#i messed up the pale tones a little bit like... some things are not where they should be bUT the darker tones look good sO
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Special Princess
Mafia!Roman R. x Little!Black!Fem! Reader
Warning: mentions of violence, mentions of weapons, age regression, affirmations, praise
Minors! DNI! 18+
~
In the car, Y/N was criss cross on the seat watching different gameplays on her iPad while teething on her toy silent in the back, Roman was humming the bluey theme song while driving which gave some looks from solo and jimmy. Worried about him keeping his reputation up for a while now they wondered that if it’s mostly Y/Ns fault. I mean Roman is suppose to be this big bad mob boss, controlling the territory and keeping things under control with an iron fist. Instead, he balances work with his girlfriend who acts like a child. She doesn’t dress like the other women Roman has messed with, when they would wear night dresses and show as much skin as they want, Y/N just wears hoodies or overalls. Long sleeve shirts or short sleeve but overalls and sneakers not heels. It worried them that Y/N was probably a bad influence on Roman their boss.
“Hey Ro, when we get back to the house can we talk in private?” Solo asked as he was in the back with jimmy nodding at him planning the convo in their head. “Hm? Sure man. Oh do me a favor and tap Y/N when I pull over?” He nodded and looked at her examining her again. A child. A child in a grown woman’s body. He never understood it and nether has jimmy. But they don’t question it because it’s their bosses girl. After they pulled over to the stop they were doing the drop off, solo did as told getting Y/Ns attention making her jump some looking around. She took off her headphones taking in her surroundings looking directly at Roman as he opened the door. “Sweetie I’ll be back with the boys ok?” He asked in a calm sweet tone as solo and jimmy got out, “Stay here with mr.heymen.” He ordered and she nodded getting a kiss on her forehead. She waved at Paul sweetly and he waved back watching them go in the building. She started looking around every inch of the buildings and corners of the area and went back on her tablet drawing a picture for Roman. Sending it straight to him.
“Hey boss man you know we never question you…” Jimmy started getting a bit impatient needing to know why this girl is with them. “Sounds like you are about to question me thou.” He looked at jimmy slightly. Jimmy just shut it down and looked around the warehouse building. “Why they wanted to meet us here?” “I am not sure but keep ya eyes peeled.” They nodded. Roman looked at him phone seeing the photo Y/N drew and texted her “Thank you princess.” Soon hearing the other doors open the meeting is starting. Showing to the meeting was mister Ziggler and his bodyguards, simple transaction. Roman smirked seeing the briefcases behind him as well. “Mister Reigns, how are we today?” Dolph asked. “Good, I’m glad we were able to get some more supply. Especially from a trusted source.” Roman smiled. “Likewise, so ready for the wire transfer?” Dolph asked quick being money hungry but Roman looked at him not born yesterday. “Go on and put some product on the table, solo examine it.” Dolph smirked. “You don’t trust me big man-“ “I don’t bring snipers to my transfers. Especially ones that are ready at the mark.” He smiled as Dolph was starting to turn pale. Jimmy and Solo were confused, they couldn’t see out the window but were looking around outside not seeing a set up anywhere. “You got paranoid last time we met Roman-“ “Not the slightest.” He smirked. “Now let’s check that material.”
After the transaction, they walked out the building untouched. Jimmy and solo still had the guns out. “Put them away, she doesn’t like seeing that mess sometimes.” He warned them and they nodded following orders. They filled the back with the briefcases and Roman checked on Y/N seeing her in the same spot watching bluey sucking on her thumb some. “Hey we talked about that pretty girl, where is it?” She shrugged her shoulders. Roman went in her bag and pulled out a box with a fresh pacifier. He slowly removed her thumb making her pout but gave her the paci as she was calm again. “That’s my girl.” She giggled from the kisses he gave all over her face and went to the front to drive. The boys got back in looking at Y/N again getting a weird feeling now but let it go till they got to the house.
Later that night, the boys sat in the office to finally talk to Roman about this. “So y’all wanted to talk?” They look to the side seeing Y/N in a giant pink play tent in her own little world watching tv and coloring. “Well it’s about…um…it’s about her.” Jimmy said finally pointing at the tent. Roman looked to the side where the tent was then at the boys, “About her? How do? Also she had a name. Don’t be afraid to say it.” Roman said looking through his phone some. “Look we know Y/N is yo girl and we respect her but-“ “But?” Roman asked surprised that solo was questioning him as well. “-why doesn’t she act normal?” By the time this was asked, Y/Ns headphones were off and she listened in. A bit hurt by their questions making her think she did something wrong. “Well y’all she’s been through a lot, she does this to cope, this is her therapy. I will admit that I was a bit worried about it as well, but I support her no matter what.” Jimmy nodded his head in understanding. Solo was still a bit worried. “What about your image sir?” “My image is fine. She doesn’t affect my imagine.” Roman said paying full attention now. “For all know she’s more help then you both ever was.” He was starting to get mad with all the questions. Y/N didn’t like the look on their faces, so she sighed getting out the tent and going over. “Baby we talking go back to your tent.” Roman asked low but still a bit pissed which scared her some but stood her ground. “I’m sorry that I’m hurt your image, I can just stop if you want. To help a bit better…” Roman’s look softened and he sighed, “Baby you’re always big help.” Jimmy and solo looked at each other, how and she’s always in the car? “Remember that nice picture you gave me?” She nodded and went to get her book she drew in showing the picture. Solo looked at it and recognized it some. “Those buildings…” “Yea there were people looking at birds up top so I drew them too!” She giggled. It hit Jimmy and solo so fast looking at the photo again seeing the truck parked and the other building they were in to do the transaction.
“That’s how you knew.” They both said in unison.
Roman knew about the snipers because of the drawing she drew, matter of fact she always draws something and shows Roman when he’s in meetings and other functions. She’s technically doing a perimeter check. “Yep my little artist helps me like that.” “And other ways…” she mumbled. “Oh right, we didn’t see anyone when we were escorting you out back to the car-“ Jimmy stopped and looked at Y/N who was smirking some evilly. “Ain’t no way.” “I was trying to find a bathroom.” She smiled. What really happened was she went in the building and handled the snipers so they wouldn’t be ready to shoot. Solo remembered Dolph trying to contact the snipers but no answer came their way of course. “So you just lil miss killer?” “You worry about yourself next time please.” She hissed. Her eyes from a lightly playful brown to a dark evil black made it clear that what her lifestyle was is her choice. Roman choose right, he smirked and was honestly proud. But what he noticed was she was out of her headspace. “Go take it up to the bedroom princess, we can watch a movie tonight if you want.” She nodded trying to calm from her sudden anger and walked away going to the master bedroom. “Wow…” Jimmy said never seeing that outta her. “Did you know Paul?!” They turned to him while he was in the corner the whole time. “I had no idea.” He smiled and went back on his phone. The brothers looked a bit dumbfounded and Roman just sighed. “I appreciate yall worrying about me and my image because my image is y’all image, but I assure you as yall saw. We will be fine.” They both nodded and left the room leaving Roman in a smirk. “I know what I’m doing.”
Roman got into the bedroom seeing that the anger got Y/N tuckered out. She was sleep hugging a pillow and the tv was on My little pony. Roman got ready for bed and as soon as Y/N could smell his body spray she cuddled up on him smiling. He smiled as well and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much baby girl, I’m sorry they questioned you. Never change ok?” She nodded half sleep and Roman turned off the lamp light drifting to sleep.
#wwe imagine#wwe one shot#wwe smackdown#wwe raw#age regression#roman reigns x black reader#roman reigns imagines#roman reigns fanfic#wwe roman reigns#age regression caregiver
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Heyy, can u pls write jay or heeseung ff hurt comfort? Maybe the reader having an argument with them and they give them the silent treatment but they make it up for them later, fluffy ending pls, thank u sm 🫶🏻
this is mostly angst w a little fluff at the end i hope that’s ok ♡
“Heeseung—“
You’re quiet for the first time in an hour, just staring at him in disbelief. You knew this argument wasn’t anywhere close to being resolved, but something about the way he said don’t you think you’re being a little bit immature stung you. He doesn’t usually talk so harshly to you. Sure, he could’ve said worse, but that doesn’t change that what he did say was making your heart ache and not in the happy, lovesick kind of way.
“I’m going to take a walk. I need some space.”
Heeseung’s eyes are all over you, scanning your face and body language to see what just happened—what just went wrong. He starts to say your name, but he lets it die down on his tongue and he lets you walk out the door.
He hasn’t stopped calling and texting you since. You’ve been ignoring him, and you know that’s not the “mature” thing to do, especially when you can tell he’s worried by the tone of his messages, but the larger part of you doesn’t care. You’re too hurt to stop yourself from causing more.
I’m so sorry, y/n.
I never should have said that.
I didn’t mean to hurt you.
Please just tell me you’re safe.
All unanswered.
You take your time making it back to your apartment, entering it silently and walking past a pale-faced Heeseung to your bedroom where you plan to go right to sleep. “Y/n,” Heeseung calls softly as he pads towards your room with you, his voice sounding dejected. “Y/n, please just look at me, baby.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek before begrudgingly turning to look at Heeseung. His eyes are round, pleading, and his pretty lips are parted like he’s witnessing his life instead of living it. He’s watching the crash.
When Heeseung realizes you’re not going to just turn your back to him again—that you’re actually giving him a chance—he drops to his knees, taking your hands in his. You sit down on the edge of the bed, looking into the eyes of someone that loves you so much they’re willing to quite literally put you above themselves.
“Baby, I’m so, so sorry.” He kisses the mess of your hands in his palm and holds them to his cheek as if they might disappear any second. “I should have been more careful with my words. I never want to hurt you.” He sighs and presses many more kisses to your hands.
“Heeseung, you know how much it hurts me when it feels like you’re discrediting my feelings.”
“I know, baby. I know.” He frowns and moves your entanglement of hands until one hand of fingers is laced through yours. His eyes are genuine as they stare into yours and the sadness reflected back to you makes you feel sorry for him and for you. “I got frustrated and I was careless. I hurt you and I’m so sorry.”
You wipe away the single tear that pricks your eye and exhale heavily, free hand finding Heeseung’s soft hair. “I love you, Hee. I know you would never hurt me on purpose.”
The pretty stars are back in his eyes, easily outshining the pain that was there before. Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and pulls, head resting on your thighs as he hugs you to himself. “Never, baby. I promise.” He turns his head till his lips are on you, innocently littering your thighs with kiss after kiss in thanks.
You can’t help but giggle at his display of gratitude, laughing even harder when his hair tickles the smallest bit of exposed skin and when he nuzzles his head playfully against you.
The next time he looks back up at you, he’s grinning from ear to ear, eyes soft and adoring. You can’t help but think that that look tells you more about his heart than a few frustrated words ever could.
cr. cafekitsune for dividers ♡
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Serpent-Cide (2/?)
(Unedited) (IDK what to tag for this chapter.)
(Part One|Part Two|Part Three|TBA|)
Veronica’s gaze seemed to stare into my soul to a point thought she was trying to read my thoughts. Though she wouldn't find many at this point. My only thought in the moment was trying to find a way out of this shitty situation.
“Reader can you please come over here, I have a list of students for you as well. You will need to show them around for the next week or so until they are acclimated.” she said with a serious tone. She waved a piece of paper around, pointing it in my direction. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. A few drops of blood welled in my mouth as I looked at her, but I knew people where looking at me now. I could feel their states, from both sides of the room.
This is what I dreaded about even doing this stupid thing.
Now I really did wish I would have just skipped this whole gawk feast.
I gently clawed at my backpack straps and walked over to them. Archie stepped out of the way so I could reach the other girl. I quickly and quietly took the paper from her hand. She gave only a small almost emotionless smile. It was like there was nothing there. No real feeling behind the borderline dead smile. Girls like Veronica, like Cheryl, were really good at faking those little smiles.
Just looking at her like that made me shiver a little. I tried my best to suck it up and pretend I couldn't tell it wasn't real.
Cheryl scoffed from a foot or so away from us and rolled her eyes.
“Oh of course you guys had to get tubby involved in this mess. Can't believe you talked Little Miss Lard Ass into coming out and helping you with this little degenerate fest your having.” she laughed. It echoed through the hallway. A few people laughed alongside her but I didn't pay much attention to it. It wasn't the first time she or any of these other assholes made a fat joke about me. Wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last time she heard it out of one of their mouths. I simply rolled my eyes and kept reading the paper I was given.
“Yeahhhh Cheryl, Lard Ass is just a tad bit warmer than the soul-sucking succubus that you are these days. These people came to get an education, not to get their souls ripped from their bodies in order to feed your ever-growing ego.” I muttered. It was loud enough that she scoffed in pure shock. A few people around me laughed, Betty paled a little while Veronica smirked a little. Archie’s seemed to zip his lip at the comment.
I looked up from the paper to find Cheryl glaring at me, her face turing that classic cherry red of hers. She almost looked to be steaming which was a sight for sour eyes. Digging myself into a hole with one of the biggest people in town was horrible to think about, but at this point, I didn't want to think too hard about it. Staying out of the spotlight was my thing, but dipping my toe into some drama every once in a while to piss someone like Cheryl off was worth it.
Being able to infuriate a girl like Cheryl Blossom was a treat.
A small look of genuine confusion seemed to cross some of the newcomer's faces. I didn't expect them to understand how my words burned the other girl so badly. But they would eventually learn the food chain of the school. It was just a matter of time. I could only imagine what SouthSide High’s food chain looked like. It was probably even more nasty than the one here. We had to deal with rich kids and steroid junky jocks.
They had to deal with gangbangers and regular junkies.
Both Reggie and Cheryl made a loud exit as they grew board of their surroundings. Realizing their little game was getting old for the time being.
“Any of you do a thing out of line, I'll know about it.” She hissed. Soon enough she was storming up the stairs with a group of cheerleaders. Reggie smirked in my direction. I felt like gagging at the sight. He was quick to follow Cheryl, some of the jocks close behind. The sound of their voices boomed up the staircase.
My attention was drawn back to the paper in my hand.
I felt kinda of lucky after reading over the list, I only had about four people to look after. I did find it comical that they decided to stick Jughead with me. Poor guy was already a student, he left a few weeks ago and now he's back. It's as if he was never even a student at the school, treating him like some no-name transfer student.
Said once and I'll say it again, this school blows.
The next few minutes went by in a blur as the new students flooded the table. Snatching up paper after paper until the whole table was completely picked over and cleaned. Not one single schedule or map was left. It was only a few minutes later that the excitement started to slowly die down. Small groups of southsiders started to line the hall, talking with each other and going over their schedules together. It was clear that most of them seemed to be hoping to stick together.
Wishing to be put into the same classes as one another. I could feel for them in that since, being stuck into a new school surrounded by kids that hated them already. Not just because they where in a gang, but because they came from a different side of town that was labeled a shit hole.
I tried my best to not look at them with pity, but it was hard. It was hard not to feel bad for them.
I sighed to myself and looked at the paper one more time. There was only a small scene of relief that filled me as I found one particular name, it stuck out like a thumb.
Jughead Jones, types in a bold black font.
My eyes where quick to scan the small crowed, finding his iconic beanie. That thing was like a beacon. The guy has been wearing that things since…forever? I can still remember seeing him in middle school wearing the same exact hat. He occasionally switched some of the pins on it every once in a while. But I could tell that it was the same one.
Jug and me where decent acquaintance, possibly better then my relationship with Betty. JugHead didn’t bother to make a friendship with me what so ever. He hardly asked questions, didn’t try to insert himself into my business and didn’t make a big effort to go out of his way to bother me.
Sitting in silence was good enough for the both of us.
Which was just what I wanted.
My feet carried me over to him and the little group he was talking to. Four of them stud talking about something in a small circle in whispers. As soon as I made my presence know they separated.
Looking at Jug I raised a brow, no longer did he act like the guy I knew. His stance and posture were looser than usual, more toned. He stood taller with his shoulders proud and strong.
Did Jughead grow more of a backbone sense I last saw him? Maybe hanging out in the southside did something for him. Out of nowhere I got a feeling, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. Maybe Jughead finally ended up following in his dad’s footsteps. It wasn’t that out there of a possibility.
“Really can't believe they roped you into doing this. What did they threaten you with this time? It's got to be something big to get you to hang around anyone in this school.” Jug mused as he looked by way. His eyes filled with a bit of amusement. His natural sarcasm seemed to ooze out. I rolled my eyes saying “ They threatened me using the stupid ass volunteer hours, apparently I don't have any for this semester. It was either I do this or they pull something out of a hat to get me with at the end of the year. And as you can tell, no one was exactly jumping to get this opening.” I crossed my arms. He didn't say mush to that, only giving a small nod. The guy behind him, the one with the tattoo on his neck didn't seem to get it.
“What are you to scared of us? Like the rest of you shitty northsiders!” the guy almost barked. Once again rage seemed to flare up inside him, quickly bursting out of the seems. He definitely had some minor anger issues going on. His brows knitted together and his adams apple bobbed. I tried my best not to flinch at his harsh tone. Jug looked like he wanted to say something but it died on his tongue.
I snapped back “You think I really fucking care? Half of these kids have only heard about the southside, they haven't even left the this side of the tracks their whole lives. The only reason why they make a big deal about it is because it's a chain reaction of the rich people on the northside wanting to show off how classiest they are. You think I've been to the southside?” the guy was silent.
“Iv seen a bit of it but have never actually been. Last time I checked, Southsiders don't make a huge habit of coming all the way over here for fun. Iv never done anything to you guys and you haven't done anything to me. So, once again, why the fuck should I care about any of you so long as you aren't messing with me?” my tone was slightly aggravated with a sense of boredom backing it. It wasn't every day someone tried to pick a real fight with me.
Then again I had never actually met a real southside serpent before. 
There was a long pause of silence between all five of us. We all just stud around, not another word being uttered. Jughead cut the act for a moment and scratched at the back of his head. Seeming to be a bit embarrassed at the other teens outburst, even the girl next to him seemed annoyed. Unlike Jug she seemed to be more use to his outbursts, she simply rolled her eyes at him.
