#I want to show how in a world like that Ghost manage to be a good dad

[crazyunsexycool]

A love as sweet as honey

Chapter 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4.1K

Warnings: Some fluff I guess, angst, Steve being 🙁, reader's family.

A/N: So here we go with chapter 1 for this series. So this is set three months after the semi ending of My little love so I'm keeping some aspects of that series that are mentioned in this chapter vague. We are going straight into Honey's family and they are the worst. I kind of wanted to show the difference in Steve and Honey's worlds. I really hope you like it. Also kind of nervous for this chapter...

If you're reading this or come across my series for the first time, I do recommend reading My Little Love first because characters from that series will play a big roll in this one.

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You glared at the messages popping up on your phone. It was bad enough that both Bruce and Tony forced you out of your lab in order for you to get some rest, now you had to evade your family. They had persistently called and messaged you about the weekly family dinners. The thing was you hated those gatherings. It was just your father, your two older brothers and their wives. Even though you were family you had nothing in common with them, so having to endure their company for an evening was dreadful. It wasn’t like they liked you anyway so you didn’t understand why your presence was required. You much preferred to be in your lab working on one project or another. Watching paint dry was preferable to Sunday night dinner with those snakes. 

“I hope you don’t glare at my messages like that.” Steve’s voice broke you out of your thoughts but you still scowled in his direction. He just chuckled in response.

Steve looked so handsome as he made his way towards you. His golden blond hair was slightly disheveled and his workout clothes fit him perfectly. You’d never let on that you were attracted to him. It still baffles you that he willingly hangs out with you even when you don’t make it easy to be your friend. Although it’s mostly during work hours, which is almost always, or the few parties you’d been dragged to. His presence is soothing and it bothers you that he can ease you out of your bad moods without much resistance.

“Depends on what you messaged me about.” You watched as he took a seat on the bench next to you. “Did the science bros send you?” 

“Science bros?”

“Yeah, Stark and Banner. They kicked me out of my lab. Said I needed to rest.” 

“Can you blame them? Especially after that whole issue with Lottie forcing half the medbay staff to come to your aid because she saw you unconscious in a vision?”

“I just fell asleep.” You grumbled as you turned to watch other employees go about their day. Thinking back on it, the situation was now slightly funny. Although poor Charlotte was incredibly worried about you. 

“Yeah well, everyone needs to rest.” 

You give Steve a sideways glance and frown. “Remember this conversation when you go on back to back missions.” 

Steve gives you a lopsided grin. It made you swoon which forced you to be very self conscious of your staring.

“What are you still doing here anyway?” 

“I’m resting.” 

Steve bent forward and turned his head to get a better look at you when you turned away from him. His eyes squinted in suspicion but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. It was overwhelming to have all of his attention sometimes. To have anyone’s attention on you at all made you uncomfortable but to have Steve was something else. He always managed to make you feel something other than annoyed. You were baffled by how easily he did that. 

“Stop staring you weirdo.” You mumbled. Steve chuckles but doesn’t take his eyes off you. 

“You don’t really believe you’ll get away with trying to go back up to your lab when you didn’t go home to rest, do you?” 

You sigh and your shoulders slump. Steve’s eyes drift down to your pouting lips and for a second he thinks he could kiss that pout away. That’s how it had been since he met you. The attraction was almost immediate and you seemed to always have a pout on those pretty lips of yours.

“I’m just so tired. I don’t want to drive.” 

“I could take you if you’d like.” 

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“I’m offering. But if you don’t like that then you should really reconsider taking one of the empty apartments.” 

He’s right. Some of the apartments have been empty for a while and one had even been offered to you. You just weren’t sure how you felt about living in the compound. 

“Just imagine, you maybe can’t sleep and you get an idea. You don't have to wait until the next day to come in. All you have to do is walk across the building and you’re at work.” Steve offers. 

“Enticing but also I like to separate my personal life from my work life.” 

Steve shrugs and gets up. “Still, think about it. I have to go but text me when you get home so that I know you’re safe.” 

“You care too much.” 

“Can’t blame a guy for caring for his friends.” He says before starting to walk away.

“Wait, we’re friends? I didn’t agree to that.” You joke. 

Steve turns around and walks backwards and raises an eyebrow in your direction. You give a small smile in return. 

“Go home.” 

