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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months

Text

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

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You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

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Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse

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imwetforyourmom · 6 months

Text

heading for the door pt2

pt1

summary: what happens after the breakup?

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of lack of eating, crying, swearing, fem!reader, ive never been in a club so mb if its poorly described, meantions of drinking and alcohol, help yall idk what else

sorry this took so longg

y/n held her knees to her chest as she sat on her bed. she was only staring at the wall infront of her. the creamish popcorn wall. nothing special about it, nothing special going on.

the only special thing she could think about was matt, even though she knew she shouldn’t. she was only tearing herself down more and more.

the thoughs of matt holding her, mumbling hush words to her with a sweet and caring tone of voice, the memories of them going on picnic dates together and laughing and giggling the entire time came flooding back to her, just as her tears did, overflowing from her eyes.

the realization of her actions and what had happened only sunk in after matt left, and that was almost a week ago.

she’d been in bed all week, no motivation to get up, shower, get dressed, nothing. she couldnt bring herself to move herself to do important things, such as eating, the last she’d eaten was almost two days ago.

but as of right now she couldnt focus on the gurgling and rumbling of her tummy, the way her body ached, the constant pounding in her head, the overwhelming thoughts, no. all she could think about was how she’d never feel matts touch, hear his voice, see his clothes lying around, as much as she hated picking all of it up, now she’d absolutely kill to be able to do it again.

but no. everything, absolutely everything was gone. and there was nothing she could do about it, except wait until something happened, just hope that maybe she’d find the motivation to move her sore and aching body off the bed, take a nice and warm shower, brush her teeth and take care of herself, eat a delicious and big meal.

she hated how she felt, how she couldn’t even look at a bracelet on her dresser, a bracelet her and matt had made to celebrate their two year anniversary. their two years of loving one another, two years of giving as much attention and affection as possible, spending two years of their lives together.

all of that was gone. she couldnt relive any of it, she couldnt bring it back somehow, she couldnt do anything except accept that she ruined everything, she ruined the love they had for eachother, the life they built together.

“am I not good enough for you?” the words rung through y/ns head, being all she could hear. the words she never wished to come out of her matt. the words she absolutely hated since he spoke them. she hated the way they made her feel. she hated how she felt sick to her stomach when the words processed through y/ns head.

knowing that he felt as if he wasnt enough and was basically worthless to y/n absolutely destroyed her. knowing matt was everything, everything. he was everything to her. without him she didnt feel like herself, and now that he was gone and gone for most likely forever she’d always feel this way.

she couldn’t feel complete, a part of her would be missing for forever and she’d never feel comfortable with herself. never feel normal. never feel the same joy she felt when she was with matt.

god, she built her entire life around matt, relying on him for her everything, her happiness, her grounding, her safety and comfort. she was so used to being with him, that everything she saw or heard reminded her of him, and what did that do? nothing. it only made her feel worse.

• • •

“come on y/nnn, you havent left your bed in a weekk, just come out, and you’ll feel better.” the text read, y/n stared for a moment, thinking all the thoughts of what would happen if she went out.

what if she saw matt? it wouldnt matter. they’ve broken up anyways.

what if another man reminds her of him and she breaks down and sobs? highly doubt that would happen, matts one in a million.

what if she gets black out drunk and calls matt? she hopes she does, maybe they’ll get back together.

y/ns thumbs moved across her keyboard quickly, pressing the letters and forming a sentence.

reading it over and over again, y/n made sure this is what she wanted and what she wanted only, not basing it off of anything to do with matt.

“yeah ill come out. pick me up at 9.” she pressed send and clicked her phone off.

she took in a breath, moving her legs to the side of the bed, pushing them to the edge and onto the floor.

the harsh cold wood on y/ns feet(sies) reminding her this was reality and not some stupid dream she’d made up.

• • •

y/n quickly thanked the uber before stepping foot out of the car, immediately being greeted with a very enthusiastic “hiii!!” by ryleigh, her voice high pitched as she wrapped her arms around y/n.

y/ns arms wrapped around ryleighs body, saying a quick “hi” aswell, maybe a small smile at her lips. she still felt disgusted with herself, with what she did to matt. she’d never be able to feel the way she did before she’d done what she did to matt.

hell, she couldnt even utter the words of what she’d done. the words brought her great pain, a nauseous feeling to her stomach and tears to her eyes.

“are you readyy?” ryleigh asked, her voice just as comforting and encouraging as y/n needed it to be.

ryleigh pulled away from the hug, her grin ultimately comforting y/n and reminding her she was in a safe space with ryleigh.

“yess! by the way, love the dress babe, you look beautiful!” y/n answered, her lips curving into a grin, matching ryleighs.

“thankss. lets go inside.” ryleigh pulled y/n by the hand, pulling her inside the club.

as soon as the door opened loud ass music, neon lights and chattering engulfed y/ns senses. the lights really getting to her, they were just.. so much brighter than inside her bedroom.

ryliegh, on the other hand was enjoying it all. the sweaty bodies she and y/n moving against others as they walked to the bar. everything going on was just what ryleigh needed.

“hello ladies, what can I get ya?” the bartender offered a warm smile towards the two. his voice sending shivers down rylieghs spine. it was a husk, and deep voice, ultimately pulling ryliegh in.

“uh- um.. I- ill take a majito.. um.. y/n? what do you want?” ryleighs shaky and flustered voice turned to y/ns direction.

“I dont want anything. thank you though, ryleigh.” y/n answered. as easy as it would be to consume alcohol and drown out all her thoughts with matt, she knew it wasnt right. she shouldnt because she needs to live the reality of what she did, and also, because drinking alcohol like that is not a good idea, whatsoever.

“alrighty, then. thats all.. mister..?” ryleigh trailed off as she turned back around to face the bar tender, leaning her forearms onto the counter.

• • •

y/n left ryleigh and the bartender. they were just flirting and shit. she didnt want to be the third wheel. wheres the fun in that?

y/n was currently enjoying her night, atleast trying too. as much fun as someone who just ruined their relationship could.

she lightly swayed with the music, her hips moving side to side gently with the music.

she lightly hummed the words of the song, suddenly being so consumed by the beautiful sounds of the singers voice and the background music.

then, everything stopped. her body movements came to a halt. the music suddenly going quiet. her breathing stopping and her heart rate quickening, as her eyes laid on matt.

she immediately bit her lip and took in sharp breaths. her arms twisting together as she stared at him, her eyes darting down his face and body.

the way his silky and shiny brunette hair fell perfectly ontop of his head. the way his green shirt looked so, so good on him. the color perfecting his skin.

god, everything she wanted in a person, yet she couldnt have, but once did.

matt stared at the crowd of bodies infront of him, all moving under bright lights. his eyes trained on each and every individual, his eyes scanning the way each body curved and didnt curve, the features of their faces and their clothing. studying each person for no other reason than being bored.

his eyes were currently laid on one girl, his eyes trained on her hips moving, not even bothering to glance up at her face, nothing.

he could only think about how familiar the movements looked, how perfect she moved her hips.. but more importantly how it looked so familiar like he’d seen it plenty times before.

suddenly, her bodys movements stopped. his eyebrows raised in confusion, wandering why the girl had stopped. he moved his eyes from her hips to her face.

he didnt even have to look for another second to know that is his girl- that was his girl. once was, never (at least, what a part of him wants) again.

he quickly took in how she took in sharp and small breaths, her arms twisting together in the same way she always used to, when she was nervous, he quickly recognized.

fuck.

suddenly his eyes began filling with tears as his lungs slowly deflated with no air. he couldnt find it in himself to take in a breath, without atleast letting out a small sob.

as much as it pained him to look at the girl he only wished was still his, he couldnt bring himself to look away.

he missed the way her arms felt around him, the way her words always got to him, comforted, brought happiness, anything he wanted her words always seemed to do it. the way her beautiful eyes stared into his, the beautiful color of her irises bringing such comfort, warmth and nervousness over him at any given moment with no failure.

as much as what she did with koda absolutley kills him, he still loves her, he still hopes she was in his bed with him everymorning, he still wishes she was the one to always hold him as long as he needed it.

all he wanted was her, and he knew he could have her back, but he knew she didnt deserve him.

y/n stood in her spot, her feet planted to the ground as she took in her shaky breaths, so badly wanting to walk over to matt and talk to him, she just wasnt sure if she was ready or if he didnt want to talk to her. why would he? she basically cheated on him.

her eyes couldnt help but to stay on the boy, until he motioned for her to come to him.

she nodded, before looking away then untwisting her arms and flailing them to her sides, shaking her hands for a moment to get the nerves out and to prepare herself.

she brought one foot infront of the other, walking to matt in a quick motion.

“hi.” matt breathed, seeing y/n standing infront of him. seeing the girl he wanted so badly stand infront of him.