“Reader I-”
“No I get it Jughead, they're being cautious. But-” I paused and looked at the taller boy “Just know that I probably dislike this school and the people in it just as much as them. I don't like this school, I don't like the kids, and most of all I don't give two shits about this town. If you want to start something, take that crap to the jocks not me.” he stepped back a little bit. His face was ever so slightly relaxed. Just enough that the crease in his brow disappeared. I could still see the way his ears flushed under his dark black locks. His gaze shifted from me to the guy beside him, the shorter serpent gave him a hard look. They stared at each other for a good minute before he finally relaxed.
Jaw locked hard as he just looked back in my direction.
Shuffling a little I handed the paper still held to Jughead. He took a moment and looked it over before handing it back.
“So you got me and these guys.” he threw a thumb behind him.
“Im guessing, if you have a Toni, Fang and Sweet Pea??” I said with a little bit of question at the end. I wanted to question the name Fang but I also wanted to know the reason behind Sweet Pea. Fang was an interesting name, to say the least. But Sweet Pea? That was both sweet and odd. It wasn't a very comment nickname to my knowledge, maybe a sweet endurance kinda of thing. Never had I met someone who actually went by the nickname before on a daily basis. The girl tried to hold back a snicker, covering her mouth with her jacket sleeve which didn't go unnoticed by the others. She was quick to cough trying to cover her slip-up.
“If we could just all chill out for one second, please. Reader isn't a threat to the serpents, I can cover her on that.” Jug said looking back at his friends. They all kinds looked at each other, thinking on if they could actually trust his word. Seconds later it looked like they had reached some sort of unspoken argument. The other three nodded to one another before looking back at me.
“So do you want my help or not? Knowing you Jughead, this is a cake walk being you have already gone to school here. Do you want me to help your little friends or not? I still have to do something to at least look a little busy like I'm actually helping you guys out.” the idea to leave all of that stuff up to Jughead crossed my mind. He was smart, he could do all the stuff the school wanted me to help out with. But then it felt kinda of mean to just dump it all on him. There were three different people he would have to show around school and then to all their classes. I may be a ass in my own right but…it just seemed wrong.
“How about we split it? I already know where all of my classes are. Let's check their schedules, I'll take who ever has most of my classes and you take the ones who have more of your classes. Deal?” he quirks a brow my way. I give a small nod and watch as he collects the other's class schedules. Stepping over to me we both check over their papers.
A spark of hope went through me as I noticed only one of them seemed to have a good portion of classes with me.
Sweet Pea.
“Seems like I'll be taking Sweet Pea off your hands then.” I gave a half smile to Jug. All he did was him before stuffing the other papers into his friend's hands again. Looking over them again my eyes land on the girl. She gave me a smile but before I could even give one back, my hopes of being stuck with another girl were dashed.
The tattooed boy stepped out of the group and walked closer to me.
I could feel my eye begging to twitch behind my eyelid.
Why the fuck did “Sweet Pea” have to be what looked to be a six-three-tattooed man. One who just minutes ago was trying to get into my face.
“Well this is Sweet Pea. I'll trust you will be as nice as YOU can possibly be right. No bumping him in the hallway when you get tired of him. I know your way.”
“Please tell me you're not still mad when I left your ass in the gym that one time because you wouldn't take the hint to leave me alone.”
“Maybe I am, just a tiny bit.” he said with a bit of annoyance. Leave it to Jug to be still pissed about such a little thing.
“Now Sweet Pea, try not to bite off her head. We will meet you at lunch.” He said looking up at the other boy. Sweet Pea rolled his eyes as he watched Jughead start walking off. The girl who I could only now assume was Toni patted him on the shoulder before following Jug. Fang grinned at him and just laughed, giving him a hard slap to the should before jogging off to catch up with the other two. Sweet Pea grimaced as he watched them leave. His eyes trailed down the hall until they disappeared around a sharp corner. I couldn't help but do the same, watching them go.
“So are you going to show me around this place or what?” his voice made me shiver. It was deep and echoed. It wasn't thick but rang in my ear as he spoke. The angriness from his voice had long died. Now all that filled it was sarcasm and mischief. It was laced into a simple statement. 
“Your going to be a pain in the ass aren't you?”
All he did was smirk before ripping his schedule from my hands.
I can't have nice things can I.
(Don't worry y'all, Sweet Pea will have more attention next chapter promise! We just have to work up to it. This is a slow-building fix.😚)
#riverdale#riverdale imagines#riverdale fanfiction#riverdale headcanons#riverdale x reader#riverdale sweet pea#sweet pea#sweet pea x chubby reader#sweet pea x reader#riverdale x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#loner!reader#southside serpents
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i get so jealous of euthanized dogs
(do you ever think too much about the implications of a plastic skeleton. i do.)
genloss fic about the death — and it's subsequent consequences — of frank, last name unknown.
gl!sneeg/gl!frank, title from the poem of the same name by june gehringer, heavily inspired by the locked tomb series,
word count: 4,004, contains: suicidal ideation, canon-typical violence, descriptions of decomposition
Frank was not in his room. This was — mostly — expected, given his sorry state the last time Sneeg had seen him. Each morning, when Sneeg rose and he snuck out of the Cabin and down to that cramped corridor to unhook Niki from a great mess of wires and shake her gingerly awake, he also picked the lock of the room two doors down, and they would look to see that empty cot and those dark monitors which did not show any vital sign or brain activity. As they stared into that unfilled space, Sneeg thought, meanly, that this was probably what they got for being so used to walking the back rooms and the far corridors of the mall that they had forgotten the dangers of the Heart.
If it was any consolation, Frank was dead before he could realize the whole plan was going to shit. Niki had bolted in the first available direction, and Sneeg had not followed her, too busy holding the disparate bits of Frank’s skull together. He did not know where Niki had gone, only that she had not made it out. She was, after three days time, in her little room, sleeping so deeply as to be three-quarters dead, powered-down and completely unharmed. The two of them had not been very productive in the following days, and by the fifth day that Niki had been returned and Frank had not, they had begun to absolutely lose it, and they had split up to walk the parasitized mall and worry where the other could not sense it.
On the seventh day, Sneeg encountered a strange sight: an open door that had not been open the day before. Sneeg did not recognize the door, but he recognized the hallway, and he recalled the third door from this end downward having been marked on their map with an inverted dagger: locked, keycard access. The door was clearly not supposed to be open. A sheet of laminated paper found itself caught between the body of the door and the mechanism of the lock, the little black keycard reader gleaming a welcoming LED green. A thin, pale fog rolled in half-formed locks out of the room, and it was making the hallway a little cold to stand in. The room beyond the door was cramped as any recycled Showfall room, stuffed to the gills with a series of large steel drawers, like lockers turned over onto their side so the shortest edge faced forward. All but one were closed, the source of that milky, breathy fog, and a metal slab had been shunted or rolled out of the drawer, which a single figure lay on top of. Approaching the thing was a miserable endeavor: laid as still as stillness over the slab was Frank — or at least, his body.
The body appeared very similar at first glance to its living counterpart, but at the moment’s close examination, the whole thing fell apart. It carried the same heavy-set brow, the same hawkish nose, the same worried marks at the corners of the mouth and eyes, but the whole lovely face had no blood in it at all, rendering it the tone of some anemic cornflower. It lay more still than Frank ever had, even in sleep, and it was a cold to the touch that made his fingers numb. Only the soft give of the skin and the flesh underneath convinced him that it was not a well done marble replacement by some singlely Pygmalion-minded sculptor. It was all very confusing. Sneeg held a deep, uncomfortable familiarity with death, but it all seemed off now. He could assume the purpose of the cold room with the inset drawers, but someone had, with precision if not care, dressed the body well and laid its hair flat and its hands in a kindly manner over its chest — they had put his face back together, for God’s sake — but the body was still dead. It was like dressing up a piece of plywood. What was the point?
Sneeg stared for a moment longer, at the remnant shell of the first person who had known him to the core of his misery and loved him anyway, and his eyes watered. Something was wrong. Something was awfully wrong. A body like this had been dead a longer time than Showfall had ever let them have between shows. He was in cold storage and not laid on the threadbare cot of his talent cubicle, waiting in pristine unaltered condition for whatever next taping Showfall had in mind. There was nothing good that would come from them leaving a cast member like this for so long, long enough for the body to pass into and out from rigor mortis. It betrayed a nearly unthinkable idea, something Sneeg could barely string together the words to comprehend: Frank was dead, and Showfall never intended to bring him back. This was it. The thought was like a bullet through his own brain, and he stood there, white-knuckling the edge of the mortuary drawer and breathing quite heavily.
Reaching into the pocket of that wrinkle-less jacket, he retrieved the silver Showfall-branded lighter, marked over in pen and marker and paint. It was a familiar weight, and found a familiar home in his own pocket. There was nothing else to do. He did not know how a real person was supposed to face a loss like this. He did not know how to say goodbye, and to mean it forever.
It was with a childish, fairytale desperation mingled with his shock and his tragedy, that, in almost a dreaming haze, he pressed his lips to the pretty, bloodless mouth of the body. It did nothing so pedestrian as wake or speak. It did not flutter long, frosted eyelashes, open pearly clouded-over eyes and smile at him. It merely lay there, cold and still. Sneeg did not know what he had expected. He watched the body for a moment longer, to ensure it drew no hidden breath, nor twitched any surreptitious muscle — and then he ran from it.
In the cage of the Cabin — the safest place he had, given its having four walls and a door he could close and lock — Sneeg had tried very hard to tar over the raw wound of the loss with the thick denial that only a child of Showfall could feel. Frank was coming back. He was coming back because everyone came back. That was how it worked. That was how it always worked. It was nigh unthinkable that it wouldn’t now, for him, but oh God, would Showfall decide to pull their fingers from their own hand only to spite him, only to plant their dagger between his third and fourth rib. They would because they hated him. They had always hated him, ever since they first took him, for all the terrible things at the heart of his being, for his inability to work to standard, or live to standard, or look to standard. He tried very hard not to think about the possibility. He tried very hard not to think of anything at all. He tried very hard to focus on the shapes the path of his breath took through his body, the stucco texture hastily plastered over the walls and the floor, the hum of the tungsten day lights. He pulled his knees tight to his chest, and tried not to cry, because it would be real if he cried.
Sneeg spent three such nights in the cage, only moving on the fourth to the too-short couch in the living room when the bones of his back protested too much to ignore. He did not want to go back to the softer, better fitting mattress of his own room in the attic, to sit in the cold dark where Frank had laid his head on his chest in secret. Sneeg had done nearly everything in secret then, and now he was doing nothing, and he was doing it quite openly. He waited around, doing a great deal of nothing in the living room, or sometimes the kitchen, or the basement, and tried to be nothing in his wait for the next taping. This was the model of the perfect Showfall student, someone who wanted nothing and did nothing, and only lived to work their fingers to the bone, and then work the bones off their hand. It was almost strange to think that Management had tried for nearly twenty years, through varying cruel and unusual means, to turn Sneeg into this, when all it had taken was the maybe-death of one cosmically disposable cast member, and the maybe-shredding of that piece of Sneeg that was convinced he knew what the warmth of the Sun felt like.
The next taping arrived, as it would even if Hell froze over. Sneeg fell into the ephemeral grasp of the Showfall filter, and he forgot his grief wholly and entirely as Sneegsnag, first son of Showfall Media, first Taken, and despair of the Founder, disappeared. He melted away like so much candle wax, and someone picked him up and turned him over and over until he was the shape of whichever character they demanded of him.
The show did not matter, only that Sneeg’s part in it ended with a bullet stuck in his second lumbar vertebra. The moment Sneeg hit the ground, he began to remember again, and when each of the actors had peeled out of the room and the cameras were turned away from him, the loss had snuck its way back into his body in lung-shaking fingers of cold. It was there, bleeding onto that tiled faux-floor, that Sneeg realized that he recognized the prop corpse in the corner, the one that the prop department would have carefully set down and fiddled with before the actors were even on set. He propped himself up on his elbows, raising himself out of that scarlet puddle which had already ruined the nice shirt he had been dressed in, and he looked at it again, just to be sure.
He hated to look at it. He hated that they had not given him the mercy of smashing that pretty face into unrecognizable mush. He hated that the body was dead, and it was not moving, and Showfall had conscripted it for such purpose. The body was dead, and this was its job now, and Showfall had gotten sick of it and was not bringing him back. Sneeg wanted to scream, and he wanted to vomit, and he wanted to go home, even though he didn’t know at all what that meant anymore. He laid back down, getting his hair wet and black with fresh blood, and he had repeated, “No, no, no, no, no,” very quietly, nothing more than a breath, until two of the well-dressed employees grabbed each of his arms and sides of his thorax, bodily hauled him with their unthinking, programmed movement onto a stretcher, and caught him in the neck with the syringe.
Later that night was the first time the ghost of Frank revealed itself to him, sat beside him in the dark, and laid its hand which carried no weight over his own hand. There was no honest sensation that came from it, as was the want of a ghost or a trick of the mind, but it had left behind the pins-and-needles feeling of a limb left too long without blood. Sneeg had finally wept then, for his lost, far away family, for his dead lover, for his damned escape plan, and for his own sorry state. He hated to weep. He hated how incapable it made him feel, how it crushed his lungs and his throat. He felt like a small child again, or more accurately, like a worm. He did not know what to do, and now there was no one around to tell him. Easily, without spoken prompt, the ghost tried its stupid, spectral best to hold Sneeg. It did not succeed a great amount in this, but Sneeg’s starving want made the paresthetic touch a good enough comfort for him to lay still and try to sleep, rather than walking out of the Cabin and throwing himself over the third-story railing.
Sometimes, each night that followed, the ghost appeared to him alive, and at other times, as freshly dead as he had been the first time Sneeg saw him. Only once had he appeared in unrestrained decomposition, and Sneeg prayed it never happen again. He had been waxen, swell with rot, a deep, lush violet where the blood had been allowed to pool, leaking a dark fluid from his nose he wiped at in intermittent intervals. Sneeg had looked upon him in desperation and hunger, and the remains of his own putrefying affection, and he had still reached out to touch the apparition — but Frank smiled, and his mouth was full of maggots, and the palm that Sneeg had reached to touch him was seized with the conviction of ten thousand worms beneath its own skin, roiling and squirming. He had screamed for only one moment, but the ghost still vanished, and his brother still appeared with a quickness and a pitying concern, both of which Sneeg disdained.
Sometimes the ghost did not speak, only lay beside him in a familiar stillness, side against side, as Sneeg tried his damnedest to make himself hear Frank breathe into the dark. Most days it did speak, and often it was to needle him about how long it had been since Sneeg had eaten, or showered, or drank water. It was difficult to remember to do so those days. Sneeg spent much of his time asleep, finding it favorable in nearly every way to waking. There was very little want in his body to do much of anything, except to lie there on his mattress on the floor until God felt it right to snatch him away.
His brother had not bothered him for one week, and then had been struck with what Sneeg could only assume was a crushing fear that God would indeed take Sneeg away, and Sneeg would be in no hurry and of no power to stop Him. He had begun placing bowls of cold porridge and glasses of room temperature water just beyond the doorway to the attic, and checking whenever he thought Sneeg was asleep to see if they had been disturbed, as if attempting to care for a stray cat. One night, in some kind of fit, Charlie had burst into the room, taken one of Sneeg’s hands between his own, between the hands that had drowned and bled and choked and killed and killed him so many times, and prayed intercessions to every saint he thought fit, and then some extra for surety: Anastasia, Raphael, Rita and Juliana and Teresa, Camillus and Christina Mirabilis, and on and on until his throat was hoarse. Sneeg watched him, and felt much like a compass that had broken somehow, no longer able to spin to point in the direction of God.
The ghost had taken this plea as sign and signal to redouble its efforts, and where God had not delivered Sneeg from his sorrows, the ghost delivered him from the IV drip and the padded room of the hunger strike. Showfall had never cared if he lived or died, but for him to waste away spoke unfortunately about how well they were paying him. They weren’t paying him, mind you, but it was about the optics of it. To this effect, Sneeg developed an unerring routine which got three nutrient rations and two and a half glasses of water into his body a day, and for his success the ghost would lay beside him at night, and leave that pins-and-needles feeling against his hands, and his neck, and his mouth. When the ghost did not appear, Sneeg comforted himself by imagining what it would be like to walk far beyond where Showfall’s patrol lines would ever find him, to break boarded windows and curl up on the floor of the condemned wing of the mall, and die like a bird which had flown in accidentally and could not get out. It was not a great comfort, and he knew dimly it was not a healthy one either, but it was enough to dull his heart and brain enough for him to sleep. In his dreams, each time he saw Frank, he felt very sick, and he would turn to Niki or Charlie or anyone that was there and ask, sorrily, “Is he there? Can you see him?” and they would look at him like a particularly sad piece of roadkill.
His brother kept praying, and sometimes he screamed into a pillow or an old shirt. Charlie knew that if Sneeg died, he would too, and Charlie did not want to die. He did not know what to do either, and vacillated between an overbearing care, as if Sneeg was a piece of glass or old china, — which Sneeg hated — and a snapping fury at Sneeg’s inability to do much of anything — which Sneeg also hated, but hated in an acute way that made him feel half a percent more alive. At those, Sneeg snapped back, and the two would fight with the familiar contempt that only grew from living together against your will for the better part of two decades. Sometimes it devolved, and ended with teeth in flesh and hands around neck and blood on the floor. Sometimes Sneeg cried — this was an arresting notion for even the most boiling over Charlie, and it made everything very strange and sad and awkward. He would place his hand on Sneeg’s shoulder, then take it away, and flap his mouth open and closed a couple times, but no noise would come out. Only once did he manage a blank “I’m sorry,” and Sneeg had just cried worse for it.
When it was clear that Sneeg was set on the rituals of self-maintenance, the ghost shunted its efforts towards convincing Sneeg to wake up Niki, and to get back on the wagon of planning their escape. He tried to convince Sneeg of this first by saying that Niki would be upset if Sneeg left her there alone much longer, which was not very effective, since he was sure she would be upset already, and then by saying that it would be good for Sneeg to get out of the house, which was not very effective, since Sneeg had nearly given up on doing things that were good for him. Then, he tried to tell Sneeg that the plan was not off yet, that there was still a chance for them to make it out, if they got together and threw themselves into it.