You roll your eyes in response before he waves and walks away to do whatever it is he did. With a sigh you get up and head to your car. There was no way you’d even be able to get into your office so you actually went home. 

Steve had an open invitation into the Barnes home. He was there all the time. His best friends’ home had warmth and laughter and love. It was all of the things he craved. 

When he was first woken up from the ice and realized that he was no longer in the 1940s, Steve decided that the man that wanted a family and love died the day the plane went down. Instead he found solace in fighting alongside the Avengers and his friendships. He was closest to Mrs. Barnes or how he affectionately called her, Magnet. They’d been working side by side since he’d moved to D.C. their friendship bloomed and now they were more like siblings.

 The only thing Steve envied was his best friends’ relationship. From his point of view they had everything, all more than well deserved of course. He was more than happy that after being tortured and used by Hydra, Bucky was able to find happiness even when he found out he had children. Steve wanted that. He wanted his kids to grow up with the Barnes kids and that they be best friends the way he and Bucky were growing up. He never voiced it of course but Mrs. B could read him like a book. So when he walked into the always busy house he knew he’d be asked something.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. B asked the minute she looked up at him. She was rocking the youngest Barnes in her arms. The newest addition to the family and only three months old.

“Nothings wrong.” 

“Steve-“ 

“Steebie.” Charlotte ran out from the playroom down the hall and straight into Steve’s arms. 

“Here’s my best girl.” Steve soaked up all of the love Bucky’s daughter gave him. “How are you sweetheart?” 

“I’m good. Do you wanna play tea pawty?” 

“I would love to. I’ll be there in a minute, ok?” Steve sets Charlotte on the floor and she runs back as she yells that she’ll get the party ready. 

“Steve? Are you sure you’re ok?” 

“I’m fine Magnet.” 

She gives him a sympathetic look. Steve knew that she knew what he was feeling. They’d have long conversations about the thoughts of having families and falling in love. Those conversations seemed so long ago. They were both different people now. Still at its core their friendship remains the same, just like with Bucky. 

“Saw you talking to Y/N earlier.” Bucky says as he walks in from the door that leads to the garage. “You have to ask her out.” 

“Why would I ask her out?”

Steve’s best friends look at each other as if they knew some big secret. Well they did although it wasn’t a secret but something Steve was refusing to acknowledge. 

“Because you like her.” Mrs. B says.

“It’s so obvious that you do.” 

“She’s a friend.” Steve defends himself. 

“I used to look at Sugar that way. Still do.” 

“Aaww baby. That’s so cute.” 

Bucky sends a wink in his wife’s direction. It was so cute it made Steve sick sometimes. Again he was happy for them but he wanted that too. Steve was ashamed of the envy he felt sometimes.

“That would be like me asking you out, Magnet.” 

“Eeww.” She scrunched her face and Steve was taken aback by the instant reaction. Then she laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just I see you as family so the thought of dating you is weird.” 

“Exactly my point. Asking her out would be like that for me.” 

Bucky looked at Steve with disbelief. “I know you’re stubborn but this is a whole different level.” 

“Give him a break baby. It’s not like you asked me out when you realized you liked me.” 

Bucky had sat down by his wife and took their youngest child in his arms. He smiled and cooed at his baby before looking up at Steve. 

“Just think about it and once you admit that you like her, ask her out.” Bucky said and Mrs. B nodded in agreement. 

“Steebie, tea pawty is weady.” 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a very important tea party to attend.” 

“Are you staying for dinner?” His best friend asked over her shoulder. 

“If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“Never.” 

**** 

Lottie poured nonexistent tea into Steve’s plastic teacup. She had immediately draped him with fake jewelry, clip on earrings and placed a plastic crown on his head. Steve then sat on the floor at the table the kids had in their playroom. Henry had been playing with legos in the corner and started giggling at the sight before him. He stopped laughing when a plastic tiara was placed on his head and he had to sit at the table too. Across from Henry sat a Lottie’s beloved pink teddy bear.

“So then the ogre tries to stomp on all of the King’s knights.” Steve was telling the kids about the last mission he’d been on. He made it seem like a fairytale though and the kids were hooked. 

“Oh no.” Lottie whispered. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart. The king’s knights were ready and they had a dragon.”

“What? No way.” Henry exclaimed, hanging on every word. 

“Yes way. The dragon came down from the sky and with his magic powers and BOOM! The ogre didn’t stand a chance.” 