“hi.” she spoke, taking in a breath before quickly saying “alright, listen. I am so fucking sorry for what I did matt. I would absolutely do anything for you. I’d- I would do anything matt. words cannot describe how drained ive been without you, I havent felt the same, I don’t- nevermind. this isnt about me, this is about you and what I did.” she took in another breath, collecting herself before starting again.

“alright. what I did was absolutely unacceptable and absolutely disgusting of me. you were my boyfriend and I should not have done what I did with koda. its absolutely sickening and- and, wrong. no man could ever amount to you, you’re everything and all of everything ive ever wanted. koda is- is not the one to blame here. its me. but I need you to understand that I still love you and if I could I would treat you so so much better than what I did before. i am, truly, so sorry matt, and i do hope we could date again- or atleast be friends.” she finished. exhaling a large breath, feeling a huge amount of weight being lifted off her shoulders.

matts eyes stared down in awe at her. all of her words went straight to his heart. he’d completely forgiven her the moment she opened her mouth and admitted what she did was wrong.

his hands slowly came up to her face, his hand cupping her cheek and pulling her face into his, pressing their lips together in a passionate and sweet kiss. nothing sexual behind it.

y/n crumbled into the kiss and closed her eyes, until matt pulled away and pulled her into him. wrapping his arms around her body as he hugged her. he muttered words into her head, “I forgive you, I forgive you.” he repeated, his hand coming to the back of her head as he pulled her into even more of a warm hug.

2308 words

tags:

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @mels22lunchbox @ssilentzom @haunted-headset @scofposts @jupitersturniolos @mutualsafe @evieolo

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #the sturniolo triplets #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt sturniolo angst #angsty

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ppushable · 2 months

Text

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

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Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

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ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

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Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

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avenging-fandoms · 8 months

Text

Wedding Date - Pedro Pascal

"Ah shit!" You put the wine bottle on the counter as you look at the wedding invitation on the fridge. Next weekend was your friend's wedding and you had a plus one when you RSVP'd with your ex-boyfriend.

You sigh and grab a glass, filling it more than half way and taking a big sip. You pick up your phone and scroll through your contacts, picking out a few names before accidentally stop-clicking on the perfect person.

"Yn?"

"Pedro! Hey, how have you been?" You lean over the counter and sip your wine.

"I've been good, Yn, are you okay? We haven't talked in a while. I'm sorry about that by the way, I just got so busy."

"Oh no worries at all Pedro. You know, to make it up to me, you could come to my friend's wedding with me next weekend." You bit your nails and waited for his answer.

"I am free, what's the dress code?"

"Black Tie, I can get you a suit if you-"

"No, sweetheart, I've got it covered. I'd like to see you before next weekend and catch up, if you're up for it." He offers and you smile behind your glass.

"Of course, Pedro. I'll text you my schedule. Thank you, thank you so much. I'll see you soon." You hang up the phone and pump your fist, sipping your wine before grabbing a bag of pretzels and heading to the couch.

You sit against the wall on the bench, sipping your iced coffee as you wait for Pedro. He asked to meet you at his favorite coffee place and you agreed, missing the ray of sunshine you had.

"Yn!" The bell dings above the door and you look up from your phone, smiling as your eyes meet Pedro's. You stand as he walks over to you, engulfing you in a big hug. "Oh I've missed you, how have you been?" He pulls away and holds your face, kissing your cheek and the both of you sit.

"So, Pedro, how are you? Or should I call you Joel Miller? You played the hell out of that role." You sip your coffee and he smiles.

"You watched?" You look at him. "Thank you, princesa. I'm really proud of it. What did you think of it?"

"I thought it was so.. beautiful. That might be a weird word to use but your acting, Bella's, oh my god everyone in that show is so goddamn talented."

You drink 3 coffees and eat 2 donuts, Pedro 2 coffees, a tea and a bagel, he paid. He holds out his hand which you grab, standing up and following him outside while holding loosely onto his fingers.

"Well.. it was lovely to catch up, Yn." He stops and turns to you, your smile identical to his. "I can't wait to be your date this weekend."

"Thank you for doing that, Pedro. It's a late ask and I totally forgot."

"No worries, honey. I'll see you Saturday." He gives you a wink before turning and walking to his car. You turn and bite your lip, speed walking to your car so you could scream about this date.

You smooth out your dress and turn in the mirror, smiling and putting in your earrings. You hear a knock at the front door and grab your phone and clutch, heading down the stairs and opening the door.

"Oh.. my.." You exhale slowly, taking Pedro in. From the slicks back hair with the curls poking out, glasses, suit and shiny shoes. "You look absolutely amazing, Pedro."

"I think you mean yourself, hermosa. Show me." You spin slowly with a giggle and he sighs. "I am the luckiest plus one ever." He holds out his arm and you hold his bicep as he takes you to the car. He opens your door and you get in, closing your door and he gets in, the driver heading off.

A 30 minute ride with soft conversations later you arrive at the venue. Pedro quickly gets out as he sees you reaching for the handle. He opens the door and holds out his hand, your hand gentle in his as you step out of the car.

You hold his bicep as his hand rests on his stomach. You sign yours and Pedro's names, Pedro getting a few looks and waves. Behind your sunglasses you threw glares at the women throwing him winks and flirty looks. It wasn't your place but deep in your stomach it bothers you.

He leads you to seats and wipes yours off before you sit. He sits beside you and you hear whispers, so you grab his hand and bring it to your lap, tracing his bullseye tattoo mindlessly.

The ceremony was some what long, but you always cry during the vows. You hold Pedro's hand as you head inside, grabbing a drink for the two of you. You find your names and tablet number, sitting down near the bride and groom's table. You sat with some old friends and people you weren't familiar with, introducing Pedro to them all.

You ate, chatted and laughed before before starts to play. You watch as people start to stand, dancing with friends and partners for a few songs and then the first dance happens, followed by the other dances.

"Couples, please join the bride and groom with their parents on the dance floor." The DJ announces and you stand with a smile, walking by Pedro and dragging your hand from shoulder to shoulder as you look over yours, Pedro grabbing your hand as it trails down his arm.

Your hand rests in his palm with his hand on your hip, your hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for coming, I'm sorry you're getting so much attention, I'm sure I'll be bitched at about it." You huff and he laughs, pushing his hand to your lower back and pulling you into his body.

"I'm happy you asked me, seeing you in this dress has been the highlight of my year." He hums as a shiver goes up your spine, his fingertips digging into your back.

Claps erupt from everyone around you two and you join in, heading back to your seats as they do the bouquet toss. You chat with Pedro a bit and he can't keep his hand off your knee as he watches you speak.

"Pedro, can I have this dance?" Some woman interrupts while you're in the middle of speaking to Pedro and your eyes immediately shoot to her, putting your hand on Pedro's that was on your leg.

"No, I'll dance with only my date tonight, but I thank you for your wonderful offer." The woman walks away a little embarrassed and you look at him.

"You could've danced with her, you are single, aren't you?" You ask and sip your wine, looking at Pedro whose eyes grew dark as he looks at you.

"They're not who I want." You inhale sharply with a soft smile, setting down your wine and clearing your throat.

"Did you still need the bathroom? I need to freshen up, we can find them together." You say and he nods quickly, following you to the bathroom and locking the men's bathroom door.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian

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hannahssimblr · 11 days

Text

Seven on the button, and the doorbell rings. I hear it from the garden as I empty the contents on the lawn mower into the bin, grass stains on my new shoes, sweat on my brow. Dad comes to the back door.

“Bell,” he says.

“Is it someone for me?”

“I assume so. A young woman.”

“Didn’t you let her in?”

“No. I spotted her from my office window.”

I scoff. He’s so weird. Why wouldn’t he just answer? I wipe the grass from my hands onto the sides of my shorts, kick my dirty shoes off on the patio, and head down the hallway to the sounds of Ivy plonking on the piano.

It’s Evie, in her usual denim shorts and a thin green cardigan, hair straight and shiny and wearing a shy smile. Despite seeming slightly frazzled, she looks so nice, like she’s put in effort, unlike me, all grass stains, sweat, and hair that is no doubt sticking up at some wild angle. I run my fingers through it.

“Oh, hi,” I say. “I didn’t think you’d come so early. I… still have to shower.”

“Oh, God, sorry, am I the first one here?”

“Yeah, but come in, anyway. My sister is just practising for her piano lessons. She hasn’t played all summer.” I roll my eyes as the door clicks behind us. “In case you can’t tell. She’s a bit shite.”

Evie doesn’t respond, but looks around her with those big green eyes taking in her surroundings, skating up the panelled walls to the Georgian coving, the ceiling roses around the lights, all restored, faithful to the original house. It occurs to me to wonder, for the first time, what her home looks like, and the differences between our upbringings that didn’t matter an ounce on our little escapist slice of the beach.

“Do you want tea or something?”