The problem with this was that Sneeg and Niki had no fucking clue what they would do if they got out, on account of Niki having nearly no recollection of the details of her life before Showfall had kidnapped her, and of Sneeg's having been seven at the time. As integral to the plan as Niki’s steadfast internal map and Sneeg’s memory of the timetables and the pathing of the wandering guards had been Frank’s insistence that he could hunt down the names and the contacts of those who were close to him, who he remembered with a greater clarity. But that was all gone now. Sneeg had not known it, so the ghost would not whisper it to him. Niki did not know it, despite her constant bothering Frank to tell her all he knew, so they would have one less point of failure. He had never told her, not because he did not want to, but because he only knew it in a subconscious, animal way, and not in a way that he could tell her, and now none of them knew. Each new detail, each elaboration on the loss, made the whole thing interminably worse. They were alone, and they were damned, and there was no way out.
At this thought, the ghost jabbed at him and set off the strange nerve at the point of his elbow. “Fuck off,” it had said. “You’re better than this. You need instructions? You need an order? Survive me. Finish the job.” It had looked so close to living, breathing, pressure-bomb Frank then, sharp eyes like so much burnt-up copper, teeth at fascinating and contradicting angles, that he would have done anything it asked.
Sneeg slept, and he woke, and he ate, and he told his brother, “I’m going to go talk to Niki,” and then, at Charlie’s expression, “Give me three hours before you start to worry.” Charlie turned his face up at this, but he nodded, and Sneeg retraced, in dismally slow footsteps, that familiar back alley path from the Cabin’s panel door to the dingy hallway of the cast cubicles. Niki was lying in the abyssal, dreamless sleep of the power-down as Sneeg clacked the well-worn key combination into the console, and pulled away a lot of electrodes and finger-traps. The first thing Niki did was scream, and then she thought better of it, and just sat at the edge of the cot and hyperventilated. When Sneeg had tried to speak, she got up and pushed past him, brusquely, and left the room. Half an hour later, he started looking for her, and when he did find her in one of the many uncared for corners of the mall, she was sat, knees to chest, beneath a whole herd of quite miserable chalk-drawing horses across the wall. Her hands were bunched in her hair, and she was looking somewhere far away. Her eyes were rotten, needle ice over dark water. She had a very small voice when she spoke.
“What are we going to do?” In the dark, it was clear to them both that Niki was still a teenager, and Sneeg was still as stunted as he had ever been. They sat there, two kicked, abandoned dogs, which had been cut free of leash and of collar for the first time, and were liable to start running into traffic. There was a length between them that felt like a missing molar.
“Okay. Okay.” Niki rose with a fervor that nearly toppled her over, and she grabbed each of his shoulders with vile intensity. “Sneeg. I am not dying in this hole. Get up.”
Sneeg got up. He never could ignore a direct order. Sneeg got up and got up and got up, and his heart kept beating, and his lungs kept drawing in breath. Hours fell into days fell into weeks, sets fell into sets fell into moldy corridors where Niki tried to transcribe the paths of guards with too many dashed lines and corresponding sigils. They chipped at the work in short, fervid bursts, then couldn't touch it for days. Niki never prayed, but she would hold Sneeg's hands when he did, and sometimes, thinking she was alone, she would pace in languid, looping circles and speak as if Frank could still hear her.
They spent so much time working at this dreadfully slow pace that it became very hard to tell just how long it had been. Sneeg lost count of the days since he had last asked God to just kill him and get it over with, and he thought it a success, and stopped keeping track — only to end up awake in the kitchen in the middle of the night, staring longingly at the wood-paneled knife block. Time fell through his hands like it wasn't even there, and he only realized that it had been a very long while when he went to wake Niki up, and spotted, at the edge of the hall, a new temporary label on one of the previously empty rooms. It was the same mechanized handwriting as every other label, and Niki read it out, clear and crisp: T-8: HERO.
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Locked Up, Chapter 11
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: violence, attempted sexual assault, murder, mentions of blood and bodily fluids.
Your door was darkened by the shadow of a man.
The red hue lit up his frame from behind, making the entire moment feel even more terrifying and surreal. You could feel your own heart kicking in your chest like a bass drum. It felt so heavy that your entire body shook, and the vibrations trailed up into your throat until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart pulsed so loud in your ears, that it only added to the nauseating feeling of dread that encased you.
His already villainous demeanor was only enhanced by the murderous glow the red held behind him. It took you a moment to get over the initial fear, and a new one filled you when you realized that his sandy blonde hair was tinged red as well, but it wasn’t because of the light.
And that’s when you noticed how his orange jumpsuit wasn’t clean either. It held the same tinge as his hair in some areas.
The heavy beating of your own heart felt even heavier as his blue green eyes stared through you. You felt like you were a gazelle in the Serengeti, and he was a lion, waiting to pounce and make you his next meal.
Every single impulse told you to run, sending shocks up and down your body until you felt like the adrenaline was going to send you into a heart attack. But in your head, you knew that despite the adrenaline, the inmate was blocking your only exit.
The next moments felt slowed down to an obscene point where you wondered if it was real life, or if you were in a horror film. It felt like you were about to be the latest victim as he took a few steps into your office, the baton tapping against his thigh with each step.
“Hey doc!” he purred in a deadly tone. A shiver ran down your spine, but and your eyes shifted away from his, towards the weapon in his hands. Suddenly you noticed how the baton was wet, and the area that he was tapping had the same tinge.
And that’s when it hit you.
The metallic smell that made a new shiver run down your spine.
He must have killed at least one guard.
The way that his hair and uniform was messed up. It was blood that made his hair slick. It was another man’s life force marrying into the fabric of his jumpsuit. Your stomach turned and you knew you had paled at your own realization.
It only caused his smirk to grow as he spoke to you, “well would you look at that, doc...looks like there’s a riot going on out there! You’re mighty lucky that I’m here to protect ya…ain’t ya?”
You felt a whimper leaving your throat as he turned partially, enough to close the door behind himself so that you were trapped inside the room with him.
“I-inmate Rogers…please go back to your cell!”
Steve smirked a little bit more, shaking his head at you, “what? And leave a pretty little thing like you all alone in the middle of something like this? What kind of prince charming would I be if I let those animals get to you, hmm? We’re in the middle of a riot after all…I can’t possibly leave you alone to fend for yourself. What if someone dangerous got to you and tried to harm you? What kind of gentleman would I be then? Hmm? Really, you should be thanking me on how I got to you first!”
“Inmate Rogers…”
“After all, doc, you’re mine!” he finished swiftly. Your heart felt like it turned to ice as you realized that it was him who had written the letter. He was the one that Ransom Drysdale was worried about. The one that was responsible for making sure inmate Jensen had received a shiv for tasting your sweet nectar, “so…what do you say we take advantage of our alone time together, hmm doc? I’ve been craving a taste of that sweet little pussy since the first day I laid eyes on you! I think getting a little taste would be more than nice don’t you? Generous enough to do that, doc? You let Jensen taste you for far less…”
As those words fell from his lips, your fight or flight response kicked in and you turned, running towards your bathroom. But he caught you before you managed to make it to the door, tackling you to your floor.
“Come on, princess. Be good for me,” Steve taunted as he crawled up your body. You screamed, thrashing around; kicking and trying to push him away as you scrambled towards the door, “if you’re good I’ll be so nice to you…I might even let you cum on more than just my mouth. I’ll fuck that pretty little pussy so good you won’t know what to do with yourself. You might even make it so that’s all we do on our appointments…come on, doc!”
You screamed, feeling the fabric of your skirt tearing.
You kicked him hard in the shin and he cursed, your heel hitting him hard.
“You bitch!” he spat, backhanding you.
Your head hit the floor hard, nearly knocking you unconscious momentarily.
Everything felt blurry as you attempted to lift your head a few moments later.
The world felt all too dark as you shifted, flopping over to feel the weight of Steve against your own body gone.
You felt around on the ground, trying to find your balance as you scrambled up to your hands and knees. As your head lifted you saw Steve fighting with another inmate. With the world still a little fuzzy, you screwed your eyes together, trying to focus on the opposing shapes. The words prior to now were all just white noise, sounding all too far off from you, despite the close proximity.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” the inmate promised, his fists furiously pounding into Steve’s face.
Your stomach lurched when you saw the glint of silver mixed with blood and bone. The sickening crunch of more bones breaking and brain matter splattering against the carpet close to you making your stomach lurch again until you threw up beside yourself.
The gurgles from a few feet away stopped, and suddenly you found yourself being lifted up bridal style. You wanted to fight it, especially when you saw the mess of blood that he was wrapped in, but you found yourself frozen as your eyes met his.
His metallic arm was tinged a deep scarlet. His jumpsuit was only halfway zipped and you saw the mottled, exposed flesh of where the flesh met the mechanics. He watched you curiously, but you said nothing, instead focusing on the rest of his exposed, firm chest.
You couldn’t meet his eyes as you whimpered out his name, “B-Barnes…I didn’t-I don’t…he came after me…he-he thinks I belong to him. He’ll kill you for what you just did. He-”
“You’re okay, doll…” he grunted huskily as he made his way to you and pulled you into his lap, “he isn’t getting up from what I did. You’re okay.”
“He-he’ll hurt me, Barnes…”
Bucky sighed as held you close to himself, “Steve won’t hurt you. I promise!”
“I-he-“
You felt the tears sliding down your cheeks, and the sadness in his own eyes.
“He won’t hurt you, doll!” he promised with finality, “he’ll never come after you again!”
“I-is he dead?” Barnes didn’t answer, and you felt the anxiety building in the pit of your stomach as you found the courage to repeat your question, “is he dead?”
“Yes!” You didn’t know whether to be more afraid of the answer, or the fact that he had no issue in telling you it. You found yourself wanting to look, but his Vibranium hand angled your face away from the body, “don’t look at him.”
“Why?”
“You got sick when you saw me bashing his brains in,” he said matter-of-factly, “I doubt that you could handle the way that he looks now.”
You didn’t remember throwing up.
You didn’t remember seeing Bucky before he stopped beating Steve’s head in.
“Is it worse?” you asked nervously, your eyes meeting his once more.
“Yes…but now…I have to get you out of here!” he said firmly, “your office isn’t safe.�� You are not safe here! The inmates are going to start coming for anyone who wasn’t locked up to use in negotiations. You…guards…administration!”
Just as he turned, you screamed, seeing yet another figure in the doorway. Barnes’ arms tightened around you and you felt yourself tucking your face into his chest. You looked up when no one tore you from his arms. Bucky was glaring at the man as he stepped into the office.
“Barnes…”
“Everett!”
That’s when Curtis noticed Steves crumpled, mutilated form on the floor, “he come after her?”
“Yeah…” Barnes nodded shortly, “found him trying to tear her skirt off!”
“Put her down!”
“Not a shot in hell, Everett!”
“Don’t get any ideas, Barnes. I wouldn’t take advantage of the doc. I’m not an animal,” the mountain of a man grumbled as he undid his jumpsuit and took off the undershirt he’d been wearing beneath it. He held it out to the pair, “wear this…should cover you well enough. You’re small!”
“Th-thank you!” you whimpered softly, reaching out to take the shirt from Curtis. Barnes released you and you slipped the scratchy fabric over yourself. It reached past your thighs. Curtis was right. It did cover you.
“You okay, doc?” Curtis asked softly. You nodded, unsure on how to answer the question.
“We have to hole up somewhere safe…” he admitted, his attention turning back to Bucky once he realized that you were safe between the two of them, “now…”
“I think I know just the spot!” Barnes said quickly to the other man. He looked at you and held out his flesh hand, “think you can trust me and Everett, doc?”
You nodded, taking his hand, “I just don’t want to be hurt! I-I trust you two…protect me…please.”
“Trust us doc,” Curtis grumbled as he spared you another look, “no one is going to hurt you…not while you’re with us. We’ll keep you safe!”
Chapter 12
Tag List: @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @cjand10
#locked up#prison au#jail au#marvel au#marvel#steve rogers#the avengers#captain america#dark steve rogers#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky#curtis everett#snowpiercer au#snowpiercer
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the stutter in trying.
summary: the monotony of dr. jeon catches her attention upon first glimpse. when he first enters her gym, he can’t lift weights without letting the dust of a blush fall on his cheeks and he stutters over his words whenever he pays his monthly fee.
but he comes back every day and she makes a habit out of learning the aspects that make him so efficient at his job and yet so quiet whenever he is around her.
though, there needs to be a flicker of destiny for them to get out of their routine of staring at each other without words exchanged and that happens thanks to a certain lee jihoon.
title: the stutter in trying
pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader
genre: 1990’s!au ; gym owner!au ; doctor!au ; cardiologist!au ; strangers to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au ; string of faith!au
type: fluff ; humor ; friendship shenanigans ; wonwoo being an oblivious mess
word count: 7k words approx.
note: this is part of my ‘when we were young’ series. if you want to read any of the other standalones, here’s the masterlist.
His hands are the ground itself, she thinks the first time she sees Jeon Wonwoo. Or, doctor, as he accidentally wrote on his sign-up papers earlier this week when he had inscribed himself in the weight-lifting program. They mold to utter perfection, veins and joints drawing lines of desire that go up his slim arms and connect where his elbow meets his deltoid. They shake with each of his movements as one of her trainers leans against the expansive mirror on the wall, studying Dr. Jeon’s meticulous yet shy movements.
He doesn’t give up, however. Like the Earth whenever its population decides to be a tad bit less considerate. His cheeks, kissed by the sun and embarrassment, tint red with enough force from his blood that it forces a shy smile from him. His strawberry blonde hair shadows his eyes, though their shine remains. Even Kyro, his trainer, should be a little bit enchanted by him.
And normally, at nine in the morning, when the sun has just stroked the surface of the sky and the movement of the gym she owns partakes on mostly mothers and people just about to head to work, she should be doing something else. Organizing the next championship that will take place in the installations, or perhaps contact another sponsorship. Things that include connecting with people and, hence, a lot of talking in too-expensive brunch meet-ups. Though, she is a bit distracted for that right now, she’ll give herself the benefit of being honest.
Because Dr. Jeon claimed to one of her workers, Jihoon, that he had never done anything other than cardio but that little line of his bicep dares invite some thoughts inside her head. As in, if he keeps lifting at least four times a week, he’ll tone up.
If he’s a threat in his slimmest form, she can only imagine—
“Rule number one of ‘Zeus’.” A shout almost leaves her lips when she hears Jihoon’s whisper from behind her. One look over her shoulder shows her Jihoon’s wolfish grin, a black tank top falling on his pale frame, hair dotted in sweat. “We don’t look at the clients like they are a piece of meat.”
The room heats up at that moment. The gray walls and harsh white lights gleam on her skin as if she was going through hell itself, and she has to turn around and use Zeus’ t-shirt to fan her chest. A new episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S runs from the small TV in the corner.
“Jihoon, don’t creep up on people. Newsflash, it’s creepy.”
He wraps his ruby lips around the water bottle, lifting an eyebrow in the process. She once heard the myth that the worst people hide in the smallest of bodies and this may be the clear example of its reality. “I’ve been here for well over five minutes.” His digits run over the hem of the notebook in which they sort out the appointments for training. Jihoon is one of the oldest trainers here, and her associate, aiming to take some responsibility off her shoulders and coach her through Zeus’—her gym—highs and lows. “But I could have been wrongly and insultingly ignored by my best friend because a certain doctor—”
“Oh, him?” She scoffs. A very natural scoff that has Jihoon pushing his lips together not to snort out a laugh. “He…He’s not my style.”
Jihoon takes up the spot next to her, bumping the side of her hip with his to a rhythm that lulls them into a silent argument. “What is not your style? The God-like face structure. The vibrato of his voice. Oh, I think you’ll hate the glasses he has hanging from his neck.”
She saw him squinting at the contract he had to sign earlier this week. From afar, of course, they have not exchanged more than four words. Good morning. Goodbye. Good morning again. Make that…three words.
The attraction itches at her lungs. She wants nothing more than to sigh into her palm and claim the universe as unfair. A man like Dr. Jeon probably has a bunch of women behind him. Could be married. Could potentially be a heartbreaker with the way his shoulders fit the white t-shirt that is now half-gluing to his chest because of the sweat.
“Jihoon, should I take you to HR for implying that your boss is flirting with our clients?”
Jihoon taps a pencil against the tip of her nose. “We don’t have HR.”
“I am the HR.”
“…Well,” Jihoon’s grin widens. “HR department, I’d like to voice out a complaint.”
“We’re listening.” She retorts, finally taking her gaze away from Kyro and the walking dream that is Dr. Jeon.
“Our boss has been ogling a man’s face for over thirty minutes and I’m starting to feel the urge to go over there and just tell him that my boss is very single—”
“Your boss would fire you.”
“Oh, she wouldn’t.” Jihoon frowns, a smile playing on his features when he gets out from his spot behind the counter, swinging his water bottle on one hand. “…Because that would mean actually going to brunch with our associates alone, and she can’t handle social environments.”
When she sees him moving closer to the weights, she runs towards him. A full on sprint that has her sneakers smacking against the tiles and earns a few glances from the people around her. She smiles at Jihoon like a tiger would do to its prey before eating it alive before she mumbles through gritted teeth.
“You can’t tell him anything that I haven’t confirmed.”
Jihoon shakes his head. “I wasn’t going over to him.” Though, he moves closer to her with a wave of his eyebrows. “But you’re welcome, Jackie Joyner-Kersee. Running all the way to me has earned you some attention. Enjoy it.”
Before she could fully question him what he meant, Jihoon had turned around, leaving her in the middle of the gym with someone’s eyes set on her. A set of brown eyes study her with as much precision as he can without his glasses and instead of eyeing her with curiousness, he smiles, only showing a few of his teeth and letting the apples of his cheeks turn back to a normal shade.
Then, he tries to wave, making one of the weights fall on the floor with a loud thud.
Dr. Jeon may be a very intelligent doctor, but at that moment, she is sure not a word will be exchanged between the two.
Awkward never meets awkward.
###
“My students aren’t paying attention to the class thanks to you.”
Granted pity, Minghao looks quite subpar to the beam and gleam he portrayed when he first started his endocrinology residency. His slim frame contorts to grasp an extra granola bar from the bending machine, turning around to look at Wonwoo through tired, bag-surrounded brown eyes. His coffee, once scalding his tongue in irreplaceable sweetness, turns sour and lukewarm upon being instructed of such atrocity.
