn't exactly a morality boost. "I'm not a medic, San, I don't know what I'm doing."
"Literally anything else! Please!" His voice cracks, an indication of how unbearable the pain must be. You sympathize with him, you really do. But there isn't exactly a better option, so you continue digging, just a little less rushed this time, and San tries everything he can to stifle his groans. After a few more hopeless minutes of searching, you still can't find the shard.
"I can't see it. This flashlight isn't doing any good and I can't feel it with the tweezers." It's just one big dark mess in your vision. Perhaps Yunho or Mingi would be able to see some distinction in the colors with their soulmate-induced retinas, but this whole feat is growing useless with your lack of experience and poor vision.
"Then try again. You need to get it out before it goes any deeper." San's voice is slightly calmer this time, tone less abrasive and snarky, even bordering on comforting.
"I'm sorry but everything is kind of the same fucking color. It just looks like a dark mess."
"Then stick your fingers in there and try to feel where it is." He says it with such blunt confidence that the phrase catches you so off guard. You pause your actions and stare at San's face, eyebrows raised and waiting for him to say something like "just kidding." But he doesn't. He just stares back at you like you're stupid for not jumping into action without question.
"What?" You hadn't even chanced getting his blood on your fingers while using the tweezers, and now he wants you to just shove your hand in there?
"Do it."
"I'm not fucking–"
"Y/N, please!" There's an urgency in his voice and it strikes a cord in your heart. Against everything he's tried to convey from the moment he stumbled in — the brave face, the tough, arrogant act — he sounds scared. Underneath everything, Choi San is scared and that scares you.
"Okay, okay" you whisper, more so to yourself. "You can do this."
You grab the bottle of alcohol from the med kit and douse your hands in it, rubbing the cool liquid in. You should really be doing this with gloves, but they're conveniently m.i.a., so you do the best you can. With the flashlight gripped tightly in your non-dominant hand, you flex your fingers on the other, mentally preparing yourself. Just do it. Suck it up and do it. As every nerve in your fingers screams and begs for you to stop, you take a deep breath and—
In the split second between when your finger hovers just over his wound to when it just barely touches his skin, a chill shoots up your spine. The world goes from black and white to bursting with hundreds— no thousands, of vivid colors. Horrifyingly enough, the main color your brain registers is red. Dark, glistening red. You recoil, yanking your hand away like San's skin is made of hot embers.
So many different emotions and thoughts rush through your brain at once. It's overwhelming, and all you can do is match San's unbelieving expression. You've spent years avoiding this exact moment, and now it's happening at the worst time imaginable.
This can't be happening. This can't be possible. Choi San cannot be your soulmate.
San is the first to speak.
"Y/N— ah, fuck." He doubles over, hand flying back to hold his side, and squeezes his eyes shut. It snaps you back to reality like a bucket of ice water over your head. San's still injured. He's your soulmate but he's injured and oh God everything is so fucked right now. There are more pressing matters than sorting through your complicated feelings. So you compartmentalize the part of you that wants to run far, far away. The part that's filled with fear and panic.
The part of you that's always, in the deepest confines of yourself, seen San as a little bit more than just a partner. You bury all of it for the time being so you can revisit it once San is out of immediate danger.
"Come on," you coax, helping him to sit back up. "Don't forget this was your idea."
"Y/N—" He tries again.
"I know, San. Let's not worry about that right now, okay?"
He weakly nods. "Just get it over with."
You try not to think about it too much this time. Hesitation hasn't gotten you anywhere and you're not sure how much longer San can last.
San screams as you plunge your finger deep into his wound. It's warm and squishy as you fish around, the feeling so nauseating and vile you have to suppress a gag. Strings of curses and meaningless threats fall from San's lips as he squirms. Though you ignore them completely, too focused on keeping your lunch down as the urge to throw up surfaces for the fourth time.
What is likely just a few seconds of searching feels like hours. But your finger eventually comes into contact with something sharp and hard, it budges slightly when you knock against it. San jerks upward with a gasp, and you have to drop your flashlight so you can use your free hand to press against his chest and pin him down to the chair. On any other occasion, San could easily overpower you if he wanted. But the blood loss has made him weaker and there isn't much energy left in him to fight back.
"It's almost over, I promise. Hold on just a little bit longer."
Much to San's displeasure, you have to dig around again to relocate the piece of shrapnel. While your knowledge of the human blood vessel system is limited, you don't think it's deep enough to have cut an artery. The flow of blood is much more consistent with a knicked vein. Not fatal, but definitely painful and concerning with the sheer amount of blood leaking from his body.
"Okay, now stay very still." You instruct once you've found the shard again. Very carefully you take your hand off San's broad chest and reach back for the tweezers. You slip them back into the wound with surgical-like care and use your finger to guide them to the piece of shrapnel. It's easier this time to grasp the metal shard and once you have a hold of it you're able to slip your finger out. The resounding sucking noise is pure nightmare fuel when combined with the whimpers coming from San.
"Okay, I got it. Are you ready? This is gonna hurt a lot."
San nods, "I can handle it." It's very unconvincing.
You wipe the blood from your hand on your pants and extend it towards San. You aren't sure if he'll take it, and you're even more unsure of why you felt the need to offer it. Because he'll need something to hold on to while you rip a piece of metal from his side? Because he's your partner and you've never enjoyed seeing him in pain? Because he's your soulmate and it's the least you could do to comfort him? Whatever the reason, he takes it without hesitation, and you're happy for it.
"On three."
San takes a deep breath.
"One—"
Something halfway between a gasp and a curse breaks past San's lips as you swiftly, and not so gently, pull the shrapnel from his side. The sudden extraction has him crushing your hand in his grasp, though you don't have much time to process the pain as you drop the offending object and grab a wad of gauze to press against the profusely bleeding cut.
"What happened to two and three!?" He barks between short and heavy breaths.
"Would you have stayed relaxed by the time I got there?"
"Fuck you," he groans, words meaningless. You slip your hand from San's iron-like grasp and guide him down to the gauze you've placed. Another gasp involuntarily escapes him the more he presses down on the wound to slow the bleeding.
An awkward silence hangs in the air and casts a heavy blanket across the room. It's suffocating in and of itself, but the way San's eyes burn a hole into your skull is so much worse. You can't even bring yourself to lift your gaze from the bloody shrapnel on the floor to face him. The offending object doesn't feel so threatening now as it lays jagged and tinted red on the hardwood. It reminds you of how stained glass looks when shattered into pieces. Dull, delicate, haunting. A small distraction from the man you refuse to face, the man who is most definitely expecting something from you, but you aren't sure you can give him the answer he wants right now. But his heavy and labored breathing is making him hard to ignore.
