ns4w. smut. female!reader. no gender/prns mentioned. petnames. PiV. Cecil being old.
wc: 1k
masterlist
*
Cecil’s favourite time of day is right after his work shift ends.
After his typical stressful day at work, with colleagues who refuse to listen, complete imbeciles who cannot comprehend a word he says and incompetent heroes who disrespect his authority, he looks forward to the time where it’s just you and him in his office. Where he can undo the top button of his shirt, take off his suit jacket, tie your hands behind your back with his red tie and gently bend you over his desk.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” He tells you as he languidly unfastens your belt, your slacks and underwear pooling at your feet. “You’re the only one who can really take orders, isn’t that right?”
“I don’t know, Ce.” You sigh out as be runs his thick, weathered fingers through your folds. “Maybe they don’t listen because you’re so bossy-“”
You’re silenced by Cecil’s length easing into your soaked walls. He fills you out, nice and slow, steady and stable, patient and unhurried. He sits inside of you, the heaviness of his cock making your shudder.
This feeling never gets old - the thick weight of him lodged inside of you, his calloused hands enclosing over your hips, his crinkled balls meeting your folds with a kiss.
You tighten around him involuntarily.
“…Or maybe it’s because you don’t give them a heads up.” You grunt, glaring at him from the corner of your eye.
“You talk too damn much.” He chides.
There’s a faint smirk on his lips as one of his hands travel up the road of your restrained body, through the lanes of your spine, the bumps of your shoulders and the turns of your neck and jaw, right up to your lips. They’re parted open by his fingers, pressing down on your silky tongue. The corners of your mouth drool.
You moan over his fingers when he picks up his pace. He’s so deep, so deep inside of you. The force of his thrusts drives you back and forth over his desk, a desk that is no-doubt very expensive. Squelching sounds vibrate around his grand office.
“Listen to that. You talk so much shit but listen to how wet you are.”
He quietens himself like he wants to emphasise his point - his point of how much of a desperate little minx you are, clearly.
You swallow down a sudden spit of shyness you feel and drop your mouth open. Cecil’s fingers fall from it. You peer over your shoulder at him.
He’s not in any better shape than you really. All red, flustered and flushed out, sweaty from the bald head down, panting like his life is on the line.
He’s such an old man.
“Its all yours, baby.”
Cecil hums. Grunts. He grips the side of your neck, clasping your jaw as well. He bows over you.
“Damn right it is.”
You laugh at that. He speaks like you belong to him. A gasp escapes you as his thrusts rock you, sending earthquakes shattering through your trembling body. His desk shifts and rocks in tandem with it all. It leaves you breathless.
Cecil’s movements turn sloppy, sporadic, erratic. He bucks his hips into your ass, sheathing his cock as far as it will go, making you arch into the pleasure before he spurts into the condom with shameless moan.
Like you said. Old man.
He gives you a few more weak thrusts, riding out his high. Then he grips the base of the condom as he slowly pulls out of you, one hand groping your ass. You feel his eyes on the mess of your folds.
“Ah. Fuck.”
You bite your lip, still throbbing and desperate when he disposes of the mess.
“Not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” You ask as he tucks himself back into his pants and buckles himself up. You hide your want very well.
“What do you take me for, huh?” He asks. He’s all tuckered out, near exhausted from just one round, still red in the cheeks. He’s chugging on a bottle of water. You’d be making fun of him if you weren’t so desperate to cum. “Turn around. Lay on the desk.”
You huff. Always so bossy.
Cecil unties his tie from your wrists, slinging it loosely around his collar. He looks so attractive when he’s all ravished and debauched, so unlike his usual, “upstanding” self.
He helps you onto the desk, gently laying you down with his hand cradling the back of your head.
You gleam. “Aren’t you sweet?”
Cecil tuts, rolling his eyes. His cheeks flush even more. “Spread your legs.”
“Bossyyyyyyyy.” You sing, opening yourself up for him. Your work trousers and underwear plop onto the floor.
He ignores you, most likely tired of your antics. He sits in his leather office chair, now face to face with your dripping, wet cunt.
Cecil groans. Momentarily, he seems to forget how annoying you are. When he’s greeted with this view every week, it’s hard to stay mad at you. “This might be the best part of my fucking day.”
He licks his lips before sinking into you.
You moan loudly when his mouth meets your cunt. You’re already so sensitive and close from the pounding he gave you a few moments minutes ago. You know you’re not going to last long.
You feel Cecil smirk against you. Bastard.
He licks his tongue through your folds, parting them with his wide muscle. So warm, so wet, so smooth against your pussy, you whine when the gentle arc of his nose rubs, nudges against your clit. One hand grabs at his bare head, nails scrapping against the skin, encouraging him with an almost ravish madness. Cecil takes it.
Your legs twitch to close, an all too familiar warmth and pressure building up in your core and cunt all too quickly as Cecil wraps his thin lips around your clit, swirling and flicking his tongue around your pulsing nub. Cecil stops that in its tracks, holding your thighs open so he can have his fill.
“Fuck, yes, just like that, just like that…”
Your mouth falls open, rolling your hips against his face. One of your hands grip the edge of the desk. It feels like it will snap under your grasp.
Then Cecil’s hand finds the top of your mound, pulling the skin up expose your clit to more of his attacking mouth.
The move cause you to whine, jolting up and wrapping your thighs around Cecil’s head. This time, he welcomes it. Buzzing rings in your ears.
You lose it when he starts to move his head from side to side, playing with your poor, tender clit sensitive mercilessly, giving you no time to breathe. You freeze, going still in his arms as you cum in his mouth and on his face, tingling, sizzling sparks dancing through your cunt and abdomen, eyes rolled into the back of your brain, biting your lip red and slowly riding his face.
Cecil lets you take control of your face, take whatever you want.
The grinds of your hips slow to a stop. Cecil kisses your clit before parting.
He looks far worse than he did. Your slick decorates his lower face like glitter. He licks his lips like he had a lovely dinner.
You grin down at him, pretending like you haven’t been fucked out of your mind. “You’re good at that, Cece.”
“…I can tell.” The corner of his mouth quirks up as he eyes you over. He stands. “Alright. Get off.”
“…It’s like it never ends.”
You hop off anyway. Cecil bends down, surprisingly gentle while he dresses you back up, buttoning up your shirt and smoothing down your hair. It’s was caring, nearly loving. You certainly don’t expect him to place a small kiss on your neck.
“There you go.” He straightens out your clothes a bit more. He redoes his tie. “Keep this up and maybe you’ll get a bonus by the end of the year.”
In your Cecil work, you mentioned how he’s seen reader naked with all monitors and stuff. But to be a little freaky/sinful, has he seen them also pleasuring themselves? I can only imagine the amount of murder he’d be willing to do for the unfortunates who decide to comment their enjoyment. If not if they have those Superman abilities, do you think they knew they were being spied on and took someone home to bone to mess with him.
You know how in the first season Cecil straight up tells Mark something along the lines of "the GDA knows everything about you, from your daily routine to the porn you jack off to". Well :)
Imagine in a "Nolan's child who hides their powers" scenario, or I guess just in general as a viltrumite/alien hybrid or someone who the government was always keeping tabs on for whatever reason, you suddenly develop your powers, but also, something more, and you can suddenly hear the buzzing and electrical hertz of the hidden cameras in your room. Like... what the fuck do you even do in response to that
God... god... remember in Death Note where Light predicted he was being watched by the police so he would do shit like read dirty magazines to maintain his cover of "behaving like a normal young man". Imagine you making the realization that like ... you had a daily or some real specific masturbation habit and you're like "oh fuck, I can't suddenly change what I'm doing or it might tip them off that I know something or make them suspicious"
Reader begrudgingly continuing to jack off like normal and you KNOW people are watching, for survival's sake. Reader having their first real conversation with Cecil as he's touring you through the GDA and you finally go "no bullshit" and hit him with the bluntness question possible, "so are you one of the men who watches the cameras in my bedroom or has it been someone else watching me masturbate" and it actually manages to make him stutter and stumble to answer
Cecil literally ordering everyone else out of the room whenever they're watching the footage and he knows you're about to jerk off, because, he's obsessed enough with you that not only does he see it as "protecting your modesty" but also he literally cannot stand knowing other people are seeing you in such an... intimate and vulnerable state. He's protecting you, obviously :) he's not a pervert, he promises--
Cecil having the utmost pokerface as he watches you pleasure yourself but his cheeks are still-- actually, he's technically covered in a synthetic skin so COULD HE even blush??? We're gonna pretend he does. Cecil trying to be all stonefaced but he can't stop his face from turning red and the way you manage to make him sweat
Ngl... I really like the idea of Reader who, upon unlocking their powers, basically becomes like, you took the fucking pill from Limitless and you become this, super memory unlocked brain capacity genius and you quickly pick up on how Cecil's heart rate increases whenever he talks to you and you compare it to, say, how he treats "equal threats" like Mark and Omniman and you quickly form the hypothesis he's got some weird crush on you. Maybe you test your theory out or try to trip him up by, say, hitting on another member of the Guardians or another superhero. Your superhearing picking up Cecil grinding his teeth from the other side of the room as you make some flirtatious inappropriate comment to a coworker or hero/alien you just met. I'd be out here giggling twirling a piece of hair around a finger, "so, is there a Mrs Battle Beast?" as Cecil then creates some diversion or reason to pull you away. "There's a mudslide in the Philippines and we need you to help the search and rescue efforts" "but you guys never ask me to help with shit like that?" "Just shut up and follow me"
Some... lose-lose scenario where you try to defy Cecil and the GDA and he won't let you and fabricates some justification for locking you away or putting some sort of method of control on or in you. You being completely restrained as Cecil tells you it's for your own good, for the planet's own good, until you "can calm down and see the light" and you can tell he's... suspiciously into it as he sees you completely at his mercy, even reaching out to touch your face, or even... other parts of you.
Donald just out here, "sir I brought you the documents you requested and-- sir do you have an erection watching the new recruit??? Are you peeping on their bedroom again??" "Shut up, Donald. Get your glasses fixed and do your damn job. I'm just watching them fight a giant alien monster"
You can't deny Cecil gets results, so everyone who has suspicions that he's being a lil... freaky... just has to put up with it or convince themselves they're imagining it, but... they're not :)
♡ The first variant gets the best pickings of her(y/n's) love ♡
✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ Fever Dreams‧ ₊ ˚
☆ WC: 10k+ [Part 5]
☆ TW: fluff + more~
☆ Author's Note: This chapter took a long time to get down, I kept re-writing it over and over again. I really wanted the... well, I can't spoil, lol. read and find outttt ♡ ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊
♡This is a long chapter; bear with me pls♡
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Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, fragments of conversations reaching her through the haze of medication and pain. Each voice filtered through her fevered mind with distinct clarity, bringing with it the unique cadence and emotion of its owner.
"...collar repairs are possible, but without proper calibration..." Emperor's voice, commanding even in hushed tones. His brow furrowed with impatience, the muscle in his jaw twitching beneath his chiseled face as he stared down at the broken technology with disdain. The golden accents of his imperial uniform caught the dim light of the cabin as he moved, his posture rigid with authority.
"...keep her sedated until the fever breaks..." No Mask's voice carried an unusual gentleness. His exposed features—so jarring without the familiar invincible mask—softened with concern as he checked her bandages with practiced efficiency, his fingers trembling slightly when they brushed against her burning skin. The familiar blue and yellow of his costume seemed darker in the cabin's shadows, his face marked with exhaustion.