“Not at all.” Wonwoo answers, frowning deeply and fixing the thickly brimmed glasses that fall on the bridge of his nose. “I have nothing to do with the interns.”
Minghao crosses one leg over the other, his scrubs tinted a deep crimson shade by his thigh. He can only imagine what kind of extirpation Dr. Xu had just done.
Minghao is on that position of the medical life. Where he is a resident and all specialists, much like himself, drop all responsibilities on him to be able to go home early. On the second year of an endocrinology residency, Minghao has too many diabetic patients that won’t listen to his instructions about a balanced diet and exercise, and possibly, a group of interns that don’t listen to him about the importance of the thyroid gland.
Not that he cares on explaining if no one is interested. Wonwoo had been on the first row seeing how Minghao rolled his eyes and asked students to leave his class if they didn’t want to listen to him.
The peak of the stressful medical life radicalizes Minghao’s every day stance, and he can only feel a little bit bad that his students are blaming him, a whole cardiologist, about their…distractions.
“You know, it’s a very explicit rule…though, no, it’s not explicit, you should be smart enough to do so with that face you’ve got.” Dr. Xu leans in closer, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “To not pass by when I’m giving my classes. I caught one of the interns drawing you.”
His lips part to get out a few excuses. “You were the one that had a hypertense patient, not me! I listened to Dr. Nam’s instructions of checking up on them.”
Dr. Nam, the nemesis that Minghao never expected to have. Dr. Nam doesn’t like anything. None of his three ex-wives. Not his children, pushed to study medicine, too. Not his patients or the overpriced consultations that he gives. All he likes is bossing around and humiliating people, Minghao included.
“She’s taking Losartan Potassium since she was like forty-five. She’ll be fine.” As typical of him, he rolls his eyes, only to plop down on the seat next to Wonwoo and press a hand to his forehead. “I got the biggest shit from Dr. Nam because the interns keep talking about Dr. Jeon’s sick pecs.”
“Did they really say pecs?”
“I had to correct them. Someone really had the audacity to mumble, right in front of me, that a plastic surgeon must have worked on those tits.” That’s the moment he has to stifle a laugh and a blush behind his drink, sticking his tongue out at the horrid taste of the hospital’s coffee. “Wonwoo, listen, I’m not going to blame you for being a handsome guy…but you either wear your lab coat with your scrubs or I’m really going to start forbidding you of entering the endocrinology wing.”
“Alright. Won’t walk myself around there.” The croissant on the white ceramic plate gets bent in half until he can grant Minghao the other half. The resident is so tired he grasps it between two fingers before giving it a lay bite, half-chewing as he melts into the seat. “How did the last night’s date go?”
Minghao has been on a strike of trying his shot at love. None of them doctors, as he says. In his words, he’s not ready to date another egocentric person.
“…I think doctors are not made for dating.” He answers, tossing his head back and throwing a scoff to the ceiling. “She tossed parsley at me.”
“Why?”
“I told her I had a shift the next day and that I had to go home early, and she took it as an offense.”
Oh.
Wonwoo has not gone on many dates since he graduated from his cardiology residency a year ago. A young doctor on the rise in the nineties is a bit difficult to boost through the world. A handful of people still lacked confidence in the usage and benefits of medication, hence, talking about heart conditions and their long-run repercussions was like talking in another language with a bunch of single-spoken people.
But they haven’t been any better than Minghao’s. His last date did not even last more than an hour. He got a call from one of his patients that was on the verge of a heart attack and had to head to the hospital in the blink of an eye.
“You know, I admire you, Wonwoo.”
He doesn’t say that he admires Minghao, too. For his resiliency and his discipline. Instead, he turns on his seat until he is face to face with him. “What for?”
“You’ve been staring at the same woman at the gym for over a year and you still haven’t asked for her number.” Minghao’s lips finally quirk up in that dulcet smile that had once represented him. Before the void of not sleeping crept up to him, that is. “What did she do this week that has you sighing into your coffee cup?”
Curse the day that he decided to tell Minghao anything about his attraction to the gym owner. The one Kyro normally listens to as if she was the president herself. “I won’t ask for her number. That’d be disrespectful.”
“…Alright, understandable, she could find it a bit ‘out there’.” Minghao quirks a slim eyebrow. “But how about a compliment?”
And play the part of the fool if she ever were to stop him in his tracks? He wouldn’t even be able to go there every morning to work out if that was the case. Too mortifying. “…Don’t you have thyroids you need to touch instead of triggering my social anxiety?”
Minghao stands up after taking the last bite of his croissant, quirking an eyebrow with all his intelligent mightiness. “Good thing you’re not a urologist.”
Wonwoo chuckles. “Why?”
“You’d be surprised to see the balls that you lack.” With that, Minghao has a bigger smile set on his features after getting out of the doctor’s resting room.
He doesn’t lack balls…it would just be an awkward situation.
As a doctor, he needs to avoid unnecessary stress on people. It’s the main cause of sicknesses for a reason.
Right?
###
When she heard Yoon Jeonghan’s voice on her Nokia, she didn’t expect his client to be this insufferable.
Zeus started out of her greed to start a business that didn’t feel like it was judging people for being out of shape. Neither did it have a preconceived vision of how people’s bodies should look like. There were specialists that talked to the clients to reach a comfortable and desired body shape, but never did they push the slim ideal that appeared on magazines onto their clients. Though a lot of people around Seoul had started growing interested in her gym, never had a real celebrity tried to work out here.
Hana, one of the singers in the biggest girl group of the decade, twirls the gum that is in between her teeth around her index before she starts chewing on it again. They are standing one across from the other in Zeus’ installations, with Jihoon right behind her trying not to lose his mind on Hana’s perfect bone structure.
“I’m not so sure about the gym. It’s a bit small…” Not true. It wasn’t the biggest when she started three years ago with a loan from one of Jihoon’s family members and her savings, but with the earnings they had encountered, she had managed to add more space to the gym. “I heard there was more people.”
She is not good at talking and Jeonghan, Hana’s manager, must notice that the hardest time builds off this conversation within her mind. Is she supposed to tell a whole celebrity that she is wrong?
“It’s pretty early in the morning and we personally arranged our appointments so there would be more space for you.” Jihoon says from behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and making her breathing ease up.
Thank God he knows how to come up with something on the spot.
“I think it’s better that it is a bit private when you come around.” Jeonghan reasons with Hana, but she ignores anything that doesn’t sound like what she’s thinking around.
“Sorry, I don’t think it’s my style…” Though, when she spares a glance over the owner’s shoulder, her face contorts onto interest. Her spine seems to erect at that moment, elongating her already amazing figure as she blows that dirty gum in a bubble before popping it loudly. “Who’s that?”
She and Jihoon scavenge to turn around. Maybe, some of the fans had entered against her will or Kyro was trying to reach one of the whistle notes in Mariah Carey’s newest track. Nonetheless, they are met with the peaceful figure of Dr. Jeon. His now stronger arms contract when lifting up the weights that Kyro had instructed him to grab, cladded in all black, sporting an abdominal belt that makes his already godly waist a little bit more pronounced.
“Oh, that’s—”
“A client.” She resorts on interrupting Jihoon, widening her eyes at him with a silent plea. Don’t let the most beautiful woman that has ever grazed this gym talk to the man I’ve been into for over a year, she announces mentally but Jihoon doesn’t seem to read eyes.
“Jeon Wonwoo. He’s a very good client of ours.”
The most enthralling and fulfilling motion she ever did was when she sneaked a hand behind Jihoon’s back and pinched just in between his shoulder blades. His digits contort at the pain and she can actually show him just how much he fucked up.
“I’ll go introduce myself to him.” Hana announces, swiveling her hips in the air and waltzing over to where Wonwoo is working out.
Jeonghan shakes his head, though a smirk appears on his features. “She’s always finding someone new.” He whispers. “She dated three of the SECHSKIES members, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
That’s a big, blaring red sign.
“Jihoon, I’m going to kill you.” She retorts in a mumble, lowering her face to look him in the eyes.
That’s when it clicks within him. Eye to eye, he can finally part his lips and gasp at what he had done. “Shit.” He encounters, clasping a hand over his mouth. “Distraction. Now.”
Though, Hana is already pushing the highlighted strands of her hair behind her ear and in this good light, with her lips concealing the harsh words that leave her lips when impatient, she does look like a good woman. The kind that would wrap someone like Dr. Jeon around her finger. It’s not a wonder that Wonwoo does actually talk to her. Not a lot, but without the stutter that characterizes him when around her.
There’s not much to do now, so she opts to gossip with Jeonghan. “Which member did she date?”
“Three.”
“Mention one.”
“I have a no telling clause.” Jeonghan prompts to say, but he is already leaning against her shoulder, speaking in a hushed tone. “But if we’re just keeping it between us…Jiwon and she shattered his heart to little tiny pieces.”
“We’ve lost.” She tells the man on her other side, watching as Jihoon shakes his head at the thought alone. He reaches his goal even if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. “She dated three members of a band—”
“Hey! Wonwoo!” Jihoon shouts in two momentums, making the doctor widen his eyes and turn to him with a flush on the tips of his ears. “Can you do the splits?”
Why the hell is he talking about the splits? Wonwoo puts down the weight he had been lifting before giving a tiny, adorable shake of his head. “No. Can you?”
“No,” Jihoon has that dangerous gleam in his eyes. When his introverted self is burst through by desperation. “But we can always try. On the count of three. One, two, three!”
The mortification—and pain—that must have surged through him when he literally dropped to the floor signifies their friendship when both Wonwoo and Jeonghan rush over to a very stiff Jihoon. The warmth that Wonwoo emanates seeps through his being, coating the room in an aroma so enticing and strong that her heart leaps out of her chest at the mere sniff of his aroma. Every muscle in his back works to ruin the shelter of protection that wraps around her mind, leaving her as a mess of whom she should be in this situation.
"Is…Is he alright?" She questions and while Jihoon is probably mentally happy at the proximity of her chest to Wonwoo’s back as she speaks in a low tone towards him, his poor muscles are suffering through what life calls…
Destiny.
Life says: ‘Sorry, it won’t happen’.
Wonwoo almost speaks normally, quite like he did with Hana, but a hiccup stroke at his chest and chokes the words in the roof of his mouth. “A—Ah. I’ll check! Uh, but…but…yeah, J—Jihoon, can I touch your thigh?”
“Mine?” Jihoon spares a glace towards her when he gets seated on one of the benches, splaying a hand on the now quite obvious hole in his shorts. “My thigh?”
“You’re the one that got i—injured…” Why does Wonwoo become a stuttering mess whenever she is around?
“Oh,” Jihoon acknowledges, splaying a hand on his forehead. “Oh! My thigh!”
“Are you dumb or something?” Hana questions, crossing her arms across her chest.
Jihoon, just like he is, has the answer on the tip of his tongue as Wonwoo palpates his thigh muscles. “Something. I’ll leave the dumb role for other people to play.”
She doesn’t catch up with the snark in his remark. Instead of paying attention to Hana, she kneels next to Wonwoo, watching Jihoon’s expression for any sign of pain.
Everything hurts, apparently.
“I don’t feel any rip in his muscles.” Wonwoo announces, sturdy and strict, as if he didn’t want to exchange a word with her.
Oh, she hadn’t thought about that.
What if he just really hates her?
“We could get him some ice.”
“On it.” Suddenly, she is standing up, as if scared of being next to Wonwoo. When she moves to her lounging room, she can only curse herself mentally. Her heart feels a thousand times weightier, her shirt suddenly constricting her as she thought…
He doesn’t like you.
He never will.
My God, he hates you!
The reasoning behind her actions stands on such statement. She gives Wonwoo some frozen vegetables, wrap an arm around Jihoon’s shoulder and aspires to make him feel better than she does.
Of course, not everyone liked her, but for some reason, Dr. Jeon hurt a little bit more than most.
###
Studying an electrocardiogram should be his biggest concern, but as he inspects his patient’s repolarization and depolarization, his graze trails—ever so often—towards the man that holds his patient’s hand. The woman smiles at him weakly, but he keeps pressing kissing to her knuckles, as if his whole life lays on a hospital bed.
It probably does.
“I’m thinking of a Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome, Mrs. Ho. However, I’ll let you rest for a while as I arrange my thoughts on the best medication. We don’t want to damage your liver any further, alright?” He pats a hand on his patient’s calf, earning a good hearted nod from Mrs. Ho, who immediately returns her gaze to her husband.
“She’ll get better, won’t she?”
“Of course. She’ll have to get used to a new lifestyle but if we follow along with a good praxis, she’ll be fine.” Wonwoo compliments, bowing to the couple and turning on his heels as he hears words of thankfulness behind him.
Though, he’ll be honest with himself as he rubs on the underside of his eye and feels the hollows of tired nights. Nights that he has spent in complete solitude since a few years from now. There were once women that knew everything about him, that had him falling and tripping on his own words, but none of them made him wrap his tongue until there were no phrases left to say.
Nurse Junhui stands by the waiting room, wrapping his lips around a lollipop a bit childishly for a man of his height and age. His feet dangle from the counter, but no one will call him out for it. It’s Wen Junhui, after all, and all the older nurses coo at the mere image of him, let alone his words as he gossips with the rest of his team.
“Dr. Jeon!” He exclaims when Wonwoo passes by and that gives him Wonwoo some time to take his head out of the gutter. So, what if he hasn’t been in love for a while? It’s not like he needs it. He has his patients and a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. “We were just talking about you.”
Wonwoo quirks an eyebrow when lowering his glasses. “About?”
“I was telling the nurses you did have a crush on someone.” Junhui completes as if it’s the easiest thing to talk about. “Everyone says you don’t have the heart to love someone, but you did tell me about this gym owner you thought was so hot—”
He clasps a hand around Junhui’s forearm, tugging him closer and frowning at him. “Jun, have you gone absolutely insane?”
“What?” The man questions, a dumbfounded smile appearing on his face.
“That’s my personal life.”
“Oh, your life is personal enough that most people don’t even know your real name past Dr. Jeon. No one will notice if I confirm you do have a heart.”
Dr. Xu passes by Junhui, jotting something down on a folder. “…And a dick.”
“Minghao…” Wonwoo sighs, in between laughing or grunting. Junhui slips away from his hold to jut his chin forward.
“They were asking me if you finally got a girlfriend. The gym owner, I mean.”
Maybe, Wonwoo shouldn’t have gone out with Junhui for drinks eleven months ago. The intensity of his crush blossomed out of his mouth and towards drunken confessions that should have never met the light of the day.
But hey, props to Junhui, he remembers what he heard when drunk.
“No, Jun. I happen to lack a girlfriend in my life.”
Junhui scrunches up his nose. “And that’s because…?”
“I don’t have the time to be in a relationship.”
Once again, Minghao clicks his pen from afar. “The balls. He doesn’t have balls.”
Wonwoo is lucky that there are no patients around. His lip worries in between his teeth, mouth pressed together to stifle his nervousness. “And I can’t talk to her. Like, not that I can’t by any societal rule. My words just don’t come out around her…”
“Oh!” Junhui widens his eyes at that. “Something like that happened to me once. I was out on a date and my tongue was suddenly swollen, but it was ‘cause I had some seafood that was a little bit rotten. I couldn’t speak so—”
“I can’t speak because she makes me nervous.” Wonwoo completes, running a hand through his hair and fixing it soon after. “Happy? Now, I have stuff to do.”
Minghao moves closer to the duo, leaning his slim waist against the counter before clicking on his pen obnoxiously. “You could give her flowers when she gets out of working. Not while people are there, of course, because that’d pressure her into taking them and it’s not the same.”
“What about chocolates?” Junhui prompts. “She works out, sure, but everyone likes chocolates.”
An idea pops inside Wonwoo’s mind when Minghao says. “Or just speak to her. Tell her what you’ve never been able to conversate about.”
Though, before they could get more excited about the idea, Wonwoo nods. “Alright, I’ll take it into consideration for things I’ll never do, how about that?”
“Woo—” Minghao tries to speak, but Wonwoo has already turned around to get to his consultation room.
The worst part is that he already has the gift he’ll give her Monday night sitting in his brain.
But he’ll have to skip the gym for a few days after that.
God, he’s twenty-five. He shouldn’t act like this at this moment of his life…and he never had before, but she seems to make his brain malfunction, syllables mingling but unable to form a single word to let out from his pink lips.
###
Out of the twenty-four hours a day has, she spends seventeen in sneakers. The rest? She’s barefoot. Jihoon insisted, like the world would be saved from its imminent doom, that she should wear a pair of heels for the work dinner they were going to have, but slipping out of Zeus with a pair of beige heels that are not even her size—lent to her by Kyro’s girlfriend—is not how she thought her Monday night would go as.
The pitch-black night swims across her vision with the blur of the lulling stars and the swishing of cars. She locks the door behind her, wobbling in her steps and cursing at the wind for the shortness of her skirt and how freezing she’ll be the rest of the night. She covers her body more with her long white coat, tying it around her waist and sighing at the image ahead of her.
When did she thinks, architectonically, that it would be a great idea to have a set of stairs leading up to her gym?
One step forward and she sees what hides under the moonlight. The moon is nowhere in sight, but she can see Dr. Jeon. Not that he looks like his work out adoring self when he trains in Zeus, but he also doesn’t seem like a doctor. A plaid blue and green shirt hides the curves of the muscles that she knows hide underneath, one of his hands inside his straight-edge jeans and the other wrapped around what seems to be a glass vase, covered in a lace-cladded lid.
His nose molds to the will of his smile and her heart perks up at the mere interest of looking at her, through the dark and through these ridiculous clothes.
This is karma for what Jihoon did for her, because her ankle balances itself on the slim heel before it cracks loudly and she’s falling down the set of stairs.
Luckily for her, her coat covers the skirt that has ridden up her legs the slightest, but she also falls right in front of Dr. Jeon. Heat radiates up her ankle, stealing a hiss from her lips while Wonwoo moves at the speed of an Olympian to catch up with her.
“Are you alright?”
A new sentence added to his repertoire of what he never says, she has to look up at him to make sure that this is Jeon Wonwoo and not his twin brother. She shakes her head, because it’s the reality she lives, kicking off the heel that remained intact before grasping her right ankle in between her digits.
