#he's such a sickly doctor guy i love him

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

you ever see someone so beautiful you start crying (more Baizhu under the cut plus slight Lantern Rite spoilers!!)

HIM

HIM!!!!!!!!!!

HIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT'S BEEN EIGHTY-FOUR YEARS BAIZHU SNAKEMAN DENDRO USER OF MY HEART I HAVE MISSED YOU SO SO DEARLY

[anika-ann]

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8k

Summary: 

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all ���

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and lending a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body as water and snow and icy wind would, regret for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.  

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.  

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons.  With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to than one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as your uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including  slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head.  “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down? 

“That’s��� really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien invasion he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

[can-of-w0rmz]

I find it so funny how adaptations and pop culture for Frankenstein feel the need to paint “Dr. Frankenstein” as either a batshit crazy old man or a hot mentally unstable guy in his 30s, when in reality Victor Frankenstein in the original novel is just a sickly gay autistic teenager, who does definitely not have a doctorate, written by a 17-year-old goth girl who created the genre of science fiction.

It’s just so funny to me how pop culture is just like, “yeah, Dr. Frankenstein, the ‘ooOoh my peers criticised my science but I’ll show them!’ And ‘it’s alive!’ guy.” when in reality Victor Frankenstein just shows up to class fully “uhm, achtually 🤓☝️” style, then proceeds to rant about his boyfriend best buddy and how hot and amazing he is for pages and pages and pages. What peers? His classmates who probably just know him as “oh, that one.”??? The man is a twink who dropped out of university and due to his avoidance of consequences (not his “whining”, bad character analysis, I see you) by the end he’s driven himself so far to his own demise that he’s just an absolute sopping wet cat of a man. Stop trying to age him up at the beginning or make him hotter or “more mature”, the public deserves to know this twink like we do. And please stop making the creature an inarticulate mess with literally no character to him whatsoever, give us our edgy “i just read this Bible fanfic and Satan is just like me fr” lad we know and love

[gaybae1021]

Well since my bachelorette designs were received so well, I decided to complete the marriage set! Here’s my bachelors!

Individual pics and thought processes under the cut:

I’m drawing these from the perspective of how they’d look on day 1, but I’d definitely like to do a post-Joja higher heart design for Shane at some point. Overall for this one I just tried to make him look unkempt and dull, I desaturated his skin tone to make him look sickly and he’s the only one without eye shines, signifying how he’s lost the spark for life.

Also sorry about the socks and Birkenstocks.

Decided to make Alex mixed, since there’s absolutely no diversity in the bachelors. Had a lot of fun translating his canon hairstyle into those short locs. Other than that the biggest change was turning his jacket into a proper varsity jacket. Short Alex gang unite!

Okay sorry Haley, Elliot takes the win for the most changed design. Like it’s so obvious he’s meant to have a Victorian jacket and fancy trousers and all that, but after I drew him all tall and slender and I gave him little braids and beach waves he just started taking on a Boho vibe? When I drew the jacket it just looked tight and restrictive. So I decided to let the beach influence carry and we ended up with this fancy yet comfy loungewear with sandals. And I love him?

Also this was heavily inspired by ginjaninjaowo’s male espeon design

Sebastian was honestly a pain, like I know his design plays off the emo teen archetype, but compared to the others npcs he’s actually got a lot of variety. Like he’s obviously got some emo influence, but there’s also some nerd thanks to his interest in coding and ttrpgs, and he’s also a bit of a tough guy with the bike and the smoking. So there were a lot of directions to lean. Still, his sprite is clearly going for a dark hoodie and dark jeans, so I didn’t think I could change it up without making it not feel like Sebby. Does he have a muscle tee underneath for working on the bike? I’ll never say.

Biggest change is probably the hair, just wanted something less stereotypical, and have some variety in bachelor hair length. Definitely leans into the biker side a bit lol. Otherwise I just tried add detail to his dark outfit and adorn it with his interests. So frog embroidery on his shoes, a patch on his jacket and some motor oil stains on his hoodie. Also as promised he and Maru have matching dimples.

Also happy pride month, enjoy trans Sebastian and also the head canon that he and Sam start dating provided the farmer doesn’t get there first lol.

And with Sam the ASS trio is complete! Now with matching chokers because I said so.

Just like with Sebby I wasn’t sure which direction to go for Sam, whether to lean more into skater boy or rockstar. Ultimately he ended up more rockstar, though he’s still always roughed up from skating (probably because he refuses to take off the platform boots). He thinks the torn clothes make him look more legit though.

I had fun making his shape language compliment Sebby; he’s very top heavy from the giant hoodie so I made Sam bottom heavy with the baggy jeans and jacket. Also I had so many thoughts about him and Kent, given that Sam and Sebby are a thing and Sam isnt exactly gender conforming.

And last but not least, Harvey. He’s sweet, he’s simple, all his heart events are charming. And yet he is always the last one I reach max hearts with because I can’t be bothered to go to the doctors office. Sorry bby, I hope I can make it up to you by designing you as an adorable cherub of a man.

I know I’m being super controversial, giving him a pushbroom mustache when the sprite is obviously a handlebar /s. But like, he’s such a square; it fits him so well. My little lawful good guy.

Ya know, I think I gave him a sweater so Elliot’s jacket would stand out, then proceeded to not give Elliot his jacket. Huh.

Anyway bonus of the boyfriends together to close us out, thanks for reading!

[007reid]

u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg 😭 u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!

spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove

essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3

(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)

i am never ever Normal abt this guy 😞 i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa

hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and let’s loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.

pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!

soup. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k

you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.

there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.

it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.

you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.

except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.

"y/n? y/n!"

now, it is very probable that the voice isn’t actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reid’s voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencer’s voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell he’d cast on you (him simply saying two words) he’s managed to melt away your headache, because he didn’t. you still feel like shit.

“y/n?”

you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you could’ve screamed.

you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.

“spencer?” you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencer’s there, looking like heaven’s finest angel, smiling at you like he’s smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like they’re the love of his life. you sort of hate it.

“hi y/n,” he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. “i—“

“what are you doing here?” you’re too impatient to wait, still in shock.

now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, you’re not eager cleaning up the consequences. it’s an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually it’s a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? it’s ridiculous.

your defense is completely solid, you’d say. your number one defense is you can’t help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone who’s soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.

spencer doesn’t like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, you’re proud to be spencer’s little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and what’s a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.

it’s not something you’re proud of, however. you know it’s a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an ‘it is what it is.’ spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesn’t have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencer’s trouble, definitely trouble, but it’s hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when he’s rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.

spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. “you didn’t come into work and you didn’t answer your phone,” he explains. “emily told me to go check on you.”

you nod. he’s here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. “i’ll head in the office now,” you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. “sorry—“

“no you’re not,” spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the action—has spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?—but knowing that doesn’t help the heat that spread up your cheeks that’s definitely not from the sickness. “you’re burning up,” he says. “i’ll get you some water. you should clean up,” he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

you take advantage of the time that spencer’s not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except he’s by your desk, hands on a book.

typical.

he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child who’s been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit it’s a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.

“you like toni morrison?”

“i love toni morrison,” spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. “especially her masterwork, beloved,” he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"

“you bought me soup?” you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.

“it's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, it’s the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...i’ll be right back…” and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencer’s always right but mostly because your legs feel like they’re going to give out.

spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.

spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.

yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.

"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."

you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.

spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.

to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.

the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.

"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.

"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.

"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"

spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.

“i can’t miss anymore days spencer, and i won’t,” you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like it’s your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. “i’m not too sick, either, it’ll be useless for me to stay home—“

spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.

“you’re burning up,” he announces. “means your sick. you’re not coming in today, y/n.”

“says who?” you say defensively, feeling a bit like you’re loosing.

“says me,” spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. “who’s a doctor.”

you scoff. “so now you’re an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?”

“i have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,” spencer quips and you didn’t even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?

“whatever,” you grumble, sounding a lot like someone who’s just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a “thanks” under your breath.

spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. you’re talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."

“fine,” you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. “little cold, actually.”

“it's the chills from your fever,” spencer informs you. “i…” he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. “do you need anything else?”

“no spence,” you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. “you’ve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.”

spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure she’s ok. leave. he’s done the past two steps. it’s time he completes his mission.

but…

“are you sure?” he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.

you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.

whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."

"you do that."

"remember to drink water."

"i will."

"do you need me to bring you more?"

"i'm okay."

"okay."

"okay."

the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.

you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.

"are you sure?"

i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."

"you have medicine right?"

you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.

"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."

"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."

"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."

"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.

he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.

maybe another day.

a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short 😓😓but i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3

[kit-williams]

Modern!Space Marine AU

Blame @pluvio-tea because I've been reading her interpretations of what Titus and the gang would be doing in the modern day and I got enough people encouraging me... so...

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @remembrancer-of-heresy @felinisnoctis @solspina

@the-californicationist

lets begin

Note: a lot of them will be ex military though in honesty you could make them all ex military just if I mention they are ex military its more so they are a recent ex military

The Dark Angel; Azazel: In a modern setting I see him as still being active military but now behind a desk and more so working for the Intelligence community and interrogations but he tells people that he still does work as a military therapist which isn't exactly a lie. The excitable young woman that works with him is a nice distraction...

The Emperor's Children; Palion: Is a Tailor and a Costume Designer he loves to make fancy outfits that glitter in the light and is inspired by a tragic Muse...

The Iron Warrior; Harram: Military Contractor (still very much as a Dad bod in this universe) with a focus on construction so like infrastructure and building. He's recently moved and there is a nice widow right new door...

The White Scar; Nogai: Racing (he's a white scar) with a focus on motocross on both bikes and ATVs. However he also likes to do rally races with his navigator Honey... he may or might not enjoy the steadfast and commanding tone she takes when she’s in the co-driver seat and in the zone as they race a little too much...

The Space Wolf; Arkyn: Another Ex military (given that he was a captain) so at the moment he is learning how to transition back to being a civvie but he's recently learned he enjoys helping at the local wildlife rehabilitation center. The other retired military woman who works there helps sooth his wild soul...

The Imperial Fist; Astel: Black market Doctor and Chemist operating without a license. He makes house calls and is good for what he does but sometimes he likes to take on cases "out of the goodness of his heart" for way less money... such cute little mouse for him to work on...

The Night Lords; Ghosk: Actor but not just any actor he is a monster actor; aka the guy who is in full prosthetics moving like a cryptid even if he's under like 20 pounds of makeup and props and prosthetics. When he's not assigned to a movie role he likes to be a scare actor at one of those parks where he can touch the attendants... he likes watching the rabbits run...

Anrir: he is in the nitty gritty and dirty business of Organ Transplants like proper handling (just don't ask where he got those 30 kidneys)

The Blood Angel; Sirus: He is someone's Art muse. He get's so much money and time to make his pottery. He also is good at making memorial pieces like incorporating human ashes into a piece... that's because for his grand pieces he's already doing that. Sirus is also a Serial Killer with a pinch of cannibalism, he incorporates blood into the hues... human ash mixes nicely with his clay. He's hoping to ask his Moonlight muse for a photoshoot soon...

The Iron Hand; Marlos Vauth: Software Engineer. He focuses on programming for prosthetics but he's been moonlighting as a hacker as well and getting rather good at it. He's been bothering the IT girl recently...

The World Eater; Zul: Retired. He heavily insists that he is retired but he's still jacked and simply says he made smart investments so his money makes money. But how can he be retired he's young (40s) and scarred to hell and back. But he will get aggressive if you keep asking questions. He can often be found with a sickly young woman on his arm too...

The Ultramarine; Tulio: He is a high salaried investor who could retire if he wanted but he just hasn't done so yet... He has to make sure that the new girl is going to be fine...

The Death Guard; Solos: Unemployed. He is the guy in town who you never see at the same job twice and never for very long, yet he somehow has money all the time. His spats with his lady are legendary as they seem to break up and get back together all the time, even if she could do so much better than Solos, but people who intervene with his love life have a habit of going "missing" and Solos always has an alibi...

The Thousand Son; Nakht: He is a professor that deals with historical documentation as well as document repair. Though a few people have noticed that a lot of what he deals with is occult materials given how his main field of study has nothing to do at all with esoteric occultism...

The Black Legion; Zhur: Professional Dom... he's got his eyes on a particular client but he's got to pay the bills and his baritone voice can easily get anyone to obey him.

The Word Bearer; Jihias: Preacher (is anyone surprised?) well in fact the Preacher bit is a ruse as he is in fact a full blown cult leader. Such passion and fervor his preaching tend to be but if you think more and more of what he says... and by the time you realize the grotesque nature of his preaches get it's far too late... the shepherd loves you and wont ever abandon you...

The Salamander; Nubin: Master Blacksmith. Run's his own shop and also does free classes for the high school when they cut their shop classes so he just offered free courses and is trying to get some deal for the time spent in the shop to count towards credit hours.

The Raven Guards; Sor, Kazi, and Moremo: Private security guards though they have come under scrutiny for getting rather close to their latest client

The Alpha Legion; Omegon: Lawyer and a damn good one as some people say he hires professional investigators to look over a scene again he's never really lost a case.

The Black Templars; Roland: Retired Military and does stuff with guns either selling them, helping people train with them, also runs a Youtube Channel with Backerin called "Guns & Buns" which has their own niche because it will be Roland helping out with his wife's bakery/a slight vlog showing off his journey with retirement

Arnault: Retired Military turned erotica writer/author. Started writing when he was bored out of his mind during a recovery and found out he enjoys writing erotica.

