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nonotnolan · 21 days

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Rush Week

You develop a special sort of bond with a guy when you've swapped bodies and you're touching each other's dick. It's the justification that Sigma Epsilon Chi gave for their partnership with Cuerpo Inc. during rush week, and I had to admit it makes sense. More to the point, Sig-Ep is THE frat to be in, so I knew I was going to do whatever it took to become a member, hazing be damned.

My face has never been much to look at-- my ears have always been huge, my hair is hopelessly curly, and I think my features are more rugged than handsome. I certainly don't have legacy money or family connections. I pledged with the hope that my muscles or my vibes would get me a ticket in, and I was so relieved to get that offer letter.

They said the house would swap bodies at random for the weekend, but I know that the machinery they use allows you to specify certain swaps and randomize others. I was convinced one of the upperclassmen will be taking my body while I ended up in some twig body for maximum embarrassment... and I wasn't wrong.

Henry is... he's a good guy, honestly. His parents are loaded and he can eat damn near anything and it doesn't affect his figure. I've never been fashion forward, so having access to his closet has been wild. The guy actually owns a sewing machine! He's also one of those guys who is never seen without product in his hair-- he actually left me instructions on how to take care of it. I can only imagine what he's gonna do in my low maintenance body-- all I own are tank tops and gym shirts. I'm half-expecting to come back to a new wardrobe and a manicure. But holy hell, the dude is thin and lanky in ways I didn't think was possible. I hope he enjoys having some actual meat on his bones.

The biggest thing is that Henry is gay. Which, you know, that's totally cool by me! More chicks for the rest of us. But once I was put into his body, seeing all of my fellow bros roaming around shirtless and feeling up their new muscles... I don't know how Henry can wear these skinny jeans all the time. I was rock-hard within minutes and it physically hurt to have my new eight inches constrained by denim. I almost feel guilty, giving him the shorter end of the stick.

I'm pretty sure Henry is an insatiable bottom, so all of that size seems wasted but... what can you do? Anyway, we're allowed to hook up this weekend as long as we use condoms and... when else am I gonna have this opportunity, you know? If I don't take this chance, I'm gonna be consumed by the 'what if's forever. Also the part where I'm horny as fuck in his body.

Lucky for me, whoever ended up in Joey's body was giving me the side-eye the whole time we were at the opening mixer, so I don't think it will take much effort to get my dick wet. His body has the type of smooth skin I've always envied, and I'm honestly jealous at how handsome his face looks. He's got a dirty blonde dye job that plays into his charm, and his muscles are... well, they might be bigger than mine. My real muscles, anyway.

"You wanna head upstairs to my room?" Joey asked, grabbing my bulge in his hand. He flashed a dazzling grin, and I could feel myself swooning from the confidence. God, I wanted him so bad. But Joey was just a Sophomore, which meant he still had one of the smaller bedrooms.

"My room," I said, shaking my head. A thought crossed my mind, and once again I figured I may as well follow the impulse. I threw my arms around Joey's neck and jumped into his arms. He stumbled a bit, but pretty soon his arms were hooked underneath my body to support my weight. So many of my friends back home did that all the time, and now I understood why they found it addicting. I leaned in close enough for him to feel the heat of my breath as I whispered into his ear, "I want you inside me."

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

"I really needed that," I said, putting some clothes back on after the most intense session of my life. "Can't say that I had ever imagined getting fucked by a man before, but, uhh... I enjoyed it, it was good. Hopefully that was good for you, too?" I could feel myself starting to blush. "I've never been a gay man before, but I think I got the hang of it there at the end."

"Bro, you were great, don't even worry about it," Joey said, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "But, uhh... what do you mean, you've never been a gay man before?"

I paused, trying to figure out whether or not he was messing with me. "I mean... I'm in Henry's body right now? It's me, Matty. I'm not actually gay. But, you know... when in Rome."

He just laughed at me. "Bro, that's not how it works. Attraction is all in the brain. Like... yeah, the real Henry is out and proud, but you being in his body doesn't make you gay. If you were into that, you've always been into dudes. You were just too afraid to admit it."

His face was all smiles, but his words felt like a punch to the gut. "Wait, but... I can't be gay, I've had girlfriends, I..." I tried to come up with some sort of defense, but nothing came to mind. I thought I was caught up in what other guys looked like because I was jealous. Was that just some warped form of attraction? "Are you sure the swap works like that?"

Joey wrapped me in a warm hug. "I'm sure. Sorry, bro. Didn't mean to give you a existential crisis. I thought you knew. You may not be gay, if it helps? You might be, like... Bi or Pan instead. And no one's gonna make you pick a label right away. Take your time, see what feels right."

He had a point. Being attracted to dudes wasn't limited to just gay men. And anyway, it's not like being gay would be a bad thing. I just... I didn't think it was me. "Hey, thanks bro," I said, hugging him back. "And... sorry if I sounded insulting. There's nothing wrong with being gay, I just didn't think... well, I'll definitely have to figure out my, uhh... my truth, I guess."

I started lowering my hands back down to his ass, and pretty soon we were making out again. "Hey, are you sure this is what you want?" Joey asked, pausing as I started to strip again. "Feels like you're moving fast, and I want to make sure you're not, like... pressured or whatever."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I replied, smiling at him. "You're the one who told me to see what feels right. That was my first time having sex with a dude, and it felt pretty good. So I think I'm gonna have sex with a guy for a second time. See what happens."