"Um . . . Yunho should be here soon, I'm sure he can patch—"
"Don't do that."
"Do what?" You feign innocence.
"Change the subject."
You rise from your kneeling position but keep your eyes trained on your shoes and arms wrapped protectively around your waist. Every neuron in your brain is screaming and pleading for him to just drop it. You're not sure any time will ever be a good time to have a conversation on the obvious, but they still sound a hell of a lot better than right now while he's still not completely out of danger.
"Now isn't a good time, San. We can talk about it once you're healed and—"
"No." He's firm in his stance. "Look, I understand if you need time to process everything, but this isn't something you can just ignore and make go away. We're gonna have to talk about it sooner or later."
You feel horrible. Because for every time you've made it known you have absolutely no intention of ever being involved with your soulmate, San has been right there on the opposing side. He's confided in you and Wooyoung countless times about just how much he desires to meet his soulmate. How he adores the idea of finding that perfect person to share a life with. It's truly unfortunate that person had to be you.
You're pretty sure you love San, that you've always loved San. But you just can't. The thought of him getting even closer along with the danger he puts himself in every day? You'd never truly be able to find peace or comfort in that type of relationship. So you take in a deep breath, hold back a flurry of tears, and prepare yourself for what will possibly be the cruelest thing to ever come from your lips. You prepare to absolutely and utterly crush San's heart and dreams into a billion pieces. You try to convince yourself it's for the best, but the guilt outweighs that feeling.
"There's nothing to talk about. I don't–" there's really no kind way to say this. "I don't want you as a soulmate. I don't feel that way toward you–"
"Liar." His voice is shaky, and the image of stray tears streaming down his face invades your mind. You've never seen him cry before, and you definitely don't want to now.
"What, did you think you'd be some sort of exception? Just because we're partners? You know my opinion on soulmates. I can't– I won't. . . I'm sorry it had to be me, you deserve better."
The universe must take some form of pity on you because before San can articulate his next thought Yunho and Mingi burst through the safe house door. "What happened?" Yunho commands, already dropping his duffle bag of medical supplies to the floor and kneeling beside San.
"He got hit by shrapnel, I dug it out and did the best I could but you'll probably need to disinfect and stitch it up." You rattle off everything you did almost robotically before making a beeline for the front door, and though Yunho is too zeroed into treating San, Mingi picks up almost instantly on the quake in your voice and tension that suffocates the entire house.
His hand shoots out to grab your arm. "Woah, what's wron—"
"Not now, Mingi." You bite at him, ripping your arms from his grasp before he even really had a hold of it. Shouts from San and Yunho arguing with each other fill the living room, trying to use it as a distraction, you attempt your escape again.
"San, stop being difficult."
"Don't fucking touch me! So you're just gonna leave—?" His words stop you dead in your tracks, frozen in place with your fingers ghosting the doorknob. "—You're not even gonna fucking look at me?" The room goes silent once more. Your skin itches from the number of eyes staring you down.
"You're a coward if you run now."
His words sting, though you're sure it's nothing compared to what you've done to him. Ripping a piece of metal from his side only to moment later rip his heart from his chest. You truly deserve every insult he throws your way.
"I'm sorry," You repeat. "It's for the best."
Your body feels numb like it's operating on autopilot as you hastily slip into the cool fall air and let the wooden door slam shut with a blunt bang.
It's for the best. He'll understand it one day.
[ part 2 ]
#san#choi san#ateez san#ateez choi san#san fic#san fanfic#choi san angst#choi san mafia au#choi san soulmate au#san angst#choi san x reader#san x reader#choi san imagine#choi san imagines#san imagine#san x you#choi san x you#ateez x reader#ateez x you#soulmate!au#choi san oneshot
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Ancient Enchantment
Chapter 4:
~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~
Recap:
The twins said their goodbyes to Sebastian before wandering around the common room together.
“I liked him. Seems like the kind of person you’d hang around, don't you think, Atlas?” Azara looked up at him for a moment before looking back around the room, eyes landing on a wizard's chess game being played back toward where Ominis still stood by the window.
“Oh! Remember when Mum and Dad bought us our first chess board?” Azara smiled up at her brother.
He laughed loudly, ignoring the looks of startled first-years near them.
“How could I forget? We’d sit and play for hours, not even stopping to eat half the time. Come on, let’s go watch!” He grabbed her hand and walked the two of them over to the 2 students playing.
There was a slightly shorter, dark haired girl standing behind the boy with his back to the far windows. She seemed to be trying to help him, but Azara couldn't be too sure. The boy in question was in the process of shifting a piece that she would definitely disagree with the placement, but was interrupted before she could say it out loud.
“You’re not going to move there, are you?” the dark haired girl looked down at the boy, almost in disappointed disbelief, her heavy accent drawing her words together slightly.
“Here, watch this!” The boy did end up putting his piece exactly where Azara thought he would, and she shook her head at that.
“Bad move. It’ll be a checkmate.” she muttered under her breath, but the dark haired girl snapped her gaze up, a smirk on her face as she winked at Azara.
“Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you.” She crossed her arms and stood back up, standing on Azara’s right, opposite of Alistair on her left. The three of them watched as the other player moved their queen and called ‘checkmate,’ effectively ending the game in one last move.
“Told you.” The dark haired girl turned towards the twins fully. “He should have listened. At least I know you would have.”
Azara nodded in agreement.
“Ah, now I know who you are. You’re the new fifth-year Slytherins who barged in with Professor Fig last night. Interesting tactic on your first day, might I add- taking all the attention from the first-years.” The girl nodded to the both of them. “I’m Imelda, by the way.”
“I’m Alistair Valentine, and this is my twin sister Azara.”
“Pleasure. It’s a shame I wasn't with you two and Professor Fig. I could have lured that dragon away. My skills on a broom are absolutely legendary.”
Azara shrugged, her brother turning towards her to answer.
“Maybe if you were, Professor Fig’s friend would have survived.” Alistair raised his shoulder slightly, as if to say ‘what can you do.’
“Precisely. Maybe one day I'll show you a thing or two about flying, if either of you want. I can teach you more than Kagawa ever could. Speaking of which, I'd like to get in some time on my broom before classes.”
Azara looked back to the empty wizard’s chess board before looking back up to Imelda.
“Are you a keen wizard chess fan?”