"...touch her again and I'll tear your arms off..." Mohawk snarled, his threat punctuated by the flash of his teeth. His eyes blazed with protective fury, veins pulsing visibly at his temples as he stood with his fists clenched, knuckles white with restraint. The distinctive ridge of his mohawk cast a jagged shadow across the wall, matching the harsh lines of rage etched into his face.
"...mission parameters are clear, this distraction is illogical..." Omni's razor-sharp logic cut through the tension. His perfectly composed features betrayed him only through the slight clench of his jaw as he fought against his overwhelming desire to rush to her side, to ensure her comfort himself. The blood stained red and white of his uniform seemed to glow in the half-light, pristine despite the chaos surrounding them.
"...she’s your Y/N, she's mine..." Sinister's words dripped with possession, his face gleaming with obsession. His pupils dilated as he stared hungrily at her prone form, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as if tasting her vulnerability in the air. His black and yellow suit seemed to absorb the shadows, making him appear more creature than man.
The voices blended and separated, identifiable not just by tone but by the emotions etched into their identical-yet-different faces—Emperor's imperious sneer, the way his nostrils flared when contradicted; Mohawk's snarling defiance, the permanent crease between his brows deepening with each protective glance; Omni's calculated detachment betrayed by the trembling of his lower lip when he thought no one was watching; Viltrumite's cold authority masking deeper anguish visible in the shadows beneath his eyes; Prisoner's raw hatred punctuated by twitches of longing that softened his scarred features momentarily; Phantom's haunted gaze, perpetually searching; Sinister's predatory smile revealing his sharp canines, his eyes never blinking beneath his black lenes when fixed upon her; No Mask's rare flickers of humanity breaking through his professional demeanor like cracks in armor.
They were arguing about her, around her, over her—as if she were a prize to be claimed rather than a person with agency. The realization should have angered her, but in her weakened state, it offered opportunity. Their fracturing alliance, their competing claims—these were vulnerabilities she could exploit if only she could recover enough strength.
The medication pulled her under again, dragging her into dreamless darkness where even these thoughts faded to nothing.
When Y/N next opened her eyes, the cabin was bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight. The pain in her side had dulled to a persistent throb rather than the sharp agony of before, suggesting No Mask's medication was working. Her mind felt clearer, no longer swimming in the fog of fever and infection.
She wasn't alone. A figure sat in a chair beside her bed, silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the broken window. For a moment, fear spiked through her—was it Prisoner, returned to make good on his threats? Sinister, with his disturbing obsession? But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she recognized the distinctive outline of Phantom's mask face, the void-like quality of his presence.
"You're awake," he observed, his voice so quiet it might have been mistaken for the rustling of leaves outside. Beneath the see-through fabric of his mask, his eyes watched her with an intensity that felt different from the others—less possessive, more... haunted. The moonlight cast sharp shadows across his masked features, highlighting the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he held himself apart from her.
Y/N didn't respond immediately, taking stock of her condition. The bandages around her torso felt clean and dry, no longer sodden with blood and infection. Her throat, while still raw from the collar's damage, no longer burned with each breath. The worst of the fever had broken, leaving her weak but coherent. She felt her Viltrumite powers slowly returning.
"Why are you watching me?" she finally asked, her voice stronger than it had been earlier, though still rough around the edges. She pushed herself up slightly on the bed, wincing as the movement pulled at her healing wounds.
Phantom didn't answer directly, his head tilting slightly as he studied her in the moonlight. A muscle in his jaw jumped beneath the edge of his mask, betraying emotion beneath his controlled exterior. "You look like her," he said after a long pause.
"My mother."
The admission was so unexpected, so far from anything Y/N had anticipated, that she found herself momentarily speechless.
Of all the possible intimate connections these Mark variants might have formed with her, a maternal one had never crossed her mind. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, lips parting slightly as she processed his words.
"Your mother?" she echoed, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She shifted against the pillows, trying to see his face more clearly in the moonlight.
Phantom leaned forward slightly, the moonlight casting half his masked face in silver while leaving the rest in shadow. For a moment, his eyes glimmered with something that might have been tears under his mask, the wet moisture beneath his lenses catching the light. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, as if steeling himself to continue.
"In my universe," he explained, each word measured as if speaking required conscious effort, "she raised me after my father died. Taught me control. Strength." His gloved fingers curled into a fist on his knee, knuckles white beneath the leather. "Than they came… I was took weak without proper training… When she was killed, there was... nothing left to contain what I became."
Y/N remained silent, sensing that any interruption might end this rare moment of vulnerability. The rawness in Phantom's voice, the slight tremor of his lips beneath his mask—these were cracks in his armor that she hadn't thought possible. She kept her gaze fixed on him, her own face softening with something like understanding.
"The others," he continued after a moment, his eyes darting to the door as if fearing interruption, "they see their lovers, their partners in you. Their Y/Ns." The word seemed to catch in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.
"But I see the woman who taught me what compassion meant." His mask turned toward the broken window, moonlight catching damp fabric beneath the eyes of his mask. "Before I forgot."
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken history, with the ghost of a relationship that had shaped this Mark variant into something different from the others. Not better, perhaps—his hands were as blood-stained as theirs—but different in motivation, in drive.
"Is that why you're here?" Y/N asked finally with a raise of her brow, her voice barely above a whisper. "To remember what compassion feels like?"
Phantom remained motionless for so long that Y/N wondered if he'd heard her question. When he finally spoke, his voice had returned to its usual emptiness, the momentary vulnerability buried beneath layers of control, his eyes once again shadowed and unreadable behind his mask.
"I'm here because I believe every universe should suffer what I have." The words were recited like a mantra, a truth so fundamental it had become faith. "Angstrom Levy promised us salvation. Promised me..."
"A new Y/n?" she supplied when he trailed off, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone as she rolled her eyes, a hint of defiance returning to her despite her weakened state.
Phantom's head snapped toward her, the movement too quick, too inhuman to be comfortable. The tendons in his neck stood out like cords beneath his skin, his breathing suddenly harsh behind his mask. The moonlight caught the subtle changes in his posture—a coiling of tension, a predatory stillness.
"No," he said, with unexpected vehemence.
"You can't be replaced. She can't be… None of you can." His voice dropped, becoming almost introspective. "That's what they don't understand. What I'm beginning to fe–..."
He stopped abruptly, rising from the chair with fluid grace. His black and blue uniform absorbed the moonlight, creating a void in the shape of a man, as he moved.
"You should rest," he stated, retreating behind the mask of cool detachment, though his eyes remained fixed on her face with an intensity that belied his tone. "Tomorrow will be... difficult."
Before Y/N could question him further, the cabin door opened, admitting Viltrumite's imposing figure. The moonlight caught the white of his uniform, lending him an almost ethereal quality as he stood framed in the doorway, power and authority radiating from his perfect posture. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, his dark hair swept back immaculately despite the chaos of their mission.
His eyes, cold and calculating, flicked between Phantom and Y/N, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His nostrils flared slightly, as if he could smell the vulnerability that had permeated the room moments before.
The white of his uniform seemed to glow in the moonlight, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, the strength contained in his frame.
"Your watch is over," he stated, not a question but a command. His gaze lingered on Y/N's face, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "Return to bringing destruction to this planet."
Phantom inclined his head in silent acknowledgment, moving toward the door. He paused beside Viltrumite, the two Mark variants presenting a study in contrasts—one all light and imperial presence, the other shadow and restrained power. The tension between them was palpable, crackling in the air like electricity.
"She's stronger," Phantom observed quietly, the words meant only for Viltrumite's ears but carrying in the cabin's stillness. "The fever's breaking, clear signs of her Viltumite status returning."
Viltrumite's features remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or satisfaction. The corner of his mouth twitched upward momentarily, a fleeting crack in his regal facade.
"Good, now go," he replied, dismissal evident in his tone. "Join Sinister in the eastern quadrant. The planet still needs to be destroyed."
Phantom disappeared into the night without another word, leaving Y/N alone with Viltrumite. The absence of his presence left the cabin feeling suddenly larger, emptier; a sadness bellowed in her eyes.
The older Mark variant moved into the cabin with measured steps, each movement precise and controlled. In the moonlight, he seemed carved from marble—flawless, ageless, his features set in lines of authority that brooked no defiance. His eyes, though identical to all the Mark's in color, held centuries of experience and the weight of an empire.
"Your condition is improving," he observed, coming to stand beside her bed. Closer she could see his brown eyes clearer, they were cooler than the others' yet somehow more penetrating, cataloging her appearance with clinical assessment. The slightest twitch of his lips betrayed satisfaction at her recovery. "No Mask's intervention was... fortuitous."
Y/N attempted to push herself higher on the pillows, determined to face him from a position less vulnerable than flat on her back. The movement sent a dull throb of pain through her side, but it was manageable—a vast improvement from the searing agony of before. A bead of sweat formed at her temple from the effort, rolling down her cheek.
"Lucky for you," she replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "Can't extract much value from a corpse, can you?"
Something shifted in Viltrumite's expression—not quite surprise, but a reassessment.
His nostrils flared slightly, and the harsh lines of his imperial bearing softened fractionally, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the mantle, his brown eyes studying her with newfound interest, pupils dilating almost imperceptibly. A muscle in his cheek twitched, betraying emotions he kept carefully controlled.
"You misunderstand," he said, his voice losing some of its commanding resonance. "Your survival is... significant beyond our new mission parameters."
Y/N laughed, the sound bitter and sharp in the moonlit cabin. "Right. Because I look like her—your Y/N." The words were a challenge, thrown like rocks at his feet.
Her eyes flashed with defiance, color rising to her cheeks as she held his gaze. "Is that it? I'm a convenient replacement for whatever woman you lost?"
Viltrumite's reaction was unmistakable—a tightening around his eyes, a momentary tension in his jaw that made a muscle jump beneath his skin. For an instant, his perfect composure cracked, revealing raw grief beneath the imperial façade. His fingers trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists at his sides, the veins in his forearms standing out against his skin.
"She was not just..." he began, then stopped, the words seeming to catch in his throat. His eyes appeared suddenly brighter, more vulnerable in the moonlight streaming through the window.
Y/N watched, fascinated, as emotions warred across his face—grief, anger, longing, all quickly suppressed beneath the mask of control. His eyes darkened, his breath coming slightly faster as he fought for composure. The white of his uniform seemed suddenly too bright, too pristine in the darkness of the cabin.
"She was going to be the Empress of Earth," he finally continued, his voice steadier. "My partner in bringing order to chaos. She just lacked the Viltrumite blood." His expression softened minutely, something like nostalgia crossing his features. "But she understood the necessity of strength, of..."
He trailed off, his brown eyes distant, seeing not the cabin but some memory of glory long past. Then, with a visible effort, he refocused on Y/N, his gaze sharpening like a blade being honed. The moment of vulnerability vanished, replaced by the cold calculation she had come to associate with him.
"You are not her," he said, each word precise and deliberate. "But you could be... more."
Y/N felt a chill that had nothing to do with her fever. The hunger in Viltrumite's eyes was different from Sinister's predatory obsession or Mohawk's possessive rage. It was the hunger of a man who had tasted power and found it addictive, who saw in her not just a lost love but a potential ally in conquest.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she met his gaze.
"I'm not interested in being anyone's empress," she said flatly, a puff of her cheeks as she met his gaze without flinching. "Or replacement. Or puppet."
Viltrumite's lips curved in a smile that didn't reach his eyes, the expression as cold as winter frost. "You speak as if you have a choice," he observed, his tone almost gentle as he leaned down closer to her. "As if any of us did."