“Let me check it.”
“It’s not bent or swollen. I promise. I almost got there, but I was lucky.” He munches on his bottom lip, as if nervous, when he wraps his hands over hers and cages them in a feeling that she’d rather never forget.
Wonwoo’s digits tremble and maybe, that is why he is a cardiologist instead of a surgeon. They are extremely cold, too. Not warm like she imagined. Nonetheless, they lull her into a sense of tranquility when he touches around her ankle and speaks in a soft tone.
“I’m sorry I made you fall.”
“Oh, I should be the one who’s sorry. I put on a pair of heels I can’t walk in. I am sorry I scared you.”
“Where are you going?” Wonwoo questions, stealing a glance at her and then, lowering his gaze to her skin, touching to check up. “I—I rarely see you out. Not that I’ve been here around this time, but…I’ve never seen you outside Zeus is what I mean, much less…”
“Much less looking like a little girl walking on heels?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t look like that.”
She wants to ask him what he thinks. Blame her, she’s a woman thirsting for compliments for a man she finds utterly if not deliciously attractive. Instead, he moves the articulations of her ankle, pinching her Achilles’ heel and earning a soft hum from her.
“Is it uncomfortable there?”
“No.” It hurts a bit, but having him touching her for longer is something she doesn’t want to happen. She clasps a hand on his shoulder to hoist herself up, sending a smile his way when she stands upright but he still holds his arms in a hovered manner in case she falls. “Anything I could help you with, Dr. Jeon? We just closed, but—”
“Wonwoo.” He corrects. “I don’t…Well, I’m not your doctor. Unless you have a heart condition. I mean, you could, I don’t—”
“I don’t.” She complies, picking up her bag from the floor. “Wonwoo.”
“Yes.” It’s like he has forgotten the reason why he is here, nodding to himself before his eyes become plates. He grabs what he had left on the floor then, her name written in almost unreadable letters on the glass. “I brought a gift for you.”
Little cardboard cutouts circle around like notes thrown in the ocean and just when she’s about to open the lid, as words leave her lips, he interrupts her.
“What is this—?”
“Please, read them when I am not here.”
“What do you mean?”
Kyro has trained him well, because he’s rushing to his car in the matter of seconds, saying in his booming deep voice.
“I hope you like it!”
And like that, he disappears. Not in the shadows, he actually waits parked until she gets inside her car, but she can’t see him inside his Subaru Outback.
The lid kisses her skin in the scalding feeling of his coldness until she can throw it on her passenger seat. The first paper she unfolds has a single word, written in that almost unintelligible font.
His handwriting.
Beautiful.
The other words are equally as breathtaking.
Kind.
Shy.
Genuine.
Lovely.
Each word more addicting than the other, when she clasps her hand on the last paper out of the twenty-one inside, it’s not a single word but a whole sentence.
“Just compliments I wanted to give you but never could. Have a nice night.”
When she looks through the review mirror, Wonwoo has left.
###
Six years of friendship and she has never seen Jihoon cry. Not like this. Not even a single tear running down his cheek when he is falling asleep on his side. He is full on weeping on one of their client’s shirts—Mingyu’s, serves him well for leverage thanks to their height difference—as he clasps the last cardboard note in between his fingers.
“This bitch.” Jihoon dares curse in between a sniffle of his nose. He doesn’t care that the clients are looking at him, or that his face has turned beet red. “You’re going to answer. I’m literally reliving the romance of ‘Pretty Woman’ and I’m not letting you pass that up.”
She watches as Jihoon moves over to the counter, grabbing the agenda where the appointments are jotted down and scribbling something that he doesn’t let her see.
“Did you just call me a prostitute?”
“He did.” Mingyu pokes fun, looking over his shoulder at the group of women staring at him. One of them the newest trainer in her team. Though, his fiancé still waits for him at home and it seems like while he enjoys the compliment of being watched, he doesn’t seek for it like he did before.
“What are you doing? Jihoon! Jihoon, let me see!” The more she tries to look, the more he moves away and only when he crosses over a few words on the agenda does he really stop sobbing and wipe at his tears to answer.
“The only way that you two will have any time together is if you become his trainer and what a coincidence that I need Kyro to help me train a new client.”
“Don’t you dare—” Though, when she clasps the agenda, Wonwoo has already been written down in his 9am work outs with her as his trainer. “What will I even do? I’m too embarrassed to even look him in the eyes, let alone look at his biceps.”
Mingyu has the audacity not to hide his chuckle and Jihoon flutters his eyelashes as if he is the most innocent man in this world. “Well, find your words because it’s happening.”
“…I’ll make a fool of myself.”
Jihoon takes a little paper out of the glass then, opening it at her eyes and saying: “Here it says that you are ‘smart’, act like it. Don’t let life happen, make it happen.”
###
Wonwoo has done his leg raises three times now and still, he can’t seem to remember how many times he has done it.
Blame the person by his side, hair framing her face and the neckline of her tank top falling a bit on her collarbones, bringing a heat of pink up his ears. What exactly had he been thinking when he practically confessed his year-long crush on her through a glass filled with compliment? He is not sure. Junhui infected his brain like a parasite. Though, she is as professional as she can get, helping him through the worst work-out he has ever done.
After finishing off with his leg raises, he stands in front of the mirror. His shoulders hide a portion of her face to his vision and he looms down a bit just to be able to see the shine of her lip gloss and the glimmer of her eyes when they connect with his through their reflections. He is a man of enigmas and while he knows nothing bad can hide behind eyes so pure, so filled up with empathy and understanding, he also knows that there are portions of her that he won’t be able to solve if he only leaves it at destiny to solve it.
So, he smiles. That’s what he wants to do when he sees her, after all. Cheekbones well-raised and a set of white teeth shown, that triggers something within her. A grin, though a bit innocent, mirrors back at him, giving him his weights to continue with his squats.
He starts but it only takes two squats for him to stop.
“You’ll hurt your back. Do it a little bit more leaned over.” Her palm splays on his back, muscles contracting at the mere touch and he has to sigh at the feeling of her knees touching the back of his to help him with his position. He always gets it right, so why is it—?
Then, her breath ghosts on his nape and every hair on his body begs for him to get away from that gym. His mind tells him that this is an adrenaline-filled zone that mixes a cocktail of desire and interest, along with a bit of aloof magic in what consists of his moves towards her, but he can’t stop his heart from speaking when he turns around.
This is the acme of a cardiologist. Having his heart talk for himself.
“Uh, I should really be paying attention to you but I am not.” Wonwoo shakes his head, cascades of dark hair framing his forehead. He had forgotten his cap at home for a reason. Call it a sixth sense. She looks up at him, frowning her eyebrows a bit and fuck him for wanting nothing more than to soothe those lines with a kiss.
He presses his lips together, biting on his lip.
“I’ll call Kyro then—”
“No.” Wonwoo finalizes for her, grasping her wrist and maybe, it’s the medical side of him but his index and middle finger trace over her radial pulse. It’s racing. Her heart is just as crazy as his feels. “I’m sure you know by now that I’m not g—good with words…but I really would like to try talking to you over a coffee.”
“As in a date?” She mumbles out those words robotically, as if she couldn’t get the grasp of them.
That steals a chuckle out of him. A bit muffled, they are in public after all, but it gives him a boost to speak.
“Yes.” He confirms, bringing her wrist up to his lips to press a chaste kiss there before speaking against her skin. “May I have the chance to take you out?”
She squints her eyes at that. “That has worked for you before.”
“What?”
“Looking at people like that. Hiding your blush behind…my wrist.” Her words are jumbled before she shakes her head, arranging her thoughts.
“It’s the first time I do it, actually.”
“Fuck.” She counterparts, letting go of him before nodding. “For sure, take me out, but don’t…take me off guard like that.”
“Why? Because you don’t like it?” He questions, voice soft as he looks at her face from over her shoulder.
She turns around, faces too close when she answers: “Oh, you know what I think of it.”
“That you hate it.” Wonwoo assumes, only to have her shaking her head.
“Then you don’t know me at all.” She responds. “I haven’t hated anything you’ve done, Wonwoo. Ever.”
“Not even the cards?”
“I loved those.” She pats a hand on the small of his back. “Now, off to do your squats.”
His position is better when he looks at her through the mirror. “Wednesday sounds great for you?”
“Sounds perfect. Crook those knees, Wonwoo.”
“Yes, boss.”
The giggle that she hides with a lip bite steals one from him.
###
Wonwoo has the sleeves of his sweater covering his palms and surrounding his coffee mug when he burns the whole roof of his mouth and lets out the longest hiss that can be expected out of a date.
The conversation does not flow easily. You see, there are a lot of lies that come when the initiation of romance happens to take place in someone’s life and one of them is that going on a date with someone after a long time pining after each other will come easily. It doesn’t and while she has been in the dating business for a while, with its lows and lowest, she had forgotten just how difficult it is to get a conversation across. How hiding smiles behind mugs and trying her hardest not to reach over the table and just clasp his hand in hers is just one of the toughest trials of the afternoon.
“Did you just burn yourself?” That’s the question that does it. The one that breaks the ice as Wonwoo heaves and places a napkin just on the roof of his mouth.
“Sorry.” Is what she can understand from the muffled voice that leaves his lips. Notifying that he is probably not showing his most attractive state, even when wearing a dense gray sweater and a pair of jeans that show the strength of his legs, he takes the napkin out of his mouth. “I’m not a good talker, as you can tell.”
“Quite the paradox for a doctor. One would think they are the biggest talkers.” She prompts, though she shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t mind, however. Your lack of speech makes what you say more thoughtful, in a way.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I said doctors are very different depending on the specialty they decide to go to. Rumor has it that cardiologists are grumpy and obstinate.”
Her eyebrows raise at the statement. “And you’re that?”
“No.” Wonwoo complies, earning laughter from her. “But you did say I’m a paradox.”
She hums, taking a sip of her coffee not without blowing on it first. “What made you want to become a cardiologist?”
Expecting an elongated answer of a story that should probably go untold, he sighs. “I had to give a presentation about the heart as an organ in my first few semesters. It was the only good grade I got for a while, so…that became my thing, I guess. I am a huge nerd for it as an…you know, as a figure? Its architecture? How it’s constructed, maybe.”
“Interesting.” She lets out. “It’s quite like me with Zeus, I guess. I didn’t love working out, but I wanted to construct a place that…made people feel comfortable with working out. Without having that social construct of looking certain way or doing the exercises in a set way. Being judged, that’s what I was trying to avoid.”
“You’ve done just that.” The corners of his eyes crinkle at his smile, running his finger on the edge of the mug, still nicely covered by his sweater paws.
Matters with Wonwoo don’t come easily. Getting words out of him is like carving for gold. When he does let them out, however, she’s surprised by the stories he can tell. The way he wraps his lips around his knowledge, giving it in pieces that both showcase how smart he is but how much he wants to be understood. The coffee and the pastries in his favorite area of Seoul become a mere memory until night arrives and when the lights are turned off, a waitress getting close to them to ask them to leave as politely as possible, she notices one thing.
Wonwoo is a man of the night. He gets a boost of energy, a surge of interest and a curiosity that cannot be calmed down when they share sweet, silent laughter.
It’s a look in his eyes and a pull of an unknown force that makes her get closer. His hand, gravitating towards hers, slots digit after digit through her fingers. She learns, with the weight of his hand and the closeness of his chest, the gust of air that he lets out, too, that there are some people that are meant to unite. One day or the other.
He whispers: “I am not much of a talker, but I can show you how much I have been into you.”
Rationality aside, she lulls forward, meeting him in the middle…because that’s the power of a kiss, not giving it one-sidedly, but uniting forces in the end to turn it to something beautiful. Like the habits she had studied out of him for an entire year, he surprises her with the softness of his lips, the glide of them across her own when giving her a small peck; a sun that caresses her flesh in the early morning of summer.
Instead, she gives a portion of her being. Deepening what feels like a thread that unites them. His hand still holds hers, but his other palm sneaks towards her spine, tracing her lumbar curve and digging his fingers there. His teeth drag against her bottom lip softly, stealing a sigh that should not have escaped her. He laughs.
“What?”
“One of us is a talker.” Wonwoo teases, only to have her digging her nails into his knuckles while still holding his hand.
“Shut up.”
He pretends to zip his mouth and throw the key. Just a few seconds of silence paired up with the look he gives her tells her something.
Wonwoo is not a man of words, but whatever he does or says means the sun, the moon and the stars.
#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo#seventeen scenarios#seventeen#kpop scenarios#writing#wonwoo au#wonwoo fluff#series: when we were young#seventeen au#seventeen fluff
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Caring For You (Adrian Chase x reader)
Request: hiiii could you write adrian chase x gn!reader where he take care of the sick reader?? im totally not rushing you, u can start whenever you want! have a nice day/night!
AHH SUCH A CUTE IDEA! I LOVE THIS!
Masterlist
Warnings: small amount of angst, fluff, mentions of illness, mentions of sex
You thought it was a simple sore throat.
Maybe you just slept with your mouth opened causing it to be dry. That’s all it was. It’s at least what you were trying to convince yourself.
That was until you felt your head start hurting and your nose slowly become congested.
By three o’clock in the afternoon, you were ready to conk out and take some tylenol. Your throat also got worser. It hurt to swallow and the idea of even eating made you nauseated.
You were sick.
A cold as your manager called it. He sent you home giving you the rest of the week to recover. Walking into your home, you immediately stalked to the restroom grabbing some medicine.
“Y/N? Is that you?” Adrian’s voice rang out causing you to jump.
“Yeah! I thought you were at work?” Wincing a bit as you tried to hide the sound of your congestion.
Adrian raised an eyebrow at your tone heading to the restroom, “I did I came out early though. Was gonna go on patrol soon..”
His voice trailed off once he saw the state you were in. Your hair messed up, pale face, and shaky hands.
“Y/N...Are you okay?”
You smiled reassuringly, “Oh yeah don’t worry! I’m fine Adrian just a little-”
You cut off bursting into a coughing fit hiding your face. Adrian patted your back steadying you. “Honey you’re sick.”
“No! No! Just a bit tired that’s all-” Adrian’s gasp cut you off once he placed his hand on your forehead.
“You’re burning up! We need to get you into bed right this instant!” You shook your head at his words trying to resist.
“No! Adrian I swear I’m fine! Just a small cough and sore throat!”
“Yeah nope. We’re getting you into bed and some medicine.”
“I just took some..”
“Good! Now here get settled in bed and I’m gonna make you some tea.” You sighed as he kissed your forehead.
“But you have patrol and I don’t want you missing out because of me-”
“Y/N my lovely girlfriend is sick. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left?” He scoffed in disbelief running to your kitchen. Tossing and turning, you struggled to get comfortable.
It was too hot and cold all at once. Adrian returned helping you up to drink the warm tea. It felt nice and soothing.
“My poor girl all sick. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I thought I just had a dry throat and the more the day went on I just felt more like crap and then at work I got dizzy so my boss sent me home-”
“Wait why didn’t you call me if you were dizzy at work?!”
“I didn’t wanna worry you and besides I made it home didn’t I?”
Adrian glared at you shaking his head, “You are my girlfriend. You are allowed and I deserve to know when things like this happen.”
“It’s just a cold-”
“A cold now, but what if it was something worser? I’m saying this cause I care. I love you Y/N so I want you to tell me all of this. You’re not a burden.”
“Sorry Adrian..”
Adrian hummed kissing you softly. You pushed him away shaking your head. “You’ll get sick.”
“I can’t get sick babe. Besides I know you want my kisses.”
“I do! But I don’t want you sick Adrian!” You coughed a bit as he laughed shaking his head.
“I promise I won’t. Now I’m gonna make you some soup and we’re gonna lay here and binge watch your favorite movies.”
“Princess Bride?”
“Yes we’ll watch the princess bride.” You grabbed his hand stopping him from going.
“Wait! Can I have cuddles right now instead? I’m not too hungry.”
“That depends have you eaten today?” You stood quiet giving him a sheepish look.
“Adrian look-”
“No! Y/N! You gotta have something in your system so let me make some soup and then you can have all the cuddles you want.”
Adrian kissed you once more heading to the kitchen. You sighed shutting your eyes for a small moment only to fall asleep.
He returned ten minutes later holding a small bowl smiling a bit as you slept peacefully. “Should’ve just let you slept..I can reheat it later.”
Adrian slid in next to you pulling you to his chest sighing as you shook a bit. “Sorry..I fell asleep..” Your hoarse voice whispered out.
“No..don’t apologize you need all the rest you can get.”
“Yeah..you should get going on patrol soon.I promise I’ll be fine-”
“No.”
You whined against him, “You need too though-”
“And you need to be taken care of and trust me I’d rather be here than out there.” He ran his hand through your head laughing as you stared up at him.
“I promise one night without patrol won’t hurt and you always take care of me Y/N. Let me take care of you.”
“Fine..I won’t fight you...”
“Good I promise I’ll win if you try. Now that you’re awake, sit up.” You nodded letting him prop you up.
“Now open wide..Soup is still hot.” You gave him a small pointed look but opened your mouth nonetheless. “It’s campbells chicken noodle..I can’t cook homemade soup.”
“It’s good..I like it. Thank you Adrian.”
Adrian grinned feeding you the whole bowl chuckling a bit as some spilled on your shirt. “Such a messy sicky..”
“Shut up.” You grumbled smiling as he helped you up changing you. “I’m not completely useless you know.”
“I know. I just wanna take care of you. Now come on lay down again.” He changed into his own pajamas pulling you to cuddle up beside him.
“Can we please watch-”
“I’m already putting it on.” He lowered the volume a bit giving you a head massage as you watched the movie.
“i love you. Thank you for taking care of me..”
“I’ll always look out for you and take care of you. I love taking care of you. I just wish you wouldn’t fight me on it sometimes.”
“I’ll try to stop..” Adrian shook his head.
“Now we both know that’s a lie, but that’s okay. I love a challenge.” Adrian whispered to you kissing your forehead. You sneezed whimpering a bit.
“I’ll get you more medicine soon.”
“Thank you..” You cuddled into his chest shutting your eyes again. Adrian rubbed your back humming a small tune.
“Get some sleep. We’ll get you better in no time.”