He smiled back, and I could feel myself melt. I don't know who's in Joey's body right now, but I hope it's someone hot. There's no way we aren't hooking up once we swap back.

#male body swap #gay body swap #after the swap #queer romance #rush week #pledge day #identity search #jock to twink

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cameronspecial · 1 year

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Let Me Strip, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Genitalia and Removal of Clothes

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: Some drunken games are ones that Y/N really doesn't want to have to clean up after.

Masterlist

How does Y/N know her boyfriend is way too drunk right now? He calls a frat wide hour strip game to order. It doesn’t help that his groupies are encouraging his behaviour. She isn’t jealous of them because she trusts Rafe and knows how much he loves her, but she knows how this game is going to end. Every hour the boys in the fraternity remove one article of clothing of Rafe’s choice until she has to chase after one of the boys to stop him from streaking down a street that should be kept family-friendly. As much as she loves seeing his chiselled abs, she does not want to have to do that again.

The only person that can call off the game is the frat president. “Rafe, can you please call the game off? Some of the boys already have three strikes and will be expelled if they are arrested for streaking,” Y/N begs, trying to take the solo cup out of his hand. He looks at her with loving eyes and gives her neck kisses, “Come on, let me strip, Angel. It’s just a fun little game.” She rolls her eyes at him trying to butter her up with kisses. “Rafey, it’s twelve o’clock. Time to take off your pants,” Beatrice interrupts, flashing her lock screen with the time on it to him. Rafe drunkenly nods his head and tries to pull down his pants. Rafe yells, “Alpha Epsilon Pi! Pants.”

Y/N sighs at the action, helping him unbutton his pants so he can take them off. One problem at the time and streaking is a much bigger problem than a pantless boyfriend. At least they still have both socks to take off first. He cheers like a toddler when he finally gets his pants off. “I want you to wear my pants like a scarf, Angel. Show the boys who you belong to,” he slurs out the demand, wrapping his khaki around her neck. She just shakes her head and unwraps the pants from her neck. She is already sweating with his t-shirt and flannel on. “You know last time you played this game, I chased a naked Topper down the street and had to tackle him. Do you really want me to be that close to his bare dick, again?” she leverages, twirling his pants’ leg in a circle. This news causes Rafe to stop in his tracks; he has totally forgotten that fact.

He sobers up quickly, “You’re right, I don’t want that. I’ll call the game off.” His pout absolutely kills Y/N because she hates to see him sad. “You can keep the game going with the socks but you have to stop at the boxers. Deal?” she offers, ghosting their fingertips together and stepping closer to him. His expression quickly turns to a grin, “Deal. You are the best girlfriend ever, Angel. I love you!” He gives her a quick peck on the lips and runs off screaming how amazing she is to the overcrowded party. She lets out a giggle at her boyfriend’s childishness and heads upstairs to get rid of some of the clothes that are causing her to overheat.

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badinfluencepress · 2 years

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You’ve heard* of the fraternities Pi Kappa Alpha... Sigma Alpha Epsilon... Beta Theta Phi...... but what about...

🪢 ALPHA BETA OMEGA 🪢 ?

Is this a joke? Yes! Can you actually buy these things? Also yes! A bunch of college students get to wear mysterious Greek letter combinations on their chests to signal to others In The Know what their deal is... why should they have all the fun? It’s our turn, and our thing is better. Objectively. Probably. Or worse? But more fun FOR SURE. Ideal clothing for making weird eye contact with the other online-looking person at the grocery store or gym, confusing your boss over a video call, or meeting your fandom Discord squad for outdoor brunch!

→ GET YOUR ABΩ FRATERNITY MERCH HERE

*I googled “most popular fraternities” for these names.

#for sale #signal boost #clothing #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #fandom clothing #omegaverse fraternity #merchandise

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phoenixblaze1412 · 10 months

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Hi! Could I request child reader reacting to Omega deleting the other clones?

Main segments to take note of (not canon):

Webttore will be referred to as Theta

Akademiya segment will be Iota

Child segment will be Kappa

You could only look in horror as you glanced around the laboratory that was filled with the motionless bodies of the segments.

You had just woken up from a nap that Iota tucked you in earlier yet here you are staring at his lifeless eyes.

Chemicals and lab equipments have been scattered around the room. Splatters of blood was scattered throughout the lab, the scent of iron filling your nostrils. You could only whimper in fear as you held a plush of Dottore close to your chest.

You walked closer to Theta's figure, kneeling down and gently shaking him. You were hoping they were only playing a trick with you. They would usually tease you by playing a game where they would pretend they were dead.

But why aren't they moving?

"Theta, wake up. I don't like this game anymore..."

You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes as you moved Theta's mask away from his face. You know he would lightly scold you about removing his mask and playing with it.

"Why aren't you scolding me.. I took off your mask, Theta. Please look at me..."

You patted the segment's cheek, after receiving a silence in reply, you could only let out a cry as you kneeled down in the middle of the corpses.

Even though they were only a replica of Prime himself in different parts of his life, you considered them as your own family. They treated you like a little sibling, even protected you from the dangers of the world.

You just wanted Theta to wake up and playfully pinch your cheeks. Epsilon handing you your favorite sweets. Beta and Gamma teaching you how to read and write. Iota reading you bedtime stories. And even Sigma who would dress you up in lots of different clothes and would always make sure you looked presentable.

You gasped as you looked around the room in search of Kappa, the child segment of Prime. Your footsteps, covered in red liquid, echoed through the room.