“Yeah, you knew that boy was going to lose the match.” Alistair mentioned.
“So did she. But no, not really. Much too sedate a pastime for me. It’s simply not challenging enough for me. The moves are always so obvious. Why does no one else see it?” Imelda shrugged it off, looking as if she was about to leave.
“Well, do you fly a lot during school? You mentioned being able to teach us a few things.”
Alistair never knew how to put his foot in his mouth, and Azara just rolled her eyes at him.
“I make time. There’s nothing like swerving through the spiers of the castle and around the Quidditch pitch to clear the mind.” Imelda retorted.
“That sounds fascinating, Imelda. I can't wait to try.” Azara smiled slightly at her.
“Nice meeting you both.” Imelda left abruptly, likely she does that to everyone.
Azara and Alistair let out a sigh after she left, both already tired of speaking and it hadn't even been twenty minutes since they came out of their room.
Azara pulled Alistair out of his thoughts when she heard someone calling out.
“Are the new fifth-years here? Professor Weasley said she was waiting for you by the stairs.”
Azara started pulling Alistair along. “Come on, we don’t want to be late on our first day.”
#ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow#ominis gaunt x mc#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x reader#sebastian sallow#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy mc#hogwarts oc#eventual smut#eventual romance#sebastian sallow x reader#ominis gaunt x reader
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Quicksand
Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile
CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only
Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -
Chapter 3: Sand Trap
"Ah... no, it's f-fine." Your face goes red, and your body tries to disappear in on itself.
There's an amused note in his voice when he speaks. "It seems sixty days of conversation is evaporating right before my eyes."
You flinch, feeling guilty. "Sorry! Sorry, I uh..." You cover your face with your hands. "Of all the statistical possibilities, I wasn't prepared for this."
He chuckles, it's a warm sound that seems to stay in his chest. "Understandably. I do hope you'll decide to stay, at least."
"I... yes." You relax. You'd been having really great conversations with him for the last two months, and it wouldn't be fair to just leave.
More pointedly, would you survive, if you just walked out on a Freakin' WARLORD?!
"Try not to think of me as your boss, Miss?"
"My boss' boss' boss." You correct, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "And it's (Y/N). (Y/N)(L/N), uh... sir."
"If you're not comfortable saying my name in public, you can call me Sunawani." He offers, picking up a menu and looking it over.
"Sunawani?"
"Mmhm. It's just a different language from what's used in the Metro." He clarifies, looking up from the menu to glance at you. "What do you think?"
"Uh, I think I can use that more easily." You admit, grabbing a menu as well, and unproductively reading over it. The words on the menu swim around with one another and nothing makes sense to you. Your nerves are killing you. When you had started talking with him over the website you had assumed that he had like, something physically wrong with him. It was a terrible assumption to make, but he was educated, and charismatic and understanding in every word that had come across your screen.
You hadn't figured the reason behind him having a hard time finding someone trustworthy was because he was a FREAKING HOT SUCCESSFUL WARLORD. You never mentioned the Underground while you had spoken, you hadn't even shared opinions on marines or the government.
Oh no how were you going to tell Alvida? What were you going to tell Buggy! Wait, why did you need to tell anyone anything? You got stood up. Plain and simple. This never happened. It was a delightful afternoon, and the food was really good, you could recommend the café, but that was it.
Your decision helped you refocus on the menu, and you were finally starting to sort out what was being offered.
Shortly after, Vivi came over and introduced herself.
"I'm Vivi, I'll be your server today." She says cheerfully. You could tell she was happy for you. "Have you decided what you'll have today, or do you need a few more minutes?"
"I know what I'd like, but I think my companion may need a few more moments." Crocodile offers, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Oh, uh, no – no, I can sort out what I want by the time you're done ordering." You assure him. Please gods just get the food out here and give you something to distract yourself with.
"Very well. I'll have the flank steak and eggs then. Medium rare, eggs sunny side up, and I believe your house blend coffee to drink." His voice drifts around almost lazily. There was no CEO or Warlord sitting across from you, but a half-asleep man who was probably missing his cigar. If you were half as relaxed as he sounded you'd be in a coma.
"And you, miss?" Vivi prompts after a moment.
"You know, what he ordered sounds delicious. I'll have the same, but uh, maybe some green tea instead of coffee."
"Same prep for the steak and eggs?"
"Oh yes, thank you."
Vivi takes your menus and excuses herself. You look around the table, wanting something to materialize in front of you so you could focus on it. The golden amber gaze from the other side of the table was drilling a hole into your soul, and he wasn't even staring rudely.
"If you can tell me what has you so nervous, Miss (Y/N), I can help alleviate it." He assures you coolly. His tone of voice and cadence make you feel like you could admit that you know he's a warlord and he wouldn't be at all bothered by it.
You laugh nervously, open your mouth a couple times only to close it. Putting your hand over your mouth and take in a breath, and when you finally speak you, voice is very small. "I did not expect you to be hot." You finally manage, looking up from between your fingers. He has the same relaxed, near-sleepy look on his face that you had seen earlier, but now with a slight smile tugging at his lips; which only makes him look better.
"Second to that I am worried about how this impacts work." You admit, after he doesn't say anything to your first point. "I've never dated a coworker, let alone..."
"Your boss' boss' boss."
"Yeah, that." Your face is pink, and you can feel the heat in your ears.
"I sense a third point," he says softly, catching your gaze for a moment.
"Ah... yeah, I'd rather not say yet." You admit honestly.
His eyes seem to search you for a moment, despite their half-lidded and relaxed appearance you feel like they're fully focused.
"Well, working two out of three concerns should be enough to start." He acquiesces after a moment's consideration. "Thank you for your compliment earlier."
"Compliment? Oh, yeah, you're welcome." You keep trying to will your face from turning any redder.
Vivi comes by with your drinks and sets them down with a smile. You're glad to have something to distract yourself with and cup your cup of green tea between your hands like it could save you.
"Food will be just a few more minutes." She assures you both and sets down glasses of ice water to go with your warm drinks.
"Thank you," Crocodile says, his eyes still on you and you just nod, not sure you can trust your voice right now.
"Would this be easier for you if I were ugly?" He questions, amusement just under the surface of his smooth voice after Vivi leaves.
You nearly choke on your tea.
"Nnngh, yes maybe?" You laugh a little at yourself, feeling some of the tension ease. "If you were like... normal levels of, uh, looking." You falter, not wanting to add a qualifier that would just be another way of calling him hot. "That would, uh, help."
"Perhaps I shouldn't have tried to cover up my scar." He muses.