#adrian chase#fanfiction#adrian chase x reader#vigilante fanfiction#adrian chase x you#vigilante x reader#vigilante peacemaker#peacemaker#adrian chase peacemaker#fanfic
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do you have a specific makeup look you have in mind? i know a few cool-toned makeup tutorials but they’re all going for a specific look so depending on the inspo the outcome is different.
as for just affordable cool toned makeup in general i’d start at elf. they have a dupe for everything and pretty good shade ranges. one of their foundations is $6 and has 30+ shades i think? korean makeup brands also have a LOT of affordable cool toned makeup i’m p sure. eyeshadow and contour that’s on the way cooler, grayer side compared to the more warmer tones of the U.S. they also have really really cheap eyeshadow palettes that come in color stories and some of them are cool toned like the açaí you palette. it’s cool toned blues and purples for $3.
also if you find a good cool toned eyeshadow you could always use that for contour if that’s something you’re into. ik a bunch of people that do it bc a lot of contour runs way too warm. colourpop is my other fave affordable makeup brand and they’re well known for having a lot of bang for your buck. they have a 30 pan eyeshadow palette called stone cold fox that’s cool toned.
there’s a contour palette from the brand kaleidos that’ll run you $25 (which is on the pricier side) but it’s a 3 pan palette and it has some of the coolest contour shades i’ve ever seen. recommended to my friend who’s as pale as one of the cullens and she was super excited to find it.
i’m cool toned as well but i figure out given racial differences it’s probably not the same grade of cool. i can get away with warmer stuff but i know a lot of people who look insane with even the slightest bit of warmth in their face. idk if that’s your of if it’s a personal preference but the info’s the same regardless.
a lot of my fyp is makeup so i don’t mind doing more research into it or sharing anything new i find if that’s something you’d want.
i hope that was a little bit helpful, good luck!
thank you thank you thank you ughh thank you again like you really blew my mind with the using eyeshadow bit. the elf tip was killer and using the $ pricing was so helpful. anon you are so real, i ended up finding the right combo and i messed around with it tonight and i loved the outcome!
for me anything warm completely washes me out if that’s the right term. i have to use the palest and most cool toned stuff. i’ll definitely look into the kaleidos pallet
right now i think i have the most trouble with mapping out the contour. being gender-fluid i do like makeup and the way it looks on me, but i never had like .. a coach. most of what i know is self taught and just playing around until it looks good.
i shape my eyebrows like with like .. a clay-like-texture thing and with concealer. i just bought my first foundation today so i used that. i know how to do my big winged eyeliner with liquid. i prime usually with face lotion. i do a base of eyeshadow with a little bit of depth in the crease usually with a light brow and then a touch of black. i just learned how to apply lashes today so i did the top and little ones i cut at the bottom. and with y’all’s help i did a little bit of contouring with eyeshadow and highlighter. ik how to do lip liner and liquid lipstick and overlay my lips.
i don’t know what bake is for or how but i feel like that has something to do with contouring? and idk what colors go where, and do i do a full face contour before eye makeup or after? there’s a lot of things like that that i wouldn’t know bcos it’s like .. how do i even search for it, you know?
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The soft kiss of death
🤍🗡️jpm x fem!reader
warnings; suicide, brief mention of mental illness & past suicide attempts.
a/n: I hope you understand some of the things I’m tryna say in this 😭😭💗
now playing;
The shiny blade glistened, staring back at you from the palm of your hand. James was somewhere around the hotel; participating in his little “hobby” that he enjoyed dearly.
You had tried to kill yourself more than once; before you met him. You had planned on going to the Hotel Cortez, just to slit your wrists in the bathtub. That was long before James had saved you; and uncovered the truth of the eerie hotel. He had managed to convince you to stay for a while, to see if you would enjoy the quiet whispers, the blood reeking halls, and the nightly visits from lost souls. In the end, you had grown to accept the hotels signature side affects, just so you could stay by James’ side.
He gave you love, a warm feeling that blossomed in your stomach every time you saw him, or simply by the faint mention of his name; and a roof over your head to protect you from others who wished you harm. James had declared you under his protection, so none of the wandering spirits could touch you; including the living such as the countess and her boyfriend of the week.
You shook your head, riding it of the thoughts that had invaded you like a parasite. You placed the freshly sharpened blade against your left wrist, the cold metal sending shivers up your spine. In a quick motion, you sliced through the vein; in a sickly easy way, as if your flesh was soft butter.
Blood gushed out, staining your white gown a crimson red. You turned to the other wrist, repeating the motion as your vision became blackened. Tears welled in your eyes as you slid down the wall, quite easily due to the slippery red that assisted you with your gentle fall. You would finally join the man you loved with your whole heart. The man you would love for the rest of eternity; even if he stopped loving you.
Your vision faded into black, as you welcomed the soft kiss of death, that feathered lightly upon your now pale cheek.
Your eyes fluttered open, and you were dead. Blood that had now dried a bit, pooled around you and clumped together slightly. You were two skin tones paler than before, and your wrists were no longer in pain.
You got up hesitantly, checking the time. It was 30 minutes after your death. You stumbled to the door, opening it and walking down the hall. You spotted Ms. Evers scrubbing a bloodied sheet and mumbling to herself quietly and passive aggressively. “Hey.” You croaked, your voice a bit scratchy.
Ms. Evers turned around quickly, her eyes widened as they laid upon you. “Oh dear.” She clicked her tongue. “What did you do? You’re all bloody.” She shook her head, seemingly not noticing the deep gashes on your wrists, that now dried blood had trailed down.
You put your wrists in front of her, with a slightly proud smile. “I joined James. But I made a mess. Could you help me clean it?” Her eyes widened once more as she scanned your pale figure.
She clicked her tongue once more, disregarding the bloodied sheets behind her. “Where did you do it?” She asked with her brows knitted together.
“In James’ bathroom.” You offered a small embarrassed smile.
She shook her head. “Oh what a mess.” You heard her sigh, before she walked her way into the hotel room you shared with James. You walked into the room as well, throwing away your bloody gown and slipping on a long sleeved shirt, paired with expensive; yet comfortable pants.
An hour later, Ms. Evers left; the bathroom now spotless and not even a drop of blood remained.
The moon now shined down on you brightly, wrapping your now dead body in a cold hug.
I loud voice had teared your gaze away from the bright moon.
“Hello, darling.” James spoke softly; yet his voice was loud.
“Hi James.” You said, a slight smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards.
He raised a brow as he sniffed the air. “Is that… blood? And bleach?” He asked curiously, before his eyes landed upon your face. “Are you quite alright, dearest? You’re very pale.” He commented, walking up to you and placing his hand on your forehead. “You’re freezing cold, dear.”
“Have you truly not figured it out yet, my love?” You asked, your eyes, which no longer had the shine a living person owns, locking with his.
He raised a brow as you lifted up your sleeves, showing the deep gashes, followed with blood that had crusted around it, and down your arm. A small gasp tore itself from James’ parted lips as he stared down at you. He rushed to you, wrapping your cold body in a tight hug. It was enough to bring tears to your cold eyes, as you wrapped your arms around his neck; attempting to be as close to him as possible.
“But why, my dear?” He whispered softly, pulling from the hug to look you in your eyes.
“I’m getting older, not younger. And my love for you is growing. I couldn’t handle knowing one day I could walk out of this hotel, and get killed. And never see you again. This world is a dangerous place, and the only place I truly feel safe is in your arms, my love.” I admitted, placing a soft kiss to the pale skin of his cheek. He picked you up and brought you to bed. He lied next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist; bringing your body closer to his own.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, than with you. Simply standing in the same room as you is enough to bring butterflies to my stomach.” You breathed out, placing a soft kiss to his lips.
He smiled, rubbing comforting circles into your side.
“I’ve never met a woman, as ravishing as you are. You make my dead heart pulsate with love. I’ve never felt this way before; not even with the woman I thought I loved. You are the woman that I want to watch the world burn with.” He smiled, tucking hair behind your ear softly.
You lied there for the rest of the night, a comforting silence engulfing the both of you as your limbs tangled with one another passionately.
Who knew that death could save your life.
#ahs#ahs hotel#ahs fandom#american horror story#james march x fem reader#james march x reader#james patrick march#james march#James Patrick March x reader#James Patrick March x Fem reader#James Patrick March x you#James Patrick March x y/n#James March x you#James March x y/n#fem reader#TW#trigger warning
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The Things We Do For The Fleet
Chapter 2: Little Run Ins
Leonard McCoy x fem!reader
⚠️: hint at low self esteem if you squint, little bit of language
word count: 1,697
<-Previous-Next->
Y/N’s alarm finally went off. “Okay” she told herself as she sat up and felt the sheets fall away from her body, “Time to conquer the day!” She said cheerily before beginning to stretch. or at least not let it conquer you, she thought and a frown came across her face, but only for a moment before she pushed that thought away and got out of bed.
Y/N swayed into the bathroom, where she stopped to look at herself in the mirror. “Hello, gorgeous!” She falsely chirped to her reflection. Nope, still don’t believe it, but we’ll try again tomorrow, she thought with a soft sigh before moving to turn on the shower.
Y/N went to her closet to grab her uniform for today while the water warmed up for her. “Computer” she called out into the room, “Play my morning mix at 65% volume, please” she requested and the soft, but happy music began to play almost instantly.
65% seemed sort of oddly specific, but it was the perfect volume, it wasn’t deafening, but she would still be able to hear it when she got under the running water.
As soon as Y/N saw the steam coming from the shower she quickly stripped and tossed her pyjamas into the pale blue hamper before hopping into the shower. “A dream is a wish your heart makes…” Y/N trailed off as she squeezed lavender shampoo into her hand. She continued singing as she scrubbed the product into her scalp.
Once Y/N had finished washing up, she turned off the hot water with a refreshed sigh. Her stomach growled as she reached for her towel, “Oh, dear me!” Y/N exclaimed softly and continued to hurry to dry off and get dressed. “Computer, please stop my music” Y/N asked in a bubbly tone before almost skipping out the down and down the hall to the turbo lift. “Mess deck” Y/N called out lightly when she got into the turbo lift.
“Oh, hi!” Y/N greeted when Uhura stepped into the turbo lift with her. “Good morning, Y/N” Uhura said through a stifled yawn. “How are you so awake this early?” She asked, stretching as best she could in her uniform. “Easy, there was some loose nut down the hall who was screaming about a half an hour before my alarm went off, so I’ve been awake since then,” Y/N rambled on in the closest thing to an angry that Uhura had heard from her in all the time they’d been friends. “Really, I didn’t hear it, I must of been sleeping too hard” Uhura laughed it off in the hopes that the sound would lighten the admittedly fairly light mood.
“Anyway” Uhura began changing the subject, “Do you have anything fun planned down in the botany lab for today?” She asked with an intent smile. “Yeah actually!” Y/N wiggled a bit as she said it, “We picked up this really pretty pink and blue flower, and when I say pink and blue I mean you have to come see it after breakfast! It’s like… Cotton candy pink and blue!” Y/N exclaimed.
“And you know what’s even crazier?!?” Y/N asked rhetorically, “It smells just like cotton candy too!!” She said waving her hands for more effect. “Really?!?” Uhura asked, “Will you show me after we eat, we’ll have to be quick so I can still be on time but I need to see that!” Uhura rushed just as the turbo lift door opened up to reveal the mess deck.
“Of course it’s really amazing!” Y/N agreed as they stepped out into the mess deck. “What about you, Uhura?” Y/N asked her in return, “Nothing reall, I don’t have the kind of position that you make plans for. I’m going to go up to the bridge and follow orders,” She said with a smile. Y/N and Uhura continued to chatter as they walked up to the replicators.
With a dull thud, Y/N ran directly into someone’s chest. “Oh I’m sorry!” Y/N exclaimed, “Oh” she finally looked up at a rather stern looking man in medical uniform. “No, no, it takes two to tango” The man said in something that resembled an apology, but still looked rather annoyed that the interaction was taking place at all.
“Oh, okay” Y/N said in quiet acceptance before skittering away without her breakfast. Uhura gave the man a short glare before following behind her.
Leonard grumbled on his way out the door. He met with Kirk on his way down the hall. Not mad at him, not mad at him, not-, “Did you really need to wake me up with that?” Leonard did his best not to sound angry, but he was failing miserably. “You don’t need to rip me to shreds so early in the day” Kirk defended himself, putting his hands up momentarily as his stride slowed to keep pace with Leonard.
“Fine” He muttered, making a motion his arms that seemed to indicate him physically letting go of his anger. “Alright, good, let’s chow” Kirk encouraged and began walking faster to the mess deck.
“Race you there!” Kirk shouted, leaving Leonard behind. “I am not doing that!” Leonard yelled back and kept his own pace the rest of the way up to the mess deck. I’m done with this day already, I haven’t even been into medbay, good god, he thought as he came up on the mess entryway, where Kirk was waiting for him. “Ah, you made it!” Kirk exclaimed in exaggerated relief.
“Alright, so give me all the details on this rooming thing” Leonard ordered in an actually exasperated manner. “Well, what do you wanna know?” Kirk prompted, “Where is this Y/N girl’s quarters?” He asked a bit distracted, as he was trying to navigate the breakfast crowd while also side eyeing Jim.
“Well I dunno, but-,” Kirk was interrupted by a thud and looked over By a dull thud, and looked over just in time to see a timid looking science officer, flustered and apologising. “Oh, I’m sorry!” The girl was quick to amend, Jim smirked a little as he saw Leonard looking down at her a little longer than he would normally. Usually he would move past these kinds of people without further regard, and just mutter to himself angrily about how nobody paid any attention these days.
Leonard did something entirely different though, “No, no, it takes two to tango,” he had stated, without any real sincerity in his tone, but the fact that he bothered to say something at all was enough for Kirk to raise an eyebrow. “Oh” the girl said in embarrassment and then scurried off as quickly as she had appeared.
“Ooh, you like her, don’t you?” Kirk jabbed as he dug an elbow into Leonard’s ribs. “No, I was just being polite to a girl who clearly wasn’t in need of more abuse” He hissed in a low tone, “And if you would keep from making your elbow too chummy with my ribs, that’d be great” Leonard gritted.
Poor girl, she seemed so scared, I admit I’m the friendliest face this early in the morning, or ever really, but she seemed… I dunno, frightened that I’d hit her or something. Leonard furrowed his brow at the thought, but was quickly pulled away by the icy look Uhura gave him. His eyes widened only a little before he returned his attention to Jim.
“- and then I got hit with a phaser” Kirk explained while pulling his hand into his gut as if to demonstrate the phaser’s impact on him. “What?!?” Leonard asked in alarm, “I knew you weren’t listening to me” Jim whined as he lightly hit Leonard’s shoulder. “I was just thinkin’, tha’s all'' He responded, “Yeah” Jim snorted, “Thinking about the way that girl’s body felt against yours?” Kirk jabbed as he punched in some orders for the replicator in front of him. Admittedly that thought had briefly crossed his mind, but it was extremely brief, not worth mentioning really.
“No, I was just thinking about the fact that I don’t know where this Y/N’s quarters are to be able to break the news to her that we’re rooming together” Leonard corrected in a reprimanding voice. “Ah, well, about that. I’m not actually sure” Jim paused slightly at the pointed look that he was being given by Leonard, “but,” He emphasised before continuing on, “I will check files after breakfast and get that information to you as soon as possible” Kirk explained while waiting for Leonard to get his food.
“You’d better” Leonard grumbled, “You know, you should really work on speaking up or people won’t be sure if you’re talking to them or yourself,” Jim pretended to lecture, “And you should really work on not being an ass” Leonard bit back as he grabbed his tray and they went to find a place to sit.
The two ate breakfast together without much in the way of real conversation, just the occasional comment on what they would be doing today. When Leonard finished his breakfast, which he knew was less than it should have been, he said goodbye to Jim and headed to the medbay to see what today’s damage was.
Y/N and Uhura sat quietly for a few moments, out of sight of the replicators. Uhura finally broke their little bubble of silence, “Are you alright? Bones can kind of be an asshole, and generally in a foul mood” She smiled, trying to encourage Y/N to do the same from within her newly acquired air of gloom. “Yeah, he just scared me,” Y/N replied in a small voice. “Look they aren’t at the replicators anymore if you still want some food” Uhura cheered, pointing in the direction of the, now mostly deserted replicators.
“Okay” Y/N smiled weakly as she stood. They walked to the replicators, where Uhura picked out some fruit and oatmeal, Y/N had picked a cookie and some fruit of her own. “Sooo,” Uhura drawled, “Did I see you blush?” She prodded with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, but I’m allowed to be embarrassed when I run into strangers” Y/N defended, “Alright,” Uhura gave in as they took their seats.
Formatting took an eternity 😮💨
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This is a sequel to a previous request. The original requester (who chose to remain anonymous) asked for a part two that would include an AFO/All Might/Inko threesome, so I delivered. I hope lol.
Smut. 18+. Master/slave dynamics. Dubcon. Humiliation. Shackles. Gags. Oral. Anal. A little bit of everything lol.
Read part one here!
Several days later, Toshinori found himself walking through the sultan’s palace while completely nude, a painful erection standing tall in the cool air.
The sultan was a few feet in front of him, men on either side giving reports and discussing things in hushed voices. This little walk through the palace had a very specific purpose: to parade Toshinori around like an obscene doll. Occasionally, the sultan would stop for a moment to stroke his Chosen Man until thick strings of cum shot out across the marble floor. Then he would force Toshinori to look him in the eyes again, causing another erection.
Of course this whole affair was deeply humiliating, as servants and other inhabitants of the palace had to actively step around the mess, and Toshinori was certain that some servants were forced to clean it up after he passed through.
At least they probably didn’t have to clean it with their tongues. He hoped.
Over the past few days, Toshinori had remained under the effects of the hypnosis, and had remained shackled and gagged most of the time. He was allowed to remove them all to eat, drink, and wash his face a few times a day, as well as bathe, only for fresh gags to be placed back into his mouth and for his arms to be shackled behind his back again.
While the gags were off, he was under strict orders to keep conversation to a minimum. No more than generic pleasantries or letting the servants know that he needed something. Toshinori was very aware that the sultan had eyes and ears everywhere, all eager to report any infraction back to him.