The Carcharodon; Tyberos: Mafioso. (Rather he is either the head of the Carcharodons or an enforcer) but right now he's helping run a front which is a coffee shop but it's become a nice little community get together since it has decent food and good coffee and its great for people trying to sell stuff

[way-of-love]

Unfulfilled (PART 3)

(NO MINORS)(R-RATED-) (NAMOR X FEMREADER)

You, a mutant siren, made a deal with the god and king of Talokan. That in use of your body, to be a surrogate, to create an heir, you will be paid in what the world truly wants most. Vibranium. . But you set rules, limits to what was allowed and all those months lead to nothing. An empty womb. And a very angry surrogate. Namor has been nothing but patient but now was the time to exploit your ridiculous rules and claim what he's been fighting for.

He was a king.

And the king longed for you.

-Sorry for the wait!-

There was a reason for Namors new wardrobe change, a long sleeved shirt arms rolled to his elbows, bootcut jeans that hugged his legs very nicely and even shoes or rather boots you never knew the king of the sea owned. There was a lack of jewelry on his person as well, everything was gone except for the septum he had on his nose. You wouldn't dare call him normal looking because you knew what hid underneath. He was anything but a normal guy.

But he did hide his mutations very well. If someone from the outside got to see him they wouldn't think he was the infamous Ku'kul'kan that people throughout history feared and what people today thought was a myth. Honestly, what would people think? What would they say when they saw the myth they've told throughout history was in your home and every other night come to impregnate you because of the deal you both agreed upon. A baby for pure vibranium.

Speaking of the baby, he was here for that reason dressed up like this. He and his other two subordinates agreed that it was more than high time you saw a doctor for that baby. You were supposed to see one sooner than this but Attuma and even Namora assured you that if you were to see a normal doctor they'd pick up that it wasn't just an average baby. In short, what they meant to say was,' That baby you carry is nothing but a mutant. Bred between a powerful siren and an even more powerful god. No one will understand.'

While you thought the pregnancy was going to be normal in itself you found yourself being extra careful with what you ate, what you did and even how you sung. For a siren singing and stretching your vocal cords was a must. Even while pregnant, yes your mother did it, but this wasn't just a sirens baby it was a mutants baby. You didn't know how sensitive it was or even how vulnerable it would be to your songs. You weren't going to risk hurting it.

Or risk losing your income.

Namor helped you back into bed after cleaning you up. You felt like absolute shit. The pregnancy books didn't mention this one bit. God, if this was how you died then this was definitely the worst way to go. Before Namor showed up Namora was the one to tell you that this was just your body's way of trying to share its nutrients with the fetus inside you. And since you didn't get hit with this sooner, it hit you now with full force. Lovely.

"I hate this. I hate you," You mumbled burring yourself under the thick blanket Namor pulled up for you. Of course he didn't take your words to heart and simply sat down by your bedside and waited. Listening to you sniffle and watched you as you rubbed your bare tummy under the protection of the blanket. He never once hear nor had reports of you cursing down at the child that made you feel so sickly like this. And he certainly did not hear you swear your hate towards it. Everything that he saw, heard and noticed was that you took care to protect the very being you will never even see at birth because he will make sure you will never see it, as per the clause in your agreement.

This 'hate' you had for him, he knew was just a small burst of your emotions. That it too shall pass. As sickly as you were he didn't engage nor indulged in it. Namora warned him about moments like these, woman in general were emotional beings and even more so when with child. But a siren, a creature who allured men and lured them to their deaths, who protected woman, children, infants...you'd be more exploited to your emotions.

You were with child and already protective of it. He feared that one day you wouldn't walk away as per your agreement, that you'd show him your teeth and claws ready to fight for something you never wanted. Something deep, deep down inside him hoped you did something so then he'd take the both of you back to Talokan and hopefully the two of you or rather the three of you could live in peace. But the agreement weighed heavily in his chest.

You knew nothing of this inner turmoil raging inside him because you tried not to care for it. You had your own inner turmoil to deal with.

"Once you are better, we'll be going to see a friend who is able to help you through your pregnancy," Slowly he stood from the bed and removing the cap from his head and placing it on the small nightstand where you had a bottle of water and some untouched mangos on a plate.

"She is very skilled in her field and if the child is a mutant she will be better equipped for the birth." Whenever he thought about the new queen of Wakanda only bitter memories came along that remembrance. He had what he most desired, just hair length away from his goal but because he wasn't truly careful. Namor had to swallow his pride and wait for the day the queen called for him and his army. He knew it was going to be a very long wait until he was called to arms and destroy the surface. And until that time came he will have built his legacy. A son or daughter it didn't matter to him what came out of your womb as long as his blood was running through its veins then he will forever be immortal. No one will ever question his power or his standing, Namora nor his people will ever doubt him again.

Whatever he wanted, you didn't care if it was a local doctor who knew about his existence you just wanted to feel better.

You peeked over your blanket at the sea king who continued to remove pieces of his clothing one by one. His shirt was the next to go giving you a view of his torso again. Did he tan? There was absolutely no way he managed to get this golden under water hidden away. He must've sunk to the surface once in a wile when he was getting pale and laid in the sand for a few hours. The image of him coming to the surface to tan made you snicker.

He paused when removing his pants staring back at you. Your eyes beaming with amusement, beaming at him. It made something in his chest ache but he pushed it to the back of his mind and continued to undress.

"What's so funny?" He pushed the clothing to the side and stood tall in his green trunks.

"Do you tan?" You dared ask as he slowly came back to sit by your side, making the bed dip a bit.

"Tan? This is my skin color," Raising a hand he brought it closer to her peeking eyes. Why would she think his skin was amusing?

"I just...thought that maybe you came up once in a while to tan. You know? The sun doesn't reach the inner depths of the ocean Namor," In a sing-like tone you pushed the blanket down revealing just how funny it was to you. The smile you had on your face looked bright, big and your cheeks were damn near about to split. And Namor found himself holding back his own smile of amusement.

"So...do you come here to tan?"

"I'm just tan-"

You laughed. "I didn't ask that! I asked, listen, I asked you if you tanned here on the surface to be that golden."

You had to bite your inner cheek because Namor was giving you this dirty look you didn't think he was capable of giving while holding back his smile.

Why did you find this so amusing was beyond him but the expression you wore and the things you were saying was too much even for him.

"Do you just float on your back or do you come onto the sand lay out a beach towel and have Attuma fan you with a palm leaf?" The snicker that left the both of you and Namor was surprising but it was a truly welcoming open door. He hid his smile behind his other hand looking away to compose himself and the other you took and sat straighter upon your pillows.

Once the fit of snickers and giggles and jokes from you stopped you both looked at each other with an unearthed emotion that the both of you wished never surfaced. Longing.

A desire to have and to yearn for something or someone. It was a need for someone and that someone for you was Namor. It was strange because no man made you feel like you were fragile like he did. Even before you got knocked up he was as gentle as he could be when speaking or even embracing you, he treated you like a prized woman. Not some dancing and singing harlot he could pay and pretend to be a man for. Despite the circumstances you both put yourselves in there was evidence that the longing the two of you had for one another was steadily growing in the pit of your womb.

Unknown to him, he too longed for the deadly woman, you, who held his hand so innocently. As if you were unknown to the many lives that hand took or how many times he imagined caressing your body with that hand. It may have been one night but that night was a gateway you both opened and it will never close again.

But perhaps that night can happen again? Not now of course but when you were better, not sick like this. He'll convince you then. Because he now knew your body, truly knew it. And he would use that to have you again and again until the child that was promised was born. Then you would disappear. Before that happens he'll have his fill.

----------

That morning, after that moment you shared, he came into bed with you. Not for sex but to lay and comfort you. The sick mother of his child. A mother. Were you considered a mother? After all you were pregnant. It still counts, right? Your hand traveled down your naked torso and stopped at the tiny hard bump in your lower abdomen. It was barely there but it was making its presence known. It was... a good feeling. Namor was laying on his side already asleep, or so you thought with the way his shoulders were steadily rising and falling. He did say he was just there to watch over you and help you if you felt sick again.

You didn't really need his help but just to have someone other than an unresponsive belly to talk to was comforting enough. Talking to your belly, was that normal? You never really had to carry another being inside you before nor did anyone prepare you for it. Running a hand over that tiny bump again you stilled over it. Was it normal to feel this longing for a small thing to come out? Or to long for its dad?

You dared rest your forehead against the middle of his broad back looking down at your belly beneath the blanket. A small thing like this will soon grow bigger and bigger until one day it'll be out and about crying out and leaving her for good. Like you both agreed to, this child will never see you nor acknowledge you as its mother. It'll never know you.

You'd be lying if you said it left you feelin a bit empty inside. Never to see the product of you and Namor again; never seeing Namor again. He was one of the only men who sought after your very body but for an entirely different reason. And even after he successfully took your body he remained by your side. An interesting man.

An interesting man who you shouldn't be with. He was dangerous.

Your face fell into a frown at the thought. No man has ever shared your bed this way. No man was ever allowed to touch you in the way a woman was meant to be touched, in a deeper, more permanent way that was something other than sexual. You were a siren, free of the rules of men and even the love of men. Unable to settle or nest because you were taught never to do it. Your wants and dreams were what mattered.

You were loved by one person and that was your mother. And even before she passed she made you swear never to get caught up with a baby or a man but here you were with both. She'd be turning in her grave.

Now you didn't know what to do as Namor slept by your side. You felt lost, and without the knowledge on how to get back to the right path. Was this a good idea?

If you were honest with yourself, you knew you didn't want him to ever go. But as always, you had to remain unattached. Or at the very least try.

The smell of him filled your nose as the sight of him filled your eyes, just a his body filled your own. He was taking in soft breaths filling the room with his breathing. Just as his child was inside your body filling and growing more each day. How was he filling up every area of your life? How were you able to rebel against him so much? To be selfish was better.

You reached for his tanned broad back refusing to acknowledge that your naked body was slowly molding against his back. To be selfish meant a life without ties, without a deal you both agreed upon, and it was so much better than what you'd seen others go through in their pursuits for love, affection, and a family life. Even Namor, the deadly sea king, Ku'kul'kan the feathered serpent god, an unstoppable man, had not been safe from the feelings of love and obligation. An obligation to strengthen his people and reassure that he would be forever. His reign even if he perishes will be forever. Yet, how culd a woman like you, remained unavailable to emotions that even a man such as Namor had allowed for himself?

To be selfish had to be better than to love. To stay unattached, had to be less troubling than to be tied down. By anyone. Words from a mother who loathed her daughter. And you stood by them.

When you were close you pressed your face into his back, felt his skin on yours, breathed in his scent and experienced the vibrations deep inside his body from the soft sounds he made as he slept. It was still early in the morning so the both of you were no doubt were tired. You from vomiting and heaving all night and early morning. Him from planning, negotiating and somewhat pleading for his child and its mother.

And for once you didn't rebel against your own thoughts with actions. Even when the soft snoring stopped, you didn't move away.

It was better to be selfish.

Namors eyes slowly opened and his body remained still. Your touch eased him out of sleep, a sleep he'd been a little surprised he'd fallen into after comforting you. Starring at the barely risen sun through the glass sliding doors, he accepted the reality that you were up against his back, almost as if you were a kitten who wanted to be petted. It was such a strange act coming from you, that it was hard to pull away.

"Y/N," he said your name softly still laced with sleep and deep.

You wanted to lift your arm, and pull him close. You wanted to adjust the sheets so your legs were flushed against each other and you wanted to feel his body naked against your own. But you didn't do it, because you...couldn't. You pride yourself with how you lived and how you stuck to your rules like glue. You prided yourself for the trait. But at what cost?

Remaining still and feeling the tiny bump of your belly against his back, Namor asked," What are you doing?"

Right now, you didn't know nor could you give him answer because it your emotions guiding your limbs. You were stuck in a strange place, that place that you dared not step foot in. A place where you questioned, and wondered about other things that were different from what you were taught.

"Do you ever wish that...for one night, even just one hour, that you could be someone else? Someone different?"

His mind raced, trying to decipher what you meant. But your mind had always been somewhat difficult to pinpoint because you were so unique. And now, you were completely different from your day to day self, even with him it was hard to figure out. "What do you mean?"

You bit your lip and thought it over. "I...don't know. Everything is different to what I am. Even when seeing people who aren't the same as me, having a child, a man, a functioning family, I can't understand it...I don't know how to change. I don't think I can alter."

The sea king drew his brows together and wondered if this was the same woman who he choose to impregnate. " Change is not always granted to us because we simply want it. At most, change is thrust upon us when we are not ready for it."

"Change is impossible." You muttered. You were a woman who changed everything constantly. But the one thing you could never change was yourself.

Namor didn't know where to begin with all of this you were spewing at him. He took the necessary steps to be here. Even with the war with Wakanda, taking the previous monarchs life, he will not regret it because it lead him to his siren, his surrogate. But if he could alter a few things he would. If it were ever possible to become a different person even if it was for one messily hour then he would not be a man of vengeance. He would make it go away.

For one hour, one night or da, he would make it all go away.

You pulled away from him the, turning to your other side and giving him your back as he'd done with you. Your hair felt poufy against the pillow, so wavy and uncombed from her time holding it up from vomiting and from tossing all night. But it was the least of your worries. The bigger thing to worry about was that Namor had turned over as well, your positions now reversed.

And you still couldn't shake yourself out of this weird funk that had pulled you in deep.

"Who do you want to be Y/N?"

Your little home was homey, clean now after you found out you were pregnant. Usually it was so unkept with clothes tossed about the floor, shoes, bras, dancing outfits, it was always a mess. But now it looked clean. But you found that it wasn't enough. You starred at the closed bathroom door," I was taught to stay free. Never to be caught up with affairs of a normal life because a normal life wasn't meant for someone like me. I stayed free, running all these years. I never once stopped,"

Something dark came upon Namor at the mention of her mother. Everything you were told and taught was from a woman who's husband left her to be with a normal human woman. What he took from your stories of your childhood and the lessons of your mother was that she loathed you, she hated that you had inherited her power and she could no longer keep your father entranced to stay with her. If you were a man, there would have been no issue.

These lessons were that from a jealous woman.

"What does your mother say that would hinder you? Trap you?"