She nods, and I take her through to the kitchen. There, she perches on a stool at the island and rests her elbows, trying not to be so obvious to her gawking. This time, she takes in the kitchen, this bespoke, perfect show-house-like kitchen with all of its integrated appliances, the state-of-the-art hob that’s barely used, the skinny cupboard made specifically for all the herbs and spices that still have the plastic wrap on them. It’s nice, sure, it’s like something from a magazine, but I would prefer this was the type of house that had magnets on the fridge door instead.

“I’m sorry I’m early,” Evie says with a rueful smile. “I thought you said seven.”

I drop a tea bag into a mug for her. “Yeah, I said seven in the text, but I suppose I should have been more specific.”

“More specific about…?”

“That seven doesn’t actually mean seven, you know? That it means, like, sometime after eight.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you expected me to decode your text.”

I laugh. The misunderstanding was my fault, really, and if I’d thought about it for even a minute, I would have known that Evie, a girl who likely doesn’t go to a lot of parties, wouldn’t know the procedure. I don’t mind that she’s here at all. I am happy to see her, but the fact that she is in my house at the same time as my family is awkward. Every time I hear someone moving about in another room, all my muscles tense up. I cannot bear for her to meet them, and be able to make some kind of judgement about who I truly am through the encounter, or worse, expose herself to their judgement and scrutiny.

As though on cue, my mother’s heels clack through the hallway, increasing in volume until all I can do is mentally prepare myself for her entrance. I curse under my breath while I fill Evie’s cup with boiling water.

In freshly pressed trousers, she strides into the room. All jangling keys, and an air of busyness about her, so self-absorbed that it takes a moment for her to realise we have a guest. She stops dead, and surveys Evie in dull surprise. She’s like some kind of wild, feline predator, and witnessing her interactions with people who don’t yet know her ways is excruciating.

“Oh, hello.”

“Mom, this is my friend Evie. Evie, this is my mom,” I say.

Evie fidgets in her seat. “Hello missus Turner,” she says, and it’s so polite that I squirm.

Mom lets out a short, percussive laugh. “Oh, no, darling. It’s just Colette. Are you one of those girls from the Holy Faith school?”

“No, actually, I’m not. I’m from Tullamore, in Offaly.”

Mom’s eyes glaze over so immediately and obviously that I cringe.

Pulling the tea bag out, I clarify, “She’s one of my friends from holiday.”

“Ah, Shane’s sister.”

Evie picks the mug from the counter and cradles it in her hands. “No, um… No, I’m not.”

“Ah.” She’s already rifling through her handbag. “Jude, have you seen my reading glasses? I haven’t been able to find them all afternoon.”

“Did you check the office?”

“Why would they be in there?”

“I’m just asking, did you check?”

She huffs. “Why would you suggest the office? Why on earth would I have left them there?”

“Because this is your house, and you can go into any of the rooms you like. Sorry if that’s an outrageous suggestion.”

“You know I’m never in there.”

“Well, maybe dad mistook them for his and took them in. I don’t know.”

Evie stares into her mug. I am aware of the atmosphere we’re generating here, my mom and I, but it’s hard not to descend into this childish bickering every time we speak to each other lately. Even seeing her ignites this rage in me, as she is a reminder of the injustices thrust upon me, and every time I see her smug face, I think about the position she has put me in. Dad too, obviously, but I mercifully don’t have to see him outside of occasional mealtimes, and whenever someone makes a noise that disturbs him.

Eventually, mom struts out of the room and flings open the door to the living room, curtly calling on Ivy to get ready to leave, and I thank God. I won’t relax until they do.

“How’s your tea?” I ask Evie, and she responds with a grateful smile. “It’s lovely, thank you.” I know she’s lying. I don’t know how the nuances of creating drinks I don’t enjoy. There are rules about the correct amount of milk, and how long to brew the tea bag. Maybe I shouldn’t have bashed it around in the cup with such vigour, as though transferring some of my contaminated energy into it. I wonder if she can taste it.

“That’s good,” I say, and we lapse into a long silence.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

#lucky boy 2010 #don't any of you dare say anything about Christopher being hot istg i'll have a breakdown #he's a monster

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neo404 · 6 months

Note

you should write a prompt where the reader texts nick "can you please come get me?" he could be at a party, at his home, or anywhere that seems fun to write! love ur writing 🤍

Get me out.

Summary: at a party you grow tired of this random guy talking shit about your boyfriend so you get into a fight with him, after that you text Nick to get you.

Tw: fighting, cursing, mentions of alcohol. suggestive??

‘’Yeah, and that Nick guy. God, he is such and idiot, he thinks he is the best but really, he’s just a whinny bitch. I don’t get why people like him.’’ the vodka burns my throat, or maybe it was the anger. Either way, I was done with this guy’s bullshit.

‘’The only whinny bitch I see is the one talking shit at peoples backs.’’ I walk closer to him, and push him into the wall. ‘’Say one more thing about him and I’ll break your face.’’ I don’t think of myself as a violent person, not all the time at least, but I am very protective of what’s mine.

‘’Who are you? One of his bitches?’’ he smirks.

‘’I’m the only one, actually.’’ I threw a punch at him. I hear commotion, a few of his friends rushed to me, a few of my friends rushed to him. I think I punched him a few times more but it might have been another person really. After 2 or 3 minutes I get dragged outside by my friend. ‘’Let me go. He hasn’t apologized yet, I’ll make him.’’

‘’Stop, that’s enough.’’ I sit on the floor outside the house the party was held at, my ribcage hurts, my face and knuckles too. I let out a sigh and clean off the blood running from my mouth. ‘’I’m going inside to see how the other dude is.’’ I nod and he leave. I take my phone out.

Ocean eyes

Can you please come get me?<

>Everything okay?

>Send me your location.

I look at myself in the black screen of my phone after sending him my location, he’s gonna be mad, and worried. I don’t regret punching that idiot, but I know how Nick gets when I get into a fight. After 10 or maybe 15 minutes I see the van park outside the house, Nick rushing out of the car runs to me and hugs me. I let out a loud ‘ouch’ and the breaks the hug quickly.

‘’Who hurt you? What happened? Are you okay?’’ He starts scanning my whole body for injuries and a small smile form on my face.

‘’I’m fine, I’m okay now.’’ I hug him and he gently wraps his arms around me. Caressing my hair and kissing my hair softly. ‘’Can we go to your house? My body hurts…’’

‘’Of course. Come on.’’ He helps me get up and walk to the car, inside Matt looks at me from the rear-view mirror.

‘’Hi Matt. Sorry for the hour.’’

‘’No problem. What happened?’’

‘’Long story…’’ I put on my seatbelt and lean my head into Nick’s shoulder.

----

‘’Are you gonna tell me what happened?’’ I’m sitting on the kitchen counter while Nick cleans the wounds of my face. I shrug my shoulders.

‘’You’ll get mad.’’

‘’Then why did you do it?’ I shrug my shoulders again.

‘’He was talking bullshit about you. And before you say it, I know you don’t care and I shouldn’t listen to what other people say but… I care, and I care a lot, I can just exist while other people say shit about my boyfriend, shit that is just far far away from reality.’’ He sighs and leaves the cotton covered with blood beside me, he grabs my face with both hands and makes me look at him.

‘’As hot as you look all bruised up, I don’t want you punching people every time you go out just because they said something that’s not true. We have talked about this.’’ I nod and he kisses my nose. ‘’Don’t do it again. Seriously. One of these days you’ll find someone that punches harder than you.’’

‘’I doubt that.’’

‘’Whatever you say big boy.’’ He pats my thigh. ‘’Let’s go to take a shower. It will help with the pain.’’ I nod and follow him to his room. ‘’And just so you know, it will only be a shower, I don’t want you more sore tomorrow.’’

‘’But-‘’

‘’No buts, come on. You smell like alcohol.’’

#nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x male reader #sturniolo triplets x reader

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st-eve-barnes · 1 year

Text

You know that I'm no good (chapter 8)

(Modern Aegon x fem Reader, Modern Sihtric x fem Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

This chapter: You spend the night in Aegon's bed, finally giving into your true feelings for him. But what then?

Finally smutty times! And ANGST. And...I am so sorry about the ending...you guys didn't think we were there yet, didn't you?😈

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Word count: +4600

Masterlist

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Aegon’s driver was as professional as they come, he was overly polite, opened the doors for you and accompanied you to the elevator that lead up to Aegon’s penthouse.

Because of course Aegon would have the best, most expensive apartment in the entire building, you shouldn’t ’t have expected anything less.

You were nervous when you entered his place, it was dark in the loft as you made your way through the enormous kitchen.

On the way over there Aegon had texted you that the door was open and he’d be waiting for you in his bedroom.

Part of you was convinced you were still actually in your own apartment, in your own bed, sound asleep and having this amazing dream that involved Aegon inviting you into his bed.

It was all just too good to be true.

But it was real.

Light was peaking out from under the door of his room. You knocked softly before opening it.

