My name is Coco and this is my little corner of the internet where I post my fanfics, art, original content and much more.
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Our time is almost up, so before you leave, take my ao3 with where I’ll be crossposting my fics along with their respective Spanish translations. It’ll surely keep you company while you scroll along!
I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask.
I do not know, but I feel it being done and I am tormented.
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing: Robert Chase x GN reader
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Implied sexual content & medical inacuracies.
Crossposted on ao3 + Spanish translation
Odi et amo.
I can't stand you.
When you bite the pencils, when you smile as if you were the smartest in the room, when it looks like you know everything even if you don't.
Right after, House denigrates you and mocks you, then your lips become a tense line and your brows frown because no, you don't know everything.
“She’s icteric.” You say, raising one of your hands up in the air “Her liver is failing.”
It's infuriating, you know? It seems like you always have to have something between your lips, either a candy or a rebuttal. But then the light from the windows filters through your hair –threads of pure gold, that they are– and they seem to shine, because that's what you are.
Light.
For the blind and the sick. And for what its worth, I'm not sure which one I am and which one you are.
“Of course it's failing, she's alcoholic” Foreman answered back, his fingers rubbing at his frown, probably nursing a migraine that threatened to appear.
“We don't know that” Cameron points out, always standing up for those who can't.
“She was drunk, slipped on the shower and broke her hip” He says as if that were evident. “Hepatic Encephalopathy. The liver can't process the toxins, so they stay in the blood flow and get to the brain and the kidneys.”
I notice how your brow frowns, your blue eyes cloud for a second. You aren't convinced by what Foreman says, or so it seems.
“It would explain the dizziness, the sleepiness…” Foreman goes on, his eyes glued to House who seemed much more entertained spinning his cane around.
“Or maybe she's just senile” You interrupt him with a sigh, your hand putting your yaw into place. “Either way, it wouldn't explain the blood in the urine, not the trouble breathing.”
“The toxins are in the blood flow. They go to the kidneys, the lungs, the brain…”
Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
A noise forces me out of my thoughts. I can't even hold back the flinch as I look at House, who looks back at me with the smile of who does know everything.
“You.” He said, as his tell-tale cane points at me “stop eye fucking Chase and drooling. I know his marvelous blond hair has you hypnotized, but c'mon.” He taps his wrist twice, as if pointing to an invisible watch. “We are within working hours.”
I can feel the blood run to my cheeks and with my thumb to check if I was really drooling –fucking asshole– and for my dignity’s sake, no, I wasn't drooling. I clear my voice and try to avoid the look in your eyes as you laugh between your teeth.
“Antifreeze poisoning” I say, scratching the back of my neck and for a moment I feel time stopping.
I stutter just for a second before I go on, defending my theory like a lawyer does a criminal.
“More accurately, methanol poisoning. That's why she seemed to be drunk when she first came.”
And there it is.
The spark in House's eyes.
The microsecond between mediocrity and success.
And only then do I look away from him and turn to my coworkers who seem to distrust.
“It explains everything,” I insist, fast, hoping it would sound much more assured than I feel.
“It seems like the loveliest grandkids got tired waiting for the inheritance” House points out while Foreman passes his hands over his head. Cameron, on her part, she sighs. And you… I try my best not to look at you.
“We've already registered her house and we haven't found anything” Foreman says, pulling her body forward and her head to her hand. “Much less methanol.”
“Plus, it doesn't make sense,” Cameron objects. “She would have had to be ingesting methanol regularly”
“Right” House says, getting up as he lays his weight on the cane “And because of that, Foreman and you will look at the house of the kids. Chase and the hopelessly in love, make another toxic analysis.
Nescio,
“I don't even know why House has us doing more tests” Your voice resonates in the lab, bouncing off the iron shelves. I take a deep breath while my hands move almost by muscle memory handling the blood of the patient.
“Because my hypothesis fits” I say, irritation bleeding into my voice and I can see how you lift an eyebrow and laugh.
“Methanol poisoning.” You repeat my words back at me, tasting them between your lips.
And I hate you.
I hate you, I hate you, and I hate you a thousand times more.
One after the other.
I would pull you from your beautiful golden hair and my nails would scratch your scalp. I'd shove you around, from one side to another, until your lips meet mine and I'd devour you. I would bite and scratch you until it seems like you're going to die, like I'm going to kill you.
I'd write my name on your neck in carnal language so that everyone knows you belong to me and I do to you. On your back my signature in animal writing so I can mark you before my knife stabs you and your blood stains me.
And then you get up and walk to me and lean on my table. Before I can stop myself I cross my arms looking up. Awful mistake, because my eyes meet yours and my heart forgets how to beat.
“What?” I ask, frowning my brows frown upon seeing your stupid face.
“Where did you get the diagnosis from” you ask me and my brows frown even more, my mouth falls open at your audacity. As if I weren't able to get to that conclusion on my own and someone had to whisper it in my ear. I exhale and roll my eyes but I can feel you lean your head closer to mine.
“Come on” you whisper and when I look up I can feel your face so close to mine your breath mixes with mine.
I dry gulp before I mumble something under my breath.
“What?” You ask, playing dumb.
“Saw it on a TV show.” I admit finally.
So you laugh, putting one hand over your chest. Your laughter bounces off these four walls that retains us and I want to die. My face turns bright red as I hide my face in my hands and leg out a sound of Indignation annoyance unfit for a doctor like me.
“Sorry, sorry” you manage to say between cackles, cleaning your tears with your fingers. You shake your head. I know you aren't sorry, not truly at least.
sed fieri sentio
I don't even know how it happened. I only felt rage inside. That pain that consumes you and doesn't let you breath, that gets inside of you and takes your throat hostage. My vision turns black and I only know at some point my lips met yours or maybe it was yours that met mine.
I only remember a result that proved me I'm right, the noise of glass shattering on the ground and how bad I wished I had eaten some strawberry candy that morning.
I can still feel the ghost of your fingers on my skin, touching my curves and my edges with the tenderness used for moving prayer bead and almost the same devotion. Sheets surround me, soft and gentle, like silk and only for an instance I feel like royalty.
Holiest sin the sight of your back against the sunlight, marked by me. Your neck bitten, chewed and tasted by me, the only thing that's left is for me to spit it out.
I slowly sit up right and I can feel the sheets sliding from my naked body. I crawl to you, my hands, the ones that pull me towards you, burn with the desire of meeting you again, of pacing through your back, of hugging you. And in the end, who am I to deny them anything?
I hug you from the back and feel the air coming out of your lungs. I hide my face on your neck, breathing you in and entrusting each second to my memory. Since I've forgotten how you kissed me, I better remember the touch of you between my arms.
Even if it hurts.
Even if it burns.
Even if I want to kill you, it's better to suffer with you in my arms than without you by my side.
My lips meet your neck and your eyes mine. A knowing glance extends between us and for a second I almost understand you.
I hope you liked it! This is the first instalment of my Carmina, a series of one-shots inspired by greco-latin literature.
Im kinda nervous since this is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr, i wont lie. And yes! The series that is refereced is How To Get Away With Murder. I know the timeline doesn't make sense, don't care :P
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