You dropped your Dottore plushie as you stared at Kappa's figure. He was sitting up against the wall, blood dripping down the corner of his lips as the back of his head looked like it just exploded.

Now that you notice it, all the segments in the lab looked like their heads exploded.

You cried as you moved closer to Kappa and held him close to you, the blood from his head stained your clothes but you didn't have the mind to react on it.

"No, no Kappa.. not you too please..."

Your wails can be heard along the hallways as you held onto Kappa. He was the segment that was almost close to your age. He was your playmate whenever the others are busy doing experiments. Kappa would even comfort you whenever you would hear the screams of the test subjects that was coming from the lab.

You choked back a sob when you heard the door to the lab open and a figure walk in. You tightly held onto Kappa as you watched the figure approach you.

Once the figure showed themself under the light, you were faced with Omega's towering form. You also noticed a purple and green item in in his grasps but had no clue on what it could be.

"Omega! E-everyone isn't waking up.. and there's blood a-and their heads..."

"Calm down, little one. There's no need to cry."

You lost your hold on Kappa as Omega picked you up in his arms.

"B-but everyone.."

"They are not going to wake up. They never will. They are now dead, (Y/n)."

You cried on Omega's shoulder in grief, he only cooed and tried to calm you down by rubbing your head.

You didn't notice him kicking Kappa's corpse away as if it was a mere pebble on the road. Even doing it to the other dead segments as he made his way out of the lab with you in his hold.

"But how.. no one dangerous came in the lab before I took a nap."

Omega hummed as he gently rubbed circles on your back.

"It's simple, really. I was the one who destroyed them."

You slowly looked up at Omega, your mind not able to process the information he told you.

"What do you mean you destroyed them?.."

"I had to neutralize them, give them the direct order to self-destruct. Just so I can be able to obtain the dendro and electro gnosis."

You felt your grief turn to anger as you glared and punched at Omega's chest.

"You killed them! Why would you do that, Omega?! They're family!"

Omega didn't even flinch as you repeatedly hit his chest. Your cries of telling him to bring the others back only fell on deaf ears.

You cried out in pain when Omega pinched a pressure point at your neck, knocking you unconscious. He adjusted his hold on you so that your head was laying against his shoulder before making his way to find Prime.

"What's done is done, (Y/n). You'll come to learn that sacrifices must be made. I'm sure you'll forgive me soon. Besides, they can be created again.. although they won't have any memories of their old versions."

Back in the laboratory, besides Kappa's bloodied corpse, there laid your Dottore plushie. All covered in blood and forgotten just like the rest of the segments.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore x reader #dottore #zandik x reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader

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gallifreyanhotfive · 7 months

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 30

The Second Doctor and Jamie once landed on the nucleus of a uranium atom. An entire civilization lived there and told them stories of their sister planets being destroyed by humans splitting atoms for nuclear power.

Irving Braxiatel once claimed he had a phobia of foreign objects being put in his mouth.

Moments after leaving the Fourth Doctor, Sarah Jane encountered the Monk.

The Monk is also aware of the existence of Jenny, the Doctor’s daughter.

The Eighth Doctor once befriended and traveled with an Ice Warrior named Ssard as a companion. Upon leaving the TARDIS, Ssard married Stacy, one of the Doctor’s other companions.

Removing a Time Lord’s second heart eliminates their respiratory bypass.

It is incredibly difficult to give Braxiatel presents because his future self will often ship him whatever he wants the second he decides he wants it.

The Eighth Doctor gave Braxiatel socks for Christmas.

Similar to the Greek letter nicknames Omega and Theta Sigma, there was a Time Lord called Epsilon Delta. Epsilon Delta grew to hate the Time Lords and ran away from Gallifrey, eventually adopting the title the President as he had made himself President of St. Matthew's College on Earth.

There are beings that live in the time vortex. If you traverse the vortex unprotected, they might eat you.

The Eighth Doctor once referred to Braxiatel as a "colleague and occasional collaborator in adventures of the mind, the body and the soul." This is a really complex and convoluted way of describing your older brother.

While attempting to seduce the Seventh Doctor, Queen Angvia shoved his face in her breasts. She thought there was "boiling masculine virility under the flimsy of [his] beauty." By shoving his face in her chest, she gave him a dose of her pheromones. He and Mel only realized something was Very Wrong when he almost broke the notorious no-kissing rule.

While fetching a cake for K-9's birthday, Romana II single-handedly foiled an alliance between the Master, the Daleks, and the Cybermen, but when she returned with the cake, it came to life and asked not to be eaten.

After arriving in 1666, the Fourth Doctor and Sarah Jane were almost run over by a heavily loaded cart being driven by someone in odd clothing. The Doctor didn't know this at the time, but this was the Terileptil leader that his Fifth incarnation was chasing.

Braxiatel's office in the Braxiatel Collection is part of his TARDIS.

Miss Hannigan introduced herself to Irving Braxiatel as a missionary. He responded by saying that missionary was an interesting position.

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the-ninja-legacy-whip · 2 months

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How does Lloyd's pet snake get along with the rest of the Ninja?