You didn't hesitate to answer him because it was one of the lessons that she bore into you since the moment you could walk." Love. Love is...only meant for certain people, and shouldn't be taken lightly, or given away freely. Because then your freedom would be taken away," You hesitate a bit before continuing. "Sometimes certain people you can love are so few. So, one person is enough...they have to be. They won't tie you down or trap you." Did you sound silly? If you did, you didn't care. You were in this void, so you would use it to talk about things you'd never talk about with another person before.

"I can't...I can't connect to anyone. There's no room, no time, no effort."

Namor looked at your hair, cascading in waves against the pillow. Your skin looked darker against your baby blue sheets," Do you wish to be someone to connect to others?"

"No. But sometimes I wonder what it's like." Whether it was the truth or a lie you immediately responded.

He lifted a hand, ran it over the exposed skin of you shoulder and down the length of your arm pushing the blanket down with it." That is a feeling that can kill someone. Perhaps it's better that you don't know what it feels like."

You stayed still while he felt down your side, exposing your naked body. What was he trying do? This wasn't what you both agreed upon. You were already pregnant so there was nothing to gain from being intimate again.

"What are you doing?" Now it was your turn to ask him.

Namor said nothing as he continued to slide his hand further down past your hip and to your thigh. While you were feeling better already, you felt a fire start to ignite in the pit of your stomach. His hand went back up to your hip and stayed there, then he decided to scoot closer to your back moving the blanket back over the both of you so your bodies were meshed together. Meaning, what you so desperately wanted to do earlier when pressed against his back he did to you.

He slid one of his legs in-between the two of yours and spooned you. If it was just for one night, one day, or even one hour he will pretend. Pretend that the both of you deserved to feel that you both belonged, you both were accepted that the feelings between the two of you were answered. It was the least he could do.

As much as you wanted to say this was an expected outcome, it wasn't. This conversation shouldn't have happened, but it did. He shouldn't have stayed to comfort you after watching you throw up the contents of yesterdays dinner, but he did. You both shouldn't be laying in bed like two couples making up for lost time, but you were. And now you realized that this, his touch, his warm embrace were the things you missed. You craved it.

That powerful hand slid over the bump of your hip and to the tiny baby bump that held not just his child, but yours. This was what he wanted. An heir to rule his kingdom by his side, with the power of both a god and a powerful siren, unstoppable. But he did want the woman that carried that powerful being, you. He wanted what he knew he could not have and that's what made this transaction between the two of you that much more covetous. You belonged to your rules and he was willing to rip you away from them.

"Let's pretend, for an hour. That you are all that you wish to be and I am all that I wish to be," His lips were on your should in an instant kissing it. "You will be a woman who wants to give love and understand others. I will be the man who receives your love and will help you to understand."

This was a ridiculous way to ask you to sleep with him but it was one that you somewhat understood. Talking was cheap, actions was what got you somewhere. "You want...us to pretend we're...together?"

"No. That's not what I said. Pretend you are a woman who is a woman and I will be a man who is a man. Like that night? I know you remember it as vividly as I do," He spoke lowly trailing his lips up to your ear that was hidden under the tresses of your hair," Pretend. And I'll touch you however you want to be touched Y/N."

There was temptation here and pleasure but there was also another rule breaking. You got the job done so...why again? It wasn't like him to give you yet another opportunity to give in to your wants and needs. Did he miss being intimate with you?

"W-we had one night. A few moments," Words were coming out but it was as if you were on autopilot. The mouth could move all it wanted, a thousand words spoken, but the desires of the body could overpower it all. Like it had previously.

During this time, you nor him realized that you both were resonating with one another. Calling one another from the darkest depths of the sea and now the great serpent answered the sirens call, a life in return for pleasure. And maybe he will take a little more before he was consumed.

Slowly his hand went up, fingertips brushing against your naval, tickling and touching the sirens skin before reaching one of the breasts that his unborn child will never suckle from. You took in a hiss of a breath when he encased it with his hand, thumb brushing against the sensitive little nub. "I'm already pregnant, I don't need this Namor,"

"Say my name." His lips were still whispering by your ear. Somehow he managed to slip his other arm under the pillow you rested your head on and put you in a lazy headlock. His veiny forearm lightly pressed against your neck , the sea king wanted you, and he wanted to take you so you knew just how well he could 'pretend'.

His name wasn't Namor but Ku'kul'kan. And he wanted you to say his true name like that night, you said it over and over again until it sounded like gibberish falling from your lips. Namor found great pleasure when he heard his name sung from your lips like a hymn, a hymn that was meant just for him.

Releasing a soft breath you shook your head. No, this wouldn't be like the last time because the last time you were blinded by lust, greed and overall was just sexually frustrated. You weren't this time. The lust, the hunger was always there and still was but that other feeling you never wanted to feel was nagging at the back of your mind. Longing.

Longing for what could be and what will be. To pretend the bot of you felt the same at least for an hour...an hour should be enough.

"Ku'kul'kan," You whispered softly closing your eyes. You fell back into the headspace of what could be while chanting his name in your sing song voice that lured men to their deaths but for him it just sounded beautiful. It was only for a bit, pretend for a bit.

"Let me touch you mujer fatal,"

"Touch me then, touch me here," You took his hand that played with your breast back down to your pelvis, past the trimmed curls," Here. Touch here."

Without missing a beat he slid his thick fingers through those soft curls at her pelvis and was welcomed by a pooling wet heat. So you were excited. He was gentle in his exploration, caressing, rubbing, tapping and flicking of your clit. Thankfully his leg was keeping your parted because there were a few instances that you wanted to close your legs and mewl out in ecstacy. Namors second exploration of your body lead him a few conclusions, you enjoyed being handled like this barely having any say in how you were positioned. Secondly, this thing the two of you had between the two of you excited you. The pretending wasn't what excited you, it was the relationship you had brewing. Forget the agreement, forget the rules, outside of that you liked that you carried his child and you liked the attention you were receiving from him. He knew deep down in that cold heart of yours that this was what you wanted.

Your soft breaths were what kept him going touching every inch of your cunt before deciding that it was enough, he slipped in two of his digits making you arch. It's been forever since you were touched like this and over a month since he laid hands on you so intimately like this. His hand took your chin and forced your head to tilt to look up at him, and through hazy eyes you saw his bright chocolate eyes that smiled down at you. That feeling came up again like bile at the back of your throat. Longing.

That longing to be normal and have normal feelings for another person, that longing to be one with another and love another. But that feeling, longing, was a feeling you were forbidden to feel. After all, there was no room for it. No room for the effort you had to put in in order to achieve what you most desired and it was to be taken and loved on...but still be free.

You released a quick moan when his fingers found that certain spot that made your toes curling in pleasure. When he heard the moan his chocolate eyes grew sharp when he found the perfect spot to bring you to your end. Faster his fingers went, curling and uncurling inside you flicking that one spot over and over again. Now, you were gripping his wrists for dear life never breaking eye contact even when you breathlessly begged him.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," You whispered craving for more of his touch, accepting it.

Namor grinned, chocolate eyes full of victory. "Did you know Y/N," He began deeply, pressing his mouth to your ear," that when a woman tell as man not to stop, it means he has found the exact rhythm she uses when she pleasures herself?"

He pressed harder, rubbed faster and you all but purr." Don't...stop." You moaned again.

Everything you were doing and saying was maddening. Namor looked down at your mouth again, focused on it and craved it. He eased on the motions of his hand, and knew he needed to take from you now.

Namor leaned in without any hesitation, and kissed her.

There was absolutely nothing soft about it, as their kiss had lacked gentleness as well. The act was only to use, only to take and only to taste. Instantly, your mouths opened against one another, instantly your tongues met. Namor could taste the sweet sin that lured men to you, could taste the desire, and he almost felt the need to pull away. Almost. But your mouth was giving even as you demanded more of him, you sucked his lips before accepting his tongue again.

His hand no longer forced you to keep your head tilted, he eased that hand down to your breast and gave it another squeeze, he couldn't get enough. "It's so good," you whispered between kissing him, your mouth open against his as your tongues met and licked each other," Why is it so good?"

Namor pulled away from your mouth, and your enticing voice, moved to your neck and sucked you there with all the desperate drive of a man with a time limit. His fingers helped you soar to new heights as they maneuvered between your wet folds, his thumb surprised you and rubbed your swollen bud with precise flicks. You hummed deeply while exposing your neck more to feel those lips of his taste your flesh and mark it. It wasn't enough for Namor, he wanted more of you.

Pulling back he gave your neck a lick before finally whispering back," No man will have you like this Y/N, you carry my seed, I will fill you up as many times as I have to, to make you understand."

You were already on the brink, his forefinger and thumb played with your sensitive nipples," It feels 'so good' because you want it to feel good Y/N." Your voice went higher and your body began to tremble. Before you knew it you were crying out with your true voice, the call of the deep, the call of a siren being pleased by the very man who impregnated her.

There was no better feeling to Namor than watching your red lips spill his true name in a song. Your juices spilled from you drenching his hand, as you settled from your high you found the strength to keep your gaze locked on his. While you were panting desperately trying to catch your breath he went on to make you lose it some more when he pulled his soaked fingers from your center and did the one thing you didn't know would turn you on.

He slid those fingers that were soaked in your nectar across his tongue, tasting you. The taste of a fully willing woman tasted explosive on his tongue, it was your taste, the woman who devoured men was being tasted by the man who planned on being devoured by the alluring siren.

Namore continued to taste you off his fingers with an unwavering look that told you to watch him, and to witness just how delicious you were to him if he devoured you. He wondered just how a woman who was normally tough and blithe could look as innocent as you did, an expression that had nothing to do with the words you said during sex or your own actions.

Your face...your face was capable of giving him all he could ask for.

But would he be able to ask from you more than what you've already given? The dreamy look on your face could convince him that you'd say yes to anything he'd ask but he knew better than to push you.

As you basked in the afterglow of a much needed orgasm you couldn't help but caress his forearms, his hands that smoothed over your thighs and belly. Did pretending always feel this nice? Were they truly pretending, right now?

Longing could do a lot to a person. Fix them up to be great and do better.

Or it could break an already fragile relationship into pieces, that could never be put together again.

------------------

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[st-kitten]

UCHIHA SASUKE, THE MENACE THAT YOU ARE

sasusaku

synopsis it was no news that uchiha sasuke hated most people. stoic as a boy, an absolute wrathful presence as a teenager, he had a penchant for taking what he wanted without remorse. despite calling sakura 'annoying', he couldn't help but feel burning jealousy when he heard just how many men were confessing their love to her after the war. now now, wasn't she supposed to be obsessed with him?

warnings: !! characters are 18+, possessiveness, degradation (he gets really mean ˙◠˙), rough sex, sharingan use, his version of missionary ig, doggy style, throat fucking, hair pulling, choking, loss of virginity (both), aftercare (because sakura deserves the world) sasuke has 2 arms in this one *not canon

sakura was liked by everyone at the hospital. known for her warm smile and reassuring presence, she has a way of brightening everyone’s day. patients, especially the male ones, often find themselves smitten—some sneak glances her way, while others try their luck by bringing her flowers. though sakura handles it all with a mix of professionalism and good humour, her focus always remains on her work and ensuring the wellbeing of her village.

however, a certain raven haired guy felt bile rise in him upon seeing the girl who used to fawn over him be admired by others. seeing her out and about in the hospital lobby, chirpy and greeting, but also dedicated and focused was a sight that sasuke never expected to find alluring. gone was the sickly, frightened girl who begged him to stay. she had turned into a beautiful woman who was self-assured, stronger than most, and ambitious. so why was the sight of her being pursued for who she was making him sick?

sakura ended her shift and returned to the cosy apartment she'd bought with the money saved from missions. she took her coat off, washed her face and clipped her hair up. she went about her nightly routine, cracking open a can of cold coffee, waiting for a dinner for one, and putting on music, slowly swaying to it. when the food arrived, she collected it and paid the delivery guy. she went to her room to put her wallet back, passing by red eyes that glowed in the dark.

she tensed and whipped around. she'd recognise those eyes anywhere.

"s-sasuke-kun?"

the brooding man stepped out of the darkness of her room, standing in front of her. for a moment he simply stared down at her, taking her homely appearance in.

"what are... you doing here?"

seeing the man she'd loved all this time suddenly spawn in her bedroom of all places had her mind running off to uncharted places and her heart on steroids.

"what. can i not be here?" he asked curtly.

sakura shook her head. "that's... not what i asked."

oh? sasuke held back an amused grin at her assertiveness. years ago this girl would've crumbled at the mere image of him. yet now she confronted him plainly.

sasuke spotted the pile of bouquets on her dresser. "from your fans?"

"patients."

he scoffed. "become popular, have we?"

sakura frowned. she didn't know what he wanted. or why he was being so cryptic. had he walked in through the front door, she'd have gladly let him in. but something was off about his sudden visit.

before she could enquire, sasuke's mangekyou sharingan set the flowers aflame with his amaterasu, eliciting a gasp from sakura.

"what are you doing!?" she tried to pick up a bouquet to salve it from the spreading fire but sasuke caught her wrist tightly.

"stop entertaining your patients. half of them are married men anyway."

"i'm their doctor... i can't just—"

sasuke silenced her with a dark gaze, reminding her of all the times he'd looked at her that way. but this time, it didn't hint at hatred. no, it was something else.

"what's gotten into you, sasuke-kun?"

his grip on her wrist tightened as he pulled her closer. he looked down at her, watching her bright green eyes sparkle in the ambient moonlight.

"hmm? thought you'd enjoy this... enjoy my... attention," he quipped.

sakura tried to pry her wrist away from his grip but who was she kidding; a part of her knew his strength could overpower her if he truly wanted it to and another part of her didn't want him to let go.

he tilted her chin up, running his thumb over her lower lip. that was enough to get her to blush. as he leaned a little forward, sakura panicked and pulled away, but sasuke's grip kept her in place.