Before Y/N could respond, something unexpected happened. Viltrumite moved closer, his expression shifting from imperial distance to something more human, more vulnerable. In one fluid motion, he reached out and touched her face, his fingers cool against her fever-warm skin.
As his fingers slid along the side of her soft cheek, a shiver ran through his entire body, barely perceptible but unmistakable.
"You have her spirit," he murmured, his voice so low she could barely hear it. "Her defiance. It's... why I—"
He leaned in closer, his warm breath washing over her face. The scent of him—clean, masculine, with an undercurrent of blood. His eyes, dark and intense, searched her face as if memorizing every detail. The hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by something almost tender, almost reverent.
For a brief moment, Y/N saw not the conquering Viltrumite but a man grieving, a man who had lost something precious and thought he'd found it again. His eyes softened, the harsh lines around his mouth relaxing into something almost tender. The nearness of her, the warmth of her skin against his fingers, seemed to draw him out of himself, out of the imperial persona he wore like armor. His eyes almost fluttered shut, her warm breath fanning over his lips.
He looked into her eyes, noting the flush spreading across her cheeks, her lips parting softly. But he just stared into her eyes, and he remembered why he fell in love with her in his universe. The pale flecks of color in her iris caught the moonlight, bringing him back to another time, another place—where those same eyes had looked at him with adoration rather than defiance.
Then reality crashed back upon him like a wave. His eyes widened with shock, horror flashing across his perfect features as he realized what he was doing.
A flush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks pink, a color that looked alien on his usually controlled face. His jaw clenched tight enough that a muscle twitched violently along his temple.
His hand jerked back as if burned, and he stepped away from the bed, his composure reasserting itself like armor sliding back into place. He was panting softly.
The moment of vulnerability vanished so completely that Y/N might have thought she'd imagined it, if not for the lingering sensation of his touch on her cheek and the haunted look that briefly crossed his features. His shoulders squared, spine straightening as he physically rebuilt his imperial bearing.
"Rest," he ordered, eyes not meeting hers, his tone once again cold and commanding. "Your strength will be required soon."
Biting his lip softly, he turned and strode to the door, his back rigid with tension, shoulders squared as if preparing for battle. The moonlight made the white of his uniform glow almost ethereally, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist—perfect Viltrumite physiology enhanced by years of conquest. ~ Body Teaaa 💅~
"I must ensure the destruction continues as planned," he said without looking back, his voice carefully modulated to betray no emotion. "Another will watch over you."
The door closed behind him as he took off, leaving Y/N alone in the moonlit cabin. The sudden absence of his overwhelming presence left the air feeling lighter, easier to breathe.
Her face flushed as she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her mind racing with the implications of what had just occurred. The cracks in Viltrumite's façade, the momentary tenderness—these were weapons she could use, if she was clever enough. Her fingertips unconsciously traced the path where his hand had touched her cheek, her brow furrowing in thought, Damn that was hot…
She had barely begun to formulate a plan when a sound from outside caught her attention—a distinctive electrical hum that raised the hairs on her arms. It was a sound she knew all too well, one that haunted her nightmares and left her throat constricting with sudden fear.
The sound of a GDA teleportation device.
It happened in seconds, the air around the cabin heating up, molecules vibrating with increasing energy.
Y/N watched as the atmosphere wavered, becoming distorted like heat rising from hot pavement. The familiar blue glow of the teleportation field began to form in the center of the room, and she knew the process was about to begin—someone was coming, GDA. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat sending fresh pain through her injured side.
Y/N struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain that flared in her side. Panic gave her strength she didn't know she possessed, and she managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed just as the air in the center of the cabin shimmered and distorted. Fresh blood began to seep through her bandages, a dark stain spreading across the white fabric as her sudden movement reopened her wounds.
A figure materialized, tall and imposing in the distinctive uniform of the GDA. The moonlight illuminated his face, revealing hard eyes and a mouth set in a grim line. Cecil Stedman, director of the Global Defense Agency, the man who had authorized the experiments that had made her what she was. His thin face looked ghostly in the blue teleportation glow, the light catching on the eye bags around his eyes.
"Finally you're alone," he said, his voice cold with satisfaction. His eyes narrowed as they took in her weakened state, the bandages visible beneath her torn suit, dark stains of blood seeping through the white fabric. "Did you really think we wouldn't find you? We were just waiting for the moment you alone without those stupid variants glued to you."
Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, fight-or-flight instincts screaming even as her body refused to cooperate. She opened her mouth to respond, but Cecil was already moving, the old man's gaze sweeping the cabin until it landed on something on the kitchen counter. His thin lips pressed into a line of concentration, his movements efficient despite his age.
The broken collar. The pieces had been laid out carefully, presumably by Omni as he assessed whether it could be repaired. The moonlight glinted off the metal components, making them look like fragments of ice rather than the instrument of control they truly were.
"How convenient," Cecil murmured, moving to collect the fragments. A satisfied smile stretched across his thin lips, deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. "Can't have alien technology falling into the wrong hands, can we? Especially not these hands."
Y/N tried to stand, her legs trembling with the effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead as pain shot through her side, causing her to wince visibly. Her jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her. The wooden floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet, the room spinning slightly at the edges of her vision.
"You don't understand," she managed, her voice stronger than she expected. Her eyes flashed with defiance despite the pallor of her skin. "They're not just—"
"Variants of Invincible?" Cecil cut her off, his thin lips curling in a humorless smile. His eyes, cold and calculating, narrowed as he studied her.
"Oh, we understand exactly what they are. The fuckers ripping apart our planet, killing billions!" His voice rose slightly, a vein pulsing at his temple, his carefully maintained composure cracking to reveal genuine fury beneath. "What we don't understand is why our most valuable asset decided to join forces with them."
"I didn't—" Y/N's face contorted with frustration, her eyes widening with the urgency to make him understand. A lock of hair fell across her face as she leaned forward, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the bed. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, metallic and warm on her tongue as she hisses, why am I so weak?!
"Save it," he snapped, pocketing the collar fragments in his suit. The harsh lines around his mouth deepened as he frowned, making him look even older. "You had one mission, and you failed. You're coming back with me now. The experiments aren't finished, and you're far too valuable to leave in the hands of these... aberrations. Even if our planet if falling apart."
Y/N's fingers curled around the edge of the mattress, searching for stability. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths, each one sending a ripple of pain through her injured side.
"I can't go back," she said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. Her eyes darted to the door, then back to Cecil, pupils dilating with fear. "I can't live like that again—controlled, unable to feel, to think outside the parameters they set." Her voice broke slightly at the memory, cracking on the final word.
"The collar nearly killed me. Another round of experiments will—"
"That's not your decision to make," Cecil interrupted, his voice flat as he pulled out a small device, pressing several buttons. The blue light from the small screen cast eerie shadows across his face, highlighting the cold determination in his eyes. Due to the destruction, normal teleportation has been reduced to remote control.
"This will only take a moment. Try not to struggle—in your condition, it will only make things worse."
Y/N's mind raced, searching for options. The Mark variants were gone, scattered across the planet on their mission of destruction. She was alone, wounded, barely able to stand. But return to the GDA, to the experiments that made her a Viltumite, to the collar that had nearly killed her?
That was a fate worse than death. Her eyes darted around the cabin, seeking anything that might serve as a weapon or distraction.
With a desperate surge of strength, she lunged for the door, trying to fly but it didn't work, she was still to weak. Her face contorted with pain and frustration as her legs gave out after just two steps. She crashed to the floor, the impact sending fresh waves of agony through her side. Blood soaked through her bandages, warm and sticky against her skin. She was no Viltrumite if she couldn't take this simple pain.
But the strangled cry escaped her lips as she pressed her hand against the wound, crimson seeping between her fingers, vivid and alarming against her pale skin. The floor beneath her began to stain with dark droplets, her blood pooling on the worn wooden planks.
Cecil sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. His shoulders slumped slightly before he straightened again, "Always the hard way with you, isn't it?" He moved toward her, device in hand. "Don't worry. Soon enough, you won't remember any of this. A new collar will see to that."
Y/N's vision began to blur, darkness creeping in at the edges. A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked up at Cecil, her expression a mixture of defiance and despair. Blood continued to seep through her fingers, each heartbeat pushing more of her life force out onto the cabin floor. Her lips trembled with the effort of staying conscious.
The last thing she saw was Cecil standing over her, the teleportation device counting down to activation to teleport two beings. His thin face set in lines of grim determination, the blue light from the device casting ghostly shadows across his features.
Then, a crash as the cabin door burst open, the sound of splintering wood echoing in the small space.
"Get away from her." The voice was cold, utterly devoid of emotion—and yet, somehow, vibrating with barely contained rage.
Omni stood in the doorway, his red and white uniform splattered with dust and blood. His eyes, usually so calculated and distant, burned with an intensity that made him look almost feral. His hands, normally so steady and controlled, trembled slightly at his sides. The moonlight cast half his face in shadow, highlighting the rigid set of his jaw and the dangerous flash of his teeth.
Cecil froze, his face draining of color as he took in the sight of the Invincible variant. His eyes darted between Omni and Y/N, rapid calculations visible in his expression. The teleportation device beeped insistently in his hand, the countdown continuing, its blue light pulsing with increasing urgency.
"Look- You don't understand what you're interfering with," Cecil said, his voice steady despite the fear evident in his widened eyes. "Even if you're destroying our planet she… She belongs to the GDA. She's government property...Take everything else but her-"
Omni's nostrils flared, "She belongs to no one," he stated, each word precisely enunciated. He took a step forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Especially not to someone who would collar her like an animal."
Y/N, still conscious but barely, watched the exchange through half-lidded eyes. Her breath came in shallow gasps, each one sending fresh spikes of pain through her body. The blood pooling beneath her felt warm, too warm—a stark contrast to the cold that seemed to be creeping through her limbs. Her vision tunneled, focusing on Omni's imposing figure, the red of his uniform seeming to blur and shift in the dim light.
Cecil's face hardened, his mouth a thin line of determination even though he could die at any moment. "I can't leave without her," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"She's too valuable. The work we've done—" He broke off, glancing down at Y/N's prone form, his expression a mixture of scientific detachment and genuine concern. The lines around his eyes deepened, betraying a conflict behind his harsh exterior.
Omni moved with inhuman speed, crossing the room in a blur of motion. Before Cecil could react, Omni's hand closed around his throat, lifting the older man off his feet. The teleportation device clattered to the floor, its countdown still ticking, the blue light casting strange shadows across the cabin walls.
"Your work," Omni said, his voice still eerily calm despite the fury blazing in his eyes, "nearly killed her. The collar you designed—" He stopped, something flickering across his face—a memory, perhaps, of his own Y/N. His grip tightened momentarily before he seemed to regain control, his fingers adjusting with mathematical precision to maintain pressure without crushing Cecil's windpipe. "You will not take her. Not now. Not ever."
Cecil's face reddened as he struggled for breath, his hands clawing ineffectually at Omni's iron grip. "You... don't... understand," he gasped, his voice a raspy whisper. "Without... the collar... she's... unstable."
Y/N's eyes widened at this, a fresh surge of adrenaline clearing some of the fog from her mind. "Liar," she managed, her voice weak but clear. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she pushed herself up on one elbow, her face contorted with the effort. Her skin had taken on an alarming pale, making the blood on her lips stand out like crimson against snow.
"The collar... was killing me. You knew... and you kept... pushing."