All animals are obligated to annoy Kai at some point; Epsilon has a tendency of trying to nest in Kai's dirty clothes (which means he's due for a scare every laundry day gjfgdhgfd)

Jay is totally indifferent to the snake; she'll crawl along his shoulders to perch while he's working on an invention and he will not budge

Cole keeps trying to sneak Epsilon extra snacks in an attempt to befriend her; Lloyd constantly reminds him of what happened the last time a magic snake was overfed

Epsilon's favorite besides Lloyd is Nya <3 Her water helps Epsilon shed during shedding season (and Epsilon also likes to swim)

Epsilon tends to avoid Zane since she's not a fan of the cold; Zane doesn't mind, respecting her distance and admiring her from afar

...Epsilon will hang around Pixal, though

Skylor, who has experience in raising eventually-oversized-snakes, will give Lloyd tips of how to better care for her

Epsilon also really likes Jesse....and will jump at him. Jesse hates this.

Jesse, post-heart attack: I swear she does this on purpose Epsilon: >:3

#ninjago headcanons #ninjago #legacyverse #lloyd garmadon #epsilon #kai smith #jay walker #cole brookstone #nya smith #zane julien #pixal borg #skylor chen #oc: jesse marvell

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blackdollette · 6 months

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Can you make a kappa or euro fic where they absolutely hate each other and it’s like brothers best friend and it’s just hate sex PLEASE

"you're my cult leader." | kappa

ultraviolence. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @vanlisbon @oliviah-25 @livingdead-reilly @yungbloodsuxca @imoonkiss @lankysimp @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526

female!reader x kappa

word count: 1.2k

contents: kappa & reader are exes, unprotected p in v, a little degardation, a little praise, manipulation, angst if you squint

typical gang activity became complicated when your cult leader just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend. you used to be his eye candy, his dumb little baby, and his most prized possession. but he had decided that it’d be best for him to keep his eyes on what really mattered, and it wasn’t you.

that’s where the ups and downs of being in his cult came in. you couldn’t escape his occasional glances, the sound of his hypnotic voice that had whispered such dirty things to you, and the way he acted like a complete manwhore, dressing in rags that specifically gave you a view of the toned biceps that used to wrap around your neck.

but you could fuck around with whoever you wanted a could be one hundred percent certain that it would circle back to him, making him green with envy even though he could never admit that.

he acted nonchalant and bitter, which hurt you even more considering the way he used to open up to you about every little thing. you hated him, but you hated the thought of being the one to crawl back even more. so you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten in the position you were in now, face shoved into a drool-stained pillow with kappa’s gigantic rod drilling into your cock deprived hole.

you could tell he was livid by the way he thrust into you, bruising your gooey walls as he landed a harsh slap onto your ass.

“good to know i can make turn my baby back into a dumb little bitch with my cock.” he growled as he shoved his fingers down your throat, making you gag around him. his voice dripped with suppressed bitterness and you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for riling him up to this point.

you’d been at a normal heist, dressed like a slut from a bad porn. that would’ve been more than enough to catch his eye, but you decided to take an extra step and walk into the room with epsilon’s hand on your ass as an act of rebellion. as predicted, your plan had worked. after weeks of not interacting with you, he grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you into an empty bedroom, slamming the door shut and pinning you to it by the neck.

he could’ve killed you right there, but he picked you up bridal-style and tossed you onto the bed, kissing you roughly as he tore off the pieces of your minimal clothing one by one, whipping out his rock-hard pistol and wasting no time as he shoved it into you.

he had been tossing you around like a worthless sack, using your body as a way to release months of tension. you were sitting on his lap with his cock deep in your stomach as bubbles of your spit cascaded down his fingers, all the way down to where his other hand gripped your breast until it went pale.

“how many other people have you fucked, huh?” he flipped you around, shoving you into the mattress as you sobbed and whimpered out inaudible words as a response. he cock throbbed inside of you. yes, he was angry, but the sight of you in such a submissive and vulnerable state made his heart flutter.

“i’ve been goin’ fucking crazy, y’know? seeing you get hotter every day while i’ve been falling apart without you.” he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, spitting on them and moving his hand under you to rub sloppy circles onto your pulsating clit.

you were a mess underneath him, nails clawing at the mattress and your back arching as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. his hips slapped against the sore skin of your ass as his groans echoed through the room. “you’ll never find anyone more perfect for you than me, you hear? no one will ever be able to make you feel the way i do, to touch you the way i do, to make your body feel the way i make it…”

you screamed into the pillow as his words rang through your mind. you hated that he was right. that he had you completely at his mercy like a doll, but he had also revealed that you had been on his mind ever since.

his manipulation tactics always had you wrapped around his finger, and you thought that you’d finally broken free. how foolish you had been. he pulled himself out of you, making your hole feel the loss of his cock. he flipped you around again, but with a little more care. he met your large, teary eyes with a look that could be mistaken for remorse or pity with just a sprinkle of hatred on top.

he grabbed your jaw roughly, bringing your face less than an inch away from his as he spoke darkly to you. “spit it out, bitch. you already find someone better than me? have you found someone else that’ll put up with a goddamn whore like you?” the tip of his cock teased the entrance of your hole, making you shudder.

you spoke, your voice thick with tears. “y-yeah, maybe i have. maybe i’ve found someone that’ll treat me better than you ever have!” his eyes clouded with hostility and he shoved you back onto the bed, landing himself on top of you and shoving his fist into your tight pussy, making you scream out.

he fucked you vigorously with his fist, his hot breath hitting your ear. “listen to me and listen good, whore. you can hate me as much as you want for whatever fucking reason, but no one will ever love you as much as i do.” his words sunk in as you felt a familiar sensation bubbling through your core, legs shaking as you felt yourself reaching your climax.