"don't fight it. we both know you want this just as much..."

sasuke pressed his lips to hers, sealing with a kiss. her lips were softer than his. her little gasp enabled him to nip at her lower lip, his tongue gliding over it. sasuke wasn't someone who cared about 'first kisses'. but he had to admit, it felt sinfully good to kiss sakura.

"come on... haven't you waited long enough for this?" he whispered against her lips.

sakura, as her mind raced with a million thoughts, kissed him back gently. with a hum of approval, sasuke resumed kissing her. he was far from gentle. he carded his fingers through her pastel pink hair, using it to control her movements as he forced their mouths in a bruising kiss, eliciting another gasp from her. he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in, past her parted lips, claiming hers with an authority she knew not to challenge.

he freed her wrist and let his hand roam around her slender waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him. he let his hand travel down to cup her ass, squeezing the flesh he knew was a recent addition to her grown body. sakura's shaky hands rested on his chest, in an attempt to keep distance from his sudden barrage of kisses, but that was to no avail.

sasuke's hand came back up, kneading at her breast through her red shirt. sakura whimpered at how forward he was being. her childhood insecurity of having smaller breasts was diminishing with every passing second as sasuke's fingers deftly played with her breast, running his knuckles over her clothed nipple, feeling it harden immediately.

he bit her lower lip, before soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. he pulled away momentarily, holding her jaw, watching the strings of saliva stretching as their mouths pulled away from each other.

"you know your so called patients want you, right?" he murmured, letting his lips hover near her ear.

"w-what, n-no."

"you may be annoyingly professional... but you're no fool, sakura." he let his hand slip her her shirt, making her stomach recoil with arousal as his fingertips touched her soft skin.

"no? want me to let you in on their thoughts, hm?" sasuke leaned down to kiss her neck, whispering into her ear as he pressed wet kisses on the column of her throat. he let his hand explore further, tugging at her bra cup, and slipping his hand inside to cup her breast.

"every day you put that coat on and walk into their rooms, talk to them, check their pulse. let me tell you, sakura, all they want is for that hand around their wrist to be around something else instead."

sakura's breath hitched at the obscenity sasuke was whispering in her ear. she knew he was brutally honest to a fault, but she didn't know if his words were meant to scare her or confuse her.

sasuke slowly began pushing her towards her bed. "the 'hot' doctor, the 'pretty' doctor... the doctor with pink hair... don't tell me you can't hear them... don't tell me..." sasuke bit into her neck, then licked the spot and sucked on it till it turned red and blue.

"don't tell me you don't see them practically eye-fuck you every time you look at their stupid charts."

sakura didn't know whether to be embarrassed or shocked. she knew all that. but the way he was describing it...

"why do... you... care?" she asked, her voice a trembling murmur.

sasuke pushed her by her shoulders, letting her fall into the bed. he watched her jaw fall agape as she gasped, her hands gripping the mattress, her breasts bouncing a little as she landed on the bed.

he crawled on top of her, straddling her hips. he snaked his hands under her shirt to pull it off. reflexively, her hands crossed over her uneven bra. not that he cared. he forced them apart anyway, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other pulled her bra down, letting the cold night air waft around her exposed breasts. he yanked the bra, the hooks snapping, and tossed it away.

"i don't. but you should." he leaned down to press kisses on her collarbone. "you shouldn't lead them on, sakura..."

"i'm n-not... i—"

"...not when you're mine."

sakura froze when he said that. mine. the way that word spilled out of his mouth was like a commandment carved into stone.

"it was fucking torture. watching you smile at them. smile at me, sakura. blush at me. look at me..." sasuke mumbled, his face pressed on the valley of her breasts. he freed her wrists and used his hands to cup both her breasts from the sides, pushing them together till he was nosedeep into the swells of her breasts.

"don't tell me i'm not the object of your desire anymore," he said mockingly, knowing very well just how much he occupied her mind. he captured one of her nipples between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing the ache with his tongue. he sucked harder when she didn't respond, letting his tongue swirl around the bud.

sakura squirmed under him, welcoming sasuke's impatient touch with god knows what eagerness. if she had any self-respect, she'd stop him, talk to him, clear things out. the rational part of her was screaming at her to sock the shit out of him. but her fluttering heart won over with every thump.

"sasuke-kun... we... we're not... too... soon," she rambled, flushed.

he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "how utterly pathetic."

he leaned in closer, his face inches away from hers, his voice, a menacing whisper. "let me make one thing clear. i don't give a fuck if this is 'too soon'. hell, i don't even care if you have some weak excuse of a boyfriend i don't know about, who, let's be honest, isn't gonna keep you satisfied." he had an inkling as to what she was afraid of. "you worried we're not 'together' enough to do this?" sasuke descended once more, his lips trailing fire along her jaw before catching her mouth in a searing kiss, plundering with reckless abandon, teeth clashing, tongues in a frenzied friction.

"let's get real, pink. you've always been mine."

sakura blushed like a tomato, and sasuke chuckled darkly, his hand trailing past her flimsy shorts, diving straight between her legs where he was met with pulsating heat, and dampness that made him feel proud of himself.

sasuke's fingers found the slick heat of her core. he stroked through the folds, keeping his touch feather light, applying pressure here and there. he pressed a finger against her entrance, circling the rim before pushing inside, feeling her walls clench around his invading digit. sasuke groaned in satisfaction. "fucking... tight."

withdrawing his finger, he brought it to her lips, smearing the glistening evidence of her arousal across them.

"taste yourself," he said as he pushed his finger inside sakura's mouth, and watched as her lips involuntarily wrapped around it.

"that's it, take it all in," he rasped, letting his finger shove as deep as he could. he removed it with a lewd pop, and replaced it with his tongue, thrusting deep to foreshadow what he was about to do to her soon, moaning into her mouth. sasuke devoured sakura's mouth with a ferocity that bordered on feral.

breaking the kiss, leaving her lips swollen and her cheeks red, he sat back on his heels, his chest heaving with mild exertion. he hoisted himself up on his knees.

"strip."

with shaky hands, sakura undid her shorts. sasuke's impatience got the best of him and he yanked her panties down harshly, the sound of fabric tearing echoing in the room. with a fluid motion, sasuke shed his clothes too, revealing his chiselled physique in all its glory. his rock-hard erection sprang free, throbbing with anticipation. but it was worth seeing sakura's reaction.

"poor baby... never seen a dick?" he cooed.

sakura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "seen plenty at the hospital," she smiled slyly.

sasuke's brow twitched. of course. she dealt with patients of all shapes and sizes. it wouldn't be her first time seeing a man naked.

grabbing her wrist, he effortlessly pulled her off the bed, to her feet before forcing her own onto the carpet by her bed. he loomed over her, his imposing figure casting a shadow darker than the room.

"look at me," he commanded and she did so.

"this is what power feels like. forget what you've seen." he toyed with sakura, his fingers wrapping around the delicate column of her throat, while his other hand brandished his dick mere inches from her face, its tip leaking just enough.

"i think it's time you paid proper homage to the man you claim to be obsessed with, hm?" he purred, his thumb brushing over her pulse point.

"worship me with your mouth, sakura, and maybe— just maybe, i'll grant you the privilege of feeling this cock inside you."

the more candid he became, the more sakura felt her world shift. he was harsh when he could be. but in this setting? sakura couldn't want anything else.

she timidly gave his tip a few kitten licks. "aww," sasuke hummed.

"come on..." he encouraged her, his grip on the back of her neck tightening ever so slightly. "open wide... and show me how much you know about 'anatomy'... doctor."

with a subtle push, he guided her mouth to take him in, feeling her lips wrap around his head. he paused, savouring the warm, wet heat enveloping him before withdrawing a little.

"so pretty when you're pleasuring me..." sasuke murmured, his eyes gleaming.

his breath hitched a little as sakura's head bobbed, taking him deeper with each to and fro. the sight of her dainty hands clinging to his thighs, nails digging into his skin sent a jolt of excitement through him

"that's it... take it all," he groaned, his hips instinctively thrusting forward to meet her efforts.

sasuke heard her choke and gag around his girth and oh how he revelled in that power. this was submission incarnate, and he intended to wring every last drop of pleasure from sakura.

"fuck, look at you," he panted, his fingers tangling in her soft pink hair as he began to fuck her mouth with increasing vigour. "so desperate for my dick, aren't you?"

sakura's muffled moans vibrating around his shaft only heightened his arousal. he could feel her throat constricting around him, the slick of her saliva coating his thick length as he pistoned in and out of her mouth.

a low animalistic grunt escaped his lips as he caught the sight of tears streaming down her face, a perverse sense of pride swelling in his chest.

"that's right, cry for me," he whispered, his pace faltering for a moment. "let everyone know who owns this pretty mouth."

with renewed fervour, sasuke resumed his relentless thrusts in her mouth, both his hands grabbing her head, chasing the edge of climax. the raw lust in his gaze intensified as he watched sakura's swollen lips stretch obscenely around his cock, her doe-eyes pleading mercy even as they submitted to his domination.

"fuck, you were made for this," he growled, his voice strained with the patience of holding back his impending release. "built to worship my dick... me..."

with a final, brutal shove, he buried himself to the hilt in sakura's mouth. a guttural moan tore from his chest as he came hard, spilling wave after wave of scalding seed directly down her gullet.

for a long moment, he remained frozen, his hips twitching with the aftershock. as sakura's throat involuntarily milked his spent cock, every last drop of cum from him, he felt a shiver run down his spine. her easy acceptance sent a thrill of possessive triumph through him.

"swallow it all," he commanded, a croak escaping nonetheless. in that moment, perhaps, sakura was more courageous than sasuke.

he reluctantly pulled out from her puckered lips. he watched, transfixed as her tongue darted out to lap at the traces of cum lingering on her lower lip.

"such a good little slut you are, pink."

sasuke's expression softened ever so slightly as he noticed the underlying vulnerability flickering in her eyes. he reached out, his calloused fingers gently tilting sakura's chin up to meet his gaze.

"this isn't a hate-fuck, okay?" he said quietly, his voice lacking his usual arrogant edge. "if anything... it's the opposite."

sasuke's thumb brushed over sakura's trembling lip. "i'm... not some cruel sadist who gets off on making you suffer. but... when i take something... it's because i crave it, because i need it to survive."

sasuke felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him, a longing to shield this vulnerable girl he'd known since they were kids, more from his own corrupted desires. in that moment, the cold, terrorising uchiha seemed to soften a little.

"it's... another kind of hell to crave you knowing what i've put you through." he pulled her up to stand, steadying her with his hand on her waist.

"but you know me..." he said softly, leaning forward to kiss her, tasting the salty tang of his own cum on her lips.

with a predatory glint in his eye, sasuke pushed her back onto the bed, making her sit on the edge. he knelt before her, his fingers parting her thighs to grant him unfettered access to the goddess between her legs. her scent filled his nostrils, making him wonder just how privileged he was to be able to do what he was about to.

licking his lips in anticipation, he leaned in, his warm breath fanning over her slick folds. with no preamble, he sasuke dove in, his tongue lapping at her weeping core, the velvety texture sending pleasure straight to his aching cock.

sakura's thighs shut tight around his head in response to that, but he didn't let it deter him. instead, he used the opportunity to bury his face deeper between her legs, his nose nestled against her clit as he continued to devour her pussy with hunger.

the slight pressure of her thighs only spurred him on, his tongue probing and diving in with the same passion he showed when he fought battles against ghosts of his own clan and extraterrestrial gods. her could feel sakura bucking her hips against his face, her desperate attempts to grind herself against is skilled mouth.

sakura looked down once, only to find his deathly sharingan and rinnegan already looking up at her in the darkness, adding to the fearful thrill of their intimacy.

"fuck yes, ride my face," he grunted, his words muffled by her soaked folds, "take what you need, pink."

sasuke grabbed her thigh and threw one leg over his broad shoulder, gaining easier access to her dripping sex. he wasted no time, his tongue plunging deep into her clenched channel with no remorse. the lewd sounds of sloppy oral pleasure filled the room as sasuke feasted on sakura, his lips and cheeks hollowing with each suckle.

"bless this cunt... you're... divine," he rambled, eating her out like a rabid dog.

as sakura's orgasm crashed over her, her honeyed release flooded his mouth and chin and sasuke lapped up every drop. as her breathing steadied, he withdrew from her pussy with a final, sensual lick. wiping his damp mouth with the back of his hand, he looked up at her.

"let me fuck you, sakura," he said bluntly, his gaze boring into hers as he climbed back up on the bed, pushing her down into the sheets, both scooting back.

equal parts terrified and eager, sakura blurted out "sas-sasuke-kun, i've never... i.... I'M A VIRGIN!"

sasuke simply look at her, blinking. "yeah, me too."

it was a brief moment, but both of them felt a wave of relief wash over them knowing they were just as inexperienced yet yearning for each other.

sasuke reached for the condom in the pocket of his pants, feeling no shame to imply that he came to her room with a purpose. as he tore the wrapped, he ran her through the process. part of it was to turn her on, spoiling what she was going to experience, but another part was to simply reassure himself that he was really about to do it.

as he rolled the rubber on his rehardened cock, his breath fanning over her face, he spoke, "you better be sure, pink. because once i'm inside you, there's no turning back."

he brushed his thumbs over sakura's hip bones, pulling her half onto his lap as the rest of her lay on the bed. he followed, looming over her. he could sense that she was zoning out, ready to let it happen to her.

"one last time, sakura... tell me you want this."

sakura whimpered like a frightened kitten, but nodded.

"use your words, baby," sasuke said softly.

"yes... yes. i... i want this."

his lips curled into a small smirk at her timid acquiescence. he pressed forward, the thick crown of his wet cock running up and down her slit a few times before pushing in, breaching her tight passage with a single, slow thrust.

sakura whimpered in pain, hissing at the tear, her gummy walls clenching instantly, as if to push him out. sasuke groaned, his head falling down.