Omni's eyes flicked to Y/N, something softening in his gaze as he took in her bloodied form. The harsh detachment slipped for a moment, revealing raw concern beneath. His perfect posture faltered, a momentary slouch betraying his distress before he straightened again with a huff.
Then his attention returned to Cecil, his expression hardening once more, eyes cold and calculating beneath the black lenes of his mask covering his eyes.
"I should kill you, slow… and painfuly, just like i’ve killed so many others" he stated, his tone suggesting he was merely making an observation. "It would be... logical. Efficient." His thumb pressed against Cecil's carotid artery with precise pressure, a demonstration of how easily he could end the older man's life with a flick of his thumb.
Cecil's eyes bulged, his face now purple from lack of oxygen. His feet kicked uselessly in the air, his hands still trying to break Omni's grip. The veins in his temples stood out prominently, throbbing with each desperate heartbeat.
Y/N watched, her vision swimming. Part of her—the part that remembered the pain, the experiments, the collar that had nearly killed her—wanted Omni to do it. To end Cecil's life and with it, the threat of returning to that existence. But another part, the part that still clung to some sense of who she had been before all this, couldn't bear to watch. Her eyes, though clouded with pain, retained a spark of humanity that she feared losing.
"Don't," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She coughed, the action sending fresh pain through her side, blood spraying from her lips in a fine mist. "Not... worth it."
Omni's head tilted slightly, considering her words. His grip on Cecil's throat loosened fractionally, allowing the older man to draw in a ragged breath. "He hurt you," Omni said, his voice so quiet only Y/N could hear it. For a moment, the mask of detachment slipped completely, revealing a depth of emotion that shocked her. His eyes, usually so cold, burned with a protective fury that bordered on madness. A muscle in his jaw worked silently, betraying the battle between logic and emotion raging within him.
"I know," Y/N acknowledged, her eyes meeting his beneath his mask.
She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, blood staining her teeth. "But I'm... not like him. Not yet." Her eyes pleaded with him, even as her strength began to fade. "Don't... become what he... thinks you are. You can be kind, I know you can."
Omni stood perfectly still for a long moment, his face a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Then, with a movement so sudden it was almost invisible, he hurled Cecil across the room. The older man crashed into the wall with a sickening crack, then slumped to the floor, unconscious but alive. A thin trickle of blood running from his receding hairline down his temple.
The teleportation device continued its countdown, the beeping more insistent now, the blue light pulsing faster.
Omni moved to Y/N's side, kneeling beside her with a grace that belied his power. His large hands, capable of such destruction, were gentle as they carefully lifted her. His face, usually so controlled, showed open concern as he took in the extent of her injuries. The front of her bandages was now completely soaked through with blood, the white fabric stained a deep crimson.
"You're bleeding heavily," he whispered, his voice soft once more, though his eyes betrayed his worry. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he saw the blood soaking through her bandages. "The fall reopened your wound...Y/n."
Y/N tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. The room was spinning now, darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision. She felt Omni's arms around her, solid and warm, as he lifted her from the floor. His heartbeat, steady and strong against her cheek, was oddly comforting. He partially melted into her touch, cradling her with a tenderness that belied his fearsome reputation. He would keep her safe—this certainty radiated from him, wrapping around her like a protective shield.
"Stay with me," Omni commanded, his voice taking on a note of urgency that broke through his usual detachment. His eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her breath catch. The black lenses of his mask couldn't hide the desperation in his gaze as he leaned closer, the harsh lines of his jaw tightening with concern. "Y/N, focus on my voice. Stay conscious."
Y/N tried to obey, but the darkness was too inviting, the pain too overwhelming. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, fluttering closed despite her best efforts. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, painting a crimson trail down her ashen cheek. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the coldness creeping through her limbs.
The last thing she heard before unconsciousness claimed her was the urgent beeping of the teleportation device and Omni's voice, suddenly clear and filled with raw emotion, "I won't lose you. Not again." His large gloved hand cupped her cheek with surprising tenderness, thumb carefully wiping blood from her parted lips. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike the calculated precision with which he typically moved, that had she been conscious, it would have stunned her.
As darkness engulfed her senses, Y/N's mind spiraled into fever dreams. She felt herself being lifted, placed back on the old bed, the springs creaking beneath their combined weight. Through the haze of unconsciousness, she imagined Omni's voice, broken and desperate, "Stay with me Y/N... feel me... God, I—"
She felt his large hands guiding her legs around his hips as he leaned over her, his powerful frame encompassing her own. The heat from his body seeped through her clothes, warming her chilled skin. His presence was overwhelming, consuming her senses entirely.
"Stop me... Y/n, tell me to stop..." The words were a plea, not a command. His voice, usually so controlled, now ragged with need. A strangled groan escaped him as his head came to rest on her chest, between the valley of her breasts, his rough hair brushing against her suit. The friction sent unexpected sparks of pleasure coursing through her body.
He nuzzled closer, allowing her to feel the unmistakable hardness pressing between her legs. His hips rolled against hers with exquisite restraint, the motion so gentle yet devastating in its effect. Her body responded with an intensity that shocked her, a sensation she had never experienced before.
Y/N awoke with a startled gasp, her eyes flying open, heart hammering against her ribcage. Sunlight was barely peeking through the broken window, bathing the cabin in the golden light of sunrise. The dream's vividness left her disoriented, unsure of what was real and what wasn't.
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, a flush spreading down her neck to her collarbone. Her mouth was dry, yet she felt an unfamiliar wetness between her legs, a persistent throb that confused her. As an experiment, these sensations were entirely new territory—her body responding in ways she didn't understand. She panted heavily, trying to calm her racing heart as she pushed the vivid images from her mind, focusing instead on the dull ache in her side.
When Y/N fully regained consciousness, the cabin was illuminated by the soft glow of dawn. Her side throbbed with a persistent ache, but the searing pain had subsided. She was back in the bed, fresh bandages wrapped tightly around her torso. The coppery taste of blood lingered in her mouth, but she felt stronger than before.
She wasn't alone. Omni sat in a chair beside the bed, his posture perfect even in repose. His uniform was still stained with dust and blood, suggesting he hadn't left her side since the confrontation with Cecil. He leaned over the bed, his arm on the edge, hands curled around each other as he pressed his forehead to his palms. His eyes were closed beneath his mask, but she could tell from the tension in his jaw that he wasn't sleeping. The muscles around his mouth twitched occasionally, betraying that his mind was far from restful. He had remained vigilant all night, watching over her with an intensity that spoke of something beyond mere duty.
"You stayed," she said, her voice raspy but stronger than it had been the night before.
Omni's eyes snapped open beneath the lenses, instantly alert. He straightened in the chair, shoulders squaring as if caught in a moment of weakness. He leaned forward slightly, the chair creaking beneath the shift in weight. His gaze swept over her with clinical precision, cataloging every detail of her condition. Something flickered across his face—relief, unmistakable and profound—before his features settled back into their usual controlled mask. The momentary softening around his eyes disappeared so quickly she might have imagined it.
His nose twitched slightly, nostrils flaring as he caught a scent. His eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch behind his mask, his head dipping to glance at her midsection then back to her face, a fleeting expression of surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features once more.
"It was the logical course of action," he stated, his voice neutral, though a slight tremor betrayed him. "Your condition was... unstable."
Y/N's lips curved into a small smile, her eyes softening as she looked at him. A stray lock of hair fell across her forehead, and she made no move to brush it away. "You can show me emotions," she hummed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet cabin. "It's just you and me."
Something in her chest tightened as she realized she was beginning to feel drawn to this red and gray suited Invincible variant. Among all of them, he had been consistently the most protective, the most considerate of her wellbeing. Even now, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, as if restraining himself from reaching for her, spoke of a care that went beyond his calculated exterior.
Y/N tried to sit up, wincing as the movement pulled at her injured side. Fresh beads of sweat formed at her hairline from the effort, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she suppressed a groan. Omni's hand shot out, steadying her with surprising gentleness. His touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, his fingers warm against her skin.
He brushed his fingertips over her face, almost reverently, as if memorizing every feature. The pad of his thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, his breathing noticeably changing—becoming deeper, more measured, as if he was fighting for control. When he finally pulled away, it seemed to require conscious effort, his hand retreating reluctantly.
"Cecil?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what had happened after she lost consciousness. Her brow furrowed with concern, a vertical crease forming between her eyebrows.
Omni's expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The perfect line of his mouth tightened, eyes hardening behind his mask. "Gone," he said simply. "The teleportation device activated before I could disable it. He escaped with the collar fragments."
Y/N exhaled slowly, relief and dread mingling in her chest. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, pushing it away from her face. Her fingers trembled slightly with the lingering weakness from blood loss. "He'll be back," she said, her voice steady despite the fear churning in her stomach. Her pupils dilated slightly, the only visible sign of her anxiety.
"Yes," Omni agreed, his tone matter-of-fact. "That is the most probable outcome."
Y/N studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands. Despite his clinical demeanor, something about him seemed... different. Fractured, somehow. The perfect control he maintained seemed to be costing him more effort than usual.
"Why did you help me?" she asked, her eyes searching his face. "Why not let him take me? It would have been... logical." She used his own word deliberately, watching for his reaction, her head tilting slightly to one side.
Omni's eyes met hers, and for a moment, his mask slipped completely. The raw emotion in his gaze—grief, longing, determination—took her breath away. His perfect composure cracked, revealing the man beneath the calculated exterior. With deliberate movements, he reached up and removed the mask covering his eyes. The black lenses that had hidden his expression were gone, allowing Y/N to see the full intensity of his gaze.
His eyes were a startling blue, unlike the others; deep and clear as mountain lakes after a storm. They were red-rimmed from exhaustion, the skin beneath them slightly darkened, but they burned with an emotion that made her heart skip a beat. Long lashes framed those expressive eyes, a stark contrast to the hardness of his other features; his angular jawline, the straight nose, the firm set of his lips all softened by the naked emotion in his gaze.
"Because I watched you die once," he said, his voice low and intense, vibrating with suppressed emotion. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he continued, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as he stared at his hands. "I will not do so again."
The control that had been his hallmark was visibly slipping. His breathing quickened, chest rising and falling more rapidly as emotions he'd kept buried threatened to surface. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking with the tension.
Y/N's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. The color drained from her face as understanding dawned.
"Your Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I only know from what Sinister said… But I want to hear from you, what happened to her?"
Omni's gaze dropped to his hands, which had curled into fists on his knees. The knuckles whitened with pressure, veins standing out prominently. When he looked up again, his expression was carefully controlled once more, though his eyes still burned with that same intensity.
"She had cancer," he said finally, each word seeming to cost him. "A human weakness I couldn't fight. I tried everything—" his voice caught, Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he swallowed. "Every treatment, every experimental procedure. I exhausted every resource at my disposal, but it wasn't enough."
His breathing quickened slightly, nostrils flaring with the effort of maintaining control. "My father... Omni-Man... he saw her as a distraction. A weakness. Because I spent more time with her than training. Learning." His eyes darkened with remembered rage, pupils contracting to pinpoints. "So he killed her."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. "Then I killed him," he finished quietly, his voice devoid of emotion once more. "And then... I became something else."
Y/N reached out, her hand covering his fist. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she felt him tense at the contact before slowly relaxing. The hard lines of his knuckles softened beneath her touch.
"I'm sorry," she said simply, her voice soft with genuine sympathy. Her eyes, though tired, were clear and compassionate as they met his. The skin around them crinkled slightly with the sincerity of her expression.