his rhythm was torturous. you wanted to beg him to stop but secretly hoped that he never would. with a few more pumps, you found yourself crying out, moaning slurred words as you came all over his arm. tears ran down your face as you tossed your head back, nails digging into the toned flesh of his back, surely drawing blood.

all your senses disabled temporarily as you felt your body emptying itself out onto him, your entire figure trembling from the stimulation. he pulled his fist out of you, giving your puffy clit a slap as he grabbed your jaw once again, this time to kiss you.

it was a needy, desperate one. one that told you how much he really missed you more than his words ever could. his thumbs gently wiped the tears off your cheeks as cum poured down your thighs.

he was never the type to perform any aftercare, but he left the room and gave you some time to rest, collect your thoughts as he had said. you lay there in a puddle of your own fluids, mind racing with thoughts of what you had just done.

nothing had changed and you knew that the resentment between you two was there to stay. but he was right about one thing: no matter what had happened between you, he still loved you more than anything.

author's note: sorry for losing sight of the plot yall

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #smut #rory culkin kappa #kappa black mirror #kappa x reader #kappa smut #ultraviolence era #ultraviolence vibes #ultraviolence album #ultraviolence lana del rey #ultraviolence #lana del rey

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husbandhoshi · 2 years

Note

Heheh mingyu + cute + 9:27am

[9:27]

on god, i will kill whoever shares a wall with mingyu, is your first thought of the day.

you lay there, head positively spinning, as you hear the perpetrator snooze their train horn alarm for the fifth time that morning.

your second is, fuck, i actually went home with him, and your third falls somewhere along the lines of having the worst hangover headache of your twenty something years of being alive.

the bed next to you is cold (mingyu probably has class), you’re in a big white shirt (must have put it on after getting your back blown out), and curiously, mingyu has a studio ghibli poster you never noticed on the back of his door (good, although it would have ruined the mood if you knew totoro had witnessed all of that).

the unsavory details from last night come flooding back to you like the final chapter of an agatha christie novel, except you still don’t really get it.

kim mingyu, resident heartthrob of sigma alpha epsilon and the guy you just happened to tutor on tuesdays, not only invited you to a party, but somehow landed you in his bed, wearing his clothes.

on an average day, sleeping with a guy five million miles out of your league would be the college fairytale of your dreams, except you have class in two hours and the room is so bright, so flooded with sunlight, you think you will actually die if you open your eyes any wider.

you kind of wished things would be different.

(let’s get out of here, mingyu had said last night, and a part of you already knew what was going to happen. but instead, he walked you to in-n-out, draped in his big letterman jacket, and you spent the next two hours talking about everything and nothing over an order of animal fries.

and you remember him hovering over you, his silver necklace tantalizing and cold against the skin of your neck, asking in that awfully low voice of his—are you sure? we don’t have to.

and you pleaded and begged yes, yes, want it, want you, because you actually had the most embarrassing crush on him and somehow you fell in love all over again watching him get thousand island sauce on that nice button up of his.)

but in true fratboy fashion, he’s gone, and you’re just another girl left to dry in the wretched sigma house.

it’s then that you hear a knock on the door, at first frantic, then softly.

“mingyu’s not here,” you holler, although it’s more of a croak than a shout. “i don’t even live here.”

“um. this is mingyu,” comes the muffled voice. “sorry, i—” you can just picture him rubbing the back of his neck, piecing his next sentence together. “i thought you might want some breakfast?”

hearing the same voice that said basically unrepeatable things last night now shy as ever, asking permission to enter his own room, gives you the worst whiplash of your life. on top of that, you’re embarrassingly relieved that he did not, in fact, abandon you.

“yeah, uh, sure. thanks.” you scramble for your phone to make sure you look ok, but promptly realize the fool is charging it on his desk. so instead you just lay there, trying to look as alive as possible.

the door opens slowly, and through your half-lidded, squinty eyes, you make out what possibly could be the most beautiful man alive, looking like a dream in low hanging sweats and a muscle tee. and he has a plate of pancakes and orange juice.

“sorry, i look terrible.” the words just fly out of your mouth.

“no you don’t,” he chides in that awfully attractive pout of his. “was gonna say you look great. especially after everything that happened last night.”

he grins, all teeth and pretty pink lips, as you fight to not pull the covers over your head and just perish on the spot. “please shut up. i thought you abandoned me, you know. and i decided i was gonna stop tutoring you and let you fail organic chemistry.”

mingyu laughs and sits beside you on the bed, warm gaze falling on you. “i’m sorry. please don’t do that. i need you,” he jokes, and you both laugh again, feeling that post hookup awkwardness permeate the space.

he moves to brush the hair out of your forehead, but stops himself. he’s not sure what to do (he likes you, a lot actually, and that itself is enough to zap all rational thought from his brain).

“are you feeling ok?” mingyu asks instead. “i brought a warm towel and an advil. you know, uh, if you had a headache or something.”

it’s cute seeing him trip over his words, and you nod, giving him the ok to fuss over you.

“can you sit up? do you want me to feed you?” the questions come a mile a minute, but you’re never one to complain over a real life disney prince fawning over you.

so you let him, god, for some reason him propping you up against his pillows is a thousand times hotter than whatever he did last night, and you make the executive decision to waste your entire friday morning to spend it with him.

you’re still not sure what you are—friends, acquaintances, or something in the middle.

you wouldn’t dare think lovers though, except when he blows on a forkful of pancake to cool it down, you briefly consider marriage.