Lottie has a hand on her chest while pretending to sip tea. Henry resting his head on his hand while waiting for Steve to continue. 

“All of the other knights joined the dragon in fighting the ogre’s henchmen. When they finally finished they got the treasure and that treasure helped a lot of village people.” Steve finishes. 

“I wanna be a dragon when I grow up so that I can help people.” 

“Yeah me too.” Lottie agrees with her brother. 

“Dinner’s ready.” 

“Alright, you heard your mom let’s go wash up.” Steve says as he gets up and starts taking all of the accessories off.

“Steebie will you sit with me?” 

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” Steve grabs Lottie and throws her over his shoulder before he reaches for Henry and does the same. They’re both laughing and kicking. “But first we wash our hands.” 

Steve can’t help but smile. The ache that sits heavy in his chest from wanting this life dulls while he sits amongst his friends. Their conversation distracts him from the loneliness he’ll find once he goes back to his apartment.

You’d gone straight to bed once you’d made it home. There was nothing else for you to really do so taking a nap seemed the best option. You’d taken off everything but your panties and plopped down right in the middle of the bed. Tony and Bruce had been right. You did need to sleep, you’d never admit it to them though. Just as you were drifting off to dreamland, obnoxious knocking pulled you away. You grabbed the robe that had been hanging over unpacked boxes and put it on, tying it while walking to your door. 

You’d never bothered unpacking because you move so much. So you zigzagged through all of the boxes holding your personal things in order to get to the front door. Before opening the door you looked through the peephole and froze at the sight of who was at the other side. But that feeling of dread turned into anger as you yanked the door open, startling the three women on the other side. 

“What?” You snapped, your tone harsh and unwelcoming. 

The last thing you were expecting was to see your stepmother and sisters-in-law at your apartment. Especially since you never gave them your address. Your stepmother being front and center schooled her expression first. 

“Now is that anyway to answer the door? I’ve taught you better than that.” She admonishes. 

Rose came into your life when you were a baby. She’s the only maternal figure you’d ever known. You hated her. She was your father’s lapdog and a snitch. The moment you were able to leave his house you did. You tried to be around them as little as possible. Somehow they always managed to drag you back in.

You sisters-in-law were no better. Elizabeth was married to your older brother Richard. Alice was married to your younger brother Charles. They were the picture perfect family. The men ran the family and the women well, they did as they were told. They were the perfect stepford wives and then there was you. 

In their eyes you were the rebellious middle child. The one who they said couldn’t just sit down and do as you were told. You just had to question everything and fight back. It didn’t matter that at 18 you left your father’s home and never lived there again. He wanted to control you because he had an image to maintain. And if he had someone track you down that meant he needed something.

“Well aren’t you going to invite us in?” Rose asked as she tried to look over your shoulder. The only thing she could see was the hallway.

“No. Because I didn’t invite you. As a matter of fact I never even gave any of you my address so I don’t know why you’re here.” 

“We’ve called and texted you multiple times and you haven’t answered..” Alice said. “We were worried.”

“No you weren’t. Besides I have nothing to say to any of you. If I wanted to have any sort of relationship with you I’d answer. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” 

“Y/N please, we are only doing what’s best for our family and that’s keeping everyone together.” Elizabeth adds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“So what does Conrad want now?” 

“Your father,” Rose says. “Would very much love it if you joined us for dinner tonight.” 

“I don’t give two shits about what he would love. Who is he trying to impress?” 

Rose huffs, annoyance creeping into her normally well composed face. You loved riling her up. 

“It’s not about who he’s trying to impress, we haven’t seen you in a while. We’d like to catch up.” 

“And we would be catching up in whose presence?” You push for information. 

“A possible investor in his business.” 

“Mmm.” You nod slowly. 

“So you’ll come?” 

“Nope.” 

“I wasn’t giving you a choice. We’ll stand out here until you’re ready.” 

“I’ll call the cops on you if you don’t leave.” 

You saw the flash of red hot anger flash in Rose’s dark brown eyes. She placed her hand on the door and leaned in to be as close to your face as possible. 

“Remember what happened the last time you tried that.” The threat was there and it all but crumbled the bit of resistance you had against them. 

You blinked back tears as memories rushed to the forefront of your mind. Suddenly you weren’t the person you’d worked so hard to become, you were the little girl that had been neglected her whole life. And that little girl did as she was told if she knew what was good for her. 