"fuck... relax... please..."

he remained still, savouring the sensation of deflowering sakura haruno. he stayed buried halfway, till he felt her breathe and slowly loosen up. then with a sharp exhale, sasuke began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained within her before plunging back in, slowly pushing more of his inches inside her. her bed creaked under their momentum.

sakura cried out initially, her hands clawing at his shoulder and bicep as her back arched. his grip on her hips tightened as his cock pumped in and out of her, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room.

"good girl..." he rasped. "let every" thrust "goddam" thrust "man out there" thrust "know who's... fucking you senseless right now."

sakura let out girlish, lewd moans, all of which sasuke devoured, kissing her open mouth frantically, messily. with a particularly brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside, grinding against her cervix.

"shit... you feel me, pink? i'm... balls deep... in you."

sakura whimpered and whined and moaned like a braindead, dumbfucked girl. sasuke gripped her throat, mildly cutting of her air supply.

"fucking take it, you... pathetic little slut," he snarled, his thrusts growing harsher, more punishing. "you're... so mine."

sakura trembled and shook as her orgasm hit her like a train, her staccato moans matching sasuke's erratic pace. he shoved his cock to the root and exploded inside the condom, which he wished didn't exist.

he rode out the aftershocks, still hard as ever. just as he felt sakura's body relax into the bed, he chuckled with sadistic delight as he grabbed her limp body and flipped her over onto her stomach, her sticky ass in his view. with a mean slap, he spanked her ass, watching the flesh jiggle.

"keep those legs spread, whore," his voice dripping with playful disdain. "i'm not done with you yet."

any other day, had someone addressed her that way, sakura would've pummelled that person to the ground, six feet under. but sasuke was her one weakness... her guilty pleasure. she kept her shaking legs steady and parted.

sasuke discarded the condom and tossed it on the floor. he leaned forward, his hands on her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"i only brought one... do you..."

she shook her head.

sasuke let his head fall down on her, his sweaty forehead resting on her shoulder.

"you can... piss it out later, right?" he asked, half ashamed, half pleading.

sakura knew the risks all too well, being a doctor. "yes... but—"

a rare whine escape sasuke's mouth as he murmured in her ear. "please, baby... i still need you... let me... let me fuck you raw. please... please." he went on and on as if he was begging for his life.

sakura sighed, feeling just as needy. "if i end up pregnant, you're dead."

sasuke chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "come on... gotta restore the uchiha clan somehow, right?"

he pulled back, and without pause, gripped her ass and drove his cock back into her, raw, without any layer stopping him from feeling her inside out.

"oh... god..." he groaned as he felt her anew. this position too, allowed him to penetrate even deeper, his balls slapping against her reddened ass with each merciless thrust.

sakura moaned into the mattress, barely holding on, but fucking her hips back into him.

"you love being used like a cheap fucktoy, don't you?" he sneered, his hips snapping forward. "admit it. say yes."

sakura's girlish whines of 'yes' fuelled his ego and his expression twisted into a smirk as her desperate admissions. he continued to pound into her, each stroke designed to claim her.

"that's right, beg for it," he taunted. "beg for my cock to ruin you again."

as if to punctuate his words, sasuke reached around to roughly pinch and twist one of sakura's nipples, adding another layer of agony. her high-pitched whines were music to his ears.

"perfect... i'm gonna keep using you... until you're nothing but a cumdrunk mess, pink."

if heaven ever existed, sakura wished it felt like the exact feeling she was experiencing as sasuke's methodic thrusts stretched her out. but she was just as crazy as her black-haired boy. "h-harder..." she muttered.

a chuckle rumbled in sasuke's chest at her wanton plea. he slammed into her with savageness, the force shaking her entire body.

"you want it harder, slut?" he growled, his hands slapping both the cheeks of her ass before he grabbed her hips tightly, using it for his own gratification. "then take it."

with brutal plunges, sasuke bottomed out inside sakura, his cockhead kissing her cervix as he rammed into her repeatedly.

"i'm going to fill this dirty cunt with so much cum... you'll be leaking for days," he promised. "and then i'll do it again, and again..."

with a roar, he surged forward one last time, burying himself further as both their orgasms crashed over them.

"fuck..." he bellowed, his cock throbbing and pulsing as it emptied its load inside sakura's cunt, his hips twitching with each spurting jet of cum, painting her insides white. when he finally stilled, his spent dick remained lodged inside her, their bodies slick with sweat and copious amounts of fluid.

with a satisfied groan, sasuke pulled out of her, only to immediately smear his cum over her ass. not content to simply leave her dripping pussy untouched, sasuke reached down and plunged two fingers into her depth, scooping up the remnants and bringing them up to his mouth, licking his fingers clean.

"much... fucking better, than that dumb ramen naruto keeps making me eat."

sakura lets out a snort of a laugh into the mattress. with god knows what strength, she gets out of bed, limping to the bathroom, leaving sasuke knelt on the bed in a pool of the mess they made. he manages to wipe himself clean with his own pants. laying against the headrest, he collects his breath, left alone to reflect on what had just happened.

the sound of the toilet flushing jogs him out of his thoughts and he glances at the door, looking at a dishevelled sakura, leaning against the doorframe, shyly looking back at him.

despite the rough treatment he'd put her through, there was an undeniable glow to her post-coital state. with no forethought, sasuke held his hand out to her, a hint of a knowing smile on his face, which only widened into a grin as sakura's face lit up and she trotted to his side, her hand in his.

"not bad for our first time, yeah?"

"call me a whore again and it'll be the first and the last time."

"yes ma'am."

[do-i-look-like-a-doctor]

okay but the Naruto universe is so fucking weird yet funny if you explain it and question it.

first, you have this lil orphan broke kid ninja boy named after a fishroll. then, you have an emo kid who acts like he got parents and a good way in life despite the fact he’s equally as much of an orphan as Mr. Broke-Blonde-Bitch. THEN you have this normal chick with pink hair who signed up for absolutely none of this nonsense yet got dragged into it. tell me why it’s these three against the world yet none of them can function together? it’s like watching ferrets hyped up on PCP fight over raw spaghetti noodles. dont even get me started when they were in school together, i can bet every person here 6 cents that at some point Sakura aka Ms. Fuckall got tired of Naruto and Sasuke’s bullshit and just tried to abandon them at an animal shelter.

speaking of school and general tomfoolery, why was the dude in charge of these three young squishy brained freaks the most depressed 20 something year old creature on the planet? i will admit, Kakashi is attractive and a great dude. he is so iconic, he misses his old team, and it’s clear he wanted best for his Group of Weird Children but he also reads porn all day and his mask probs smells like cheap aftershave.

if i was a 13 year old ninja child and i saw my sensai (who’s name sounds like cashew) doing all that i’d assume im either about to learn a sick ass skill (how to not cope with emotional trauma properly) or im about to get my ass handed to me. or im about to dropout.

back on track. so you’ve got orphan #1, orphan #2, Ms. Get-Me-Out-Of-Here, and Emotionally Repressed Man in one team. what do the kids do? beef for like 3048384 episodes. what does Kakashi do? try to teach them the power of friendship the entire damn series. oh, and let’s not forget that Naruto apparently has a demon fox inside him because of course he does.

anyways, once the team gets good at teaming they haul off to take their lil ninja exams. who do they meet? some kid named Gaara with smudged eyeliner and shaved brows. he’s a red-head, that’s cute. oh and he can control sand and tries to kill every child in the exams because his dad is a piece of shit hipster. who else do they meet? a kid named Rock Lee who can kick really hard, a girl named Tenten who wishes for all of us to stfu, and poor Neji who can’t keep doing this. there’s also some guy named Guy. yeah, the chunin exams nearly flop because Gaara doesn’t know how to act right.

all this is happening but the pivotal of it all? Sasuke decides to be extra emo and FUCKS OFF TO KILL HIS HALF BLIND SICKLY OLDER TWINK BROTHER.

then, Naruto decides he wants to harness his powers and FUCKS OFF WITH AN OLD ASS BUSHY HAIRED MAN WHO WRITES PORN. Jiraiya needs to be studied on a microscopic spiritual level. he is why SCP’s exist.

who let these kids out? i told you all not to feed the animals and look what happened. now theres beef between a group of kids and the akatsuki.

oh and the akatsuki?? don’t get me started. wtf is that. why is this group of fucked up people with weird powers who are being led by a ginger hive mind of corpses just wandering around? and why is Weasel, aka Itachi, in the middle of it with his goofy explosive hypnotic eyeballs? i want them all put down.

so you’ve got the evil eldirch horrors in the streets. thats fine. Naruto gets put into a new gang cuz Kakashi has to hospitalized. cool, whatever. Naruto decides to start hutning down his rogue boyfriend alongside Sakura, who became a sickass ninja doctor, along with his new sensei Yamato. wonderful… THEN SOME BITCH NAMED SAI SHOWS UP.

DO NOT GET ME STARTED.

what is that? why is it emo? why is its tongue tattooed? put it back outside bro i stg. i love him so much.

everything is just everywhere in this anime bro I can’t. Sasuke is no where to be seen, Naruto is doing fuckall across the world with his groupie, Kakashi is lowkey sad again cuz his kids are gone, and Sakura can barely breathe without issues occurring.

not just that but the twink brother named Weasel is being stupid and enables his own murder. yeah he basically wants Sasuke to come for his ass. meanwhile, Naruto comes home bigger, better, older but still broke and full of fox demon. still, not a single soul except his friends and teachers like him. shit gets even more wild, it becomes knock-off Cheetah Girls vs. The World.

girl i gotta go before i hurt someone. see yall in part 2.

(all of this is heavily unedited, apologies for mistakes)

[cyber-celeste]

All Twst Characters with a S/O who likes J-fashion

A/N:

Um hi i know i havent been active like at all for a few months especially right after i started matchups but a lot of things have been going on in my personal life such as me recovering from anorexia and self harm at the same time not to mention my home life is super shitty so i hope i can get back on schedule and ill update some stuff

Warnings : i am not the most knowledgable on j-fashion but it has been my special interest since i was 7, i use different j fashions for each dorm,Fem reader, maybe mischaracterization, no sebek

Heartslabyul(Yami)

Yami kawaii, translating to sickly cute, takes doctors equipment, stuff used by the mentally ill, and cute clothes to promote mental health awareness in japan.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle doesn’t seem to be very interested in fashion at all so seeing you at first it might confuse him

Before he overblots he may not understand or even accept the style but after he will be at least interested in it

When figuring what yami kawaii is about he is very intrigued he doesnt understand that most fashion trends/styles have true and nice meanings such as bringing awareness to mental health

He doesnt really understand why someone would dress outwardly “different” but that doesnt mean he doesnt think it looks good

He’ll get you little gifts of accessories, shoes, skirts, dresses, etc on random occasions

Trey Clover

Trey may be a little caught off guard when he first sees the fashion but he doesnt think anything bad about it

He really likes that it promotes mental health awareness but he was super concerned at first without knowing that

He’ll help you dye your hair

Trey doesn’t really see anything wrong with dressing in what makes you happy

If anyone makes fun of you or stares he’ll defend you in any situation

Overall 8/10 nice guy

Cater Diamond

Cater is surprised like everyone else yet he is excited to talk to you about it more

He might even try out Yami Kawaii with you for magicam or just for fun

He makes you do OOTD for his magiciam

He defends you in comments dream man am i right

He’ll, for a special occasion, buy you like tons of Yami kawaii clothes

Deuce Spade

He doesn’t really mind different styles unless it hurts yourself or others

Deuce gets super scared if you use like nooses, bandages or fake blood/scaring in coords

He doesnt really love fashion all that much, he probably just wears whatever is most comfortable, but he likes seeing your outfits a lot

Deuce is super protective in general since you are the first person to just treat him normally so if anyone made fun of your outfit in anyway he’ll confront them

He likes showing you off to his mom in a ton of ways not just for your appearance

Ace Trappola

He called you emo the first time he saw a coord

Seriously i dont think he cares at all like anyone can wear what they want so why does that stop when you wear something different?

He does tease you though

Any time you dress up for a date, for school, or any other event where you can dress up expect him to be teasing you the whole way

Savannaclaw (Gyaru)

Gyaru was started in the early 2000s as a movement against japans beauty standard on women, they instead of staying pale and modest tanned and wore all the less modest and bright clothes they wanted! Styles like mamba and ganguro were started by girls who liked the movement while a style, kogal, was started by rich highschool girls who could do whatever they wanted.

Leona Kingscholar

I know i keep saying this but leona does not give a shit what you wear

He does admire the effort you put into your appearance everyday, plus your a girl so he already has a ton of respect for you

If you are more a extreme style gal he may think its a little bit of an eye sore but he still thinks its good that you can express yourself despite others opinions

If you have a more toned down style then he may not even expect you were a gyaru (if he even knows what that is 💀) probably just thought you were some popular girl but doesnt even say anything

No matter what ever substyle you aren’t gonna be bullied, teased or even have anything some what bad said about you ever.

Ruggie Bucchi

He thinks you spend to much money on it you should spend that much on him

He doesnt care about aesthetics or fashion he just wears what he can buy or what is most efficient

He does think that the effort you pit in everyday is admirable

Jack Howl

Wow yet again someone who does care about fashion

He finds it pretty inefficient for PE or any physical work at all

Thats why he helps you with all that!

He’s interested in how it started and less about the actual makeup and outfit part of about it, but that doesnt mean he doesnt care about it.

Octavinelle (mori kei)

Mori kei tends to keep a more natural and forest like color Palette, the style focuses on layers and they try to add as many layer they can!!

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul cares about looking elegant so people take him seriously but seeing you dress like earthy pretty girl it really makes him feel… a little jealous… he’s not as confident as you but he does feel happy for you.