It's a trap, and you walk right into it. "I've seen your scar; it just makes it worse."
"Worse?"
"Yeah, it, uh..." You flush brightly, realizing what you've muttered yourself into, trying to disappear into your teacup. "Makes... you... look... hotter."
You chug the rest of your tea, trying to ignore the very pointed, very pleased, gaze across the table from you. With the teacup empty you reach for one of the glasses of water.
"Thirsty?"
Phrasing! Yes! Dammit! Thoughts rush through your head and you stop yourself mid-move to take a drink.
"Ah, sorry." You say, not really sure what exactly you're apologizing for.
"You have nothing to apologize for, if anything I should apologize for teasing you." He admits, a sly smile pulling at his lips. "But you seem to have relaxed a little."
You sigh a little, since you can't argue, "Just... ah, if you could assure me... promise, maybe?"
"Nothing that happens between us will negatively effect your job." He states easily.
"Or positively." You prompt.
That one eyebrow goes up again as he takes a sip of coffee. "Naïve, but admiral. Very well, neither positive nor negative impacts at work due to whatever may happen between us, I promise."
You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding, and your shoulders relax. Vivi arrives with your lunches and gets you a refill of green tea. Conversation tapers off a little as you eat, but the food and the tea were helping you relax the rest of the way. Granted, most of your relaxation came from knowing you weren't going to lose your job if this was the last date you shared with him.
Point three was kind of big, and you weren't sure if it was safe to even admit to it. He seemed sure he could smooth over any of your concerns, but Warlord was a bit larger than anything else. You couldn't imagine he'd walk away from that life for you, and you were certain you couldn't live within that life without dying to the stress. Assuming you survived long enough to die to something as gentle as stress.
The conversation afterward was casual and easy. Crocodile seemed more awake after some coffee, and while he still looked sleepy and relaxed, there was more energy in his words.
"I would like to continue doing this," the words slip from him before you can muster up the courage to thank him for his time and leave. His fingers brush against yours, and you couldn't move your hand away. Warm, large fingers slip over yours with more confidence and he's practically holding your hand when he speaks again. "I can promise you discretion, Miss (Y/N). I simply don't wish to let every joy you've brought me the last couple of months crumble to dust so easily."
That guilty feeling throbs within you again. It's obvious that someone in his situation would find it hard to connect with anyone the way you two had the last two months. The man you knew from the last two months was kind, attentive, intelligent, and even tempered. He was a good person, even if things had caused him to live in a way that was, admittedly, kind of terrifying to you.
Warlords were at least backed by the Government. They had been assigned specifically to create a barrier around the growing territories of the Emperors, allowing the government to press the four emperors from both sides. The well defended holy zone in the middle of the Metro, and the sprawling rural and suburban areas beyond the Warlords' territory. The Emperors, stuck between the two, had to follow certain rules if they wanted to continue to receive supplies.
It was an uneasy balance of power between the three groups.
"No one would know." You say softly.
"No one."
"I just... I don't want to see my picture in the paper without warning." Your excuse is a little weak, but no less true.
"No picture would make it to print." He promises, and there's a dark and nearly terrifying weight to that promise.
You chew the bottom of your lip lightly, trying to decide. He tightens his grip on your hand just a little, lifting it up and kissing one of your fingers gently. Your face flushes, and your mind is already trying to decide what his kisses must feel like.
"Once more, just decide that for now. You can think on things between now and the next occasion. I can promise you won't regret doing this once more."
Once more. Once more couldn't hurt. Once more, maybe even twice more. Enough to assuage your own guilt, maybe even get over your own fears. Once more. Just enough time to learn what that forbidden kiss tastes like. Once more. Enough time to know what this warm hand feels like, brushing across skin more needy than a few fingers.
"Once more." You agree, your face flushing to your ears, you pull your hand back and his expression falters just ever so slightly. "P-perhaps twice." You admit softly, and see a soft sly smile curl at the edges of his lips.
#Quicksand#Sir Crocodile#Crocodile x reader#crocodile x y/n#one piece smut#one piece fanfiction#modern au#reader insert#yandere
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FINALLY managed to write something for my special little sensitive crybaby princess OC. I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing.
There are a few context things I'd like to explain, so bear with meeee
(He has the flu in this. There's mentions of nausea at the end, but nothing happens with it)
Some Context (this is optional so just scroll down to the bolded text if you want to skip):
I've written about these characters before, but I've changed the world and plot of the novel they're supposed to be in, so if you remember anything about that world, just flush it.
Since this is essentially fanfiction of a story that doesn't exist yet, here are some things you're supposed to know about the characters: All of them are in their mid-20s. Hewitt and Sterling are close friends and have recently met Gilles, who had to move out of his family home after they all moved back to France without him (long story). Or fantasy France. I haven't decided if this fic takes place in the "real" word, so to speak, or a fantasy/alternate world. I'll use real world terms for now to make it easier. Gilles is Black and originally from France. Hewitt is white and British. Sterling is extremely mixed race and American.
You'll see Hewitt making vampire jokes at Gilles and referring to Sterling as "Adonis," which are both references to inside jokes woth the characters that I'm not gonna bother to explain because it doesn't matter
Sterling uses Celsius measurements when he's trying to be courteous to his European friends and Fahrenheit when he's alone or distracted.
Okay das all I think
Story starts here
Gilles’ belongings sat in a disordered pile on the cobblestones, dwarfed by the narrow three-story house looming behind them. He swallowed, throat stinging. This was it.
Sterling bumped him a little on his way to the front door, murmuring his apology. Gilles scarcely heard. Even that light touch had made him flinch, sent goosebumps all up and down his arm. His heart pounded. This was really it.
God, he didn't know these people. What if they killed him in his sleep?
“Gilles?” Hewitt bumped him with his hip. That, too, hurt more than it should have, made him shudder. “Are you waiting for an invitation?”
Gilles shook himself and forced a smile. These were his friends. New friends, yes. But friends. “It's only polite, you know.”
“Fine, but just know I have garlic hanging on all the walls.” Hewitt grinned and beckoned Gilles to follow him over the threshold. “Come inside! Oh, but grab a box or Adonis will yell at us.”
“Have I ever yelled at you?” Sterling asked, appearing in the doorway. “Gilles, don't listen to him. I'll need you to help me with the furniture anyway, since Heaven knows Hewitt won't be able to.”
Gilles nodded, following Sterling to his dresser. The glossy wood gleamed in the late summer sun, and the beveled edges dug into Gilles’ palms.