Aegon’s bedroom was as spacious as the rest of the place, king sized bed with dark sheets, cozy lights and a big tv on the wall opposite the bed. He had never looked smaller to you sitting up against the headboard on his side of the huge bed, shirtless, his hair messy and curly and his sleepy sad eyes locking on yours.

He looked like a dream. You didn’t want to speak or move, afraid you would shatter the whole thing and wake up alone again.

“Hey,” he whispered and his lips curled up into a smile watching your short pink pajamas,”You really came like that, huh?”

“You said not to change so…your driver gave me some weird looks though,” you joked, making Aegon laugh but then his gaze was serious again.

He lifted up the blankets to make room for you,”Get in here.”

You took off your shoes and climbed into the bed next to him, propping up the pillow behind your back as you got comfortable, not wanting to get too close to him before knowing his intentions.

Did he just want company? Or comfort? Did he just want to fuck or did he want more?

Or was it none of the above.

Aegon turned on the tv and searched for Stranger Things. Then, without speaking a word, he started up the first episode.

It confused the shit out of you.

You didn’t know how to deal with this quiet version of him, it was the first time you actually had no idea what to say to him. The air in the room felt too heavy and even though Aegon was sitting right next to you it felt like he was a million miles away.

Did he regret his decision to invite you over already? Was that it? Did you read too much into his words?

You got to about fifteen minutes into the first episode when you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

Aegon turned to look at you,”Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you haven’t interrupted the show once, which is highly unlike you, and you’re really unusually fucking quiet.”

Aegon smiled at your directness but once again his smile faded too quickly and never reached his eyes.

“Aegon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,’ he sighed, a little annoyed.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” you pressed.

“Because,” he started but then bit his lip and sighed deeply, his hand running across his face,��God, fuck, I’m sorry…I’m so bad at this.

“If you want me to go you can just say…”

“No, please!” he interrupted you and his hand reached for yours, gripping it tight,”Please.”

Your gaze met his and your heart sank seeing the struggle in his beautiful, pleading eyes.

“Please don’t go,” he repeated, softer.

You nodded and squeezed his hand,”I won’t, I promise.”

He sighed in relief and you moved a little closer to him in the bed,”Why did you invite me over, Aegs?”

“I think you know,” his voice was soft but his gaze even softer, erasing any thoughts you may have had of leaving from your mind.

“I’d like to hear you say it,” you insisted.

You were suddenly very aware of the grip his hand had on yours, clinging to you and very slowly pulling you closer to him. His gaze was no longer soft, his pupils growing darker and blown with lust.

“What do you want?” you breathed.

He licked his lips before he whispered,”I want to pull you into my lap and kiss you. Is that alright?”

You swallowed hard, unable to form any coherent thoughts or words. All you managed was a small nod and it was all Aegon needed to proceed.

He pulled you to him and then gently cupped your face with one hand before leaning in and kissing you, slow and tentative and so soft it was giving you goosebumps all over. Your hands moved to his bare chest and he whimpered at the first contact.

“Sorry,” you giggled into the kiss,”My hands are cold.”

You wanted to pull them back but Aegon was quick to grab them and place them back on his chest,”Your hands are perfect.”

He kissed you again, slow and unhurried, taking his time to taste you and enjoying the way your breathing picked up and the way your hands moved all over his chest and stomach. Then he pulled you into his lap, legs on either side of him and this time you both whimpered when his cock brushed up against your center. Even through the layers of clothing you could feel how hard he was.

Aegon was kissing you as if he’d been waiting years to do so, as if this was the first kiss, which in a way it was.

There was no audience this time, nobody to put on a show for, it was just you and him, the both of you melting into each other from every angle. He moaned into the kiss when you rolled your hips and then he leaned back to look at you, his gaze both hungry and somehow nervous for your reaction.”Do you want me?” he breathed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead against his,”Yes, Aegon.”

His entire face lit up at your confirmation.

You moved your lips to kiss his neck and Aegon’s eyes rolled back into his head, blissful little whimpers escaping his lips as he rocked back against you, letting you feel how desperate he was for you. Your hands moved over his stomach to push at the hem of his boxers, desperate to get them off but Aegon stopped you.

“Shhh, not yet, sweetheart,” he shushed you and then patiently kissed your jaw, your neck, your collarbone until you were a whimpering mess in his lap.

“Please,” you moaned quietly,”I need you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he reassured you,” but first…”

His hand moved down your stomach to untie your shorts while he moved his mouth up to your ear,”First I’m going to put my hand underneath those adorable pink shorts you’re wearing and finger you until you cum all over my hand. Is that alright, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, Aegs,” you breathed.

“Is that a yes?” he teased with a smirk.

“Yes,” you begged,”Please, yes.”

Your plea was enough to urge him to speed things up and he pushed you off of his lap to lay you down on his bed.

His lips latched onto your neck again while his hand caressed your stomach and pushed up your top, his hand moving underneath to cup your tits, paying equal attention to both of them. His thumb grazed over your nipples before taking one of them into his mouth, his tongue lapping at those sensitive spots and as if that wasn’t driving you crazy already he also moaned into it.

Your panties were soaked and he hadn’t even touched you there, you weren’t even sure if you would be able to handle it if he did. You were already clenching around nothing, so desperate to feel him inside of you. His cock, his fingers, anything, you didn’t care, you just needed to feel him.

“Aegon, please, baby,” you begged, taking his hand in yours and guiding him down between your legs.

He smirked at your impatience and pulled down the hem of your shorts, his lips brushing the shell of your ear while his fingers slipped into your underwear,”It’s okay, lay back and let me take care of you.”

He continued kissing your neck while his fingers ghosted over your clit, barely touching you but enough to feel how soaked you were.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he teased,”Oh, sweetheart, I’ve been a bad boyfriend, huh? Not giving you what you needed so desperately.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

Aegon showed mercy on you, finally circling your clit and putting pressure right where you needed it. You couldn’t hold back your moans and your hips started bucking up into his hand.

“You’re so needy, I fucking love it,” he purred,”Look at you grinding against my hand, my sweet dirty girl.”

His voice was adding flames to your fire, making you burn up for him a little more with every word he whispered into your ear.

The way he held eye contact through it all was driving you insane. Like he couldn’t bear to look away from you even for a second, taking in your reactions to every single one of his touches, eagerly learning what you liked the most and repeating that over and over until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Finally he slid a finger inside your dripping heat, making you press your nails into his shoulder. You covered your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure but Aegon was quick to slap your hand away.

“I wanna hear you,” he whispered,”Wanna hear how good I make you feel, moan for me, sweetheart.”

He added a second finger, fucking you with them at a slow, unhurried pace while his thumb found your clit again.

You moaned shamelessly, grinding against him, feeling that heat coil in your belly as your orgasm started to build.

Aegon watched you closely, speeding up his movements but slowing down when you got too close, keeping you right on that edge until he could see tears spilling from your eyes.

“That’s it, baby” he then moaned into your ear,”You can let go now, cum for me, sweetheart, soak my fingers, please, come on…”

He kissed you again then, slow and deep while he fucked you with his fingers, making sure to keep circling your clit as well. It was enough to push you over the edge.

You came with Aegon’s name on your lips, your entire body convulsing under his touch, bliss filling your every nerve unlike anything you had ever felt. You never wanted this to end.

Aegon slowly kissed you through your orgasm, letting you come down from your high but also keeping his fingers inside of you until every last wave of it had passed through you.

He smiled softly, eventually pulling back.”Was that alright?” he asked quietly but with a little hint of mischief in those beautiful blue eyes.

“Fuck yes, that was alright,” you giggled,”That was...holy shit.”

His smile grew wider, proud, and he kissed you again, deeper this time and when he moved against you, you could feel his cock resting against your inner thigh. Hard and leaking and so ready for you.

Your hand moved to push his boxers down, your impatience taking over again and this time he didn’t stop you but instead helped you take them off and then started tugging at your shorts to do the same. Your panties quickly followed, ending up in the pile next to his bed.

His one hand moved down your inner thigh, spreading you open for him while he pressed his forehead against yours, holding eye contact while his cock nudged at your entrance.”You want this, right?” he breathed, struggling to hold himself back but needing that last bit of consent from you,”I need you to say it, sweetheart, please.”

You just nodded and let your hand brush his cheek.”I want you, Aegon,” you confirmed,”I want you.”

You were both breathing hard, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close to you as he slowly pushed himself in, inch by inch. He stretched you to the fullest before slowly pulling out and driving back in again.

Your mind was no longer able to form words, all that filled your senses was him. And you realized there was no going back from this moment, the way he held you and looked at you as if you were the best thing to ever happen to him while he filled you up so perfectly. You had never felt so close to anyone in your entire life and it was making you emotional.

And Aegon noticed, even now. He halted his movements to grab your hand and hold it up against his chest.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby? What is it? Am I hurting you?”

“No, you’re not hurting me,” you reassured him,”Nothing’s wrong, nothing’s…you’re perfect.”