He loves showing you off at school or to clients

He will take silly little photos for you in front of random ass plants or trees

Your lucky to have a boyfriend that also has 2 6 foot bodyguards willing to protect you also

Jade Leech

He loves you so much

All the forest themed outfits remind him of his terrariums

He’ll go on hikes with you to take photos of your coords

He’ll buy you a little mushroom dress or shirt

Floyd Leech

He cares about shoes and thats about it

If you wear something with mushrooms he’ll act a little disgusted ngl

He doesnt care about what you wear he cares more about what you are like as a person

Scarabia (cult party kei)

Cult party kei usually consists of white and accents of red to resemble purity and slight signs of evil

Kalim Al-Asim

Expect tons of clothes

I means tons of clothes, hes rich as hell and will fund all your hobbies and interests

Hes very sweet about your fashion he likes to show you off and just loves talking to you about cult party kei

He helps you with coords all the time

Jamil Viper

He doesnt care about what you wear 💀

Nah seriously he cares about how you act more than how you look cuz hes a decent human

He does think your style is cute, maybe a little risky for going outside with all that white, but he likes all the flowly dresses

Piomefiore (kawaii)

Kawaii fashion is about wearing what truly makes you happy which in their case is bright pastel colors and, as some would say, childish clothes.

Vil Schoenheit

He is a little taken aback at first… he’s seen the style, not a lot, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

I mean he obviously warms up to it, he even thinks its adorable.

He loves helping you with makeup and coords.

He shows you off on magicam and isnt afraid to admit you two are in a relationship

Rook Hunt

Rook is insufferable with all his comments

He is too nice

Both in french and english he tells you how pretty and cute you are on the daily

He knows like every brand you wear and recommends you 10 more totally not bc he stalks you

Epel Felmier

You guys are like kind of the opposite

You being very cute and wanting to be cute and him being very… not as manly physically… and wanting to be manly instead of cute

He likes you dressing really feminine and cute because it makes him look more manly

Ignihyde (Visual Kei)

Visual kei is all about shock, the whole point of it is to shock the beauty standard, these people will wear dark clothes and big face paint that almost looks like corpse paint.

Idia Shroud

Idia loves visual kei tbh but having a S/O who likes visual kei??? Hes actually dying on the floor currently

Bro is confused how he got someone so cool to like him

He likes all the makeup he’ll even let you put it on him

He loves how you look and would show you off if he wanted to go outside

Diasomnia (Decora kei)

Decora kei is all about decorating your body a lot.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus isn’t used to many things in recent times even decora which came about a while ago

He does like the style on you, it makes you stand out and look very unique

He’ll let you put little hair clips in his hair and he’ll wear them all around

He doesn’t mind anything you wear because you truly have been the sweetest to him in all the school (maybe besides Diasomnia)

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia knows what decora kei is

He likes j-fashion i dont make the rules

He’ll help you dress up and help with any acessories you cant reach or simply dont want to do

A good 8/10 great war criminal bf

Silver

Silver doesnt really care what you wear i mean its not really his place to say anything about it whether he likes it or not

That saying he loves decora and compliments you all the time

He may think it would be uncomfortable but if it makes you happy he wont stop you

[twothpaste]

earthbound old man tier list

S Tier: Doctor Andonuts. idc what anyone says, he is a fascinating bewilderful tragic morally dubious rubiks cube of a character, and if i think about him for longer than 10 seconds i get so emo i wanna dye my hair black and run away into the woods. he is also very funny. i would squash him like putty.

A Tier: Wess. mother 3 wouldn't be mother 3 without Wess and i'm not kidding. i love how he is written as both a terrifying abusive father and also a genuinely wise antifa ally, the duality of humanity or whatever. a bunch of his lines still give me chills to this day. especially [ this one ]

Leder as well. absolute fucking real one. imagine taking a vow of silence for the rest of your life to protect your beloved community, none of whom even can remember the sacrifices you've made for them, singlehandedly bearing a lifetime of unfathomable trauma to spare them theirs. he is atlas with the planet earth on his shoulders. yet another character who turns my brains into spaghetti-os.

B Tier: George is one of the most intriguing characters in the series. Boy, I wish Itoi took the time to actually Write him!!! so many questions, so little canon material, but my imagination does drive me a bit to madness with this guy I fear.

C Tier: the fuck do you mean Geldegarde Monotoli was super wicked evil under Giygas' influence, kidnapped Paula, took over Cartoon New York with sheer capitalist ruthlessness - then as soon as you break the Mani Mani statue he's like -tiny bichon frise sneeze- "ouuugghhh goodness gracious i'm so sorry, i don't know what came over me, i am so harmless and frail and made of pudding also" -little pekingese cough- and Paula is like "don't worry ness 👧 he was just a sweet old man all along lol!!!" nvm it's pretty funny actually

Grandpa Alec goes in C Tier too. imo he's well written in chapter 1. his reaction to grief feels really off-kilter in a strangely human & believable way, like?? he is snapping at Lucas and immediately feeling remorse, cracking jokes to try and assure Flint (and himself) everything is ok when it clearly isn't, kooky silly and also unsettling at the same time. i think people forget that he's also a messy clumsy maladjusted grieving dad, just like Flint. but after chapter 1 he kinda falls off, doesn't have much interesting to say or add to the story. i find myself kinda wishing Lucas had a closer relationship to his grandpa implied post-timeskip… oh well.

is Jonel old? his sprite doesn't look ancient but considering his attitude & his adult kids I imagine him to be in his 60's probably. i like that he's a bit of an asshole, and his moment at the prayer sanctuary implies a religious aspect to the village that's super intriguing… iirc he has a line all the way in New Pork where he trash talks Flint for still holding out hope & tryin to find Claus, and it's like?? damn, Jonel, a cunt to the bitter end!! gotta love that.

likewise Mayor Pusher is one of those Tazmily villagers who really highlights how fake & callous some of these people can be. i love the part toward the end of chapter 7 where he blabbers about how much he hates this hick town and he's so eager to leave already, and when he catches Lucas eavesdropping iirc he's rude as ever to him. what a douchebag! no wonder his son is so depressed ❤️

Nippolyte is a benign real one and I like him, even though there's not much to him.

wish Scamp did or said literally anything of note before dying. oh well

D Tier: yeah fuck Mr. Carpainter though. i don't believe for a second he was solely driven to become a cult leader by alien brainwashing alone, dude's gonna be on some MLM shit within a year mark my words

??? Tier: i don't consider Mother 3 Porky an old man, i consider him Very a forever thirteen year old trapped in a sickly grotesque disproportionaltely aging body. but if you do consider him an old man, he's in the stratosphere tier blowing up the moon

[of-mutton-and-wool]

Fellow Kallamar enjoyer I love that squid so much so you have hcs about him 👁️👁️

I HAVE BEEN SUMMONDED

Alright

First of all AHEM

- before becoming the god of pestilence, kallamar lived a fairly unremarkable life, eventually becoming a field medic in the middle of a war between gods

- he doesn’t remember his family well (it’s been thousands of years) He remembers having a sister, with his mother and father both being priests to the great Fowler and (insert former blue crown bearer)

- unfortunately then the war catches up to them. The temple in which these gods and his family resides are massacred. Kallamar survived because he hid.

- seeing the blue crown unguarded, kallamar decides to take the opportunity. In the moment he seeks it required for survival, but in the present, he realizes how that the lust for power is just too great to ignore.

- he meets shamura about a few weeks later! It started out as like a resource alliance (shamura needed crystals and kallamar needed, everything not underwater really)

- but then it kinda evolved into a sibling like bond due to some shit that happened to both of them

- his cowardice isn’t without reason. Being cocky gets you killed in the deep

- he used to be WAY more sassy and talkative before narinder’s banishment.

- oh and the scar on his face was shamura doing (it was accidental)

- the viel narinder wears is made by him!

- kallamar is a poly king and we love him for that (kinda cannon? Not sure how cannon the Valentine’s Day things are. But it’s cannon in my heart)

- oh and I hc as bi well.

- for some reason I’d imagine his followers call him the lord or just lord kallmar

- he runs his cult via fear mongering!

- AND! He recruits followers by sending out doctors into nearby oceans to urge people to come towards old faith settlements for treatment

- if I had to be fr kallamar would be the worst person to be tortured by because man’s a doctor, he knows how the body works, and he knows how to keep you ALIVE during it as well.

- as a follower, kallamar is hard of hearing (it isn’t total silence, but everything sounds like it’s underwater and thus, impossible to understand. Basically he’s aware of sound but can’t understand anything if that makes sense?)

- he also ends essentially living in the med tent because 1) he’s the token doctor 2) he’s very sickly

- he expresses affection by gift giving!

- kallamar is VERY passionate about weapons and decor. Hes VERY particular about where things go and that’s why he’s banned from decorating the cult because he’ll be there for hours. He can also tell you a lot about weapons and what kind of damage they do!

- Before coming into contact with the crown, kallamar could breathe water only. Durring and after his time with the crown, he can breathe both water and air (what crown juice does to you. Being a bishop leaves a lot of effects)

- Kallamar’s people are blessed to have a similar situation. It’s sorta a national holiday that takes place on the first day of summer in the bishops land. It’s basically where anyone that’s willing can get mass blessed and go live in the ‘holy lands’ of anchordeep

(You don’t have to. Kallamar has many beach front settlements and temples. Though your neighbors would be the folks in silk’s cradle).

- he’s a jewelry kinda guy. LOVES earrings

Anyways that’s enough rambling from me

[sunshine-blastbeat]

The Kind of Human Wreckage That You Love

Summary: Frank got jumped by a couple of weirdos and as been acting strange ever since. Gerard and the rest of the guys try to take care of him, but to no avail. That is until they get a visit from Pete and Patrick.

Vamp!Frank

Word count:1500

It all started when Frank got into a fight with some weird guys from across town. He was jumped by these dudes who thought they were from the 1920s or something. Since then he has been acting really weird. Sleeping all day, getting weird cravings, and overall looking really sickly and almost dead. Gerard, Mikey, and Ray were doing everything they could to help him, but Frank was refusing to see a doctor. They were at their wits end until Gerard was approached by Pete and Patrick.

“He isn’t sick, but there isn’t a cure.” Pete told Gerard.

“What are you talking about? Frank just has a really intense stomach flu or something, we have it under control.” Gerard said, defensive over his friend. 

“What stomach flu makes a man look dead? Makes him sleep all day and gives him uncontrollable urges at night? I can already tell you that about this time he has cold sweats, is shaking and vomiting up anything you're trying to give him.” Pete growls, ready to pounce on Gerard. 

Patrick put an arm in front of Pete, holding him back from Gerard before speaking. “We know what's wrong with him, but it’s not as simple as just treating it like a cold.” 

Just then Patrick gets a text on his phone. “Shit, there’s rumors of another swarm that’s been picking people off by Make-Out Point. We have to go re-group with the guys.” Patrick tell’s Pete, putting his phone back in his pocket and pulling out an old beaten up journal. “Here, you're going to need this. This will tell you everything you need to know to help out your friend and to protect yourselves.” 

Gerard takes the journal skeptically, but willing to try anything at this point. He flips the journal open, seeing pages upon pages of recipes, rituals, and other entries. Gerard looks up to question the two, but the strange duo is gone without a trace. 

Gerard takes the journal back to the rest of the guys, showing them the entries and telling them what Pete and Patrick had told him. 

“This thing says to mix holy water, garlic, and human blood and to give it to him, man. I don't know about this.” Ray says, flipping through the pages.

“I read one of them that said we have to have a weekly visit from a priest to come and bless him. Even has a number of a priest that quote ‘understands the situation’ end quote” Mikey says, mocking the entry that he was referring to.

Just then Frank stumbles into the room, covered in sweat and clutching his stomach. “Let's do it.” He says, nearly falling.

 Gerard bolts up, rushing to stabilize his friend and guide him to a chair. “No dude, this is just a bunch of psycho rambling. Whatever you have, we can fix it with some cold medicine and rest.” 

Frank growls, “We’ve been trying cold medicine for weeks now. I sleep all day, there isn’t any more rest I can be getting! ...I’ve been having nightmares when I sleep, they’re all the same. Flashes of me covered in blood, and you guys laying lifeless at my feet.” Frank’s expression softens, “I’m tired of this and I’m willing to try anything at this point.”

Gerard looks at Frank with a sorrowful expression. “Ok.”, he says.

“Wait, seriously? You’re going to go through with this crazy stuff?” Ray says, a little shocked at Gerard’s willingness to comply with the odd manual.

“We have to at least try. If it doesn’t work then we stop.” Gerard says, giving Ray a serious look. 

Ray sighs, “Fine, But i'm not going to be the one bleeding for this, ok?”

“I’ll do it.” Mikey says, everyone turning towards him. “I’ll supply the blood. Luckily it doesn’t seem like we’ll be needing that much.” Gerard gives his brother a thankful smile.

“Ok.” Gerard says, “Let's get to work then.”

With that Ray, Mikey, and Gerard get to work following the instructions in the journal. Gerard calls the number in the book and informs the priest of the situation, Mikey starts the concoction that they are to feed to Frank, and Ray starts collecting all the crucifixes he can find. By 11 PM the priest finishes blessing Frank and the other preparations have been finished. 

“Here, we go, Frank. Now this probably isn't going to be pleasant.” Gerard says, bring the cup to Frank's mouth, letting him sip the mixture. As soon as the liquid touches Frank's lips, he starts coughing violently. Gerard pulls the cup away and rubs Frank’s back, trying to sooth his friend. 

“I told you this was a bunch of horse shit!” Ray says, “This entire journal was just some weird, sick prank from those guys! Just some freaks that-” Ray stops at the sound of Frank chugging the liquid. The three turn back to Frank, who is now standing, the bottom of the cup in the air as he swiftly gulps down the mix. With a loud sigh, Frank finishes the ghastly drink, crushing the plastic up in his hand. 

The three men stare in disbelief. Frank, who was nearly a corpse mere seconds ago, is now standing strong before them, looking as youthful as ever. Frank uses his sleeve to wipe the residue from this mouth, leaving a bloody streak across his face. “That’s better.” He says, dropping the cup to the ground.