(before you go, he kisses your forehead. “catch a movie with me tomorrow?” he asks, taking his sunglasses off the top of his head and sliding them onto your face—he knows you lied when you said your head wasn’t hurting anymore.

“is this because you wanna—”

“it’s because i want to take you on a date. a real one. can i?”

he smiles at you again, radiant and honest, and you find you don’t doubt him for a second.)

#sorry this is LONG #mingyu #mine #ask #anon #mingyu imagines #seventeen imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader

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tunastime · 4 months

Text

Recovery One

Washington undergoes experimental surgery: installing Project Freelancer's AI program into his head. Epsilon tries to break his way out of Washington's skull. Washington deals with the symptoms of a thing that wants nothing but to escape.

aeuhmmm so I got a little silly with the freelancers again and decided to write something about what wash and epsilon might've gone through before it was extracted for obvious reasons. this is chapter one! tagged this pretty heavily on ao3 but tw for blood, injury, medical procedures, emotional hurt/comfort, and trauma. (3238 words) (read it on ao3!)

The walls of the Mother of Invention seem colder tonight. It's like Washington's body is a heat source, and the hard beds of Recovery One are the sink, drawing every last shred of warmth from where his flimsy surgical clothes meet cloth. He can feel the handful of sensors stuck to his skin, along the inside of his left wrist, keeping careful track of his heart rate, his oxygen, and his blood pressure. The base of his skull is still aching, a thrum that settles equally in the channel of his spine.

Cold, shivering, curled pathetically on that hard mattress, Washington is trying to sleep. He's twitchy, stomach twisted into rough knots, and every time he shuts his eyes the spinning of the world only gets worse. The gravity on Invention is generated by a massive column of constantly pulsing electricity, but if Wash were to step foot onto the ground below him, he's certain he'd float upward far too quickly. Or fall face down. One of those would definitely happen.

He tries to breathe through the wave of nausea that passes. It's all a byproduct of the chip in his skull. The voice is quiet for now. They're fighting to use the same body—his body, with all its human joints and mostly untorn muscles and surficial bruises and just a handful of really broken bones. It hurts like something electric shudders just under the first few layers of skin, or like someone took his nerves and ran them through the shredder. He kind of feels like the paper in the shredder, or the shredder itself. Or maybe the paper when it’s half in the shredder and half out. When's the last time he held a piece of paper? Did people still shred paper? He breathes again.

He's under a 24 hour watch. Twenty four hours of this. He screws his eyes shut and the ship around him swings back and forth on a pendulum. He digs his fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and tries to breathe through it. The stars start to fade after a moment of breaths through his teeth. North used to joke about how anxious Theta made him—that swing of artificial fear through his nervous system, how he had to breathe through the waves of adrenaline to keep himself level. Little spikes happened now and then, making a purely perfunctory condition ten times worse, but North seemed to nurture himself until the feeling gave way to something productive.

Wash isn’t having that much luck.

It wasn’t something easy to pin down. He wasn’t just anxious, or sad, or angry. He wasn’t happy, or disgusted, or a middle combination of the emotions he knew how to regulate. It felt like a swirl of everything, of nothing, completely out of his grasp. The AI—Epsilon—was having a field day as he tore open the synapses of Wash’s standing memory and tried to make room. And Wash was fighting back. The lines had already begun to blur and Wash could only assume the after-effects were due to that unalignment, that unmeshed surface. Epsilon needed a blank slate. It was the only thing Wash wasn’t able to offer.

When he breathes again, his stomach turns violently. He lurches, hands grasping at the cool bedside, swallowing hard. His hands shake as they hold onto the smooth surface below him. Okay, fine—eyes open. Another breath out of his teeth. He can taste sour in the back of his mouth.

The world is foggy when he opens his eyes again. He drags himself up slowly as his head continues to spin like a wobbly top. The top sheet comes with him, wrapped over his shoulders as he drags himself into the bathroom. There’s a moment where he wobbles, stepping forward for the first time, socked foot firmly set on the floor. He can’t even think—the quiet that was there seems to settle into a background of whispers he can’t make out. He speaks out loud to himself, trying to get a word into his crowded brain, or to force himself to step forward.

“I need a drink, that’s it,” he says, in a voice he’s not sure is entirely his own anymore. He swallows again. Anything to get the taste out of his mouth. He can hear that echo of a voice bounce around inside his skull as he drags himself forward uneasily.

“Please,” Wash manages to garble out. “I can’t… I can’t help you.”

He manages to stumble to the doorway of the bathroom, sheet left crumpled at his feet as he braces hard on the edge of the sink. His breaths come fast and hard as he stands upright, fingers white-knuckled where they grip the countertop. The world tilts, and he feels his body slump into the wall beside him. The white light of the room does little to obscure the sheen of sweat on his face, or the way his hands shake as he tries to turn on the faucet. He cups his hands. The water is cold on his flushed and feverish skin. He presses his cool, damp palms to his eyes and drinks from his hands. Washington breathes. The world seems to settle as the cool air hits his skin. He’s not seeing double for now.

The moment of reprieve is short-lived. His stomach folds over itself, rolling a cold, then hot wave across his skin as he doubles over the sink. The voice inside his head is slamming against the walls of his skull like it could break through. He can’t understand the words, how they crush and morph together against the new spike of pain behind his eyes, but it sounds like screaming. Something scared, and horrified, and desperate, pleading. But maybe that’s him.