“Well,” Hewitt said, “have fun carrying that up two flights of stairs.”
“There's still plenty of work for you to do,” Sterling said, nodding at the various boxes surrounding them. “But being a distraction is not among them. Ready, Gilles?”
“Ah—” Gilles swallowed and his throat stung again. Worse, this time. “Yes.”
His muscles protested the weight of the dresser at once. Every discomfort, which had felt so insignificant not 30 minutes ago, magnified itself as he shuffled across the living room.
That wasn't right.
He and Sterling had carried this out of his house— out of the house with no problems. It wasn't even that heavy. So why were his legs shaking? Why couldn't he breathe? They were still on flat ground.
“Coming up on the stairs,” Gilles said breathlessly, steering Sterling toward them.
Sterling gave him a quizzical look, his dark eyes narrowing. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Need a break?”
“I— N-no, I…” Gilles shook his head and had to stop talking to focus on ascending the stairs. His knees bumped the edges of the dresser and the sharp pain rippled outward along his skin. “I'm fine.” The words burned in his throat.
“Al‐right.” Sterling furrowed his brow and hefted the dresser.
He seemed to be doing a lot better than Gilles was, despite the obvious effort. His breathing, though heavy, remained steady as they bypassed the landing and continued up the stairs, and he was remarkably steady on his feet. He seemed to have the layout of the house memorized, oftentimes turning before Gilles could even give him an instruction.
Not that Gilles was good for much at the moment. Pain pooled in his palms. The dresser might as well have sliced them open, though the only liquid on him was sweat. It ran down his temples, down his back.
“It's here on the left,” Sterling said, though there was no need. The doorway to the right clearly led outside, and the only other option was to go left.
Dutifully, Gilles shuffled into the vacant bedroom, and then the dresser slipped from his hands and thudded onto the carpet. His whole body shook, his thighs tensing and releasing in minute spasms. He clung to the side of the dresser, staring at the silver dots glittering across the beige carpeting.
“Gilles?” Sterling sounded like he was back at the bottom of the stairs. But that couldn't be right. Maybe it was just… his breathing…. He was breathing so hard his chest hurt, and it was loud. “Gilles?”
He went down slowly, eyes open, and the room tilted in a sickening whirl of white and beige, and the ceiling light seared his eyes.
Somebody had a hard grip on his ankles, shoving the leather of his low-cut boots hard into the tendons.
Gilles’ throat hurt.
He stared at the ceiling light and his breath came back to him.
“Gilles? Are you with me?” Sterling asked.
Gilles lifted his head. Sterling… Sterling was holding his feet up by the heels, staring at him with clinical concern.
Heat flooded Gilles’ face. “What are you doing?”
Sterling let go of him and sat back on his heels. “Facilitating blood flow to your brain.” He cocked his head as Gilles sat up, staring at him. “Do you faint often?”
“N-no.” Gilles squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. It hurt to talk. “I've never fainted before.” A wave of chills rolled over his skin and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. How embarrassing. He must have looked like such a fool, overexerting himself like that.
Not that it should have been so difficult. What was wrong with him?
“Er, Gilles. You're shaking.”
“I'm sorry,” Gilles croaked, the words burning like acid in his throat.
“What— No, It's 28 degrees and you're shaking.” Sterling leaned forward and hesitated. “May I?”
Gilles blinked at him, tears pricking his eyes. “28 degrees?”
“Oh—” Sterling huffed and planted his hand on Gilles’ forehead. “You're sweating. That's good. How's your head?”
Gilles' breath caught in his throat. He flinched away from Sterling and coughed into his shoulder, all his muscles complaining at the motion.
“Never mind.” Sterling sat back again.
Oh. Gilles shivered and tried to sit up, but couldn't tear his arms away from his chest. “I'm so sorry,” he croaked, clawing at his collar. “I didn't know— I can—” What? There was nothing he could do. He was sick, and all his worldly belongings were sitting in the street. “I, I can— I can still—” He moved to stand up, forcing his arms down despite the painful chills running through him. Another coughing fit nearly knocked him down again, and he clung to his dresser, legs wobbling.
“Gilles, relax.” Sterling stood and, not asking permission this time, caught him under the arm. “Can you manage the stairs?”
“Y-yes…” He would manage the stairs. He'd have to be half-dead before he'd let anyone carry him.
Hewitt's puzzled expression melted into one of alarm. “What happened?” he asked, rushing forward, then darting out of the way like he'd changed his mind.
Gilles couldn't help but wince in anticipation of his humiliating episode repeated.
But Sterling remained silent as he guided Gilles to the couch, only speaking once Gilles was seated. “Gilles’ come down with something,” he said, calm as ever. “The flu, I think.”
“Really?” Hewitt peered at him like a child, blue eyes gleaming like marbles. “But you helped us move all that furniture onto the wagon.”
Gilles shrugged. If he’d been sore then, he hadn't thought much of it. It was a lot of heavy lifting, and he’d already been for a run that morning. But the reminder sent a spike of nausea through him, and a chill that had nothing to do with his fever. “I'm terribly sorry,” he said, squeezing himself in a vain attempt to ward off the cold. “Really, I just need a moment, and then I can—”
“You're crazy,” Hewitt said bluntly.
Sterling nodded like that settled something and leaned over to open the blinds, revealing the street and all Gilles’ boxes. “Hewitt, make sure nobody gets any funny ideas, will you? I've got some phone calls to make.”
“This is a very safe area,” Hewitt said once Sterling had gone. “No one will get any ‘funny ideas.’”
“Oh,” Gilles said faintly. Words and meanings were rapidly becoming two distinct entities. His body ached with the cold and all he could really do was shiver and think about how badly this all hurt.
“I do wish he'd been a bit more bossy, though.” Hewitt sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I never get sick, and Sterling really never gets sick, so I'm not sure what to do. Do you want to lie down?”
Gilles freed a hand and pressed it to his forehead. This was too much. He needed a blanket and he couldn't just borrow one, nor could he bear the idea of asking Hewitt to search through his boxes until he found one. So he'd have to get up. And find one of his pillowcases while he was at it, because he couldn't bring himself to subject his locs to the tweed throw pillows surrounding him on the couch.
Nothing for it.
Gilles got up.
It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
His knees didn't want to work and his muscles ached.
But he was standing.
“Oh!” Hewitt stepped back to give him some space. “Look, you really don't have to worry—”
“I just need a few things,” Gilles muttered, and made for the door.