Omni looked at her hand on his, an expression of confusion and wonder crossing his face. His eyebrows drew together slightly, creating a small crease between them. "You are... different from her," he observed, his voice quiet. "More... resilient. Adaptable." His gaze returned to her face, studying her with newfound curiosity. The intensity in his eyes softened to something almost like admiration. "She was gentler. Less... combative."
Y/N smiled slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her split lip. A small bead of blood welled up where the skin had cracked. She absently ran her tongue over the injury, tasting copper. "I'm not her," she said gently but firmly, her eyes never leaving his that were drawn to her lips. "Just as you're not my Mark... cause I don't have one."
Omni blinked, nodded slowly, accepting the truth of her words. "I am aware," he said, his voice regaining some of its clinical detachment, though his eyes remained unguarded. "Yet the similarities are... significant." The corner of his mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. "I- I want…Perhaps I could be... a new Mark in your life? Only yours."
Despite his dominant demeanor and controlled exterior, there was something vulnerable in the way he leaned toward her now, something almost submissive in his posture. As if beneath the calculating facade, he was desperate for her approval, her acceptance. His eyes, now unshielded by his mask, couldn't hide the truth—if she asked kindly, he would do anything she requested. He couldn't help but lean in closer, drawn to her by a need that transcended logic or reason.
Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the shift in his demeanor. This powerful being—capable of such destruction, so clinical and detached—was looking at her with a vulnerability that made her heart ache. The juxtaposition was striking, his imposing physique and the gentle way he now regarded her, like a fierce predator suddenly revealing its softer nature. She had no future with GDA anymore, these variants were about to become her only world.
"I'd like that," she whispered, her voice barely audible even in the quiet cabin. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a fraction of a second before returning to meet his gaze, a flush spreading across her cheeks.
Something in Omni's expression changed—the last threads of his restraint visibly snapping. In one fluid motion, he moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip. His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her bottom lip with exquisite gentleness.
"May I?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion, eyes searching hers for permission.
Y/N nodded, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a sensation both terrifying and exhilarating.
Omni's lips met hers with surprising tenderness. The contrast was striking—his lips soft and warm against her chapped ones. He kissed her as if she might shatter, his large frame hovering over her smaller one, careful not to put weight on her injured body. The scent of him filled her senses—clean sweat, leather from his uniform, and something distinctly male that made her head swim.
The kiss deepened slowly, his mouth moving against hers with careful precision. His tongue gently traced the seam of her lips, requesting entry rather than demanding it. When she parted them, he explored her mouth with the same methodical attention he brought to everything—learning what made her breath hitch, what drew small sounds from her throat.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, supporting her as their connection intensified. He tasted her split lip carefully, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the sweetness of their kiss. Y/N felt his chest rumble with a suppressed groan as she tentatively met his tongue with her own, her inexperience evident but her eagerness making up for it.
The controlled precision that defined his every movement was still present, but now channeled into something else entirely—each touch calculated to bring her pleasure without pain. His massive frame dwarfed hers as he moved closer, the bed creaking beneath their combined weight.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Omni immediately rested his forehead against hers. His usually stern face was transformed by a softness Y/N had never seen before. His lips were reddened and slightly swollen from their kiss, his piercing blue eyes half-lidded with a mixture of desire and wonder. A faint flush colored his high cheekbones, spreading down to disappear beneath the collar of his uniform.
"I never thought I'd feel this again," he whispered, his warm breath fanning across her face. "After she died, I locked everything away. Became... cold. Analytical." The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, self-deprecating smile that transformed his usually severe features. "Efficient."
Y/N's own face was flushed, her pupils dilated, lips parted and tingling from his attention. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath, the sensation of his kiss still lingering like an imprint on her skin.
"I noticed something earlier," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Your scent changed." His pupils dilated as he spoke, nearly eclipsing the blue of his irises. A slight crease appeared between his brows, his expression a mixture of scientific curiosity and unmistakable desire. "It was... intriguing."
Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion, her lips still tingling from his kiss. Her cheeks burned hotter, the flush spreading down her neck to the tops of her breasts visible above her torn clothing. "My scent?"
A small, genuine smile curved his lips—perhaps the first real smile she'd seen from him. It transformed his face completely, softening the hard angles and revealing a glimpse of who he might have been in another life, one with less pain and loss. The skin around his eyes crinkled, small lines appearing that spoke of smiles long forgotten.
"You were dreaming," he explained, his voice taking on a note of tender amusement. His thumb traced small circles against the nape of her neck, the sensation sending pleasant shivers down her spine. "Your body responded... physically."
Understanding dawned, and Y/N's face flamed with embarrassment. She tried to look away, but Omni gently cupped her cheek, guiding her face back to his. His palm was warm against her skin, his touch reverent.
"Don't be ashamed," he said softly, his expression earnest and open. His eyes, so startlingly blue, held no judgment—only fascination and something deeper, more primal. The hard line of his jaw had softened, his perpetual frown replaced by parted lips and gentle eyes. "It's natural. Beautiful, even." His eyes darkened with something like sadness, the corners turning down slightly. "They never let you experience this, did they? The GDA. They kept you from feeling... everything."
Y/N shook her head, her throat tight with emotion. "The collar suppressed everything," she whispered. "Emotions, sensations... they said it was necessary to control the Viltrumite abilities. To keep me stable."
Anger flashed in Omni's eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His nostrils flared, lips pressing into a thin line as his face hardened momentarily. "They lied," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "They feared what you might become if you were allowed to feel. To be whole."
His expression softened as he looked at her, the hard lines of anger melting away. The severe set of his mouth relaxed, his eyes warming from icy rage to tender concern. With careful movements, mindful of her injuries, he shifted to sit beside her on the bed, his back against the headboard. The mattress dipped under his considerable weight, the old springs protesting.
Gently, he slid one arm beneath her shoulders, the other under her knees, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He settled her against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, his powerful arms creating a protective circle around her smaller frame. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear.
"Let me show you," he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing the top of her head. "Let me show you what it means to feel. Not just... physically." His voice dropped lower, the words rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. "Though I would very much like to explore that aspect as well, when you're healed."
Y/N relaxed against him, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear comforting. His fingers traced patterns on her arm, each touch sending small sparks of pleasure along her skin. The sensation was new, overwhelming in its intensity—without the collar, every nerve ending seemed hypersensitive.
"I'd like that," she whispered, turning her face up to his. Her eyes were bright despite her exhaustion, her lips curved in a small, shy smile. The pallor of her skin had given way to a healthier flush, color returning to her cheeks.
Omni's smile was gentle as he bent to press his lips to her forehead. His eyes closed briefly, thick lashes fanning against his cheeks as he savored the contact. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to touch anyone with tenderness, to feel anything beyond cold calculation and rage. The muscles in his face, usually so rigid with control, relaxed into an expression of profound relief.
"First, you must heal," he said, clinical pragmatism returning to his voice, though his eyes remained soft. "Your body needs time to recover."
But even as he spoke, his lips moved from her forehead to her temple, then down to the sensitive spot just below her ear. Y/N's breath hitched as he placed feather-light kisses along the column of her throat, each one sending a new wave of sensation through her body. His hot breath ghosted over her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. The contrast between his clinical words and his tender actions drew a small, breathless laugh from her.
"Although," he murmured against her skin, his lips vibrating against her pulse point, "there are ways I can help you explore these new sensations without compromising your recovery."
His hand moved to cup her face, tilting it up so he could claim her lips once more. His large palm engulfed the side of her face, fingers threading into her hair as he pulled her closer. Their lips met with more urgency this time, his control slipping as he responded to her eager reciprocation. The kiss was deeper than before, more assured—his tongue sliding against hers in a dance that left her dizzy and wanting. His teeth gently captured her bottom lip, tugging slightly before releasing it to soothe the sting with his tongue.
Y/N's inexperienced movements were awkward at first, but she quickly learned to follow his lead, mimicking his actions. Her hands came up to grip his shoulders, fingers digging into the taut muscle beneath his uniform. A small whimper escaped her throat as he angled her head to deepen the kiss further, his expertise evident in every calculated movement.
When they broke apart again, both flushed and breathing heavily, Omni's eyes had darkened to stormy blue. His carefully controlled exterior had cracked completely, revealing the raw need beneath. His hand trembled slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with surprising tenderness.
"Your Y/N," she began, her voice rough with emotion. "She never experienced this? With you?"
Omni's expression turned somber, a shadow passing over his features. The light in his eyes dimmed, his mouth turning down at the corners as painful memories resurfaced. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the skin.
"No," he admitted quietly. "She wanted to wait. And I respected her wishes." His jaw tightened, grief and anger momentarily darkening his gaze. The veins in his temple became more prominent as his face hardened with suppressed rage. "Then my father killed her, and I lost my chance to show her how much I treasured her."
His eyes met Y/N's, fierce with a new determination. The blue of his irises seemed to glow with intensity, his gaze burning into hers. "I won't make that mistake again," he vowed. "If you'll allow it, I'll show you everything they denied you. Every sensation, every emotion. I'll help you discover what it means to truly live. Soon… I swear my dove."
The intensity of his gaze made Y/N's heart race. She reached up, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "I'm not her," she reminded him gently. "I can't replace what you lost."
"I know," he said, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. His lips lingered on her skin, warm and soft. "You're not a replacement. You're something new. Something... unexpected." His eyes softened as they studied her face, taking in every detail—the curve of her cheek, the shape of her lips, the flecks of color in her eyes. "Something precious. I want to move on, to start something new with you."
With careful movements, mindful of her injuries, Omni gently placed her back on the bed, moving to hover over her. His massive frame blocked out the light from the window as he positioned himself above her, his knees on either side of her hips, his weight supported on his forearms on either side of her head to avoid putting pressure on her wounded body. The bed creaked beneath them, protesting the shift in weight.
He began to explore her body with gentle touches. His lips traced a path from her mouth to her jaw, then down the sensitive skin of her neck. Each kiss was reverent, worshipful, as if he was mapping terrain he had dreamed of but never expected to discover. His stubble scraped lightly against her soft skin, the slight roughness a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips.
Y/N gasped as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the material of his uniform. The sensations were overwhelming, unlike anything she had experienced before—without the collar suppressing her responses, her body reacted with an intensity that left her breathless.
"Beautiful," Omni murmured against her skin, his voice vibrating against her pulse point. His large body completely encompassed her smaller one, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room from her view. The size difference between them was stark—his hand alone could almost span her entire waist, his thigh thicker than both of hers combined. Yet there was no fear in her response to him, only wonder at the gentleness such strength could display.
"So responsive. So alive." His hand moved to rest at her waist, careful to avoid her bandaged wound. The heat of his palm seeped through the thin material of her clothing, branding her skin. "Tell me if anything hurts, if you want me to stop."
Y/N could only nod, words beyond her as his exploration continued. His hand skimmed up her side, tracing the curve of her waist, the outline of her ribs. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, a touch so light it might have been accidental if not for the intent focus in his eyes as he gauged her reaction. Her breath caught, back arching slightly into his touch without conscious thought.
Omni watched her reactions with fascination, adjusting his approach based on the smallest change in her breathing or the subtle tensing of her muscles. His eyes, normally so cold and analytical, now burned with heat as he cataloged every gasp, every flutter of her eyelids, every unconscious movement of her body seeking more contact.
"They stole this from you," he whispered, his voice tight with anger as he looked up at her flushed face. A vein pulsed in his temple, his jaw clenching momentarily before he visibly forced himself to relax. "They denied you the most basic human experiences. The right to feel pleasure, to connect with another person… But it saved you for me, my dove."