The soft, loving look in his eyes put a smile on your face.

“You’re so perfect, Aegon,” you repeated in a whisper and he leaned in to kiss you softly. You reciprocated hungrily and then he was fucking you again, more urgent than before.

His pace was slow but when you rocked back against him he started going faster, giving you what you both craved. It didn’t take long for you to lose yourself in him again, and Aegon was right with you this time. His breathing erratic and his moans growing louder as his thrusts became less and less controlled.

“I’m close,” he whimpered,”Fuck, I’m so close, baby.”

“Me too,” you breathed, encouraging him to keep going so he did. His fingers connecting with your clit again, giving you that last little push to topple over the edge with him.

“Fuck,” Aegon was breathing heavily, sweat on his forehead, his cheeks flushed red as he tried to hold back and give you what you needed first,”Shit, I need to…”

“Come inside me,” you whimpered, nails digging into his back.

“You sure?” he checked, biting hard on his lip as his thrusts grew harder and less controlled.

“Yes, I’m on the pill,” you reassured him,”Please, I want to feel you…come inside me, Aegs.”

You had barely finished your words when he did just that, his hot seed filling you up as he buried his face into the crook of your neck with a loud grunt. You followed quickly, moaning his name as your own orgasm rippled through you.

Aegon didn’t move for the longest time after that, just holding onto you as you both tried to come down from it. You hugged him close, neither of you feeling the need to speak for a while. You could have laid here for the rest of your life and be happy.

When Aegon finally looked up he noticed the tears in your eyes.

He gently cupped your cheek and brushed them away, his soft eyes meeting yours,“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he checked.

“Yeah,” you smiled through your tears.

“Good tears?” he asked with a hopeful smile.

“Good I-just-had-the-most-satisfying-orgasm-in-my-entire-life tears,” you teased and Aegon’s laughter filled the room, making your heart feel full.

He pulled you next to him in the bed, keeping his arms around you to keep you close to him.

“Was that…okay?” he then asked, insecurity clouding his voice.

You nodded and leaned closer, resting your forehead against his.”Yeah,” you whispered.

His sweet smile warmed your heart and when he placed a soft lingering kiss on your lips you knew your heart belonged to him from now on. It was both the best and the worst feeling in the world.

“Stay,” he then whispered softly,”Please stay with me, my sweet girl.”

”I'm not going anywhere, Aegs,” you kissed him back and pulled him into your arms.

****

You texted Sihtric the next morning to cancel your platonic lunch date, followed by a bunch of apologies but he took it like a true gentleman and told you to text him whenever you felt ready and if that didn’t happen that he would understand.

You had been right about him from the start, he was a truly good man.

But there was only one man on your mind since last night.

Waking up next to Aegon still felt like a dream and instead of kicking you out of his bed he had pushed you down into the mattress and fucked you again before breakfast. He even offered for his driver to take you home, which you gladly accepted.

You had spent that entire Sunday living in a haze and went to bed happier than you had in a really long time that night.

But then the work week started and you got back into the routine. And you didn’t hear from Aegon during those first days, and then Thursday came along and he still hadn’t texted you.

That’s when the doubt started to set in. What if it had just been a casual fuck for him? What if he didn’t feel even an ounce of what you felt for him? What if he regretted it and now anything you two may have had was ruined before it even got a chance to start?

It was Friday and you had settled on the couch, your phone on your lap and a bottle of wine by your side. Normally under these circumstances you wouldn’t hesitate to call Helaena and pour your heart out to her, but that was obviously not an option right now.

You jumped when there was a sudden loud knock on your door. You didn’t want to hope, you knew it would only hurt all the more if it wasn’t him but you were quick to rise to your feet and open the door anyway, relief flooding your veins upon seeing Aegon on your doorstep. His hair was messy but his smile was bright.

“Hi,” he spoke softly while shamelessly staring at you.

“Hi stranger,” you teased,”Your phone not working?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed,”I should have…texted, or something.”

“Yeah, you should have,” you replied, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Can I come in? Please?”

You nodded and moved to let him step inside your apartment.

“There’s a film screening by the water tonight,” he then started,”We could go if you want.”

He moved into your living room and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he didn’t even touch you.

Was that all he wanted? To take you out in public and play the fake couple again? Were you still right there after everything that happened?

No, it couldn’t be true, your heart could not take this.

“I guess we could,” you tried not to sound as devastated as you felt,”If that’s what you want.”

You stopped to look at him and when your eyes met his he let out a deep sigh.

“No, it’s…that’s not what I want at all,” he confessed,”I don’t care about a stupid movie.”

“What do you want then?” you asked, feeling nervous about his answer but needing him to be honest with you anyway.

“You,” he sighed,”I just want you, Y/N.”

Every doubt and fear fell away when his hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you up against his chest, his lips meeting yours in a soft, deep kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in between kisses,”I should have…called you…I was an idiot…I haven’t…stopped thinking about you…all week. Can you please…forgive me, sweetheart?”

You cupped his face with two hands and kissed him back, unable to stop from smiling.”I forgive you. But don't do that again.”

Aegon didn’t stop kissing you as he pushed you towards the couch, pulling you down onto it with him, making you both giggle. But then he grabbed your neck and looked into your eyes, his gaze suddenly serious and darker.

“Can I fuck you again?” he whispered heavily,”Please?”

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes closing with a soft moan as he started kissing your neck while his hands cupped your breasts through your shirt,”God yes, you can fuck me whenever you want, Aegs.”

It was fast and frantic, clothes were pulled off and discarded, there was no time or no need for foreplay. The both of you starved for each other and when Aegon finally shoved his achingly hard cock inside of you everything was right with the world again. You clung to his shoulders as he fucked you mercilessly on your green couch, bringing you both to a fast and intense climax.

The second time was different, slower, on your bed, with him kissing every inch of skin on your body before he even dared to touch your cunt. When his tongue finally devoured your clit it felt like you ascended to another world and when he fucked you afterwards, lazy and slow and with his eyes on yours the entire time, you cried again.

He kissed away all your tears patiently before making you weep again as he drove you to another mind blowing orgasm. He came with his teeth sinking into the skin of your neck and your name leaving his lips in the most delicious whimper.

****

The weeks that followed felt like a beautiful, romantic and very much not suitable for work dream. You spent your days at work or hanging out with Helaena and you spent your nights in Aegon’s bed, or on your couch, his kitchen table, the balcony of his penthouse, the back of his car, the elevator in your building, …

It didn’t matter what place you were in Aegon needed to have his hands and his mouth on you every night, and preferably in the morning as well. He grew addicted to you fast and you were no less addicted to him.

You felt happy, for the first time in a really long time. Aegon was sweet, always in a good mood and incredibly affectionate.

He was everything previous boyfriends hadn’t been.

He’d hold you until you fell asleep in his arms, cuddle up to you in the kitchen while you were cooking, he’d listen to you when you rambled on about customers at work, he’d even bring you breakfast in bed and pick you up after work. He made you laugh every day and every day was better now because of him.

The sex was infinitely better than anything you’d ever had before. Aegon would always make sure you were taken care of first, he wouldn’t even think about his own climax before he’d made you cum first. He also loved to go down on you, usually while you watched Stranger things. He’d eat you out as if he’d been starved for days, making it impossible for you to focus on the plot of the show, which you stopped caring about several episodes ago, you now just put on the show as an excuse to let Aegon have his way with you.

He was the perfect boyfriend in every way, except that he wasn’t your boyfriend.

You never put a name on what you two had and you never talked about your feelings. You didn’t want to push your luck and lose what you had with him. Things were perfect, why force them to change?

It was a slow day at work that Friday when the door opened and Aegon walked in, the store was empty except for the both of you and you could see that eager, mischievous grin on his face as he stepped up to the counter.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he grinned.

“Hi,” you smiled, leaning across the counter to get closer to him.

Aegon followed your lead.“You alone?”

“Well, there’s one customer in here, it’s this weird but kinda handsome blond guy who comes in every few days,” you teased him,”He never buys anything, doesn’t even look at the books, he just comes in to flirt with me.”

“Hmm, does he now?” Aegon leaned on his elbow, letting his eyes meet yours,”Does he make you uncomfortable? Should I go kick his ass?”

Your lips curled up into a smile,”No. I was just wondering…why he drops by so often.”

Aegon’s hand reached across the counter until he managed to grab your arm and pull you closer.”Maybe he just misses you,” he then whispered.

“Is that so?” you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up and Aegon softly pressed his forehead against yours.

“Can you take a break?” he then asked,”Hang up a sign and close the shop for ten minutes.”

“The whole ten minutes, oh my god Aegon Targaryen, you must be every girl’s ultimate sexual fantasy,” you teased and laughed and he hit you on the arm.

But then his eyes locked with yours again, his gaze suddenly intense,“I’m your ultimate sexual fantasy and don’t you fucking deny it.”