Hewitt followed him. “I could get them for you! Unless they're… secrets? I suppose? Do you have a lot of things you don't want me to see?”
The summer sun engulfed Gilles, soothing some of the pain from the chills. Cobblestones burned under his knees as he fumbled with a random box, his hands shaking.
“Why don't you just let me help you?” Hewitt asked. “I promise, I only judge people I don't like.” He stepped forward and opened the box for Gilles, revealing stacks of folded shirts.
“I just…” Gilles fell back on his heels, head hanging. This was a mess. He was embarrassing himself. “You and Sterling have done so m-much for me…” He stifled a few coughs into his elbow, tears burning in his eyes. He'd taken and taken, accepted their kindness with nothing but a few paltry words of gratitude, and now here he was, taking again. It was terribly rude.
“Well, look,” Hewitt said, “you can repay us by not worrying us sick, alright? Just sit back and tell me what you're looking for. And let me know if there's anything you don't want me to touch.”
This, at last, was too much. Gilles nodded, but the tears pooling in his eyes finally spilled over and he couldn't speak except to choke out an apology in French that Hewitt wouldn't have been able to understand anyway.
“Don't cry!” Hewitt's fingertips touched down on Gilles’ back. “I'm sorry! What did I say?”
“I'm sorry,” Gilles said breathlessly, coughing. “I'm not usually so—” He broke off, falling into another fit of coughing.
“Sick,” Hewitt finished for him, moving his hand to rest on the back of Gilles’ neck. “You're burning up.”
Gilles shook his head. “I'm c-cold.”
“Well, have you got anything in here?”
“Um…” Gilles blinked away tears. Did he? “Maybe?”
“Let’s have a look.” Hewitt wasted no time, pawing through Gilles’ shirt with total disregard for how carefully he'd folded them. “There's a lot of green in here.”
Gilles wiped his face. “It's my favorite color.”
“Yes, I can tell.” Hewitt continued digging through the box, until he finally produced the gray sweatshirt Gilles wore running on cold mornings. “How about this?”
Gilles nodded and took it, only remembering to thank Hewitt after it was halfway over his chest. The sunlight was nice on his skin but really couldn't help with the bone-deep chills running through him.
“Anything else?” Hewitt asked, his gaze darting down Gilles’ body in short, jagged lines.
Gilles pulled his locs free of the sweatshirt’s collar and nodded. He was still freezing, but… the cobblestones were warm and the street was quiet and…
Hewitt snapped his fingers. “Don't fall asleep!”
“Sorry…” Gilles ran his hands down his face and tried to rally. “Ah… Something. Silk or satin. A shirt, or one of my pillowcases.” He blinked slowly, his vision blurring a little. “Please.”
“Well, you've got a silk shirt in here, but—”
“S'fine.” Slowly, Gilles reached out for it. Even that small motion took twice as much effort as it should have. How was he going to get back inside? He curled his fingers around the fabric and stared at it.
“I think you need to lie down,” Hewitt said hesitantly. “You don't seem… Can you stand?”
Gilles shook his head.
The world softened to a dreamy blur as Hewitt manhandled Gilles inside. The effort of moving was almost enough to make him feel warm, but… Well, he wouldn't notice either way soon.
The couch was the only thing in the living room, the satin was the only thing on his skin. He lowered himself, aiming the shirt toward one of the throw pillows.
Sound came in little gentle washes of awareness and a bitter chill in his chest.
“Sterling!”
“Yes, good to see you, but please keep it down.”
Thudding and murmurs and footfalls.
“He's still out?”
“I don't think he's feeling well at all. Earlier, I mean—”
“He's shivering.”
Unfamiliar voices. The rush of the sink.
“Last one, I think.”
“Oh, good.”
Gilles awoke in sunset colors, curled on his side under a thick blanket. His dry throat burned and his chest spasmed with sharp, deep coughs.
Water.
He sat up, already breathing heavily, his vision narrow and vivid. The kitchen wasn't all that far, but… It might as well have been miles.
“Don't get up,” said a voice.
Gilles flinched and turned and found Sterling seated in an armchair with a book in his lap.
“Unless you need the bathroom,” Sterling continued.
“N…” Gilles started, but his voice cracked and he started to cough again, eyes streaming. His ribs already ached with the strain and now his head pounded with each forceful exhale.
Sterling got up without a word and sat beside him, holding a glass of water up for Gilles to take.
He seized it and drained it as soon as his body would let him, and fell against the back of the couch with his chest heaving. “I'm sorry,” he panted, staring at the ceiling as his face burned. “Th-thank you, Sterling. Forgive me.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Sterling said. “You're our friend and we're happy to help you. Now.” He stood up and set the empty glass on the coffee table, where it must have been resting before. “I'd like to take your temperature, and it would be good if you would eat something.”
Gilles occupied himself getting back under the blanket. It was one of his own, thank god, and he'd managed to work it into a tangle.
“You're still cold?” Sterling asked. He moved as though to press a hand to Gilles’ forehead and stopped abruptly. “Here.” He held out his hands. Gilles passed him the blanket and Sterling shook it out, then tucked Gilles in like a child.
“Thank you,” Gilles mumbled, looking down. His own weakness was terribly embarrassing, but the way Sterling looked after him was so matter-of-fact, so natural. How could he resent it? “Why are you doing this?”
“Just as I said.” Sterling looked at him, his brown eyes nearly black in the low light. “You're my friend.”
“Yes, but…” Gilles shut his mouth. This was all extremely rushed, this… this intimacy. This kindness. “You don't know me.”
“I will,” Sterling said. “Is it bothering you? I can go.”
“No.” Gilles pulled the blanket up, unable to meet Sterling's eyes.
“Good. Maybe I take your temperature now?”
Gilles kept his gaze fixed on Sterling's hands, their pale brown looking ghostly in the light that filtered in through the blinds. This connection, however sudden, was perfectly real. If Sterling meant him harm, he'd had a dozen opportunities to deal it.
“I supposed I haven't been entirely honest,” Sterling said, lifting a glass thermometer to Gilles’ lips. Gilles opened his mouth. “There is a reason I like you so much.” Sterling angled the thermometer in, slid it carefully over Gilles’ teeth. “It's because Hewitt likes you. I don't think you know how rare that is.”
With the thermometer in his mouth, Gilles could only look at Sterling curiously. Hewitt had only ever been friendly to him. Albeit his bit about vampires had been an unusual way to break the ice, but Gilles could take a joke.