Despite all this, Toshinori had made a friend, of sorts. The woman named Inko had made a point of speaking to him every night before going to sleep. She was careful with her words, smart enough to stick to neutral topics, but her voice was kind and soothing.
Inko was attractive, with long shiny hair and a plump, curvy figure. Toshinori could see why she would be chosen for a harem. It was embarrassing to sit next to this lovely lady while he was naked, an erection slowly softening between his legs. But Inko was considerate. She kept her eyes on his face and avoided reacting to his nudity.
One night the sultan called for both Toshinori and Inko. This provoked a stab of fear in Toshinori, as he wondered what horrors Inko would be dragged into just because she’d been kind to him.
The servant led the two of them to a large bathing chamber, where the sultan was waiting, already completely disrobed. Water dripped along his skin from his bath, leaving glistening trails. His body was toned to perfection, looking like a chiseled god. Between his thighs hung a massive cock, not even hard yet. He smiled as they entered the room, the door shutting behind them.
The sultan looked at Inko, the only one among them wearing any clothing, and made a gesture with his hand. She immediately pulled off her dress and under garments, as if this were routine for her.
Toshinori looked away from her, then regretted being so obvious. The sultan motioned for Inko to approach him, then turned her to face Toshinori.
“Look at her,” he commanded. When Toshinori hesitated, the sultan did something that made Inko gasp.
Toshinori looked up sharply to see the sultan’s hand around Inko’s throat. The grip relaxed when Toshinori looked. “Good. Look her up and down, take in every inch.”
Toshinori looked at her face first, where a hint of a pink blush had spread across her cheeks. He lowered his eyes to her full breasts, lingering on her rapidly hardening pink nipples. Then to the soft rolls of pale flesh that comprised her stomach, flesh that seemed designed to be grabbed. Then to the mound of thin curling hair that covered her pussy. Her thick thighs were clamped together, squished against each other.
The sultan suddenly clapped his hands together to get their attention. “The two of you, have a bath, and then we’ll spend some time together.”
There was a large bathing pool already full of steaming, fragrant water several feet away. Toshinori and Inko walked over to it and stepped inside, both of them eager to sink neck deep into the water.
The gags remained. Toshinori had learned to never remove them unless he was explicitly told to do so. Therefore, Inko was the one to speak.
“Whatever happens, don’t worry about it,” she whispered. “Anything he does to me now is something he’s already done. I’m used to it. I just hate that he’s involving you.”
Toshinori, unable to reply, simply looked at her. How could he tell her that it was the opposite? He hated that she had to be involved.
Inko looked down into the water, a blush on her face again. “I know I’m not the most beautiful woman in the harem. I’m sorry I’m the one you have to do this with.”
Toshinori shook his head vigorously. How could she think that? In his opinion, she was by far the most beautiful woman in the palace. He tried to gesture to her that she was wrong, but he didn’t think he was doing a good job. She just smiled at him as she continued bathing.
A few minutes later, the sultan called for them to finish up and return to him, where he waited on an elevated stone platform. Toshinori avoided Inko’s eyes as they both dried off and walked over to the sultan.
They found him still very much nude, lounging amongst stacks of richly colored pillows. He patted the pillows beside him and said, “Inko, join me.”
Her response was automatic. She quickly stepped over and sat down beside the sultan, then leaned back against the pillows. She didn’t seem particularly afraid of the man, though Toshinori wouldn’t call her demeanor “comfortable” either. She had probably been intimate with the sultan countless times, and Toshinori wondered how she felt about that. Was she repulsed? Crying on the inside at having this man touch her? Or did she simply view it as a duty she had to perform, like any other job? She hadn’t mentioned the sultan being especially cruel to the women in the harem, instead stressing his sadistic treatment of his Chosen Man.
As Toshinori watched, the sultan turned on his side, toward Inko, and ran one hand over her curves, sliding it down to rest between her thighs. Her face was slightly flushed as the sultan’s fingers disappeared into her soft pubic hair. Soon after, the sultan slid his entire body down so that he was positioned between her legs, his head dipping down to bury his face in her pussy.
Inko let out a small moan and leaned her head back, closing her eyes and clutching the pillows surrounding her. Toshinori tore his eyes away from the scene, feeling like a pervert to be watching such an intimate moment.
“Thief,” the sultan’s voice said, drawing Toshinori’s attention. “Her mouth is lovely, and empty. Make use of it.”
That’s when Toshinori realized he was hard again. He’d gotten so used to being erect most of the time that he hadn’t even noticed. What’s more, he didn’t think the hypnosis was the cause. He hadn’t looked the sultan in the eyes since coming in here. He realized with embarrassment that he’d been aroused by Inko’s moans.
Still, he hesitated. He didn’t want to do anything Inko didn’t want, and the thought of being forceful with her horrified him. But she turned her head toward him and smiled.
“Come,” she said, her cheeks red with blush and desire.
Toshinori stepped closer, then knelt right beside her face, his thighs spread slightly to give her easy access. He placed some extra pillows under her head to get the positioning right, then she leaned toward him and took his cock into her mouth.
He immediately groaned through the gag. Inko’s mouth was soft and wet, her tongue moving gently over his tip and her plush lips sliding along his length. It was completely different from the sultan’s firm, rough blowjobs.
The sultan watched Inko sucking Toshinori off, his eyes shining with pleasure, then returned to his task of eating her out, causing her to moan around Toshinori’s cock.
Just when Toshinori thought he was about to explode in her mouth, the sultan raised his head and said, “Whichever one of you cums first, the other will be punished.”
Toshinori felt as if the blood froze in his body. He looked down to see panic spread across Inko’s face. But just as quickly, a look of determination replaced it. She suddenly began pumping faster, running her tongue along the underside of his cock. She even lifted one hand to massage his testicles.
She was trying to make him cum first. She intended to accept the punishment.
Toshinori tried to tell her to stop, but he couldn’t communicate with the gags on. He thought about pulling away from her, but he knew the sultan would never allow that. He looked over at the other man and motioned toward Inko’s groin, his own way of saying, “Get on with it!”
The sultan laughed, then dove back in. From this angle, Toshinori could see the sultan spreading Inko’s flesh open with his fingers, then running his tongue all over her clit. Her eyes widened, but she never stopped sucking and licking. Toshinori could feel himself getting close, but he held back with all his might. In desperation, he reached one hand down to lightly squeeze her breast, then gently tease her nipple. She made a sound that only turned him on even more, but thankfully, her entire body tensed up and she moaned again. It almost sounded like a sob.
The sultan looked up. “Looks like Inko lost.”
Immediately after, Toshinori lost the strength to fight his own orgasm anymore, and moved to pull out.
“Cum in her mouth,” the sultan commanded, and Toshinori obeyed, worried that refusing would result in Inko being hurt. He felt guilty, but he couldn’t stop himself from completely emptying himself out into Inko’s exhausted mouth.
She took it all, not spilling a drop, and swallowed it down, her tongue still lapping at his tip to catch any remainder.
For a few minutes, she just laid there, panting, legs still spread obscenely. Toshinori stared at her, having the sudden urge to fuck her right then and there. The thought shamed him.
The sultan had stood up and went into the water, bathing himself again. “Bring her over here,” he said.
Toshinori eased Inko into an upright position. Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a shy smile. “I’m alright,” she told him, getting to her feet. “The sultan is obsessed with cleanliness. This is all normal.”
Toshinori helped steady her as they both returned to the water to clean themselves again. Once finished, they all three emerged from the water and dried off, only the sultan having no problem looking the others in the eye.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what the punishment is,” he said to Toshinori.
Toshinori looked in the sultan’s general direction, but avoided his eyes.
The sultan grinned. “Whoever won that little game will have their ass penetrated. By me.”
Toshinori paled and glanced at Inko. The shocked look on her face told him this was something even she wasn’t used to. He was glad then that she had “lost”. He couldn’t imagine watching that happen to her. If one of them had to be humiliated and violated, he would prefer it to be him.
“But I’m a merciful sultan. While I’m penetrating you, you’ll be penetrating her. You’re free to use whichever hole you prefer. Just not her mouth again, that would be boring.”
Inko flushed red again, and Toshinori looked at her apologetically. “It’s okay,” she said, “I don’t mind.”
She walked over to the platform full of pillows and laid down on her back again, then opened her legs. Toshinori slowly climbed on top of her. He wanted this, wanted to fuck her senseless, but he worried about her feelings. She said she didn’t mind, but he’d much rather know she actively wanted him to touch her.
He started by gently caressing her, from her face down to her neck and then to her breasts. Her breathing quickened, little sounds escaping her plump lips. She certainly didn’t seem to dislike his touch. In fact, her blushing face and glazed eyes implied that she was enjoying herself. This made Toshinori feel a bit bolder, so he slowly ground his firm, nude body against her unbelievably soft one. His hands ran over the rounded rolls of her sides, and he gripped them as he pushed his cock inside her.
Inko gasped and arched her back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He began to thrust into her, becoming intoxicated by the feeling of her tight, wet pussy clenching him. He’d had sex before, with both men and women, but Inko was incredible. The way she clamped down on him, how pliable and supple she was, the way her eyes glistened as she looked up at him… all of it was driving him crazy.
From the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw the sultan walk over to a pile of discarded clothes and pick up what appeared to be a small jar. He opened it as he moved over to them, and once he was standing right beside the pair, he made a show of reaching his fingers into the far and scraping up some sort of greasy-looking ointment. He slathered it all over his imposing cock, then dropped the jar to the side and moved behind Toshinori.
There was little doubt in what was coming next. Toshinori had never been penetrated before, but he had penetrated others, and he knew the process. He was just thankful that the sultan was using lubrication. He tried to relax his ass as he felt the sultan’s hands on his hips. It was easier said than done. His natural reaction to feeling the tip of a cock at his asshole was to clench himself tightly. He took a deep breath and forced himself to loosen up, just in time for the sultan to shove into him.
It hurt, far more than he anticipated. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the sultan’s unusually large size or if it always hurt like this, but he felt sudden guilt toward his past partners, even though they never complained.
Toshinori tried to focus on Inko, on the pleasure he felt, to alleviate the pain the sultan was causing him. Inko was making positively delicious sounds, and at one point even raised up to kiss the gags, right where his mouth was.
Within minutes, the sultan had found a rhythm that matched Toshinori’s and the pain of the penetration melted into pleasure. Toshinori had never experienced so much stimulation in his life, and it all overwhelmed him quickly. He came inside Inko, and seconds later, the sultan came inside him. Inko had apparently came a little earlier, judging by her rapid breaths and half closed eyes.
The three of them rested for a few minutes, then bathed again before the sultan sent them back to the large room Toshinori and Inko shared with the other women of the harem.
That night, Inko was unusually quiet as she slipped into her sleeping spot. Toshinori didn’t sleep at all, his mind replaying what had happened over and over until morning.
At the usual time, Toshinori went alone to a small dining area and removed his gags to eat his breakfast. He was surprised when, instead of the usual servant, it was Inko who brought him a tray of food. She placed it on the table in front of him and sat down beside him.
“I bribed the servant to let me bring your food,” she said quickly, stealing glances all around them as if afraid she would be caught. “I just wanted the chance to ask you something. Can you tell me your name?”
Toshinori stared at her wordlessly, trying to decide if revealing his name would earn the sultan’s wrath, upon himself or Inko.
After a few moments of silence, Inko’s face reddened and she stood up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position.”
“It’s Toshinori,” he said, standing up to face her.
She smiled at him. “I like that name.”
He smiled back. It was the first time he’d smiled since coming here, and it felt nice.
It didn’t take long for that brief moment to come back to haunt him. By evening, the sultan had called for Toshinori and Inko to join him in the main hall. At first, Toshinori worried that the sultan planned to humiliate them both in front of spectators, but the hall was empty save for a few guards, and the sultan sat upon his ornate chair fully clothed.
Inko seemed nervous as the sultan gazed down at her, not with the lust he displayed the night before, but with disappointment.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? I told you both before that I have eyes and ears everywhere,” the sultan said, now glaring at Toshinori.
Inko glanced at Toshinori, all color drained from her face. Then she suddenly threw herself to the floor before the sultan, pressing her head to the floor in a deep bow.
“Please forgive us,” she cried. “I only wanted to know his name. I demanded he tell me! He didn’t want to speak to me, but I insisted!”
Toshinori moved to stop her, but guards were on him in an instant, dragging him backwards away from Inko. With his hands shackled, he couldn’t do much against them.
The sultan’s face broke into a cruel smile. “So you’re to blame, Inko? How unfortunate. You were my favorite.”
Inko said nothing in response, never even raised her face to look at him. Her body was trembling as she kept her head bowed.
“You’re both sentenced to death,” the sultan said in an almost bored tone. “The thief will die by drowning. Inko by beheading. To be carried out immediately.”
Toshinori screamed through the gags and struggled against the guards as Inko was ripped from the floor and dragged away. She looked stunned, as if she hadn’t quite comprehended what had just happened.
Once she was gone, the sultan looked at Toshinori and said, “Oh, don’t glare at me like that. You knew this was coming. I don’t keep a Chosen Man for very long. I do regret that I had to lose Inko in the process, but she can be replaced.”
As the guards began to pull Toshinori away, the sultan spoke again.
“Just so you know, it wasn’t the fact that you spoke to each other. It was the way you looked at each other last night. Neither of you looked at me that way, and that irritated me.”
Toshinori groaned in frustration. He was executing them for such a ridiculous reason? It was unbearable to think about.
The guards dragged Toshinori to an outdoor platform overlooking a large pond. They carried out a huge black metal ball and chained it to Toshinori’s ankles, leaving his hands shackled in front of him and his gags in place.
For a moment, he considered trying to escape. He might’ve been able to take out the guards and carry the ball as he ran. Maybe. It looked awfully heavy. He pulled against the chains with one foot. The ball didn’t budge.
He was expecting the sultan to appear to gloat one final time, or for there to be some sort of ritual involved, but three guards simply walked over and, together, pushed the ball off the edge of the platform. Toshinori was instantly pulled off after it, and he barely had a chance to take a deep breath before he hit the water.
Just after he went under, he thought he heard shouting, but all sound was lost to him as he sank deeper down. He struggled against his bonds, despite knowing there was no use. It was instinct for the body to try to live, after all. His lungs burned in agony as water flowed into his airways. He tried to keep his eyes open as long as possible, and just before he blacked out, he thought he saw a dark figure swimming toward him. Was he hallucinating? That was his last thought.
Until his eyes burst open and he found himself coughing and gagging on the platform he’d just fell from. It took him a moment to notice the man kneeling next to him. Clad all in black, except for a brilliant white scarf around his neck, the man had long dark hair and a haunted look in his piercing eyes.
“Can you move? Can you run?” The man demanded, looking around them, alert.
Toshinori was still coughing up water, but he saw that the chains around his ankles and hands had been cut, and his gags of course had been removed. He nodded as the man in black stood and helped Toshinori to his feet.
“Wait,” Toshinori croaked out, his throat raw. “There’s a woman…”
“The one from the harem?” The man asked. “My people already rescued her. She’s safe.”
It was only then that Toshinori noticed the guards strewn like lifeless dolls around the area. Had this man taken them all out on his own? One of them groaned and began stirring. The man in black motioned for Toshinori to follow him and then ran back toward the interior of the palace. Together, they wove through empty hallways and rooms Toshinori had never seen before, managing to stay out of sight. Clearly, the man was very familiar with the palace.
“Who are you?” Toshinori finally asked while they hid in a small room, waiting for some guards to pass.
“You can call me Aizawa. I was a so called ‘Chosen Man’ before you. Now I try to get people out when I can.”
Toshinori remembered Inko telling him about a former Chosen Man that she never saw break, who had disappeared. This must be him.
They snuck through a few more hallways before emerging from the back of the palace, through a small door that didn’t appear to see much use. Aizawa led Toshinori back to the crowded streets that had been his home all his life, then stopped and turned to face him.
“If you keep your head down and don’t make any trouble, they’ll probably never find you. Too many people here, too easy to blend in.”
Toshinori hesitated, then asked, “What will you do?”
“Keep trying to get people out of there,” Aizawa replied, as if that were the only logical answer.
“Can I join you?”
Aizawa stared at him. “What I do is dangerous. I risk being captured again every time I act. And the sultan probably has the most horrific punishment imaginable already planned for me. If that doesn’t scare you away, then you’re free to join me.”
Toshinori nodded. “Glad to be working with you. I’m Toshinori.”
Aizawa nodded back, and the two of them made their way through the streets, disappearing into the crowd.
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cosmic sidestep - their multiverse part 12 (soraya)
[Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4], [Part 5], [Part 6a], [Part 6b], [Part 7], [Part 8], [Part 9], [Part 10], [Part 11]
--
“So I hear it’s you that I have to thank for finding the tear,” Luc says, sitting down across from the flame-haired girl in the mess hall. She looks at him with faint distaste, annoyed he’s interrupted her solitary meal and not polite enough to hide it.
Hmm, Luc thinks, this might have been a mistake.
“All I did was detect an anomalous subspace resonance resulting in temporal dissonance frequencies. I did a deep dive into the ship's temporal-communicative matrix, cross-referenced the readings with the latest cosmological constants and reconfigured the Berlin’s Chrono-Resonance Decoder to pinpoint it. It’s not a tear, it’s a hyper-dimensional vortex. But I guess you already know that.”
It’s hard to miss the faint mocking in her tone. Some of it gets his back up in the blast of her smug infodump but he swallows it down. His fathers had always told him he would catch more flies with honey and it’s a strategy he works with now.
“Still, the fact you noticed it at all was pretty impressive. I don't think it was an easy thing to find. You must be pretty switched on.”
The girl scoffs. “Are you finished trying to blow smoke up my ass? Because I’d like to finish my meal.”
Luc looks down at the congealed mass of grey goop on her plate. “Looks so appetising,” he deadpans. “I can see why you’re so keen to get back to it.”
He’s not entirely sure what he’s done to irritate this girl, save for merely existing but she pins him with a look of absolute defiance as she scoops up a spoonful of sludge and shoves it in her mouth.
“Mm, yum yum,” she says sarcastically, her words muffled around the food.
Luc’s stomach turns a little. “I guess this is a bad time.”
“No shit,” she says, still talking around her food. "Whatever could have given you that impression?"