You bit your lip shyly and smiled,”I wasn’t going to.”

He grabbed your chin with his thumb, forcing you to look deep into his eyes, nothing but hunger staring back at you,“Close the shop.”

You sighed,“I don’t know, what if my boss happens to drop by?”

Aegon leaned in even closer, just enough so he could nuzzle your cheek, his breath hot on your skin. “Come here,” he whispered and he softly kissed the sensitive spot right below your ear, making you shiver.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered,”Been thinking about your pussy all day.”

He smiled when he noticed your breathing picking up and he started kissing and licking your neck, making you breathe even harder.

“Aegs,” you moaned quietly, fingers digging into his arm,”What do you want?”

“I wanna taste you,” he breathed in between kissing your neck and jaw,”Right here…wanna push you up against one of those book shelves…tear those jeans and panties off of you…kiss your thighs….suck on your clit until she’s all sensitive and throbbing for me…then…I’m gonna fuck you slowly with my tongue, get you all nice and wet and then…”

“Jesus fuck, alright, I’ll close the shop!”

Aegon smirked and licked his lips while you rushed to lock the door and hang up the Closed sign. Before he could say another word you pulled him with you towards the back of the store.

It turned out ten minutes was more than long enough for Aegon to make you cum twice, once with his head nestled between your thighs and the second time with his cock buried deep inside of you, thrusting so hard the entire bookshelf was shaking.

You held onto him so tight afterwards, fingers deep into the skin of his back as you buried your face against his neck.

“God, I’ve missed that,” he whispered in between kissing your shoulder,”I’ve missed you, so fucking much.”

“Missed you too,” you breathed.

Everything was so perfect, if you had known how quickly it would all fall to pieces afterwards you never would have said a damn thing.

You hadn’t meant to say it, you just got caught up in the moment and the way he was looking at you with those soft, loving eyes of his.

“I love you so much,” you breathed against his lips and Aegon froze.

He recovered quickly, trying to shut you up with more kisses and you reassured him that it was okay, that he didn’t need to say it back to you and that it was just a heat of the moment thing and not a big deal.

But it was a big deal, it seemed like a huge fucking deal to Aegon.

It was the beginning of the end.

#aegon x reader #aegon x you #sihtric x reader #aegon smut #sihtric smut #hotd fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #tom glynn carney fanfic #arnas fedaravicius fanfic

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kissalopa · 3 months

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I was catching up on @aleksa-sims' real life story and told her I felt that I am a bad mom. My son is not a newborn anymore (he's a toddler), but I still sometimes get this feeling and thoughts in my head. Also the fact that some close people (one person actually, but a very close one) told me that I am a bad mom doesn't help with self confidence.

But yesterday we (me and my son) were out on a playground. Then came a young lady and sat on a bench, she was looking at her phone. I was communicating with my son like I usually do, nothing special. Then rain started, I hid under big tree while my son was playing in a sandbox that was partly sheltered by the same big tree. And that lady came under the same tree to sit on another bench. Then came an old lady with two small dogs (maybe chihuahuas, I'm not really good with dog breeds), my son wanted to pet a dog. I told him to approach carefully and give his hand to sniff first (that what you should do with cats, I don't know if it also works with dogs). But the dog started barking, and my son god scared and sad. I hugged him and told him that the dog didn't want to communicate, because she wanted to go to the toilet (the dog did it's thing while we were hugging). After that my son went back into sandbox and continued playing. At that moment lady that was sitting on a bench started talking to me. She asked how many children I have, and said that I am a good mother. That it's rare to see such connection and communication between parents and children. It was so nice to hear such words! She also said that my husband should be happy too, because I'm such a good mother to his child. (That's actually not the case, but I won't go into that now.) I thanked her several times then we wished a good day to each other and she went on her way.

I'm sorry for the wall of text, but it's the first time something like this happened to me, so I wanted to share ☺️

#kissa rambles #non sims #personal

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arkngth · 3 months

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my newest tribute to the wildrp fandom or whatever you'd call it.

vampires au antonio/oliver "crack" ship that i let get out of hand bc theyre actually so fun to draw 🫢 also, i couldnt not make a vampires au, i mean, look at what theyre wearing ! those are pretty much canon outfits !! theyre so [explodes /pos]

also, i'm afraid of twitter so i didnt get to post the actual ship art there 😭

i dont trust twitter with gay art thats even slightly suggestive lmao esp if its extra toxic yaoi. rptwt sucks ong

my antonio can do no wrong(/j), so i needed an au where he's a devious little freak who can disturb even the likes of a violent n grumpy oliver.

which, I'll admit, i only know oliver from wu's pov n not much else, but i love what little bit i saw of his personality that i wanted to take what i interpretted n play around w ideas involving antonio,,, cuz i hope i've already established how [debatably] normal i am about him :3c

i'm a big fan of religious themes, so i love the idea of the dicenzo fam following some good ol fashioned italian catholic rules hehe. except antonio, who would've excommunicated or just, lost faith in God in general after his house burns down with his family still inside. and in this au specifically, he messes around with some vampires at some point n yknow, gets turned into one.

when antonio n wu join the family, antonio takes a special interest in oliver just bc he's easily worked up n annoyed. so he likes to pester him just to get a reaction. at some point ollie becomes the vamipre hunter hunting antonio, who causes havoc wherever he goes cuz he's hungry for blood, basic vampire stuff. and antonio likes to lure ollie around to mess with him, and no matter how long he's gone without feeding, he'd never bite ollie just so he'll stay mortal and warm-blooded.

thats basically all ive got. sorry for the wall of text again, i dont have anybody to talk to about my ideas n im too scared to talk abt it on twt [sigh]

#my art #Antonio Corleone #Oliver Toscano #vampires au #OCified tag #WildRP #RDRP #RDR2 #digital art #illustration #doodle #artists on tumblr #art

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yeehawbvby · 6 months

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Falling Away With You | Ch. 49

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Time to use The Shrine(tm)

Author’s Note: n/a

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next (<- links to ao3 for a note!! If you want to skip that, click here <3)

Shane was right. I was about to cry. As soon as I stepped outside the tears started falling. I had planned to go grab some groceries from Pierre’s and visit Robin to ask a few questions about installing barns and whatnot, but instead I just went to Cindersap and wandered around until I could calm down enough to face anyone again.

In the moment, assaulting a bootlicking Joja cog with some coffee and sass felt so freeing. Afterwards… I can’t help but think, why did I do that? I’ve never really snapped at anyone before, and the first time I do it’s a total stranger? Even if he is a dick, and even if maybe he did deserve it for whatever reason, I still can’t help but feel guilty.

Don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to face Morris again. I guess I won’t be visiting Sam there anymore.

As I pad through the crunchy fallen leaves, sniffling up a storm between sips of coffee due to the emotions and chilly air, I just try to focus on what’s ahead in an attempt to relax a bit.

Like, Spirit’s Eve is gonna be a blast. I’ve got that going for me at least. I’ll have a chance to meet that shadow person Magnus is friends with too. I absentmindedly gain a little pep in my step as I remember that Seb’s and Magnus’ birthday are both in the coming months. I wonder if they’ll want to do anything special.

I check my phone and see a wall of texts from Sam:

Sam > HEY. I snuck out for a bathroom break bc omg Sam > u were so real for that Sam > like holy crud. I’ve always wanted to give morris even a *little* bit of shit and u just did it ur first time meeting the guy

There are a few more messages, all exclaiming about how awesome he thinks I am. It’s just as endearing as it is embarrassing.

I quickly reply to lie and say it wasn’t a big deal and that it’s whatever and that I’m fine, not-lie to promise him we’ll hang out for real soon, and apologize for his lack of a coffee. I then decide to go to Magnus’ a bit early. Maybe he and Seb can distract my nerves, and if not I can at least fill them in on what happened.

I begin nearing Tony Remington Trash Bear. Haven’t seen this fella in ages. He notices me and sniffs in my direction while chewing today’s dish. Looks like a stuffed pumpkin… where does he get these things?

I wave at him, and wonder — now knowing he’s an elemental — if he can communicate with me.

As far as I can tell, though, there’s not a single thought besides his next meal behind those eyes. Good for him, if true!

I slow down and try to speak to him, tentatively holding out my cup. “Uh… I don’t know if you understand me, but d-do you want some coffee?” He glimpses at the cup and I add, “I’ve had, like, half, and it’s cold now, but…” followed by a very meek shrug.

Tony sniffs a little louder and turns away.

“Oh. Sorry.” Guess he doesn’t like coffee.

I take a few more steps. He looks at me again. I stop again, and stare back for a moment before waving.

He waves back oh my fucking god before turning back to his food.

Yoba, Spirits, whoever, what ever, please let this be a sign that today can turn up from here.

My pace becomes brisk as I try to make it to Magnus’ tower faster. I’ve gotta tell him and Seb that there’s a slim chance I actually can communicate with animals, even if they can’t communicate back in a way I can understand.