Sterling settled back into his armchair, bracing his elbows on his knees. “He was making fun of you that day. He didn't expect you to get the joke, much less continue it.”
Silence stretched out between them for a long moment. Gilles muffled a few coughs behind his closed lips, tensing to keep the thermometer in place without shattering it.
For some reason, Sterling laughed and sat up. “No, of course that wouldn't offend you,” he said warmly. “Hewitt is a wonderful judge of character, but his criteria are a bit unorthodox. I'm glad you aren't offended.”
This was more words than Sterling had ever strung together before. It had to be some kind of record.
Gilles sighed through his nose and slumped against the couch cushions. His body heat had finally caught up to him again, but even the thought of letting the blanket slip was enough to make him tense up. His eyes wandered around the living room, though not much had changed since his arrival that morning. The same floral prints hung on the walls, the same furniture filled out the expanse of flooring that transitioned into the kitchen. Only the minutiae had changed, little things Sterling had brought. A glass of water and a pitcher stood on the coffee table beside a small stack of handkerchiefs. And on the couch, Gilles’ silk shirt had been replaced with a proper pillow in a black satin pillowcase. He smiled a little, tracing the lines of his initials on the corner. GB, in wobbly yellow embroidery floss. Adéle had been so uncharacteristically shy when she’d shown him.
“I hope you don't mind,” Sterling said. “Hewitt mentioned you'd been looking for your pillowcases.”
Gilles shook his head, checked himself, then nodded. That was no good; that didn't mean anything. He smiled instead, wearily.
Sterling got up. “Let's take a look at your temperature.”
“Mm.” Gilles took the thermometer out of his mouth and squinted at it. He'd never gotten the hang of translating numbers to English and his head was far too fuzzy to really apply himself to it. He passed the thermometer over to Sterling rather than speak.
“39.4,” Sterling said. He pressed his tongue beneath his lower lip, brow furrowing. “I suppose that's alright as long as you stay hydrated. And lucid.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you lucid?”
“Yes,” Gilles said, and couldn't keep himself from adding, “unfortunately.” Speaking hurt his throat, but the pitcher on the table seemed… inert. Unsatisfactory.
For some reason, this made Sterling relax. “I was afraid you might be too stoic for your own good,” he said, and poured Gilles another glass of water. “What do you want to eat? Anything you want, I'll get it.”
Gilles looked at the water on the table. He'd have to get out of the blanket to pick it up, and it would be cold. And it would sit in his stomach, just sit there. Anything would. “I’m… not particularly hungry.” A few coughs forced their way up his throat.
“I know you're not,” Sterling said patiently, pushing the glass closer to Gilles. “You have a fever of 103. But I also know you haven't eaten since this morning. Just tell me what you think you can stomach.”
If Sterling knew what a particular torture this was, he didn't seem to care. Gilles only just resisted the urge to hide his face in his blanket. “I don't know… Coffee.”
“What else?”
“Nothing,” Gilles moaned, giving into his childish desire to not be seen. He tucked his head under the blanket and buried his face in his hands. Every instinct screamed at him to raise his head and apologize like an adult. Sterling was only trying to help, and he did need to eat.
“Can you be convinced?” Sterling asked after a beat.
“What?” Gilles raised his head. Sterling was looking at him with the same patient concern as always, no trace of annoyance in his face or posture.
“Can you be convinced?” Sterling asked. “Or would you like me to leave you alone?”
Gilles just stared at him. Thoughts came fast and shallow. Sterling… leaving? Not hungry. Shaking.
“You did tell me you were lucid,” Sterling reminded him, but with a small smile. Teasing.
“I know… I just— I can't really think.”
“That's the opposite of lucid.”
“I'm sorry.” Gilles closed his eyes. “I'm not trying to be difficult.”
“It's alright.” Sterling was quiet for a moment, shifting in his armchair. “What about hot chocolate?”
Well, it was better than anything Gilles could come up with. He opened his eyes, staring at Sterling's hands where they rested in his lap. “That would be fine.” God, he was like a prince sitting here, forcing Sterling to dote on him.
Of course, Sterling didn't see it that way. He only nodded and got up. “Good.”
—
Hewitt came in around the time that the taste of chocolate started to go sour on Gilles’ tongue. At least the warm liquid had warded off the worst of his chills, but, as he'd feared earlier, his stomach didn't appreciate the intrusion.
He kept hold of the mug, letting it warm his hands, and looked up at the sound of the door opening.
“Did you miss me?” Hewitt asked, flopping down in the armchair beside Sterling.
“Terribly,” Sterling said, but he kept his eyes on Gilles.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Gilles forced a wobbly smile to his lips and shifted, bending forward a little to try to control the nausea building in his belly. “Where were you?”
“Seeing Adonis’ friends home,” Hewitt said airily. “You slept right through their visit, you know.”
Gilles frowned. He had heard voices, hadn't he? The memories came murky and cold, disturbed by the pressure in his stomach.
“They helped move your things upstairs,” Hewitt continued.
Gilles ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “Please thank them for me…” He shifted again. The nausea was building, but slowly. He just couldn't… Couldn't get comfortable; it pushed on him. Hunching over had only helped for so long, but straightening up didn't really help either.
“We made your bed, if you'd like to go to sleep,” Sterling said after a pause.
They'd both been eyeing Gilles with varying degrees of concern and suspicion; their eyes burned on his skin.
Bed… That would be good. If only he could manage the trip up the stairs. His stomach wouldn't like it. Even just sitting up was nearly unbearable.
“Maybe… maybe in a moment.” Gilles shifted yet again and laced his hands over his stomach.
“You're terribly shy, you know,” Hewitt said. “If you tell us what's wrong, we can help. And you needn't be embarrassed. I told you, we never get sick. Looking after you is a bit of a novelty, to be honest.”
“Hewitt,” Sterling hissed.
They kept saying that, that there was no need to be embarrassed. Something in Gilles just couldn't believe it. All his ailments seemed so childlike, something he should have outgrown.
“Or you can keep your secrets,” Hewitt said. “But we didn't find anything particularly scandalous while we were looking for your bedding—”
“Hewitt.”
Gilles would have smiled if his stomach wasn't bothering him so much. The pressure seemed to have reached a peak, but he wasn't getting used to it at all, just stuck with the sensation of a hearthstone lodged firmly in his abdomen. Instinct took him and he doubled over, both arms wrapped around himself. “Sorry; I'm alright,” he said to ward off any words of concern. “I just… need a m-moment.”
“Now what's wrong with you?” Hewitt asked. “Are you dizzy?”