Y/N caught his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes were bright with determination, her cheeks flushed with color that had nothing to do with her injuries. "Then help me reclaim it," she said, her voice stronger than it had been since her injury. Her eyes burned with determination, a new spark of life that had been missing before. "Help me discover what they took from me."
Something like awe crossed Omni's face as he looked at her. His eyes widened slightly, lips parting in surprise at her boldness. "You truly are remarkable," he said softly. "So different from her, yet just as captivating. Perhaps more so–No you are more."
He leaned in to kiss her again, this time with a passion that left no doubt of his intentions. His hand slid up her side, carefully avoiding her injury, coming to rest just below her breast. He paused there, breaking the kiss to look into her eyes. His red mask lay discarded at the edge of the bed—every emotion visible in his expressive eyes, the tense line of his jaw, the slight tremble of his lips.
Omni was on his hands and knees above her now, Y/N's body cradled between his powerful limbs. His broad shoulders blocked out the light from the window, casting his face in shadow except for the startling blue of his eyes. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, creating a cocoon that held just the two of them, separate from the world outside.
"May I?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. His hand hovering just below her breast, waiting for permission to continue. He wouldnt touch her out permission.
Y/N nodded, her lips parted in anticipation, eyes never leaving his. She reached up to touch his face, fingers tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, the stubble along his jaw. His skin was hot beneath her fingertips, flushed with desire. She couldn’t believe this was real.
Omni's hand moved higher, palm cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her top. His touch was gentle but assured, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak in a way that drew a gasp from her lips. His eyes darkened at the sound, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of blue remained.
His other hand slid along her thigh, fingers tracing patterns on the fabric covering her leg. The heat of his palm seeped through the material, warming her skin. His touch was purposeful yet hesitant, as if fighting against his own desires to ensure he didn't hurt her.
Just as his hand began to move higher up her thigh, the cabin door burst open with a splintering crack. Wood fragments scattered across the floor as the door nearly ripped from its hinges. The silhouette of the form panting, hissing with anger.
“YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD OMNI–!”
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☆ Hehe~ Cliffhanger (∩˃o˂∩)
☆ If you couldn't tell, I might have a favorite variant... hehe well, I have 3, but it's so hard to incorporate all of them equally. Omni seemed the wisest choice to be y/n's first kiss (ㅅ´ ˘ `) my boi was desperate for his Pookie
☆ Sad to say, I won't be posting for a while, I need a break after this grind, lol
!!Pt.6!!
⤷ You understand Cecil better than you should, and he lets you closer than he ever meant to.
wc: 1.4k
AUTHOR’s NOTE ➤ first post and first time writing a serious fanfic this is so nerve wracking. guys don't bully me ill cum. Apologies for any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language!
You’d been with the GDA for over a year now.
It wasn’t something you sought out. Not really. But in this line of work, "choice" was a luxury you’d lost a long time ago. After the new Guardians of the Globe were selected, the higher-ups started combing through the wreckage for replacements, people with grit, the kind that couldn’t be taught. You weren’t flashy, didn’t have the PR shine or the planet-breaking powers, but you defeated everyone else on the trails, and that was good enough for them. Hell, it was the best they could do with the current hero shortage.
That’s when they called you in. You weren’t born with god-tier genetics or alien physiology, but you were surgical. Tactical. When things got messy, you didn’t flinch, you adapted. That’s what made you useful. And that’s all Cecil really needed.
Eventually, the missions started to change. Not the kind you could walk away from clean. Not just broken bones and city blocks leveled, but choices that stuck to your ribs. Decisions that weren’t always right, just necessary. You did what was asked. Didn’t complain. That was probably your first mistake.
The second? You started spending too much time in his office.
At first, it was routine, debriefs, reports, schedules. Work. But somewhere in between the thick stacks of classified intel and stale coffee from the communal office coffee maker, something shifted. You began noticing things. The patterns.
How he never really stopped.
Always doing something. Always moving. Like the second he let himself slow down, the weight of everything he’d done, everyone he’d lost, would catch up. How he stayed long past the buzz of closing hours, sitting at his desk with a cigarette dangling from his fingers like a lifeline. The cigarettes helped. Not for the nicotine, not really. They were placeholders. Something to do with his hands while he ran through contingency plans no one asked for and countermeasures no one wanted to see implemented. He smoked like he thought it’d burn the guilt out of his lungs.
Like maybe, just maybe, he could outpace the names he’d etched into his conscience for the sake of the greater good. And that was when you stopped seeing him as just a man giving orders.
That was when you started seeing the man trying to outrun his own.
And somehow, against every better instinct you had, you found yourself drawn to it. To him. Not because he was kind. He wasn’t. Not openly. But because he kept carrying the weight like he didn’t deserve to set it down.
And maybe.. you understood that.
Maybe that’s why you started lingering. Maybe you just wanted to understand what was hiding beneath all that smoke and silence. You brought him coffee, not because he needed it, god knows the man runs on spite and caffeine in equal measure, but because it gave you a reason to see if he'd look at you longer than necessary.
He never said thank you. But somewhere along the way the cups stopped ending up in the trash.
And sometimes, when you were in the training room, you’d catch the flicker of surveillance on the edge of your vision, his eyes watching from the monitors, but never commenting. Once, during a late-night check-in, your fingers brushed as he handed you a file. He didn’t move away.
He should have. But he didn’t. Still, nothing happened. Not then. Not until tonight. Not until the silence between you stretched out long enough to feel like tension in the air, thin, crackling, and moments from catching flame.
Cecil's worn metal lighter flicks open with a soft snick before the flame gently kisses the end of his cigarette. He exhales slowly, watching the ember burn down in the dim light of his office. He tells himself he’s savoring the moment, not delaying it. He exhales slowly, watching the thin tendrils of smoke curl from his cigarette. The room is dim, bathed in the orange glow of his desk lamp, painting everything in soft gold and shadow. You’re sitting across from him, posture relaxed, but your eyes are sharp. Like you’re waiting for him to make the next move.
He doesn’t like that.
“You always do that,” you say quietly, “When you’re about to say something you think I won’t like.”
Cecil exhales, smoke curling from his mouth in slow spirals. “You always think you know what I’m gonna say.”
“You’re predictable.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
You tilt your head and smile. Barely. But he sees it. There’s a flicker in your expression, half amusement, half challenge. And he knows that look. Knows what comes next. He takes another drag, buying himself time.
He should’ve shut it down when you first started hanging around his office, lingering longer than necessary under the pretense of delivering reports. When you’d started bringing him coffee—muttering a dry,, “Don't worry, I only spit in it a little.” with a stupid smirk—and making offhanded comments about classical music like you actually listened to that shit outside of trying to impress him. When he caught himself watching you in the training room, instead of the monitors. He should’ve stopped it then.
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath. “This is a bad idea.”
“Then tell me to go.”
He looks at you then. Really looks.
There’s no fear in your eyes. No illusion, either. Just understanding. That’s what gets him. You’re not some wide-eyed recruit. You know exactly what you’re walking into.
That should make it easier. It doesn’t.
“This ends bad,” he says flatly.
“Maybe,” you say. “But it hasn’t ended yet.”
His jaw tightens. He should put an end to this right now. Tell you to go back to training, to stop wasting your time. That he’s too old, too tired, too fucking busy to be entertaining whatever this is. But he doesn’t. Because the truth is, it’s already too late.
He’s always swiftly detached himself when things become too complicated or didn’t fit his schedule. Why couldn’t he do that here?
You reach for the Rubik’s cube on his desk, spinning it lazily, filling the silence he doesn’t know how to break.
“You always think too hard,” you murmur. “Cece.”
His eyes cut to you, sharp and warning.
“Call me that again and I’ll have your ass scrubbing blood off city streets after the next Kaiju-level incident.”
You smirk. Not scared. Not even close.
“You won’t.”
And that’s the problem.
He leans back, cigarette balanced between his fingers, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You know
this isn’t smart.”
You don’t flinch. “Since when has that stopped either of us?”
There’s something reckless in your voice, something that reminds him of a lit fuse burning down to its inevitable explosion.
This should be the part where he tells you no. Where he leans back, sighs through his nose, and lays it all out like it’s fact—because it is. Where he reminds you of the age gap, the power imbalance, the years that separate you like a trench neither of you can climb out of without falling in. Where he tells you he’s seen too much, done worse, and that he’s got more blood on his hands than you have years on this earth. That he's the kind of man who ruins things just by getting too close. That whatever you think this is, this quiet pull, this thing you keep skirting around like it doesn’t matter, it’s not going to last.
He should say it. You half expect him to.
But he doesn’t.
When you look at him like that, like you see past the scars and the cigarettes and the decades of bad decisions, he doesn’t have the conviction to pull away.
You reach across the desk, plucking the cigarette from his lips before taking a slow drag, acting like you’ve done it before. The ember glowing between your fingers.
Instantly, your lungs revolt. The smoke burns sharp and bitter as it claws its way down your throat, and you fight the urge to cough like a rookie.
Cecil watches you through half-lidded eyes, expression unreadable. “You don’t smoke,” he says, tone flat.
“Didn’t come here for that,” you say, exhaling slowly. You hand it back. Fingers brushing. Deliberate.
He huffs, taking it back, but not before his gaze drops to your lips.
Jesus Christ.
This is a mistake.
A monumental, stupid, reckless mistake. And he’s going to make it anyway.
“You really want this?” he asks, voice lower now, more resigned than questioning.
You don’t even hesitate. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
He lets out a long breath. Finishes the cigarette. Crushes it into the ashtray like maybe that’ll help him pretend this is still within his control.
It’s not.
He exhales, flicking the cigarette into the ashtray, the ember snuffing out on impact.
Then he leans forward and reaches for you.
description: years later after a summer trip with her father that became fading memories, fernando alonso's daughter stumbles across a camcorder and reflects on the rare time spent with her father as she tries to reconcile the father she knew with the man she didn't.
warnings: major character death (off screen, not mentioned), loosely based off of ‘aftersun (2022)’, mostly me forgetting how eleven year olds work, afab and daughter!reader, fernando might be a little ooc, title's from a noah kahan song, lmk if i forgot anything else.
a/n: idk man, this au was stuck in my head sigh
She found the old shoebox back in March when she dug through her closet, trying to find a presentable dress to wear to an event. The box was shoved all the way in the back of the closet on the floor, looking worn and almost cold to the touch. Of course, it was long forgotten after a long night of drinking expensive champagne and schmoozing with her friends. And she didn’t stumble upon it again until late September when she was stuffing her old clothes into boxes to donate.
She pulled the box out, letting out a small huff of amusement as she dug through it. The box was full of old photographs from when she was younger. A couple snapshots featuring her parents being in love, her mother looking pretty in the sunlight, and one or two pictures of her and her father at his races. She paused, staring down at the pictures; a bittersweet feeling clawing at her chest. She grabbed the old camcorder, riffling through the box for the charger before she plugged it into an outlet, waiting for it to be charged.
Her memories of him were few and far—snippets of his smile and face long forgotten, slipping and fading away into the back of her mind—only actually being encapsulated in news articles and old race clips spread out across the internet. She thought it wasn’t fair how she couldn’t seem to remember what he used to have for breakfast, yet the strangers online knew about him more than she ever did and will.