“You were saying?” Mikey says, turning back to Ray. 

The four men read through more of the journal, following all the instructions to a T. Preparing more mixtures and rituals to help keep Frank stable. They even found a number to a blood bank that had shady practices so that Mikey wouldn’t have to keep bleeding for the holy water mixture. The group stayed up until 5 in the morning making everything so Frank could be comfortable. About an hour before sunrise, they got a knock on the door.

Gerard answered the door, a wooden stake and crucifix ready. He slowly creaked the door open, revealing Pete and Patrick. The two immediately notice the items that Gerard is holding, Pete hissing at the sight of the crucifix. 

“So, you actually followed my instructions.” Patrick says, a slight smirk on his face. 

Gerard put away the crucifix. “So, you knew what was wrong with him because he’s also one of them.” He says, motioning towards Pete. “And you're trying to hunt all the other ones to reverse it all, right? That’s why you had all those instructions for weapons in there too.” 

“That’s right.” Pete says.

“So now what, you’re here to take out Frank too?” Gerard says, clutching the stake in his hand.

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Patrick says, raising his hands. “Your friend is safe. So long as you keep his urges under control, then we have no reason to come after him.” 

Gerard lowers his weapon, feeling a sense of relief. 

“But, we could really use you guys, if you're willing to help. We’re always looking for more people on our side. The more of us there are, the quicker we can go through the bad ones and get our friends back to normal.” Patrick says, hopeful.

Gerard thinks for a second. “I’m sorry, but we can’t. Frank never has been one to have very good control. If we go out and try to do what you guys do, I'm afraid that he’ll get carried away and cause more trouble than help.” He says, with an apologetic expression. 

“No worries, we understand.” Patrick says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper. “But if you ever change your mind, or if you just need some help, give me a call.” 

Gerard takes the paper and stuffs it in his pocket. Pete and Patrick turn away and begin to walk off, but before leaving, Patrick stops.

“Oh, and if you hear anything about any attacks or turf fights, don’t hesitate to call!” Patrick says, calling over his shoulder. With those final words Patrick begins walking off into the night. Pete lunges into the air and jumps rooftop to rooftop, disappearing just before the sun rises. 

Bonus!:

~A couple weeks after Gerard’s last encounter with Pete and Patrick.~ 

“Any word from the hunters?” Mikey asks his brother. 

“Nothing. I’ve tried calling and texting, no answer.” Gerard says. There has been a spike in activity around their side of town, more and more lurkers at night, making it hard to get supplies for Frank.

The four men jump as there is a knock at the door. The group ready themselves with weapons, crucifixes, and holy water as Gerard opens the door. Standing before them are the hunters, only this time they’ve changed, moonlight reflecting off their fangs. 

“We’ve hit a bit of a snag in the extermination process.” Patrick says, his own pair of fangs hanging in his mouth.

“Let’s get training then.” Gerard says, allowing the group to enter their dwelling.

[yeogioceanvieww]

Oh heart, and then it falls, and then I fall, and then I know

Jeongcheol/JeonghanxSeungcheol

Disclaimer: I'm not a doctor, but being affected by bipolar disorder I tried to describe it as better as I could. This fic was so hard yet so liberating to write. Please be nice to me.

Seungcheol met Jeonghan for the first time between the tables of a bar, while eating a Hotteok. This guy came in a rush, drinking orange juice, and sat in front of him. 

The boy was so pretty it hurt. Long, dyed blond hair, with a touch of blue  on the tips. He was incredibly thin, almost sickly. He looked like an angel, with those bunny eyes, and perfect white teeth. Seungcheol felt an inch of jealousy and the desire to possess him at the same time. 

He was confused at first, but not so confused as two seconds after. 

- I’m fucking angry, I’m so angry I could overturn this fucking table and… And fucking spill my fucking orange juice that I fucking paid with my fucking money. - not so angelic from him. 

Seungcheol frowned. - I’m sorry?

- No, no, let me explain. 

- I don’t even know you. I don’t care. You came here and started to shout in the middle of my–

- I just need to fucking explain myself, okay? Let me talk. 

- Stop swearing.

- Who are you? My fucking mom?

- No. I’m a stranger who was trying to eat his Hotteok before another stranger came and decided to start screaming at me.

- So, I’m with this guy, you know. I was, actually- but that’s not the point, okay. 

- I’m not listening. 

- Your business. So, this guy was my boyfriend. Yes, I’m gay. I’m a freaking disgusting slutty fucking homosexual. His name is Joshua. I left him. 

- You left him and you have the guts to complain about him with a complete stranger?

- I left him because he was annoying. Jeonghan, I love you this, I love you that, let’s merry, let’s go live in fucking Paris and blah blah blah and suck my balls you fucking romantic asshole!

- You’re a dick. 

- I know I’m a fucking dick, okay? But he’s more a dick than I am, because now he has another one. 

- And? You left him, why are you complaining? 

- Because I’m Yoon Fucking Jeonghan! How dare he go on so early!

- You should be happy for him. Are you narcissistic or something?

- I’m a fucking divinity. 

- No, you’re a dick. And, let me say something to you: you’re insecure. 

- No, I’m not. I love myself. 

- Okay, right, now shut the fuck up. 

- Would you like to kiss me? 

Seungcheol let out a long breath. - What. The fuck. 

- You know, just for fun. 

- I have fun playing golf. Not kissing strangers.

- Golf? That sucks. 

- You suck. Go the fuck away!

- Okay, I’ll stay here, in silence. 

- Do whatever the fuck you want. As long as you shut up. - he kept eating his Hotteok, “Yoon Fucking Jeonghan” was looking at him, making him feel really uncomfortable. 

- Stop staring. 

- I’m not staring. I’m respectfully observing. 

- So stop respectfully observing. 

His emotions were actually different from what he said. Of course he wanted to kiss him: he was the prettiest boy he’d ever seen. But he had been rude, and he had been an asshole with his ex. And he kept observing him with those perfect brown eyes. He really had the desire to kiss him. So he decided to do something about that.

- What do you want? Really, I mean. Precisely. 

- Nothing, I want to kiss you. 

Seungcheol got closer to him, and lifted up his chin. - If I’ll kiss you, will you shut the fuck up?

Jeonghan put on a provocative smile. - Maybe. 

And they kissed. 

Days went by, and Seungcheol kept going to that bar. He met Jeonghan everyday, and they started to know each other better. 

- So, what do you do for a living? - Seungcheol asked, one of the first days. Jeonghan went to the bar always in the firing line, always well dressed, his blonde and blue hair perfect as usual. 

- I’m a model. 

- I can tell.

- Why did you ask, then?

- Just to be sure. 

- What about you?

- I’m a teacher. A physics teacher. 

- Boring!

- Pfft. Look Who’s Talking. You walk on a runway all day long or something like that.

- I actually pose. 

- Even more boring. 

And then they kept meeting at the same bar, ‘til one day. That day, Jeonghan didn’t show. And the day after, and again, the day after that day, and Seungcheol was sad, because he had started to become attached to that boy. Not only for his beauty, but for his energy, and for his pleasantness. He missed him.

And one day, Jeonghan showed up again. But he was… different. He had a long, too large hoodie, messy hair, dead eyes. His shoes were dirty and ruined, his back curved. Seungcheol smiled anyway, and approached him when Jeonghan went to the bar counter. He was not alone. A beautiful, tall boy was near him, and was stroking his back. - Do you want something to eat, Hannie?

Seungcheol’s heart broke. Was that Joshua? His ex? Were they back together? Maybe that was the reason Jeonghan didn’t show up. But there was something so messed up in Jeonghan’s eyes, in his posture. And he was so worried that thing passed in second place. 

Jeonghan shook his head. 

- Dear, you need to eat something. 

- Leave me alone, Shua.

Seungcheol came closer, and smiled, even if he was worried. - Jeonghan!

Jeonghan turned. Slowly. Fear in his eyes. And the boy with him turned, too. - Can we help you?

That boy was so pretty. Not prettier than Jeonghan, nobody was, for Seungcheol. But he was pretty, with his brown deer eyes, his full lips and beautiful features. 

- I’m… I’m Jeonghan’s friend. Jeonghan. - he stretched a hand to the boy, who withdrew.  Joshua frowned. - You’re scaring him.

- No! I… I’m his friend! I swear! We met here. In this bar! We kissed, we… Jeonghan, tell him! - He made a terrible mistake: he took Jeonghan’s wrist. Wrong move. The blonde began to scream, but not like the first time they met. He yelled in fear. - Get the fuck away from me! Don’t fucking touch me!

Seungcheol was speechless. He just stood, and retreated his hand, burned, motionless. The boy he kissed, the happy and energetic boy, was now… Scared? Of him? What did he do? Did he scare him in some ways? Did he do something wrong to him? 

The other boy held Jeonghan in his arms, and looked at him. Seungcheol shook his head, as saying: “I didn’t do anything, I swear”

Joshua nodded, making lip movements: “It’s not your fault.”

That evening, Seungcheol returned home with a weight on his shoulders. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he did to Jeonghan, why did he scare him so much? 

He ate alone, some sad pieces of bread and some salad. He wasn’t really hungry. He was sad. And while he was eating, he received a voice message from an unknown number. He frowned, bringing his phone to his ear to listen to that message. 

“Hi. It’s Joshua. I was at the bar today. Jeonghan gave me your number, after a fight. I wanted to tell you he is sorry for his behavior. But I think he doesn’t have to be sorry. Wait, let me explain. I know you’re hurt, okay, and I’m really sorry for that. Jeonghan is not feeling really well lately. He didn’t come to the bar because he had been in a depressive phase for a very long time, and he didn’t want to see anyone. He’s been in his house for a week, he didn’t have a shower, he didn’t wash his plates, he didn’t go to work. And, no, we’re not back together, if you’re guessing. I love Seokmin from the bottom of my heart, and with him I found the peace I had lost. Not because of Jeonghan, because it’s not his fault. The fact is, Seungcheol, that - there was a short pause - Jeonghan is mentally ill. And I’m going to explain to you a lot of things you maybe didn’t understand at first. Now, I’m not a doctor, but I know Jeonghan very well. When you first met, Jeonghan shouted about some things, right? Was he enthusiastic, was he energetic, was he impulsive? He was in a manic phase. And I’m not saying anything he does is dictated by his manic phases, because it’s not. We love Jeonghan because he’s spontaneous, he’s pleasant, he’s pure happiness. But sometimes, his emotions become exaggerated, flowing out in a manic phase. Conversely, he’s now in a depressive phase. There’s no need to explain that to a physics teacher, I guess you’re really smart. When he enters a depressive phase, he doesn’t want to see anybody. And sometimes becomes aggressive, untreatable, and wants to be left alone. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t go out. He just sleeps. Today I obliged him to leave his house, and it has been difficult. He scratched my arm until it bled. And sometimes he forgets to take his medicines, so we're worried. But when he met you, he looked more like himself than ever. So please, don’t blame him. I know it’s difficult, and you have any logical reason to go, but give him a second chance. Please. I have been angry with him a lot of times, but now I understand that it’s not his fault. He blames himself, every damn time. I won’t force you to forgive him, but I beg you to understand him. Okay, bye. Thank you for your time. 

And immediately, Seungcheol started crying. “What should I do now?” He loved himself so much he knew that he shouldn’t forgive Jeonghan. But that boy was sick, and he had to understand that. But he was hurt, really hurt. Now, he knew it wasn’t his fault. The thought of Jeonghan’s dead eyes made him cry even more. He was hanging by a thread. 

He wrote: “Thank you” to Joshua. Just that. It was enough. A thought came to his mind.

“Do I love him?”

And the answer came at the speed of a lightning. 

“Yes”

Stupid, stupid Seungcheol. You fell in love with someone you saw a few times in a bar. But the someone in question was full of energy, and happiness, and passion. And was beautiful, and artsy, and creative. Someone could have taken him as a crazy, romantic lover. But he didn’t care. He only cared about Jeonghan. So he bright his cellphone again, and wrote to his lover. 

“How are you?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I asked, How are you.”

“Everything sucks, Cheol.”

“Can I come over?”

“Of course.”

Joshua opened the door for him. Seungcheol brought some flowers from the only florist open at that time. Joshua smiled. - Thank you for coming. 

Seungcheol had to hold back his tears. - Where is he?

- He’s sleeping.

Joshua made him space, making him enter the house. - His room is in front on the right.

The house was as pretty as Jeonghan. There were a lot of books and wood libraries, record players, and a green sofa in the center of the living room. The kitchen was united with the living room, it was small and modern. But Seungcheol’s attention was concentrated on the boy who was sleeping in that room. When he entered the room, he saw the most beautiful vision ever. Jeonghan was laying on his bed, which looked so big under his little body. He approached the small figure, stroking his hair, trying to not wake him up. He would've waited for him to wake up. Maybe he was dreaming of a better world, a world where mental illnesses didn't exist, where he was fine, where they were fine. He kissed his forehead. Small breaths were coming out of his nose, his chest rising and falling peacefully. He looked so angelic Seungcheol wanted to cry. And he cried. Until he heard a voice.

- Loser.

Seungcheol laughed, wiping away his tears. - Fucking menace.

Jeonghan sat, looking at him. - I’m so sorry for this morning.

Seungcheol stroked his cheek, kissing his forehead again. - It’s okay. You don't have to be sorry.

- Did Shua…

- Yes. 

Jeonghan nodded, taking his hand. - I understand if it's too much for you. 

It’s not too much. Love it's not convenience. It's not ease. Love is something more. It's giving everything, even your peace, for someone you love and live for. And I love you, Yoon Jeonghan. With your perks, and with your merits. I loved you from the first time we met, really.

- You’re a fucking loser.

- Please, don't.

- I’m joking.

- Yeah, I know. But… Jeonghan, I think you're a special person. And a special person has to be defended. And I know you're hurt, now. I know you're depressed. And I’ll do anything in my power to stay with you.