“I’ll give you thirty minutes. We’ll wait out here.” Rose had straightened her posture and fell back into the loving wife and mother character she’d perfectly crafted.

You sat quietly in the dining room of the family home. Conrad Bramford, your father, sat at the head of the table. Rose was to his right, your older brother and his wife to his left. That left Charles your younger brother sitting next to his mother and his wife next to you. At the other end of the table, and closest to you, was the investor your father was trying to impress Ezekiel Stane.

“I’m so glad you decided to come.” Alice leaned in and whispered. 

“I didn’t decide, I was forced too. Why do you even give a shit?” 

Alice patted your forearm and smiled as if you were the best of friends and were up to no good. 

“You’re so bad.” She giggled. 

It dawned on you that she really thought you were friends or worse that you were like those families where the in-laws saw each other as actual siblings. 

“Oh you sweet summer’s child.” You murmured. 

“Come on, these dinners aren’t so bad. I mean we’re your family. It’s nice that we get to spend time together.”

“Alice, I’m going to be very clear because you seem like a nice person. I hate every single person sitting at this table.” 

Her smile drops just a little. “But you don’t know me or Elizabeth.” She mumbles. “You should give us a chance.” 

“You’re married to my brother, that’s all I need to know. Besides you've only been married what, a few months?” 

She nods.

“Maybe we can get together on your wedding anniversary and you can tell me how much you still love this family.” You give her a tight lipped smile. 

“Well on our anniversary we’ll be celebrating but I’ll still accept that invitation to talk.” Alice smiles again. 

“So Ms. Bramford. I heard that you work in the science field. How is that working out for you?” Ezekiel asked, pulling your attention away from Alice.

He was handsome with blue eyes and chestnut colored hair. He was tall, fit but not too muscular. 

“It’s great. I really love what I do.” 

“Which is?” 

“Research.” 

Ezekiel put on his most charming smile but it felt off putting. Although him willingly spending time with your father should have been the first sign that he wasn’t a great person. 

“What kind of research?” He asks.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss.” 

“Because she isn’t important enough to know.” Charles said, getting a laugh out of everyone at the table, except for you, Mr. Stane and surprisingly, Alice. She just gave you an apologetic look.

“Forgive us Mr. Stane, it’s just an inside joke.” Richard, your older brother, says with a chuckle. 

“Last time I checked a joke is supposed to be funny. Also might I remind you that I work outside of our father’s company so that I can have my independence. Tell me Dick, what is it that you do?” You stare at him expectantly. “Oh that’s right, you’re too busy kissing his ass to actually have a job.” 

There were gasps all around the table as you stood suddenly. The chair you had been sitting in, scraping along the floor before falling over. 

“Sit back down and apologize, you ungrateful brat.” Your father slammed a fist down on the table causing the plates, glasses and cutlery to clatter together.

“I won’t apologize, I don't want to be here in the first place. I‘ll be leaving now. Let’s do this again, never.” You say and start heading toward the living room where your purse was.

You fiddled with your pearl necklace as you raced through the hallway. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. 

“Well I don’t remember seeing anyone as pretty as you in a long time.” The deep voice froze you in place just as you reached the living room. 

You turn around to find Rose’s brother at the drink cart. His eyes rake your body and you shudder. You turn and grab your belongings and quickly turn towards the door.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving so soon? I was hoping we could catch up. You can tell me where you’ve been hiding.”

“Eat dirt and die, asshole.” You say before exiting into the hallway. 

You’d made it to the door just as your father stepped into the hallway. He called your name and a few other choice words but you were already running down the steps towards your car. You managed to lock yourself in and speed away to be as far from this place as possible before he could get to you.

Your phone had been buzzing nonstop from everyone in your family trying to call or text you. It got to the point that you had to shut it off because it was too much. When you finally make it home you take a shower to hopefully rid yourself of the crawling sensation you get from being back at the family home. 

After a lot of pacing and debating you send an email to Tony and wait. It takes about a minute but you get an answer. Even though it was around three in the morning. Now you can breathe slightly easier but your whole body is thrumming with adrenaline and now it is slowly starting to calm down but your hands are shaking. You would spend the rest of the night going over everything that happened that day until you finally passed out.