He gags. The rest of his dinner comes up in the sink. He coughs, trying to swallow it back down, nose stinging. He heaves in a breath. His eyes water and he doesn’t stop them from dripping off his cheeks.

Breathing heavily, Wash drags his hand over his face. It comes back damp, still shaking. He can taste iron in the back of his throat. When he looks in the mirror, eyes dark and sunken, it’s like he can barely recognize the face looking back at him. Wash shuts his eyes tightly. He holds to the edges of the sink, breath shuddering and whistling as he inhales. More tears fall; fear, grief, nothing actually his.

“I can’t—” he says, he sobs, as the voice—Epsilon—pleads. Pleads for him to make space, to be something other than he is, to let him out, to let him go. “They won’t—”

Across the room, there’s a quiet knock on the door. He jolts, eyes darting to the closed door. Another knock. Wash brings up a shaky hand, wiping the tears from his chin. He rinses off what he can from his hands, pulling tissues to dry his face. He can still taste the film of bile in the back of his mouth. Washington steadies, blinking his eyes fully open.

“Wash, it’s North. Came to check up on you.”

North. Oh. Wash shudders as he laughs, just a little. Sure. He leans back from the sink, lowering himself gingerly to the floor to grab the sheet. As he steps carefully to the bedside, he replaces the sheet and begs that he finds his sense of composure before he opens the door.

“Coming,” he manages, voice wavering.

He makes his way around the bed, hand braced slightly on the wall as he steps over. The door slides open as he stand in the doorway.

North is standing in his pajamas, a concerned sort of pull to his face. He smiles a little when Wash opens the door, but Wash is too busy staring at his own socked feet and North’s boots to really notice. North’s voice is soft when he speaks. It reminds Wash of the one time South blacked out during dive training and North wouldn’t leave her side.

“How’s it goin’, buddy?” North says gently.

“Best day of my life,” Wash jokes, laughing weakly. North huffs out a laugh, folding his arms.

“I know they’ve got you under watch, so you’re in good hands,” he says, inclining his head. “How’s the headache? The tingling? Anything blurry?”

Wash takes a second, sighing and shutting his eyes. It’s funny that North would say that, isn’t it. He gets the shuddering feeling of something not his own as he stands propped against the wall, trying to hold himself up.

“Still painful,” he manages, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Everything’s blurry.”

“Yeesh—” North says, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “You’re taking it slow though, right?”

Wash nods.

“I’m trying to,” he says. “Best I can given the circumstances. It’s hard to sleep with all the…” He waves his hand around listlessly around his head, as if trying to get his point across. The voice. The emotions. Whatever chugged through his memory and forced itself in. It was an almost-physical, painful sensation. North nods knowingly. Wash doubts that he knows much at all.

“I’m sorry, Wash,” North says, his concern sincere. “It’ll get better with time, though. You’ll have a few days to settle in before the Director sends you out on missions, I’m sure.”

Wash nods again. It’s the most he can really do. His head feels like it’s full of soup gone sour.

“Right,” he says slowly, the words thickening in his mouth to a paste. “Right, I hope so.”

North smiles. He can tell, all of a sudden, as he does every time North summons Theta to the front, how right he was for his AI, how much the nurturing nature he so eagerly kept hidden blossomed when it was needed, when it would be properly appreciated. That smile alone settles a warm swirl through Wash’s chest, trickling into his lungs and his heart. The same happens when North reaches out, cupping his shoulder with his broad palm and squeezing, just enough to feel the heat of his hand. He jostles Washington slightly as he does. Wash manages a smile, huffing out through his nose, his eyes falling shut again as he lets the comfort of touch sink in for just a moment. As North draws his hand away and Wash straightens, North says:

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to resting, okay Wash?”

Wash hums in response.

“You let me know if you need anything. We’re all just down a floor—I’m sure York and I wouldn’t mind stopping in.”

Wash sighs, finally pushing himself to a stand, away from the wall. He doesn’t say anything, but a creeping realization settles in the pit of his stomach, right next to the warmth that used to pervade his joints. He swallows. Instead of feeling nothing, he feels burning in the back of his throat, up his nose. He nods regardless.

“Good deal, buddy,” North smiles. He nods, just a curt bob of his head. “Alright, I’ll be seein’ you.”

“I—” And all of a sudden, the feelings pervading, the ones not his own, rear their head. He swallows roughly, trying to make out a sentence. He mumbles out his next words, vision blurring. “Please don’t—”

“Wash?” North asks, startling, the twinge of concern now laid thick in his words. Wash startles too, blinking hard. What was happening to him? He shakes his head, turning it from North for a moment as he wills himself back to the present. He isn’t leaving, North lives here. He won’t just abandon him. But he can still feel the weight of the word goodbye. The weight of see you soon.

“Sorry, I’m just…” Wash shudders out a sigh, trying to find a viable excuse. “I’m on edge I guess. Don’t worry about it.”

North’s eyes widen.

“Wash, your nose—” he says, moving forward to help him. Wash takes an instinctive step back, cupping his hand around his chin. He can feel the warm dribble of blood now, the taste of iron in the back of his mouth. He shakes his head as he keeps North at arm’s length, turning to fetch tissue from the bathroom.