I wonder if I can learn that. Like, animal-speaking potions or spells have to be a real thing, no?

And, like, with Cannoli, I assumed he could roughly get the gist of whatever I say because out bond. What if I’ve actually been talking to him in a way he can comprehend for months now?

…What if I can, like, translate frogs for Seb someday?

Oh.

Oh my fuck—

I feel giddy at the thought and do a little shimmy to work out my energy. I know if I start jogging in lieu that I’ll probably just trip on a fallen branch or acorn or something — the ground is too covered in leaves for me to see what’s beneath them, save for a few long weeds.

I make it to the tower quicker than I’d anticipated. Outside the door I stomp some mud off my boots, and while stepping in, I hear hushed speaking from the main room. I don’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt if something is important going on. Quietly so as to not disturb them, I remove my coat and shoes and pad through the doorway, sipping my sweet drink.

I stop in my tracks and nearly choke on the coffee at the view before me:

Magnus and Seb are facing each other, their bodies parallel to the side walls and nearest the far end of the cauldron. I can see some of Seb’s face and all of Magnus’.

Seb got his ears pierced! The red studs — I guess they were safe to use, after all — are just barely visible from my view, resting above his gauges. Not sure about the other ear, but he has crossed industrials on this one as well now.

Now, I can’t tell if his ears are pink from swelling or from blush, but it could be both, given how closely Magnus is observing him. Magnus’ hand is tilting Seb’s face up, and he’s heavily inspecting his piercings with a slight flush on his own cheeks, as well as rosy eyes. Only god knows if it’s because of the contact he’s engaging in, or because of how much cooler Seb looks with his new jewelry.

As Magnus tilts Seb the other way, I’m at first ready to assume that Seb did get a few piercings on his other ear too, until I see Magnus practically cupping the younger man’s face. His lips are slightly curled upward and moving but I can barely hear a word he’s saying. The only sound that registers in my ears is the smooth, bassy reverberation of his baritone voice. A breathy laugh comes from Seb in response.

My heart stutters at the thought that they’re, like, gonna fucking kiss or something, until Magnus drop’s his hands, crossing them against his ribs. It’s only as Seb mimics the motion that I notice they’re both wearing black sweaters, both with their sleeves rolled to their elbows.

A Sebastian cosplay convention.

SebbyCon… SebCon? SebastiCon???

No. Shut up.

I make my presence a little more known as I clear my throat and approach my partners, unable to contain the shit-eating grin plastered on my face. Magnus looks over and smiles wide at my presence, seemingly oblivious to how ~scandalous~ that interaction appeared. Seb turns to do the same, more focused on giving me his own silly, smug look.

Whoa. On the ear opposite from the one I had a slight view of, Seb has a triple helix now, as well as a fucking nose piercing, all alongside his red lobe piercing. I can’t hide how frickin’ stoked I am for these, god he pulls it all off so well!

Ignoring their hellos, I scurry closer, my eyes and smile wide as I place my cup on the counter nearby to take Seb’s face in my hands, basically doing the same thing Magnus just did.

“Holy shit, dude!”

“You like ‘em?” he laughs.

I reposition Seb so he’s got no choice but to look directly at me. “I feel feral.”

“Oh my,” Magnus laughs while he observes us.

Still holding Seb’s face, I turn to look at and giggle with the elemental.

Seb brings my attention back by placing a hand on mine and using the other to draw my face to his, dipping down for a quick smooch amidst his smiling. “You’re here early. I just showed up a few minutes ago.”

I nod, pressing my forehead to Seb’s chest and wrapping my arms around him. As he hugs back, I explain, “Rough day.”

Drawing nearer to place a hand against my spine, right above Seb’s hands, Magnus asks, “Did your plans to visit Samson fall through?”

I chuckle, muttering quietly about how formal and old he sounds, and give Seb an extra little squeeze before turning to hug Magnus. “No, I saw him,” I mutter as his arms envelop me. “I, uh,” I press my cheek to Magnus and to get a better view of Seb, “I poured coffee on his boss.”

“What?!” Magnus says, his voice sounding awfully incredulous, albeit amused. The shock is deserved, to be fair. Again. Never really done something like that.

Seb, as I had hoped and predicted, looks so goddamn proud of me. “Deliberately?” I nod. “Holy shit, you badass!”

“Y’know,” I observe, “people keep saying that, but I cried about it the second I stepped out of the store.”

Magnus’ hug tightens so I turn back to him, nuzzling my face into his torso as Seb asks, “Why’d you do it?”

“He was being a dick to Sam,” it’s hard to talk like this so I release myself, standing off to the side to form a little triangle between the three of us, “aaand he scolded me for having my own lil’ treat in the store with me.” I fidget my sleeves while nodding over to the coffee cup on the counter. “That was supposed to be for Sam, I was just holding it for him until Morris left, but…” I shrug.

“Arsehole...”

“Oh yeah,” Seb agrees with Magnus, “the dude sucks. I never really see Sam on the clock anymore just to avoid him.”

“We’ve gotta get him out of there,” I mutter, making my way back to the coffee. I chug the rest before tossing it in the bin nearby.

In the meantime, Seb counters, “Dude’s stuck. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Bummer…”

“Mm,” Magnus simply hums. He barely knows who Sam is, this is probably uncomfy for him.

I meet the taller man’s eyes. “Shrine?”

“Of course.”

Magnus and I start making our way across the room, but I stop when I notice that Seb isn’t following. I turn around and notice that he already has a book in hand. “You coming?”

“Nah,” he responds, seeming to search for a certain page in particular. “I’ll be fucking with some potions while you do that.”

“Boooo,” I pout. He tosses up a middle finger with a playful glare, and I throw the gesture right back. “If I don’t, like, die, I guess I’ll see you when I’m not a human anymore,” I add on.

“You better not die on me now.”

“No promises!” I announce as I make my way over to Magnus, who’s patiently waiting by the doorway.

His nose scrunches and brows furrow while he grins, as though he’s holding back a laugh, but I don’t mind the scrutiny; I’m too busy admiring the way his crow’s feet deepen, complementing the sparkle in his burgundy eyes.

Maybe it’s the spirits doing their thing again, but I can’t help but notice how happy and full of love I feel with Magnus and Seb around… how happy they seem with me, and even each other.

Not to be a huge sap or anything, but life is so fucking beautiful, sometimes.

“You won’t die, my heart,” he reassures me, breaking me from my train of thought.

As we make our way downstairs I ask half-jokingly, freeing myself from my stupor, “So I’ll just be horribly mangled if I don’t do things right?”

“Well…”

I look at Magnus. He’s chewing the inside of his cheek and avoiding my gaze.

Sighing, I nod. “Good to know.”

“You’re an incredible sorceress, dear. You’ll likely be just fine.”

“If I don’t fuck up, sure.”

“It’ll be alright, I can almost guarantee it.” As we near the shrine, Magnus turns to me and walks backwards for a few steps, “Besides, just think of the results!”

I experience a fucking war flashback as I remember him having a similar outlook on that potion he made me when we were in our early days of knowing each other. The one that had me keeled over in pain on the ground within seconds.

“This feels familiar…” I mumble, hoping that the scene is projecting into his mind. Based on his lack of a response as he sifts through a tome, I’m assuming it didn’t work.

When his attention is back on me, he nears my side, giving me a run-down as he magically highlights certain parts of the page he has open. I cozy myself into his side, nodding along while I try to keep up. Without halting, he wraps his corresponding arm around me, leaning into my touch.

He really is a wonderful teacher, but sometimes he goes so quickly. I get that it’s just the excitement fueling his speed though. More often than not he bears in mind that, although I fucking rock at this, apparently, it’s still kinda new to me.

After asking him to reiterate a few things — including what types of beings I can become with this thing, none of which include things with horns or tails, god damnit! — before I memorize the few lines of spell I’m to perform and step over to the center of the emblem on the floor.

Before I begin, I ask, “Wait, when you use this you like… hover, yeah?” Magnus nods. “Is it okay that I can’t do that? Do you think it’ll effect things?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “You’ll be fine on your feet. Or your butt, or knees, or whatever you prefer, really.”

“Alright,” I sit on the ground, crossing my legs and resting my antsy hands against my thighs. “Here goes nothing.”

I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable reciting incantations in front of people, so I whisper it to myself, as I hear Magnus crossing the room — I assume to sit down and read or something, similarly to how I did during his transformation all that time ago — before patiently waiting for the process to take effect.

Once I get the ball rolling, everything starts to feel weird. I feel tingly, mana exuding from every pore of my body. I keep my eyes shut so as to concentrate on the image of what I want to become more effectively, but can still see the faint illumination of an arcane light show through my closed lids.

I’m not sure how much time passes like this. I wind up in sort of a trance-like state at some point; somewhere between being incredibly conscious of the weird sensations coursing through me, and oblivious to the fact that I even exist in my own body. It’s only whenever I stop feeling anything beyond the floor below my ass and my hands on my thighs that I realize the process must be done.