Steve had checked his phone a ridiculous amount of times. He even got teased for it by his best friends. But he was genuinely worried because he never received a text from you. He was restless wondering if he should reach out to you or not. Reluctantly he opted for the latter as he opened the door to his apartment where he was met with movers. They were taking things into the apartment across from his which belonged to Bucky when he first moved into the compound. He’d forgotten that someone was moving in and that he’d finally have a neighbor again. 

“Hey Rogers.” You said quietly as you made your way from down the hallway where the elevators were. 

“Hey Y/L/N. What are you doing here so early? And in the residential area. I thought you hated this part of the compound.” 

Steve was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“I used to but considering this is my new place, I thought I’d have to get used to it.” 

Steve’s face lit up at the new piece of information. He even stands up straight and watches as the movers take in a few more mixes in. 

“So you’re the one Tony told me was moving in a few weeks ago.” 

You shake your head. “No, I asked him last night if the offer was still good and he said yes. Although I feel bad that the person taking this spot is being moved. I think he said it was Sharon? She was supposed to move here but she’s still out of the country for a few weeks and this apartment is ready so he let me have it.” You look up at him and then at the apartment you’d be living in. 

“Wait so this was a last minute decision but you had your things packed already?” 

“Well I was going to be moving closer to the compound anyway. I just decided that I would prefer my apartment to have security guards at the entrance.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed at that. “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?” 

You saw the muscle in his jaw tick. 

“It’s a long story and I’d rather not talk about it.” You moved toward the door of your new apartment.

“Wait, if someone did something to you I’ll help you. They shouldn’t get away with whatever they did.” 

You look at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I wish I would have met you a long time ago, Rogers. Maybe you could have saved me then.” You gave him a sad smile. “I’m gonna get settled but maybe we should have a movie night or something soon. We can even do it at my place since you know where I live now.” 

Steve smiles but you could still see the worry in his eyes. 

“I’ll let you go, Steve.” 

“I’m here for whatever you need, ok?” 

“Thanks, I’ll see you later?” 

“Absolutely, neighbor.” Steve grins. 

“Ugh, don’t make me regret it.” 

“It’ll be the best choice you ever made.” He says confidently. 

Truer words have never been spoken. You just didn’t know it yet.

Ch. 2

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[emotionalmessss]

Hiii! Can I request yandere Chrollo when reader tries to escape? Hc? Fic? If you want 🥰

A/N: I feel like I haven't written anything in so long (school is going to be the death of me I swear). I'm trying to be more active with my writing now that I've officially graduated, I'm sorry for ghosting! Anyways, enjoy Yan!Chrollo :)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, implied kidnapping, slight mention of violence and non-consensual touching, and psychological abuse. Chrollo is basically a warning himself lol.

Chrollo is always one step ahead. After all, he is the head of the Spider, so if you think you can escape from him--good fucking luck. He is cunning, meticulous, and devoted to having you back where you belong--in his arms. But that doesn't stop you from trying, does it?

Congratulations for managing to slip through his fingers, but it won't stay that way for long. There is nowhere in the world for you to hide from Chrollo, he will hunt you down using whatever means that will ensure his success. So, enjoy the freedom while it lasts, because it won't last very long.

Sure, Chrollo might be slightly ruffled at the fact that you actually managed to escape. But will he let that affect his calm composure? No, definitely not. Chrollo plays the long game, and he does it best. And who's to say that he didn't intentionally let you escape? To give you that brief, sweet taste of freedom, only to rip it away at the last second?

Chrollo’s expression remains impassive as he lounges on the plush couch in the middle of his expansive living room. Reclining comfortably into the cushions, he folds one leg over the other while using one hand to flip through the book in his lap. He is perfectly aware of your absence from the apartment--how could he not notice when the air lacks the usual animosity that only you can bring? 

Despite the apartment lacking its usual vibrancy, Chrollo remains calm and composed, a trait that has always irked you. His composure never slips, even now. He finds it pitifully endearing that you thought you could outsmart him--have you learned nothing? Chrollo doesn’t know if he wants to praise you for your bravery or laugh at your naivety. 

Sighing, he stretches his legs out across the coffee table, idly smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on his dress shirt. You thought escape was an option? How quaint. His lips curl into a faint, knowing smirk; his predictions had been correct--like always. While Chrollo can’t deny that he finds your actions mildly irritating, they are more entertaining than anything else--not that he’d ever show it.