“It’s fine,” he croaks out, fumbling for the sink. He runs his hands under the warming water, tipping his head forward. Blood drips into the sink but his eyes are screwed shut too tight to see it. Wash can barely hear North’s voice above the running water, but he hears the door to his room slide shut. Reaching for the tissue, Wash swabs gingerly at his nose, still tasting the metallic tang on his teeth. As he turns back to the room, North is hovering at his bedside, concern written across his whole face. Wash watches his jaw work, his upturned eyes wide and searching Wash’s expression. Washington shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he says again, barely a sound at all. He jams part of the tissue up his nose, swallowing back whatever was left in his mouth. North gestures to the glass of water still half empty at Wash’s bedside. Wash sits, his legs giving out beneath him, and he drinks.

North takes his time getting to the space in front of him, circling the end of the Recovery Bay bed like Wash were an injured animal about to bite him. Luckily for him, Washington feels far too heavy to move any of his limbs, as if all the energy had been siphoned out of him and into the air, leaving it charged and staticky. He couldn’t find the strength to bite even if he tried. He smooths his hand over the pant leg of his hospital clothes in calculated movements. The scratchy fabric is so thin he can almost feel his body heat through it. Or lack thereof.

“I don’t know how fine it is, Wash,” North says, folding his arms. He leans against the arm of the chair across from Wash, not exactly sitting, but not really standing. “I certainly wasn’t getting nosebleeds like that with Theta.”

“Well,” Wash manages hoarsely, shutting his eyes tight again. “With all due respect, Theta was a little more… stable.”

“Epsilon’s unstable?” North asks. Wash flinches. He can feel that paper shredder sensation again as he shrinks back. “Wash?”

“It’s okay,” Wash mumbles. “It’s just—side effects.”

North’s face grows taut and stern. When Wash flicks his eyes up to read his face he’s met with a strong set to North’s jaw. North shakes his head, sounding unconvinced.

“It’s not supposed to be this bad,” he says. He drums his fingers against his arm.

Wash sighs. The sound is curt when it leaves his chest. It’s all the energy he has left to expel before it dissolves into an empty hollow in his chest.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

“Washington,” North starts, leaning off the chair and moving toward the bedside. Wash curls further over his lap, as if trying to move away from whatever suggestion North could have for him. It’s not something so easy to fix. It’s just. It’s just—

“It—” Wash takes a long, laborious breath in. He feels something very small break inside his chest as he breathes out, his exhale shuddering. His vision goes blurry in the few feet in front of him, from knees to floor, that he can see. “I don’t—”

“Hey…” North soothes. He lowers himself to Washington’s side, hand coming to cup his shoulder. Wash leans, half intentional and half not, into the touch as North squeezes his arm.

“The memories aren’t mine,” Washington babbles, unintelligible to anyone but himself. “I don’t want them in my head.”

“I know,” North placates regardless. And for a moment, it feels like he means it. It doesn’t really matter if he does or doesn’t. The arms that come around him are strong and warm and solid and friendly as Wash makes contact with the hollow of North’s shoulder. He doesn’t mean to collide and fall so easily, but the arms around him hold on, and hold firm, and he begins to think through the haze of memories not his own that he really didn’t have much say in the matter. North draws him in regardless and Wash sinks himself into his side. He cries and no sound escapes him. He squeezes his eyes shut. Faintly, he can hear North whistle out a breath, through the shff of fabric as he slowly and gently drags his palm over the line of Washington’s shoulders.

“I just need it to stop,” Washington chokes out. It doesn’t matter who’s speaking. The relentless tug of war continues on in his head, even if he can’t hear it, even if it won’t really surface. It doesn’t matter who wants their memories back. It just matters that his body feels like he’s been electrically shocked: drained, shaken out, and hurting.

“Breathe, Wash,” North soothes. Washington does as he’s told, the air scratchy in his throat. He shudders out the breath, trying to keep each stable and even. North doesn’t say anything for a while. He lets Wash breathe and lean into his shoulder, and the silence gives Wash a moment of reprieve as his mind goes quiet. He just focuses on breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth. North leans just slightly back into him, cheek resting on the top of his head.

Wash blinks his eyes open. He stares into the middle distance with his vision still blurry, and North’s weight against him keeps him, rather than whatever threatens to invade his memory further, grounded. Wash makes an unintelligible sound as North sighs.

“Great, Wash,” North says lightly. “Doing great.”

“Well, I feel like shit,” Wash manages, almost amused.

North hums softly in agreement, but doesn’t really respond. His hold around Wash grows a little tighter, though, firmer around his shoulder and forearm as Wash sags. His eyes shut again as his breaths remain even, face pressed to North’s shoulder. He’s a bit too large for them to properly fit together, even as they sit side by side on the bed. He lets go of a long breath as the rush of previous anxiety, the new bubbling fear, and exhaustion slip out all at once. In their wake is a pit of nothing, absent of emotion, in his stomach. Tired lingers instead in the same space, around that nothing. He can feel his body grow heavy against North and he has half the mind to mention how tired he actually is. But North hasn’t moved, regardless if he’s noticed or not, and the hand on his shoulderblade, and the head resting against his, remains. The world goes blissfully soft for a moment, his body heavy and his mind quiet. It’s only when he blinks his eyes open again that he realizes he’s lying down. North is gone.

He squints at the room around him, lifting his head slightly. He’s on his back with the sheet draped over him, comfortable against the pillows. For once, his body and head don’t ache, and whatever voice that might be screaming is silent. When he lifts himself further, the room spins, tipping violently this way and that. Wash lets himself back down. For now, he decides that the comfort he has is better taken than lost, and he shuts his eyes.

The world goes muted and grey around him. His body sinks to the mattress.

He has a feeling he won’t wake again for some time.

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