Jeonghan hugged him, with all the strength his thin arms could have. - I love you too.

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

Atticus pukes in his sleep + Felix caretaker

I'm absolutely in love with this. But some warnings before you go any further:

!emeto warning! & !mention of gore and surgery!

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Atti🧸: Sorry, baby. My asshole of a professor is holding the class hostage. I’m gonna be stuck for a bit.

Atti🧸: I’ll be late, so you don’t have to wait up for me.

Atti🧸: Love you 😘

Felix pouted. Atticus had suggested that Felix should spend the night and they could watch movies together or something while cuddling.

Curled up on the couch, snuggled up in a fluffy blanket, Felix sighed and grabbed the remote to put on Gilmore Girls, and then he took out his phone to order himself some food.

It was a pleasant afternoon, but Felix would have enjoyed it much more if his boyfriend was there with him.

It was his sixth time re-watching Gilmore Girls in the last five months, so it was mostly background noise. His food arrived, and he ate while he watched TV, and then he started drawing designs in his sketchbook while the show continued to play in the background.

He had no idea when he fell asleep, but the blonde woke up to the feeling on lips on his forehead.

He blinked awake and saw that the TV was off and Atticus was sitting by his hip. “Hey, baby,” he said, smiling tiredly. Atticus looked exhausted, to say the least. He was even a little pale and sickly looking.

Felix frowned as he sat up. “Hey,” he said. “Did you just get here?”

Atticus nodded, leaning forward kissing Felix warmly on the lips. Felix had the urge to deepen the kiss, but pulled back instead. “Are you alright? You look pale, lovely.”

Atticus shrugged. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken from class, but fine.”

Felix’s frown deepened. “Shaken? Why?”

Atticus sighed, laying down beside Felix. Felix scooted over in order to make more room for Atticus. Thankfully, Atticus had one of those couches that looked cheap, but it was actually perfect because of how soft and wide it was.

Atticus started playing with the blonde’s hair as he said, “My deranged professor held the class back to make us watch a recording of a failed intestinal surgery. Long story short, it was a bit nauseating. But he said we need to get used to seeing that stuff if we ever want to make it as real doctors.”

“Oh. But you’re alright?” Felix was still a bit concerned by Atticus’s sickly look, but the other man just grinned and kissed him.

This time, Felix didn’t pull away and he did deepen the kiss. Atticus’s smiled against his mouth, pulling him closer. The two of them shifted on the couch until Felix was slightly on top of Atticus.

Atticus’s hand made its way to Felix’s back, under his shirt. Felix giggled, kissing Atticus’s cheek, his jaw, and moving down to his neck. Atticus smiled as well, making a soft and needy sound at the feeling of Felix’s lips on his neck.

Atticus cupped Felix’s face with his other hand and brought the blonde’s lips back to his. Make-out sessions like this were basically the highest level of intimacy that Atticus was comfortable with, shirts on and everything.

Atticus suddenly broke the kiss, grinning mischievously. He wrapped his arms and legs around Felix, making the blonde yelp as Atticus turned so they were both on their sides with Atticus literally trapping Felix and burying his face in the guy’s light pastel-peach hoodie.

Felix smiled, melting in the embrace and kissing the top of his giant boyfriend’s head. “I love you,” he whispered.

Atticus answered with a goofy “I love you, too” that came out muffled because his face was still buried in Felix’s shirt. the blonde laughed.

It wasn’t long before the two of them went to the bedroom. Felix got under the covers while Atticus went to take a shower. The lingering sleepiness that was ebbing at Felix’s brain finally took over, and the blonde fell asleep to the sound of Atticus humming some soft country song in the shower.

— — —

The video kept playing behind Atticus’s eyes.

The open body, the hectic beeping of the heart monitor, the doctors and nurses desperately shouting as they stuffed the abdomen with surgical towels that kept staining with more and more and more blood.

So much blood.

So much chaos.

One of the intestines was taken out of the body as the doctor tried to find the source of the bleeding. So disgusting. Nauseating.

Too much blood.

Too much blood.

Too much—

A heave broke Atticus half-way out of his sleep. Laying down, he gagged and brought up a stream of puke with it. In his position, he choked a bit and started coughing hard, and the coughs were so harsh that they only brough up more puke.

Atticus didn’t know what was happening. His mind was still so drugged on sleep that he didn’t have the faintest idea of what was happening.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the fog and ringing in his ears. Atticus could feel hands that were hastily trying to push him on his side. He didn’t know who was doing that, but he had the feeling they were having a bit of trouble, so his body went along with it and he turned himself completely on his side.

This time, after the gush of puke came from his mouth—splattering on the floor—he could actually suck in air. He coughed, grateful to have air in his lungs.

“Atticus!” he heard Felix exclaim. Now that he was more awake, he could tell that it was his boyfriend who had been pushing him onto his side.

He spat onto the ruined floor before falling back against his pillow with a sigh, only to grimace and feel nauseous once again when he felt vomit on his pillow that was now in his hair.

Felix was hovering over him, looking absolutely distraught. “What just happened?” he asked worriedly. “You just. . . threw up while you were asleep!”

“I’m fine,” Atticus rasped after a second.

Eyes widening, Felix let out a disbelieving scoff. “Fine?! Did you not hear me? You threw up in your sleep! ‘Fine’ my arse!”

Unable to stop himself, Atticus chuckled at how fast his boyfriend had gone from panicked to irritated.

“Really, baby, I’m fine,” Atticus assured while sitting up. “I just had a pretty bad nightmare.”

Felix looked befuddled. “Since when does having bad dreams lead people to pull an Exorcist in their sleep?!”

Atticus was about to answer, but the memory of the gory nightmare sent another wave or nausea through him and he grimaced, cupping his hand over his mouth and getting up from bed. Felix followed, hovering like a worried mother.

In the bathroom, Atticus flicked on the light and then fell on his knees in front of the toilet, bringing up more puke, but not as much.

Felix crouched beside him, rubbing his back. “Just get it up, lovely. You’re alright.”

After a few more streams of puke and some dry heaves, Atticus was done. He felt gross though with puke drying and congealing on the side of his face and in his hair. “I need to shower,” he mumbled, and Felix made a hum sound in agreement.

Atticus got in the shower after insisting to Felix that he was fine and didn’t need any help. His argument was more for the sake of preserving his modesty though.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, clothed in some fresh PJs, the bed had been changed and had new sheets, and Felix had a mop and was cleaning the last of the mess on the floor.

Atticus sighed, leaning against the wall. “I’m so sorry, baby. For scaring you, and the mess and everything.”

Felix smiled softly. “No need to apologize, love. But seriously, what happened?”

Shrugging, Atticus admitted, “I guess that video shook me up a lot more than I thought.”

“Oh, Atti.” Felix leaned the mop against the wall and went over to his boyfriend, hugging his arms around the guy’s waist and holding him like that, squeezing just a little bit tighter when arms went around his shoulders in kind. “Do you feel better now, though?”

Atticus smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good. Let’s go back to bed.”

They went back to the bed together. Atticus’s head wound up on the blonde’s chest and his arm was around Felix’s waist while Felix played with his now damp hair.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Felix whispered softly, making Atticus chuckle.

“You worry too much,” Atticus said, playfully poking the blonde’s side in a way that mad Felix stiffen a little bit since his sides were ticklish. “I’m fine, really. Even if I have another nightmare, I’m empty.”

The blonde sighed. “Okay. If you insist.” There was a moment of silence before the blonde added, “Because if you puke on this hoodie, I swear I will set you on fire.”

Atticus laughed out loud at that. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Felix said, but he was smiling as well.

“Alright then,” Atticus said, planting a kiss on the blonde’s chest. “You have my word, baby.”

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

MY FAVORITE FLAMINGO-CACTI HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?! I MISSED YOU! I HOPE YOU'RE TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF WELL! IF NOT I'M BURSTING THROUGH THE SCREEN FOR YOU! Okay, can I ask for a headcannon on how Marco would fall in love with someone on the crew? Like would he be in love with how they act or how they fight? Like have you seen 15 year old Marco? THAT GUY WAS ADORABLE!

Marco the Phoenix x GN!Reader

It's actually been a while since I've read or seen anything related to One Piece so I had to go back and re-watch things involving Marco since I always want to give a rather realistic scenario of the character. I don't do OOC stuff (no, I am not dragging other authors who do that. I'll still read their works and am happy with it, I just prefer to make my OWN stuff realistic)

Anyways, let's move on forward

Marco is not one for a quick-burn nor a slow-burn of a love story but rather, an evenly paced-burn. It wouldn't take him years nor days. Months to properly fall in love yet years to confess, that seems about right.

And he's obviously not one to fall in love with the superficial, although it is an added bonus.

He doesn't just fall in love with the way you act, neither the way you fight

Marco falls in love with the way you interact with the world.

Your honeyed words when speaking to people, the way you tend to sit in the middle of a crowded plaza, happily people-watching in silence. The way you're a cynic through and through yet enjoy romanticizing what can be romanticized, sometimes you're harsh with your words, other times poetic.

It's plain to see when the world has won the battle against you. But never the war, that you are determined to win. And he adores that about you.

He adores how you seem to fight with style (if that's even possible), your eyes in a slightly caving under the wight of their mischief. Your lips pursed to taunt and tease whilst you gracefully dance across the battlefield.

Thats not to say, you haven't had your clumsy moment in the heat of battle. Usually, you'll catch yourself in time, making it look as though nothing happened but you're humiliation will be plain to see (at least in his eyes). Your brow has a tendency of twitching when embarrassed.

He loves watching your interactions with the crew and Pops --- Whitebeard had taken you in upon finding your sickly body aboard some small boat drifting lost at see. Turns out, you had a illness eerily similar to his, or so, the ship's doctor said. Pops had immediately felt some kind of kin-ship and had opted to take you in

You were in a coma for until sometime, upon awaking the doctors and nurses struggled to hold you back --- so stubborn even when at the frailest of states. You demanded to see the Captain of the ship. And you did. You stood before the entire crew (they had been in a meeting) and Whitebeard, your gaze sharp as you profusely thanked him as well as scolded him for wasting such precious resources on you. You even yelled at the man, who had gone to protest your words, that you will simply ignore his words because you were just that stubborn. (you literally said that too!)

"You're stuck with me now, so don't even bother entertaining the idea of dropping me off on some island!"

The scene was absolutely hilarious but it was his first introduction to the type of person you were, the first time his heart lightly fluttered with something more.

After that day, he'd see you helping around the ship. You took to the crew like a fish took to water --- there was just this charm about you that drew people in.

And the fact that you wouldn't allow your illness to hold you back from exploring emotions, relationships, the world --- hell, he once scolded you for singing at the top of your lungs when you fell ill with pneumonia.

You were just that kind of person.

The sort who loved to bring joy to other people's hearts, even if that meant experiencing a little pain on your part.

And in return for all these things you've been making him feel, he'll reward you with subtle touches. Marco is more of an acts of services and subtly physical affections. Hands on the small of your back as they guide through a crowded room, him both reserving a seat during meal-time while also having already grabbed you a plate of your favorite foods before they could run out, standing in front of you to block out the hot sun, reminding you to drink water after a hard day's work, neatening your strays after having had the wind blow your hairs.

To Marco, actions speak louder than words. (The other Division Commanders definitely noticed it but surprisingly kept their mouths shut, except for Pops)

Whenever Whitebeard caught you and Marco within his field of vision, instantly he'd make a comment about how he couldn't wait for the day you got married, hoping that it'd be on his ship and with a specific blonde in mind. But that's one of his more subtle hints. His more bold ones were a bit more crude --- whenever Marco spoke to you, Pops would cry out for you guys to get a room. Amongst others things.

Pops expects a grandchild soon and the baby better resemble a pineapple

To be honest, for all the jagged edges of your persona, you readily turned into a teddy bear when you deemed it necessary. And by jagged edges, Marco refers to your various attempts of shying away when people get a little too close to you.

He noticed how great displays of emotions seem to scare you away; however, he loved how you would subtly adapt to these types of situations. When someone cried in your presence, you'd lightly caress them before looking for someone who could more effectively comfort them. Or when Ace gets a little over excited, a word or two and he'll be running in the direction of a possible victim with your guidance.

You're like him --- mellowed out.

A quiet day sitting where the wind could catch you just right was all it took for you to consider it a good day. Just like him.

It seems like you realized this because not long after, he found you constantly seeking out his presence. It started with you approaching him for some medical supplies or treatments for minor wounds, which soon ended up with you hanging about his office, reading a book. Just overall content to be in his presence.

There also came a time where you felt as though you were pestering him with your preference for his presence. So you took it upon yourself to put a stop to it. Opting to avoid seeking him out so much. For a whole week everyone, who knew whim well, could plainly see his irritation.

For the first time, he found himself hating one particular aspect about you --- your non-confrontational nature.

You were good for confronting injustices, stupidity, amongst others. But emotions? Nah.

It took Thatch luring you into the kitchen with the promise of dessert for him to corner you into your worst nightmare. The confrontation of feelings.

Had the situation not been heavy with tension, he'd have laughed at the comically horrified look on your face as you ate your dessert.

You could seriously be cute at the worst of moments.

But shit, this was you we're talking about. Beautifully stubborn you.

It took him all night to pry your walls down, and even then he still hadn't gotten to the core of your. So he used his secret weapon.

He confessed.

You quite literally fell out of the chair.

After that, the two of you obviously ended up together. Well, at least, after you worked out some of your traumas. Either way, let's just say that when the two of you made it officially, groans and cheers from the crew could be heard around as bags of money were passed around. With Pop's earning most of the bags as he grinned smugly.

It took you guys a year and a half to finally get together.

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(A/N): You're too sweet and undeserving of my sudden abandonment, cries out of guilt. NGL I saw this in my inbox when you sent it out and it both brought me so much joy and so much guilt 😭

Hope you enjoyed!