“It’s intriguing, really, how you thought you could just slip away from me,” Chrollo mutters to himself, his voice measured and almost serene. His big, gray eyes finally look up from the antique book in his lap, drifting towards the large window that offers a view of Yorknew City’s skyline. Somewhere out there, you’re hiding, and he can clearly picture the mixture of relief, fear, and paranoia etched on your pretty face. 

He taps his fingers on the armrest of the couch--the only sign that his mind is working in overdrive. Clicking his tongue thoughtfully, Chrollo tilts his head back down to the book resting on his thighs. Running a hand through his raven locks, he lets out a hollow chuckle, quickly followed by a deep sigh. For now, he’d let you play your little game, but in the end, you would not win.

Just like everything else, Chrollo's response will be chilling and methodical. As the head of the Spider, he'll use all the resources he has to get his love back. But for the time being, he will let you enjoy your little game. He's more than confident you'll be back where you belong. Make sure to keep looking over your shoulder every so often, he won't be far behind.

Chrollo will have you back in his grasp, no matter how much you kick, cry, and scream. He will remain unflinchingly composed, acting as though you were merely a small animal that needed to be handled with gentle care. The entire time, he'll have that small, almost invisible smile tugging at his lips--that smile that you've come to hate and suggests bad things for you.

Once he finds you--if he hasn't already been watching you the entire time--he'll strike when the time is right, and when the circumstances align in his favour. He won't be openly aggressive, definitely not towards you. Chrollo will take a different route, one that involves planning, scheming, and manipulation.

Consequences? Oh, there has to be some consequences for your disobedience. But, Chrollo would never lay a violent hand on you. No, that's not his style. He could never physically hurt his love. He can hurt you in other ways, though. Friends and family? That's a whole other story. Chrollo being Chrollo, will do whatever it takes to ensure you comply. Only if he's pushed to that point.

In Chrollo's twisted mind, he is protecting you from the dangers of the world--like a good lover should. He firmly believes that the only place for you to be happy and safe is by his side. He'll manipulate you into believing that you need him, and that even the thought of escaping is utterly impossible.

You’ve been sprinting through the empty streets of Yorknew City for hours, and no matter how far you run, you can’t seem to shake the terror that threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, your feet sting, your lungs burn, and your mind is a jumbled fucking mess--is this what insanity feels like or has Chrollo corrupted you so much? Neither of those reasonings are favourable, but you’d probably choose insanity over Chrollo. 

Frantically, you examine your surroundings as you come to a stop, panting and keeling over. You sluggishly move towards the corner of a large building, slumping back against the bricks and wipe the glistening sweat from your forehead. This is Hell, isn’t it? Clutching your chest, your mind races with a slew of possibilities; different escape routes, places to hide, and potential consequences should you get caught. 

What would the reincarnation of the Devil himself do to you if he were to catch you? Would he hurt you? The odds of Chrollo physically hurting you are slim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t harm you in other ways. Despite spending an unwilling amount of time with him, you could never fully understand the bastard. You weren’t entirely sure if that was a blessing or a curse. 

“Get it together, fuck.” Your voice comes out strained and raspy as you forcefully compose yourself, shoving off from the wall to round the corner of the building. Every detail about that man pisses you off--his calculated mannerisms, his unflinching composure, his studying eyes that make you feel like he’s staring into your soul, and that god-awful smile that never looked genuine. 

Just when you soothe your chaotic mind and turn the corner of the building, he appears before you. Your heart plummets, and your feet drag across the pavement as you abruptly halt, completely paralyzed under his scrutinizing gaze. You watch him like a cornered animal, prepared to flee at the slightest sign of malice. But, of course, there is none--perfectly expected from a man like Chrollo. 

“My dear,” Chrollo begins, using the endearing nickname you’ve come to loathe. His voice completely devoid of aggression, showing no hint of the manipulative thoughts that are definitely running through his mind. “Wandering the streets alone at this hour isn’t wise,” he chides gently, his tone tinged with condescension. “Come now, let’s get you back home.” His hand extends towards you, as if he’s giving you a choice. 

You muster up a sliver of self-control, refraining from cussing him out. Instead, you take a cautious step backwards--away from the beast. Noticing this, Chrollo’s lips pull into a slight smile, and his hand returns to his side. He doesn’t move an inch, letting out a resigned sigh that suggests he had anticipated this outcome. His gray eyes never leave yours as the sound of approaching footsteps begins fill the silent street. 