The video is grainy now—not like the clear footage she remembered so vividly when she was younger. Now she’s the same age as he was in the video; maybe even older by a few years. She stared at the screen, her eyes studying the way his face looked in the video; the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed—the sound of his laughter quiet and faint in her ears without her ever needing to play it.
The Mediterranean sun was blinding, casting golden light over the quiet resort town.
On the balcony of a small, seaside hotel, Fernando Alonso stood by the railing, sunglasses perched on his nose, and a cigarette lazily held between his two fingers. He watched the world in easy silence, the waves lapping at the shore, the distant hum of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar below.
Inside, his daughter unboxed a new camcorder he had bought for her. She read through the instructions before turning it on, adjusting it on a stack of books. The red recording light flickered on, causing her to let out a squeal of excitement that caught her father’s attention.
“Ladies and gentleman, my father, the amazing, wondrous, one armed Fernando Alonso Díaz.” She giggled as she held the camcorder in her hands, zooming into his face; his features on display in the little screen. “Papá, say something.”
Fernando glanced at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What do you want me to say?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, something wise.”
He exhaled slowly, flicking ash over the railing. “Life is like a race. Everyone tells you to go faster, but sometimes… you should just enjoy the track.”
She snorted. “That was awful.”
But she’s smiling.
And for now, that’s enough.
The air was hot and humid—the clothes on her back sticking to her skin as she kicked the water in the pool, fidgeting with the camcorder she held in her hands. A few minutes ago, the eleven year old girl sat on one of the plastic lounge chairs the hotel provided, and watched as her father applied sunscreen to her arms. “I can do it myself!” She told him with a determined nod, but held her arm out anyway as her papá smiled and managed with one arm—the other in a cast due to a crash during a recent race.
The trip to the seaside was a well needed vacation after the grueling season he had so far, and she was just happy to spend time with him. He looked tired and worn down, but she chalked it up to the season taking a toll on him—that’s why they were on vacation, he needed a break. The hotel wasn’t fancy, the town was quiet, and Fernando seemed happy enough, but there’s something off. A feeling she couldn’t quite place at the time.
He’s quiet—distant even—a faraway look evident in his eyes as he watched her kick and splash water; her small hands steady and careful as she toyed with the camcorder. “Papá!” The girl called out to him, craning her body back to film him. She watched him wave through the tiny screen, his movements slowed by a millisecond. Fernando laughed as he waved, leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, always watching. “Be careful, cariño, it was expensive.”
“Okay!”
The father and daughter walked down a street market full of bustling vendors and wandering tourists. She walked closely beside him as she peered at each stall, noticing one that laid out an assortment of jewelry. Fernando noticed her gaze and mussed her hair as she protested and tried to fix it, causing him to laugh. “I’ll get it for you, chiquita,” he said, and watched her smile, baring her teeth as she did. She giggled as he tied the bracelet on her wrist, helping him when he couldn’t pull the strings with one hand.
She fidgeted with the bracelet, the payphone’s receiver pressed between her shoulder and ear as she listened to her mother’s voice on the other side. “The hotel’s alright. Well, we’re not actually at our hotel. It doesn’t have a phone. But yeah.” She paused, looking out the booth’s window, and seeing her father talking to a stranger, a half hearted smile plastered on his face as he listened to whatever the man was saying. “Papá? Yeah, he’s fine—just talking to someone,” she pushed the door open with her foot, hand covering the receiver as she called to him. “Mamá wants to talk to you.”
Fernando bid his goodbye to the man, giving her an easy smile as he took the receiver from her hands and held it up to his ear. She skipped out of the booth, looking around her surroundings to pass the time, knowing that her parents were going to be on call longer. She waited, almost close to pressing her cheek to the booth window to get his attention. And the call ended. She heard them exchange ‘I love you’s,’ and a smile found itself on her face before he hung up, setting the receiver back on the hook.
She sat on a chair, her legs swinging off it as she watched her father shoot pool. Hunched down on the pool table, he carefully studied the sequence, trying to find the perfect moment to strike. “Can you teach me?” She asked, curious. He looked back up, straightening his back as he held the cue stick, looking at her with an amused smile on his face. “Sure,” he waved her over and she jumped off the chair in excitement.
“Mi vida,” he called her and pulled her into his side, her cheek getting squished. He handed her the cue stick, telling her to point it carefully.
The evening sun settled, streaks of orange and pink meshed together with the incoming night sky. Her small hand reached for his, settling in it as they walked along the shore together. The sand no longer felt hot underneath her, it was bearable. She talked his ear off about how she was excited to go back to school, how she was going to make lots of friends, and how she hoped her mother would let her attend his races. Fernando simply listened, squeezing her hand with a small smile. She grinned up at him at that.
The waves crashed against the shore as birds flew overhead. This was perfect. She watched as a few people passed by them. “Will we come back next summer?” She asked quietly, her small body wrapped in a beach towel, her hair wet. She glanced up at the sunny sky, imagining different animals in the clouds, and Fernando paused just a little too long before saying, “Of course.”
On the last night of their trip, they danced at a small, open-air club. She watched in embarrassment and amusement as he started dancing, his arm out and beckoned her to join him on the floor with the others. She isn’t much of a dancer, but she tried anyway. She laughed, he smiled. Someone took a picture of them together, their happiness frozen on a piece of film. It was perfect.
The night was always quiet. The distant humming of motorcycles and cars faded as the sky darkened and the stars lit up. She woke up in the middle of the night, her father not in the room. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. The balcony let the light of the moon in, illuminating shadows on the room’s floor. She could barely see out due to the doors, but she knew he was there. Knew he was standing outside with his elbows pressed to the metal railing as a lit cigarette found itself between his lips. He was quiet, just thinking. She didn’t know what thoughts swirled around in his mind. She wanted to ask if he’s okay. She doesn’t. And she wished she did.
In the morning, they found themselves back at the airport—their trip ending right before her eyes. She didn’t want it to end, wanting to spend time with him longer. One week wasn’t enough, but she swallowed her protests down.
"I love you, you know?" She nodded. She wished she had said it back. Fernando hugged her, tighter than they both expected. She gave him a smile when he released her from his grip, pulling at the strap of her backpack. He ran a hand through her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead before patting her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. She waved him goodbye as the flight attendant softly ushered her from him with a smile. She looked back and he’s there, a distant look in his face as if he was memorizing and committing this moment in his mind.
She is eleven again. He is still standing at the airport gate, watching her go.
sticky, fernando a. - "you're getting up there in age fernando." he often heard, "isn't it time to settle down and have some kids?" the words made him grimace. he wasn't that old, forty-three was not old. but then again it seemed like thirty years old was expired milk for formula one driver's and fernando was the oldest active driver. hell, even his engineers were starting to look younger than him.
the back pain, the should aches, the noises his knees made when he got up too fast. maybe it was time to settle down, and while he had a lovely wife. maybe it wasn't a terrible idea to start a family. he already had his grid kids, the gaggle of young drivers who fernando was a mentor too. but the mentality started to change when he greeted him after a successful weekend in spain. draped in soft white, your curves on full display. and fernando realized that he had a new insatiable appetite. not for trophies, but to breed you.
there you were, in the hotel room for the weekend. in something lacy and white. complimented your skin tone perfectly. you looked like an angel. you were seated on the bed and fernando's eyes went wide for a moment at the sight of you. you simply giggled and crooked a finger to pull him in closer. he couldn't help himself. his aston martin jacket was taken off and tossed to the side as were his shoes before he approached you quickly. he could already feel the tightness in his jeans. he knew he was still running on the high of victory, but to see his darling, loving wife dressed in something so revealing. it really did a number on him. he licked his lips as he stood in front of you as you sat on the bed.
you giggled, "hello, honey."
he reached down and his thumb stroked your cheek as he held our jaw. he replied, "hello, my love. where did you get this? looks new."
you stuck out your bottom lip and shrugged nonchalantly, "the spanish grand prix is always special. i thought i'd make it more special for your victory." then smiled at him lovingly then sat up a little straighter to meet his lips when he went in for a heated kiss. you learned early on that fernando's kisses were addictive. the kind of addicting that you moaned when his lips sealed over yours.
he held your face as the two of you kissed. when he eventually broke away, he took off his t-shirt and you admired his body. he watched you licked your lips and then remarked, "like what you see, my love?" then put his hands on the leather belt around his waist. he gave you that winner's smile and you felt your core grow hotter.
you nodded and reached behind you to get your bra off. but fernando stopped you. you looked at him curiously, eyebrows raised as he then reached for your shoulders.
"only fair me for me undress you. it would be like someone else opening your christmas present." his hands trailed down your shoulders to your elbows and he took in the sight of you in lingerie once more before he reached behind you and unhooked the bra like magic. he was careful with it, even though he made enough money to buy you another pair.
you bought it for him, he should treat it with some respect. however, his heart stopped when you softly spoke as he toyed with your breasts.
"fernando... honey." you looked in his brown eyes and said, "let's make a baby tonight." and fernando was near lightheaded when all of the blood rushed to his cock.
he managed to compose himself and say in response, "of course." he then lightly chuckled, "only if our baby is as beautiful as you."
you out stretched your arms and replied, "and only if they are as cunning as you." then laughed when fernando got you pinned down to the bed. the kisses grew and your hands reached for his belt. it was stripped from him and chucked to the floor in the hopes it'll be found again in the morning.
you both panted heavily as he got his blue jeans off and then he cupped your face once more. by instinct you closed your eyes and he covered your mouth with his in another steamy kiss. you moaned against him as he rubbed his barely clothed cock up against the lace covering your pussy. both stripped down to the bare basics, but yet, you still held that certain angelic quality. you moaned when his hands trailed down your sides to reach the lace panties.
"as beautiful as they are, my love." he said with a softness in his tone, "they will look better on the floor." then you helped him get them off of you and on the floor. you did the same to the black and white briefs he wore. both naked and you yelped when he took you by the sides and got you on top of him. your knees planted on the soft bed and his cock up against your pussy. he eyed you, dark eyed filled with lust for only you. he said, "you always looked beautiful on top."
"flirt."
fernando smiled, "only for you, my love. can a man not flirt with his wife." his hands massaged your soft hips as you used his chest as support to sink down on his cock. you both tensed for a moment and when he finally relaxed he patted your behind lovingly, "always feel amazing."
you splayed your hands across his chest as you moved your hips against him. the feeling bloomed in your gut as you said to him, "patting my behind like a car?"
he chuckled, "no, no. you're a lot smoother than any ride i've ever had." he winked at you and you couldn't help but smile. his words cheeky and it was hard not to be endeared with his cock snug inside of you.
you raised and dropped your hips as a steady pace. you were making love to him, you were going to start your little family. you leaned in to kiss him on the lips as slowly you picked up momentum. you shuddered at the feeling, something about how erotic it all felt made you excited all over. especially in the pit of your stomach. nailed dragged across his chest, but not enough to hurt him. you panted heavily when the kiss broke. you held onto his shoulders for better support as you worked your hips against him.
fernando admired you as you moved against him. his breathing was heavy as the two of you fucked on the hotel bed. it was like a race in his blood. he massaged your hips as you moved against him. he let you have all the control. you were a partnership, equals. and he loved you deeper than the ocean. his commitment to you ran as deep as it could go. he married the love of his life.