Luc gets up, taking the hint loud and clear. “I’d like to know what other readings you got… whatever else you found-“
“Yeah, you and everyone else on this rust bucket.”
She finally swallows and flicks a long braid over her shoulder. She’d probably be cute if she wasn’t staring at him with so much hostility. Her skin was pale, dusted with constellations and her eyes were a startling warm brown that seemed almost at odds against her freckled skin and bright hair. “Come back when I’m on duty.”
She goes back to her tray and Luc decides not to bother lingering.
--
Later, Luca is trying to undo the buckle on Luc’s pants but he’s too busy snorting and laughing to be of any real use. “You met Ellis, huh? She’s not much fun, that one.”
“She looked at me like I was less than a bug on her boot,” Luc says ruefully. He’s kinda tired, he hasn’t been sleeping well, his guilt that he’s somehow cheating on his marriage manifesting in bad dreams where he’s searching through an empty house calling for his husband and finding nothing but shadows, but Luca has the energy of a twelve year old boy who’s just discovered his dick instead of tapering off like any other twenty year old and Luc can't manage to fend him off. Jesus, Ryan must have the stamina of an ox to keep up with him. “Luca-“
“What?” Luca pouts when Luc shoves his hands away. “I’m horny.”
“You’re always horny. Where’s Ryan?”
“Um.” Luca looks at him like he’s a bit stupid. “Flying the fucking ship?”
Okay. He walked into that one, he admits. He sighs when Luca starts working on his pants again. “You’re on your own for this one.”
“Sure,” Luca says cheerfully, dropping to his knees, clearly unbothered by Luc’s lack of enthusiasm. He’s not doing it for Luc anyway, purely for his own entertainment. Luc doesn’t ever remember being this voracious when it came to sex, not even when Blake first pinned him to the sheets. “It’s only just slightly more fun than jerking off alone.”
Luc raises an eyebrow, unsure how to take that. Sex with Luca was exactly that – like jerking off. It was perfunctory and relatively unimaginative, over just as quickly as it starts and with just as much as a clean-up.
But, he concedes as Luca finally liberates his dick and puts his warm, wet mouth around him, it sure as fuck beat just using his hand.
He sighs again and finally gives himself permission to let go and enjoy whatever clever thing Luca is currently doing with his tongue.
He'll track down Ensign Ellis on duty tomorrow.
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Family borne of choice, not blood
Little snippets of what I have written of Voren´thal over the last few weeks, none of it was worth it´s own fic so I just compiled them!
Voren is Kael´s father figure and I will die on that hill.
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Voren´thal was an incredibly elegant man. Fragile and almost blind, but elegant. His eyes were cloudy, but piercing. And Kael'thas adored the look ever since he was a kid.
Voren'thal was a teacher, a friend and a role model for the young prince just where his own father was not present.
Kael knew of his friendship with the grand magister but never thought much of it. While Kael always spoke to Voren about all his little romances, the other was not that fond of sharing such information. Even often telling the younger man that such things fail to interest him. But that was a lie.
Voren'thal had experienced love for most of his long life just for it to be stripped away.
And now, perhaps, there is yet another person. A man, who is like a son he's never had. Yet another person for him to slowly lose.
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The younger mage was laying in bed, struggling to breathe under all the blankets, while cuddling into them for warmth. His hair was messy and unkept, his royal robes discarded somewhere on the floor of his private chamber.
"Kael, they´re waiting for you..." Voren´thal came in without knocking, looking over the mess of a bed infront of him. "Are you alright, my prince?" He closed the door and slowly, leaning into his cane, walked over to him.
"I am-..." He began to cough, turning his head away from the older elf. "I am alright-..." He almost wheezed the reply.
The seer nodded but remained unconvinced. "You look deathly pale, that does not look nor sound alright to me, Kael." He sat down on the bed next to the prince, gently placing a hand on his forehead. "And you´re like a furnace. What happened?"
"I don´t know... I think I might have been a bit too active on the battlefield yesterday and-"
"Ugh... Mana withdrawals?"
"Presumably..."
"I am going to tell Stormrage you aren´t feeling well-... And bring you some tea..."
Kael nodded, closing his eyes and burying his face in his pillow.
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"What do you know of pain, Voren'thal?" Kael snapped his head back and looked at the far older elf.
Voren took a deep breath, looking into the prince's eyes. "There is not a blood elf who has not experienced pain beyond comprehension, Kael..." He shook his head. "Yours is different, but not far greater..."
The prince scoffed, looking back at the battle map. "You know not what pains me..."
"I do not, but mayhap if you were more open, I might understand. Our work together would be far less stressful."
Kael raised a fist and hit the table below it. "I don't want to work with you if you fail to see eye-to-eye with me! I always thought the two of us thought similarly but apparently not! You're so obviously stuck in your old ways just like father!" He lifted his hand off the table and started rubbing it, the impact was apparently guite great.
"This has nothing to do with 'the old ways', you were obviously not paying attention... How typical of you."
Kael frowned. "Are you aware who you are talking to?"
"Oh stop trying to play the title game... You used to run to me to tend to your scraped knees and twisted ankles, your majesty..."
"Tsch..." He looked away.
"How very royal of you to act like a petulent child..." He shook his head but his whole body followed suit, his stance wavering as he placed one of his hands on the table to steady himself. "I tire of trying to make you see reason, Kael'thas... That man is going to be your end, I know it..."
"As if you know anything about Illidan..." He scoffed and almost chuckled. "I am doing everything to save our people, I just need time and your trust, Voren'thal..." He looked away with that sentence, trying to hold on to a powerful enough tone but ending up sounding more than desperate.
"You are leading them and yourself to inevitable doom..." The seer's gaze was fixed on the other elf, still stern as ever. "I need you to, for once in your life, take something seriously."
"I am taking this seriously!" He spat. "Of course I am taking this seriously!"
"Your attention span is worse than I ever remember it being and I've known you your whole life... And your reasoning skills used to be so sharp, yet now they're rather dull." He shook his head. "I believe you can make the right decision if you only try."
"You believe I can make the right decision? Well I believe you can stay on the right side-"
"The right side is the one losing less lives, Kael... And yours has already lost far too many because of that demon-"
"DON´T YOU DARE SPEAK OF HIM AS SUCH!"
"Screaming the second something isn´t of your liking, again, typical of the Sunstriders, isn´t it..." He rolled his eyes. "But I fear I cannot change your stance on the matter today... I shall try tomorrow."
"You´re fighting a losing battle-"
"I am?" He almost silently chuckled before walking away.
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Hey dude! May I request an Omori matchup?
I'm a pansexual(leaning towards males) and genderfluid person with a female body.
I have hazel eyes, my hair is brown, curly and bra strap lenght. I'm short and kinda chubby, and my skin tone is pale
I'm an INFP. Everything is exciting with me, you'll never know my next move. I am calm, sweet, polite and (sometimes)funny. I try to ease the tension when it's needed. I'm also pretty careless, and energetic, though. I like to call my friends cute nicknames, and teasing them sometimes.
If i laugh for a bit too long then i can't stop laughing at literally everything for a good 5 minutes. I enjoy helping others. I am a really good listener, and i'll give some good advice. I am good at calming people.
I'm surprisingly a really shy individual. My social anxiety stops me from doing some stuff. I don't go outside often, and i'd rather let the others speak instead of me most of the times. I am scared of people's judgement, mostly. I have anger issues and that sometimes causes me to harm myself (not on purpose though, ofc.)
I laugh and joke when i'm in pain or i messed up something.
I'm forgetful, so i have every thing i have to do written down on my calendar.
My hobbies are drawing, writing sometimes, photography, baking (even though i make a mess in the kitchen everytime), reading, listening to music (i don't have a preference, i could listen to anything)
I'm not allowed to own an instrument, but if i were, i'd probably choose the violin, the piano or an electric guitar.
I like making little origami's too. I hate and i'm scared of spiders.
I drank orange joe and i survived, lol
A/N: i am a frequent orange joe drinker. i unironically completely seriously enjoy orange joe it is good everyone should try it
I MATCH YOU WITH...
PRE-INCIDENT HERO!!!
he adores your kind and caring nature
any teasing or nicknames get him super embarrassed,, he likes it, just not in front of his friends!!
kind of getting sun (you) and moon (HERO) dynamic vibes,,, you're energetic and kind and jokey and HERO is also kind, but more down-low and less energetic
he likes how you are with KEL,, like if KEL is throwing a tantrum or being noisy you can calm him down so easily, and it always warms HERO's heart and makes him fall in love all over again
he'll remove the two of you from a situation ASAP if he notices you're getting upset or frustrated, and he helps ground you and spends the night at your place if you want him to
he doesn't laugh along with you if you get hurt or screw up, he always comforts you and makes sure you get any treatment you might need. he takes injuries very seriously!
HERO is outgoing. not because he's an extrovert or not shy, but because everybody loves him so he just kind of,, has to be? so if you don't want to talk or are feeling shy, he'll take the wheel
he hypes you up if you need it. like literal worship he thinks ur so cool
he'll put little sticky notes every where, reminding you to do things like get ready for an event, brush your teeth, put your homework in your bag, etc.
you, him, and MARI hang out at her place and SUNNY & MARI let you try out their instruments
HERO hates spiders too. unfortunately they're like his worst fear so you might have to do the spider killing. if neither of you will, he'll have to call KEL or MARI for help every time
you two bake a lot, and he really doesn't mind if you suck at it. he'll help you out, and besides, it's the time together that counts. (if you make something really bad he'll eat it and stomach it, forcing a smile and saying it's really good)
gets embarrassed if u sneak photos of him, and is even more flustered if he like walks in your room or something and there are photos of him on the wall
(you sneak a phew polaroids of HERO into BASIL's photo album)
#omori#omori matchup#omori matchups#hero omori#omori hero#hero x reader#omori hero x reader#hero omori x reader#omori x reader#omori headcanons
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Not Much Has Changed
Part 3
One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -- he had more money in the vault than the Dursleys could ever hope to have in their life, that was for sure.
"Might as well get your uniform first," said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would you mind if I slipped off for a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts' carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous. He was used to doing things by himself but that didn’t mean that he didn’t get nervous whenever he had to.
Madam Malkin was small and broad, a smiling woman dressed in all violet.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she questioned, continuing when Harry only nodded his head as an answer. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."
In the back of the shop, a boy with pale skin and sharp features was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to the boy. Harry stood still as she slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.
"Hello," began the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," replied Harry.
"My father is next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. Somewhat condescending and his lack of interest was plenty obvious. "Then, I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why the first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully my father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley. It wasn't that the kid looked like his cousin or even that they sounded alike. He looked the opposite of Dudley's dependent and mess of a person, to be honest. No, this boy was put together and calm --or at the very least he looked like it. He didn't have Dudley's whiny and egotistical tone.
No, the reason why this other boy reminded Harry of his cousin was simply the way that the other boy truly sounded as if he believed himself above everyone else: as if he were better and deserved so much more than everyone. It was weird because, to Harry, he looked like an independent kind of person but he supposed things weren't always what they seemed… He would know that.
"Have you got your own broom?" the other boy went on.
"No," Harry was certainly uncomfortable but he didn't want to be rude if it turned out to be a mistake on his part. So, he compromised by answering the blond’s questions while looking ahead like the other boy was doing.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"...No," Harry wondered what on earth Quidditch could be. Honestly, as far as Harry was concerned this Quidditch thing could be a sport, a game or even an instrument.
Understandable since Harry had only known about the Wizardry world for a couple of hours. That said, Harry did not want to appear like an idiot in front of this person so he did not say anything else in the matter.
From his peripheral vision, Harry saw the boy turn his head to look at Harry and asked,"... Know what house you'll be in, yet?" When Harry looked at him, the other boy was staring at him with some suspicion but Harry didn't understand why.
"No." Feeling more and more stupid by the minute, Harry turned away to look ahead again. He didn't understand what this boy was on about but he wasn't sure if he could trust this kid who reminded him of Dudley a little too much-- not to laugh at him. So staying silent it was. He was good at staying silent when being otherwise could get him into trouble. Well… he was good at it when he wanted to be. He just usually didn’t want to.
"No one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all my family has been... Do you know the houses?"
"Mmm." The silence that followed was awkward. He could feel the other boy's heavy stare as they stood there and Harry wished he could say something a bit more interesting. Despite that, Harry was just glad that the boy stopped asking questions he didn't know how to answer.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see when the boy seemingly lost interest and fully turned his attention away from Harry.
"I say, look at that man!" The boy exclaimed suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Harry turned to see Hagrid standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show why he couldn't come in.
"That's Hagrid," Announced Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't seem to know. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," The boy acknowledged, "I've heard of him."
"He's the gamekeeper."
"I heard he's a sort of savage; lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
"I think he's brilliant," Argued Harry coldly.
"Yes well, I don't know him so I can't say anything accurately, now can I?” The other boy retorted, uninterestedly.
“Then why did you say those things about him?” Harry asked him, sounding more than a bit annoyed.
"All I did was repeat what I heard other people say about him. I never said I agreed. After all, you can't trust what people gossip about.” The boy sneered slightly. "Is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," Harry snapped back.
"Oh. My condolences.” He offered, voice the gentlest it had been since he started talking. Though that wasn’t really saying much, it was more stiff than anything. "Were you raised by Muggles, then?"
"Yeah. How’d you know?"
"You looked pretty clueless with what I was talking about before. It is quite common for wizards raised by Muggles to come to Hogwarts without much knowledge about the wizarding world.” He seemed to be comforting Harry about his lack of knowledge as if he knew it was bothering him, although Harry wasn’t sure if that’s what it was. He was, however, oddly comforted by it.
Before Harry could say anything else, Madam Malkin announced, "That's you done, my dear." and Harry hopped down from the footstool.
"By the way, I'm curious... do you know how to get to the platform 9¾?" Inquired the drawling boy. Harry turned around to look at him but didn't say anything. The boy didn't take offence and just added, "If, for whatever reason, by the time the day comes around you don't know how to get to the train, just be between platforms 9 and 10 at 10 in the morning and I'll show you the way.”
Harry looked at him curiously for a bit before offering a weak smile and a nod goodbye to the boy who waved back.
He went out to Hagrid who passed the ice cream over. It was chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts and it was one of the most delicious things Harry had ever tasted. After they finished eating the ice cream, Hagrid bought him an owl as a birthday present. He named her Hedwig from A History of Magic. They finished shopping for some other materials and finally, they headed to Ollivanders to buy his wand.
And that was a whole experience in and of itself.
Part 1/ previous
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How abt 18. I'm quite comfortable here
Prompt 18: "I'm quite comfortable here."
TWs are jealousy/possessiveness, but in a very mild, non-toxic kind of way. Also vague descriptions of scars. Standard HWHBH fair :)
It was a lazy day in the XD-Innit household. A calm, quiet, silent and very dusky gray type of afternoon. There was no more work to do. No more chores or town duties to be done. They’d gotten it all finished before the midday tone chimed from XD’s vintage cuckoo. Now was the time to rest and cuddle up on the living room floor.
Tommy made a soft sound when he felt Tubbo move beside him. “Hm…ayup, Tubs.”
Tubbo only grunted.
“Rough day?” Tommy asked to the bundle of scales and rubbery flesh that laid curled against his side.
“Work.” Tubbo answered. It was the only thing he had to say.
“Ah. I see…”
The clock ticked. A few minutes dragged by. Their nest today was a shallow one. Just a few blankets they’d set out to cover the rug a few feet from the fireplace. The flame’s dying glow shone on the dozen pillows they’d amassed to surround their rudamerty nestings. It was simple. It was good.
“Do you need anything to drink?” Tommy broke the silence between them after he watched the fire dance and drifted between the minutes. “Water? Milk? Tea? I’ve got some honey chamomile left. That’s always a favorite.”
But Tubbo just shook his head. “No…wanna sleep…”
“All day?” Tommy decided to mess with Tubbo. It wasn’t a very nice thing to do. Not when he was tired and they were both so worn from the day’s events. But eh. It was Tubbo. He’d be okay. “Don’t you want to go out and pay a visit to Jack?”
That got him glared at along with a sharp, angry little growl.
“Oh? Do you not want to go see Jack?”
Tubbo shook his head and bore his sharpened fangs. His face was half buried in a light blue pillow. The room was dark and the window was the only source of natural sunlight. It shone on his eyes and made them shine with a pale, eerie radiance.
The trails of mist that came from his lips were thin and smelled of black licorice.
Tommy grinned and poked the dragon a bit harder. “Not Jack, eh? Then how about Eryn? Eryn’s always rather fun.”
The smoke darkened and was a thick inkly black. Tubbo’s eyes grew enraged as he glowered there in forced, trembling silent.
“Or how about Chad? I like Chad. Good ol’ fellow, that Chadly. Reckon he could come over and maybe hang out at the mansion? Maybe take the tour, see all the sights?”
It was only when Tommy noticed an orange glow in the back of Tubbo’s now fully opened maw that he rushed to ease the situation.
“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Tommy waved away the smog while Tubbo’s fire gradually shimmered. He coughed a little when the fumes got into his face. “I’m sorry, I am sorry. I shouldn’t joke about that shit, I know that it gets you super angry. I’m sorry. Please don’t breathe your fire at me. I don’t wanna see you get hurt again.”
Tubbo gave a grumpy “hrumph!” before he flopped back onto the pillow. Tommy chirped when he watched his body curl in. He helped the boy get closer and slowly wrapped him with his wings, as well as his arms where he could fit them around Tubbo’s broad and burly shoulders.
He heard a whisper from the brunette. “What was that, Tubbo?”
“Do you really wanna go an’ play with Chad?” Tubbo sounded very sad when he lifted his head to be heard a bit more clearly.
“Oh, no.” Tommy shook his head and gave the pouty goat boy a soft assuring grin. “No, I don’t. I’m quite comfortable here at the moment. Let’s just go back to sleep, okay? I’ll make some tea and put some Ghibli on when we get up. Sound good?”
Tubbo blinked. “Hm. Yeah. Sounds good, treasure…”
Tommy yawned just before he settled back in and let himself drift quickly back off to sleep. His chin settled on Tubbo’s head near his smaller pair of horns. Tubbo’s snores were low and made both of their bodies shake.
Tommy giggled.
It was a perfectly lazy day.
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