“Please, let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Chrollo continues, his attention focused on you, purposely feigning ignorance of his loyal Spiders who are slowly encircling both of you. He remains the epitome of calm, acting as if your escape attempt was just a minor inconvenience. You stand still, and the Spiders close in, strategically blocking off all paths except for the one leading to Chrollo. 

[thebutterflyofthemojave]

Diana and her Big Dada HC

(moodboard made by me)

Ghost in the Fallout AU with baby Diana. The stress about to stay away for weeks, the return at home where Laswell and her wife takes care of her after the death of his wife after the birth(its the wasteland unfortunately).

She is the only thing good in that world of death and pain, I imagine her first word “Dada”. Because she loves her big Dada so much.

When she says the first word he was returned after a request to assassinate some Gunners in a nearby factory, all covered in blood and sand, him tired, and sees his daughter of one year who tries to walk helped by Kate's wife and who keeps saying "Dada”

His eyes full of tears, the constant feeling of guilt in having to raise his little tangerine in such a world that are dissipated in that sweet "Dada" while he promised himself "to protect you little tangerine from this disgusting world”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fan fic Idea: Danny Fenton's Ex

Danny wants to know that he did not go looking for a fight. He merely wanted to have some of the best hot dogs this side of the USA, in Tucker's words. The human world had changed a lot across differnt timelines but his best friend had assure him, this one was particually tasty.

He planned to pop in, hunt down the street cart filled with buns and meat, then pop out of Gotham. He was meant to visit for less than an hour at most.

He just happened to be at the wrong place and time. It really wasn't his fault! Danny had been minding his own business, using a paper map on the edge of a tall building (his phone had broken in the last ghost fight. Not that it would do any good since it wasn't connected to any living towers), squinting at the streets below, hoping to figure out where he was. The next thing he knew, an angry child leaped out at him with a sword.

Of course, he defended himself! The kid was doing some insane slashes in the air, and Danny had fought enough samurai ghosts to know not to underestimate how powerful a katana indeed was. He had been able to beat the child, encasing his arms in ecto-chains, after a full half hour of combat.

Danny had been dead tired- pun not intended- but just as he thought he was done, a second child had leaped out at him. This one carrying a bo-staff. It took another thirty minutes to beat this one, and just as he was gearing up for a lecture, a third child appeared.

She was wearing all purple and seemed to favor strong kicks. Danny had the bruise to prove it, but just as he could take her down—and stop the other two from escaping since they were attempting to do so—he was attacked by an actual shadow and her red bucket-head friend.

Now, those two were difficult to beat, especially when it was two vs. one. Shadow reacted as if she could predict all of his moves before he even made them, while Bucket Head made incredible shots with his guns covering her attacks.

Danny had already been expelled from his other two fights, so it was a miracle he was able to trick Shadow by allowing more of Phantom to bleed into his fighting style. She couldn't predict the dead!

He ended up on a roof with five children- okay, more like a child, two teenagers, and what could be the early twenties, but they were all young to him. Each was tied up securely with some of his own ecto-chains and glaring- he could feel the hate in their eyes even behind their masks- trying desperately to catch his breath.

"Oh boy, I'm not as young as I used to be. " He gasps between huffs. Maybe Sam was on to something when she lectured them for not having enough greens, normal exercise routines, or even taking vitamins. They really weren't teenagers anymore. "Ugh, I think I pulled something. I need to lie down..."

Just as Danny is allowing himself to slide to the floor, two more shadows jump at him. This time he's far too tired to dodge, and the blue one manages to land a drop kick to his chin. The force has Danny spinning in place, losing his balance, and slamming hard against the roof.

The tied-up children cheer, and if he wasn't a walking bruise right now, Danny would be half tempted to show them all a round two.

"Great Gatsby!" He cries out of reflex, rolling onto his back, ready to take a swing-

"Danny?" a new familiar voice cuts in. The sound is something Danny will never forget, even after all the years they have been apart. He used to fall asleep to that voice, muttering into his hair and warm arms wrapped around him, making promises never kept.

Danny whips his head around to see a man in a bat costume. He squits, studying the strong curve of a very familiar jaw and his voice-

"Wayne?" He blinks. Those lips- so familiar and different all in one- curve into a surprise, but please smile. Yes, that is definitely Bruce.

"Danny, I haven't seen you since-"

"You broke up with me through a letter on the hotel note-pad? A note-pad that I had to pay for since you touched it!?" Danny hisses, suddenly energized with pure, unadulterated rage. The man freezes.