“It's really nothing. I get like this somet—” Gilles cut himself off with a hard swallow— “s-sometimes when I have a fever. My…” He bit his lip and released it. Why couldn't he just be normal? Why was this happening? “My stomach's a bit upset.”
“That can happen,” Sterling said. “Do you need to be sick?”
“I'd rather not.”
“But do you n—”
“No, Sterling.” Gilles grit his teeth and swallowed again, squeezing his eyes shut. “I'm sorry.”
“Sh, it's alright.”
“Do you ever get angry?”
“Oh, he does,” Hewitt chimed in. “Probably won't ever get angry at you, though.”
“Mm…” Who were these people? Gilles’ head spun, thoughts aimless and shallow. He might as well have been falling, picking up speed with every passing second. “I think I need to stay here,” he said. “I… I'll lie down properly in a moment, if— if you could just…” Words failed him then, and a terrible coughing fit jarred his ribs and his stomach, rattled his head.
“Yes,” Sterling said. His clothing raised against the fabric of the armchair as he stood. “We won't go far. Call us when you need us.”
Gilles didn't say a word.
#as usual my italics didnt copy over and im too lazy to fix it so just use your imagination#ethereous writes#ethereous ocs#gilles is my BABY
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hi...it's me and um i just want anything...anything at all for lobo, theres like no content for him💀
sorry this is awkward for me, this is the first time im requesting something while not anonymous, and i just feel weird😭😭😭😭
Whoooo sorry it took so long to get to this I have been incredibly depressed and unmedicated but hey. I got to it. Merry Shitscram <3
Content warning: alcohol, smoking, swearing, mosh pit violence, shitty exes, vauge mentions of abuse, vauge mentions of mental health issues
The metal scene on stations is not for anyone. Lobo, however, wasn't just anyone. Since he was semi-dating you, he thought you weren't just anyone too. That's why he'd brought you to this surprisingly nice bar, to watch one of his favorite bands play a show.
You weren't exactly big into metal. Sure, you listened to Metallica every once in a while, but Lobo was constantly touting the musical skill of bands with names like Aborted Second Coming and Spider Vomit. Sure, the technical skill these guys had was impressive, but it was intimidating too.
Still, you loved him, so you'd agreed, and now you were sitting at the bar with earplugs in, sipping on a beer. The cold was nice on your tongue contrasted with the heat of the packed bodies, and you considered ordering another once you were finished, but decided against it. Lobo would probably be in no state to drive at the end of the night, and he couldn't well sleep at the bar. One beer was probably good enough.
Lobo, meanwhile, was barely in your sight, since he had jumped into the middle of a mosh. From what you could see, he was having a hell of a time, bodyslamming people and getting his nose broken. His mouth and chin were covered in his blue blood, and it was getting on his shirt, too. He caught your eye then, and flashed you a grin and a thumbs up. You smiled and gave him a thumbs up back. It was good to see him have fun.
After a few more minutes, he managed to extract himself from the mass of sweaty, girating bodies to make his way over to you.
"Babe, hey! How's th' beer?"
"It's good, Bo, you should probably- ah- here let me just get that."
You grabbed a couple of napkins and gently wiped at his bloodied face, much to his disappointment.
"Babe, baby, c- noooo, c'mon, lemme alone, 's fine! I'll clean it off later!"
"Lobo, angel, sugar, if you bleed too much on their floors the owner is gonna kick us out."
He sighed, finally ending his struggle and letting you wipe his face off. Once you'd finished, you kissed his nose, which made him much less sulky. He kissed you back, and the next thing you knew you were making out.
At this point, the previous band had moved on and the band that Lobo had come to see had finished setup. The moment the frontman announced "We are Bloodfuck!" Lobo pulled back excitedly.
"Sorry, hon, they're on, I gotta go!"
"Ok, ok, have fun!"
"Yer so cool I love ya."
Once he left, you ordered some water and went back to chilling. If you were being honest, the guitar in this band was pretty cool, very technical. You could see why he liked it, since Lobo was an avid lover of technical guitar skill.
And then you saw him.
You didn't notice him at first, since his hair was blonde now, not blue, but there he was. Your ex. The one who'd... god you could barely remember. You'd dated him in a really bad patch of your life, and he'd taken advantage of that to totally isolate you.
Then came that feeling. Rage? Hurt? Nausea? The feeling that came when you thought of him. So you took your water and sped to the bathroom.
Once you spent afew minutes of deep breathing and pacing around, you started to feel better, and went to go back to the bar, but were stopped by the door opening.
"There y' are..."
Lobo stepped in, leaning back on the door to give you both some privacy. He looked... worried. You were still getting used to that. He never seemed to get worried over anything else, except for maybe dolphins. And now you.
"Ya dissapeared, sugar, don't do that."
"Sorry, sorry, I just saw... just had some bad memories stirred up. I'm better now."
"Meanin'?"
"... I saw my ex. You know, the one I told you about."
"Oh! Jackass!"
"Yeah, Jackass."
"D'you... need anythin'? A hug, a murder, break his kneecaps a lil?"
"A hug would be nice. Don't do the other two things please."
"Awwwww, y' never lemme have any fun."
He did oblige though, pulling you into his arms. He was damp with sweat and smelled like salt and spilled beer and BO, but it was comforting.
"Y'wanna leave? Just so ya don't hafta see him."
"Babe, no, that band you like isn't done playing."
"And? I got th' CD and th' hoodie n junk. I can jus' catch em next time."
You pulled back and looked at him. He LOVED going to live shows. He got excited whenever he heard one was coming in. And he was going to leave in the middle of a set for you?
... That felt... nice. Like he cared about you. You weren't sure about exactly how he felt about you, but him offering that? It was nice.
"Lobo, I promise. We can stay."
He smiled at you, and then you both left the shitty bar bathroom. He stayed with you at the bar for a good while, but when the band announced their final encore, he made his way back to the pit.
And so did your ex.
Lobo noticed at the same time you did, and immediately shot you a look. You saw the question in that look, and nodded a yes as an answer. He smiled, then jumped on the stage, looking back to time his leap juuuuuust right...
Thud.
His drop coincided with the last note of the song, and he quickly got up and rushed over to you.
"C'mon c'mon we gotta go now 'fore the cops get here."
You took his hand, tossed the bartender a tip, and then sprinted to the door.
You knew he cared now.
#ouhuhuhu it is finished >:)#i hope you enjoy! i had fun writing it#lobo#lobo dc#lobo x reader#x reader#my writing#lobo my beloved
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