I open my eyes slowly. They widen as I notice first the change in my clothes, then in skin color. It all looks eerily similar to what I’d racked my brain with, and I guess that’s the point, but it still startles me a bit.

I turn my palms up and around, admiring the dusty pink tint of my skin, and the way it almost shimmers with an otherworldly pearlescence under the dim glow of the basement’s lighting.

I take in the deep obsidian of my new pants — made of something soft and silky, with a high and cinched waist to counter the bagginess everywhere else — as I extend a leg outward, tracing the intricate details of the silver embroidery that climb the outer hems.

My top is also very loose, but tucked into the corset-like belt of my bottoms. It’s black; has a soft, sort of cottony in feel; and it’s void of any detail, aside from the wavy edges of its three-quarter sleeves.

I reach my hands to my ears, which are now slightly longer and pointy, then slide my digits through my hair, which feels softer than ever. It’s thick, pin-straight, and long, reaching down to my lower back. I bring a section of it over my shoulder, observing the silvery gray it’s become.

My same earrings are in, at least from what I can feel. Similarly, my necklace from Welwick and ring from Magnus are safely on my person.

I didn’t expect the transformation to be this intense — I thought it would just change my colors around a bit, like how it did with Magnus. The clothes were wanted of course, but I didn’t think I could actually change them too. Was just feeling more hopeful about that than anything.

Damn.

I finally look up and to my left in search of Magnus. He’s sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other and a tome abandoned next to his lap while he awe-struckedly rakes his eyes up and down my new form, leaning up from his relaxed position.

I shoot him a big grin and his eyes widen a bit, the faint smile he had prior not leaving his face.

“The fangs were a lovely touch,” he quietly compliments.

Fangs?! “I didn’t even know I did those.” My gaze shifts to nothing in particular while I snarl a bit, tapping my tongue to my teeth. They’re situated like vampire fangs, which is lucky, considering I’m not sure I’d be safe if they’d filled my mouth. These babies are sharp.

I bring my attention back to my partner as he stands, and I meet him halfway. Still the same height as before, which is good. Won’t draw suspicion from anyone who lives around here.

“Is it normal for the shrine to take creative liberties like that sometimes?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “This seems to happen more with a user who lacks experience — but if it chooses to trust you, it’ll never be an unwelcome transformation.”

I look back at the thing, shrug, and turn back.

“You’re incredible, (y/n),” Magnus grins, tilting my face up by the chin. “Did you mean to do this with your sclera as well?”

Oh hell yeah, it worked!

I answer triumphantly, “Damn right, I did.” It makes him giggle. Makes me giggle in turn. “What color are they now?” Did it work how I wanted it to?

Looking more at my eyes than into them, he mutters, “They match your trousers quite nicely,” Fuck yes, “and your irises are lavender.” Not what I was going for, but I’ll take it! “I must say, it’s strange to see you this way, but you’re ethereal nonetheless.”

“Think it’s too much for when I go to the above-ground event?”

He tilts his head and chews the inside of his cheek while he studies me, before ultimately shaking his head. “It simply looks like you’ve a knack for makeup.”

I begin playing with and staring at my new hair again. “Thank god, this is fucking sick.” I look back up at Magnus, fingers still fiddling with my tresses. I purse my lips, swaying a little as I shyly start, “Do I have to change back to—“

“Yes.”

“Fuck!”

He laughs, holding out a hand for me to take. “I assume you want to present your new form to Sebastian, yes?”

“Hell yeah, let’s go.”

I grab his hand and we make our way out of the room. Gazing at our inhuman skin tones locked together, I begin to feel a little self conscious. I’m probably overthinking, but I can’t stop the feeling from gnawing at me.

“Uh…” I start, suddenly feeling kinda shy.

Magnus slows down a bit, seeming to sense my worries. That, or he read them already, but he hasn’t said anything so I can only assume he’s trying not to.

“Do you… ever wish that I was an elemental too?”

He slows us to a halt and I shift my vision to meet his own. The wizard looks as calm as ever, if not just a little more concerned than usual. “Of course not, my heart,” he turns to face me. “In fact, if you were one, the spirits may have never fated us together in the first place.”

That’s right, he did mention the whole soulmates thing being in favor of an elemental and human pairing.

I nod, accepting the answer. I still feel a little weird knowing that maybe I’m more (or less, maybe?) attractive this way, but it’s not like I’m a whole new body shape or anything, so I try not to think much of it. There’s no point to it, this is only for special occasions, after all.

“I love you,” he tacks on cheerily, as if to remind me.

Fucking dork.

“I love you too. Sorry.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh. “Why are you apologizing?!”

“I dunno!” I join his chuckles, shaking my head. Never claimed that I’m not a dork too. “Just feels childish to ask you stuff like that, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“It’s only natural such an immense change in your appearance would cause some unease.”

“I guess…”

He does have a point. It’s almost the same feeling as when you don’t wear as much makeup as usual, and someone comments on how sick and tired you look, regardless of your wellbeing; or when you gain or lose a noticeable amount of weight, and people make comments on how much “livelier” or “happier” or “better” you look, regardless of how good the change actually was for your health…

Except I’m doing it to myself instead, like a dummy.

And I haven’t even seen myself yet.

Magnus did nothing to indicate if he likes this change more or less than my original appearance. I’m sure Seb won’t either. He’ll probably just be excited to have a temporary elf girlfriend.

They both love me as I am.

I’ve gotta chill.

Ugh.

Okay. I’m good, I think. Enough spiraling.

I look up at Magnus, who’s patiently awaiting my next move. I wonder if he heard me get lost in my head for a moment there. If he did, he doesn’t say anything about it. I offer a soft smile which he reciprocates before giving my hand a squeeze.

“Are you alright, my heart?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “let’s go.”

When Magnus and I arrive upstairs, we’re hit with a strong smell of marijuana. Seb rarely smokes here. Magnus banned cigarettes — dude hates the smell — but weed is fair game, so Seb brings it out sometimes if he’s extra stressed. Not often, but it does happen.

Must be going through it right now.

Rounding the corner, I see Seb leaning with his palms flat on the nearest countertop, with a tome opened in front of him. Around him are haphazardly placed vials and ingredients. A blunt is lazily hanging from his mouth, and the cauldron is draining behind him, as he mutters the words he reads under his breath with nearly closed lips.

“You good?”

Startled, Seb looks up. His eyes widen at my new appearance and the blunt falls from his mouth. He catches it before it can land anywhere though.

“Oof,” I add casually, “Nice save.”

“Nice, uh…”

He pauses to stare for a moment, leaving the blunt hanging between two fingers like a cigarette. I gnaw my bottom lip and shift around on my feet. His intense scrutiny is flustering me.

“Hah.” Seb rubs his eyes with the digits of his free hand, then keeps them shut with his fingertips against his lids as he continues, “Can’t think of anything witty for a response.”

His cheeks are obstructed by his large hand, but the tips of his ears are a little pink. I glimpse up at Magnus, who has a faint smile on his lips as he watches Seb’s struggle.

“I didn’t expect this, holy fuck,” the emo speaks up.

“Think it’s too much?” I shyly murmur, using my hair as a fidget again.

“God, no.” He looks up at Magnus. Then at me. Then at Magnus again, and back to me, before putting his attention back onto the book. Through a puff of smoke he mumbles, “I’ve never felt so lame in my life.”

Magnus is quick to try to halt Seb’s negative self-talk with a practical solution. “You’re more than welcome to give the shrine a whirl once you’re ready.”

“Yoba knows how long that’ll take.” Sebastian flicks the page below him. “Can’t even follow the directions laid out in front of me without messing something up.”

I nod towards Seb’s blunt, eyeing it as he puts it back between his lips. “Is that not helping as much as you wanted?” I wonder.

Seb sighs, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s helping plenty. I was ready to tear my fucking hair out before.”

“Is there anything I can assist with?” Magnus interjects.

Another head shake from Seb. “No, I wanna do this on my own.”

“At least allow me to speed this up for you,” the older wizard states more than he asks, heading to the cauldron.

Seb turns back and nods. “Thanks, dude.” I catch how his eyes rake up and down Magnus’ body before he turns back to me and does the same. “God,” he whispers, his lashes fluttering as he subtly rolls his eyes back. Then, he rummages in the nearby cabinets for some more stuff.

I snort. “Stressed ‘god,’ or…?” I trail off quietly.

Not sure how keen he is on Magnus knowing what gets him going, regardless of how sexually open we’ve been in conversation.

Seb tilts his head up and deadpans me. I waggle my eyebrows. He gets the gist. He nods.

“Both, then?” I confirm.

He sighs, producing a mortar and pestle. Then, he responds while he places some leaves into the thing and begins grinding ‘em down.

“Both, yeah.”

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