"how is this for a smooth ride?" you asked with humour in your tone.
he chuckled and let go of your hips to place his hands behind his head, "mmm, better than anything i've been riding on the track. really gets my blood going." he chuckled lightly, but was quickly silence by another heated kiss.
fernando didn't think of you in terms of a car. it was just a little humour while you two fucked. always one for jokes that one. but, you did like that he enjoyed when you rode him more than he did driving that horrid car his team had at the moment.
the moans continued as did your thrusts against him. you took him beautifully and the pleasure moved through the both of you. your nails dug into his shoulders a little as your pace quickened. his cock almost slipped out of you when you raised your hips due to how soaked you were. the feeling made your husband groan as the pace continued.
the two of you moved against one another perfectly. his hands clasped your hips once more as the pleasure began to reach its peak. you both knew you weren't going to last much longer. he went in for another kiss and you pressed your chest against his.
he worked his cock up into you as you laid chest to chest. your hands in the covers under him for a better support as the two of you moved against one another. he held onto you tightly as fucked you feverishly. the feeling was intense, light a bright heat in his core. when the kiss broke, he admired your blissed out expression as you reached your climax.
you tensed up, you held onto the covers tighter. your back arched a little as fernando kept up the pace of fucking you. your noises were higher pitched, but sweeter than cherries. he kissed you once more as you climaxed before he wrapped both arms around your middle and fucked up into you while you lost the course of your movements.
he took over as he fucked into you. with a few more quick movements he finished inside of you with a heavy exhale. he shuddered before he stopped his movements and gives you a heated kiss. he held onto you tightly as a few more spurts of cum ended up inside of you. the two of you made out passionately and when you finally broke the kiss you were both exhausted.
your eyes went wide as you ended up on your back. even though your husband was worn out from one round, his hungry gaze remained on you. before you could say anything, he answered your question,
"if we are going to make a baby, my love... we'll need to go more than one round."
-
"he's obsessed with you." you remarked with your arms crossed. you weren't mad about it, but you knew that your son had a soft spot for his father. ever since he was born the rambunctious little tomás alonso.
fernando was getting ready for the race of the weekend, but your three year old wanted to be held by his father before he got in the car. your husband chuckled and swayed a little from side to side with the boy in his arms. he replied, "i cannot help it." it didn't help that the little boy was a spitting image of his father at that age.
you smiled a little and crossed the small distance between you two. you leaned in, careful of the boy in your husband's arms and kissed your husband on the lips. this was fernando's last season before retirement and you knew it would be a change for your husband. going from racing to retirement.
"bring home the trophy." you winked and he only smiled at you.
the changes would only grow because in your purse was ultrasound photos. while you hoped for a bit more of a gap between your first and second child, you were pregnant again and your baby would be due around the time fernando brought home his third and final world championship <3
Fernando Alonso had always carried himself with the confidence of a man who knew his place in the world—a two-time World Champion, a legend in motorsport. Yet, as he sat across from her at a quiet café in Monaco, his hands carefully wrapping her chilled ones around a warm cup of coffee, he couldn’t ignore the thoughts swirling in his head.
She was younger, bright-eyed, and full of energy. Her laughter rang out like wind chimes in the summer breeze, and her optimism was infectious. It reminded him of when he was just starting in Formula 1, wide-eyed and hungry for life. But those years felt like a distant memory now.
He had always been aware of the gap between them—not just in age, but in the way they experienced the world. She was the kind of person who didn’t think twice before dancing in the rain, while he was the one to hold out an umbrella and warn her not to catch a cold. It wasn’t that he minded; he loved taking care of her, even if it made him feel old in the process.
“Fernando,” she teased, her lips quirking into a playful smile. “You do realize I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own, right?”
He had instinctively placed a steadying hand on the small of her back as they left the café, as though the short walk to the car might present some unseen danger. He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I know,” he replied, his accent coloring his words, “but I like knowing you’re safe.”
She reached for his hand as they continued walking, squeezing it gently. “You know, you always say you feel old when you do things like that, but I love it. No one’s ever cared about me like you do.”
Fernando glanced at her, his hazel eyes softening. She always had a way of cutting through his insecurities without even realizing it. “You deserve someone who cares,” he said simply.
“But you care in the way only you can,” she said, stopping to face him. “You think opening doors for me or reminding me to bring a jacket makes you old, but it’s thoughtful. It makes me feel... safe, loved.”
His heart swelled at her words. She had an uncanny ability to remind him that love wasn’t about matching each other step for step, year for year. It was about meeting each other exactly where they were—his steady hand to her free spirit.
“I just don’t want to hold you back,” he admitted quietly. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him.
“You’re not holding me back, Fernando,” she said, her tone firm yet gentle. “You’re grounding me. You remind me to slow down, to take care of myself. And I remind you that it’s okay to dance in the rain sometimes.”
He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made her grin. “Fine,” he conceded, pulling her close. “But if you catch a cold, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Deal,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.
In that moment, Fernando didn’t feel old or out of place. He felt timeless, like their love.
a/n: i'm writing a very long fic set in a selkie au, but this is just a little something for ya'll since the idea was so popular <3
"my love!" you heard fernando as you were outside. it was summer time and you were hanging up the laundry for the week. it had been nicer the last few days. it wouldn't be much longer before you had your pup. the swell to your middle was impressive, you were indefinably carrying a selkie pup.
he came down the steps and said, "your coat is dry inside." he approached you from where you were between the rows of clotheslines. he hung up your coat inside, your seal fur that you protected with your life. and fernando by extension protected it too. it was an extension of you. he placed it over your shoulders while you hung up one of his shirts. and got his arms around you, he felt your bump.
you had been more close to your coat since you got pregnant. it had been hard to transform from seal to human with another life inside of you. so your coat was a good way to feel closer to the sea while not being fully transformed. so fernando did everything he could to make sure that this entire process was comfortable for you.
"let me help you, you relax." he said softly to you. but you stayed close by. leaned down to hand him clothes and clothespins. he thought it was adorable as he finished up quickly. then the two of you went back inside.
you had met fernando over the previous summer. you had got yourself onto his boat and kept eating his fish. you were hungry and he was right there! and then slowly over time you grew closer to him until you showed him your human form. and from there you fell in love. now you were carrying his child.
and like how you lured him in, he lured you into the bedroom so he could make sure you were taking breaks and having rest. but once you got into the bedroom with your coat on the bed to get comfortable on top of. but you pulled your human husband close to you.
you were both laid on the fur with your hands on his bearded face and pressing a series of kisses along the tops of his cheeks. you made cute squeaky noises as you kissed him and he simply melted into your touch. his life had changed so much since you met, but he wouldn't have changed a single aspect of it. he loved that you were with him, that he had you to love.
you soon reached for the belt of his jeans and got it off while he worked his white t-shirt off of him. you kissed across his strong chest and he shuddered under your affection. his hand found your middle and he sighed contently.
"are you alright to do this, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." he kept his hand on your middle and leaned in close to you, "i need to make sure you're okay."
you nodded before you took off your shorts and t-shirt (that belonged to fernando) and exposed more of your middle to him. your pregnant swell. and he placed both hands on your middle while you were both naked in your bedroom with the sunlight streaming through the large windows of your bedroom.
your lover laid out in your furs with you straddled his waist with your hands on his chest. you dug your nails into his pecs for a moment and licked your lips. he looked amazing. he was a fair bit older in human years, but technically you were older. your kind lived longer. you tensed up a little in anticipation before you sank down on his cock. you let out a sweet little moan.
he tensed up then relaxed. his hands remained at your middle as you rolled your hips. you were gentle, loving with your movements and it made him shudder with a certain want. you felt beautiful on top of him, you weren't going to have rough sex with him. not while you were this pregnant. you needed to be easy on your body, even with your abilities as a selkie. and fernando didn't want to hurt you either, he wanted to be gentle. make you feel good in his own way.
his hands roamed your body as he softly praised you, "my beautiful wife, the light of my life. you are so beautiful. even with my baby in your belly. a sign that i claimed you." he clutched your hips and made him shudder with want. he needed you more than anything. the creature he loved more than the sea and the sky.
"my world. my rock." you leaned in a little bit to kiss his face once more. your noises were sweet as you made love to your husband. you never thought you could meet a man like him, be in love with such a human. he alluring, he accepted your world and brought you into his and the product of that was the baby you carried. your pup.
pleasure continued through your body as you moved against him. you took control of your movements and let him feel every inch of you. you licked your lips at the sight of him. your lover, your husband. the human that made you learn to love. to accept affection.
he leaned up to kiss you, both hands on your swollen middle. promises of a future together, a happy sweet future with your family. you picked up the pace marginally. the rolling of your hips felt good on his cock.
he knew from the moment he met you, when you came onto his boat with a hunger, that you two would be close for a lifetime. and any time after. he rubbed your belly lovingly as he tried to meet your pace. you two were wrapped up in your little world, tucked into the shores. protected. you could raise your child in peace and love your husband. and he could love you. you'd never be alone again, not while fernando still breathed.
you two kissed one another deeply, your swollen mound was pressed between you two. but, it only made you two feel closer. he loved the feeling, the knowledge that he made you this way. that he was your first and only lover. the only one to ever have you in a sexual fashion. that was quite the title to have and fernando wore it with pride. he loved you, he loved every inch of you. you were such a curious woman and fernando wanted it all.
the two of you continued to make love on the bed. you continued to feel up one another as the two of you rutted against one another. there were soft words exchanged, promises of love and devotion. fernando loved you as deep as the oceans went. it was the pull in his chest.
"you looked beautiful." he said, "more beautiful than any woman. beautiful like the sea." he felt lost before he met you, after his wife left. he never though he'd find love again. but there you were, now on top of him as his hand explored your body. as he took in the beautiful feeling of your curves. his beautiful wife.
his selkie lover.
you felt the pleasure hit its peak inside of you. you felt the fire in your core that spread into your blood as you rode him through your climax. you made loud noises as you felt the pleasure hit through your body. you hissed and held onto his shoulders tightly. it only made him hold onto your hips tightly as the two of you made love. the climax felt amazing as he met your pace.
your beautiful lover with his dark eyes and smile that pulled you in. his expression shifted as he felt himself cum as well. he rolled up into you and game inside of you with a few more heavy thrusts. the feeling was intense and it left fernando with a achy need for his selkie wife. with you both reached climax, fernando felt up your body once more. he took in the feeling of you against him. he loved it, he loved you.
eventually you were laid out beside fernando and he held you close to him. your naked bodies on top of your coat. curled up against one another. eventually fernando moved down to kiss at your swollen middle with such a dedicated and love. a promise.
"i love you." he said
you replied softly as your breathing leveled out, "i love you too."
"i will keep you and our child safe, for as long as i can." he said as he kissed the soft skin. he loved you and he loved your baby. always.
-
fernando didn't know what to expect when he knew he was going to have a child with a selkie. he had heard the stories from folklore. but, when your daughter was born. she didn't have gills, fins or fur. she was just a plump little baby. your little mira.
curious brown eyes, and chubby cheeks. he looked quite a bit like fernando. but was smart just like her mother. you were close to the shore in the water now that the seasons were changing. you were cooing to your daughter and brought some of the sea water to her. you were wetting her cheeks, to get her used to the water that she'd come home.
you sang her soft songs of your kind. and fernando stay close to protect his wife and daughter. in his arms was your selkie coat. the biggest trust you could give. but, you were beyond establishing trust. you were his and he was yours, and your love produced a sweet baby girl. he admired you from behind and felt the love for you in his heart. down to his very core. his little world were in those waters and he'd always be there when you came back to shore <3
What if Severus snape moves on from Lily in his 6th year and actually fights back against the marauders and gains more confidence true out the year? And what line of work would he take on other than being a professor *because we know he didn't really want to be one*
*Sorry for grammar mistakes. im not a native English speaker *