"I, uh, see you're still upset about that." Wayne winces, shuffling on his feet- Bruce Wayne, the little human he found wandering the Infinite Realms, rescued, helped, trained, and had become human again to have the man dump him to "find himself."

Danny knew he found a lot of ladies on his self-discovery trip. He never forgave him. It has been embarrassing to have to return to the Realms to his friends' knowing eyes and his sister's sad shrug.

You knew a human could never understand or live with beings like us. We aren't like them anymore. She had told him. It was bond to end in disaster.

"What is happening?" The bow-staff kid asks

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Blue tells him.

Danny ignores them to glare at the man. "What the hell are you doing here, Wayne?"

Wayne frowns. "You used to call me Bruce."

"I used to do a lot of things, Wayne." Danny stands, gesturing to the group of people he has captured. "Can you kindly disappear again? I'm in the middle of something."

The man makes no move to leave. Instead, he tilts his head. "Those are my children."

"Of course they are." Danny rolls his eyes. "Tell them to not attack innocent tourists-"

"Are you here on vacation? Would you like me to give you a tour?"

The familiar words- the ones from their first date- make rage boil in his core. "Oh, go burn in the worst levels of hell!"

He doesn't stick around for a reply, twisting in a tight circle and ripping a hole into the Realms. He ignores Wayne's call of his name; it's too late- fifteen years too late- and shifts back into Phantom.

He prays he never sees that deadbeat again. Or the family his wife gave him. Not that Danny cares; it's been years, and he could care less what Bruce Wayne and his stupid kin got up to.

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

"Bruce, I say this with all my heart, what the fuck was that?"

"That was the one I let get away."

There is a moment of silence before Damian speaks up. "I demand to be taken out of my misery. Mercy, kill me now, Drake."

[bet-on-me-13]

The First Supervillain

So! A Typical "Early Start" AU where the events of The Show happen early in the Timeline. Like, in the 70's or 80's.

Danny never quite managed to fix his Public Perception, and even years into his career people still saw him as the Villain.

Coincidentally Valerie was seen as a Hero because of how often they were seen fighting. Even after they revealed their Identities and got together, they still had the occasional Battle. It was their love language.

His role as the Villain was Cemented when Pariah launched his Second Invasion of Earth after some dumbass accidentally freed him, and Danny took the Blame for it. Instead of being seen as the Hero who battled Pariah and stopped the Invasion, he was seen as the Tyrant to launched the Invasion in the first place, with Red Huntess being the one to defeat him in one final Ultimate Battle.

And honestly? He was fine with that. Now that he was the King of the Ghost Zone, he had the Authority to Regulate the Portal so villains stopped getting through. And that meant that he wasn't needed to stop random Ghost Attacks anymore. He could finally focus on College and his own Life, instead of sacrificing everything to act as the Protector of the Human Realm.

Val continued to be a Hero for a few more years, eventually retiring when it became Clear that the new generation of Heroes could pick up the Slack.

He went to College, got a Job as an Aerospace Engineer, and eventually proposed to Valerie.

About 20 years since his initial Accident, and he was doing great! He had moved into a humble home on the edge of town with his loving wife Val, his beautiful daughter Ellie, and his cute dog Cujo.

Yeah, life was good.

Until the day Danny accidently caused a Mass Crisis.

...

Superman was having some extreme trouble in dealing with his current Opponent. He had just been flying around the City, patrolling as Usual, when all of a sudden he had been attacked by a Flying Mech Suit.

At first he had assumed that Lex was giving it another Go, but he quickly realized that was not the case when the Armor seemed to Phase though solid matter in the middle of the battle. Lex had never made Tech advanced enough to do that on the fly.

This opponent was tough too. Strong enough and Durable enough to go blow for blow with him, and seemingly able to pull Advanced Weaponry from out of nowhere whenever he wanted. As tough as it was to admit, Superman as losing the Battle.

Then, without warning, the battle stopped. His opponent was staring at the space just behind him, with a look of pure dread. He turned around, and his heart stopped.

Floating behind him, staring right past him and directly at the Mech Suit, was the First Villain Phantom.

He looked much the same as when he had last been seen, although he was definitely Older. He had snow white hair, and glowing green eyes that seemed to stare right past him and into his very soul. He was wearing what seemed to be a costume of sorts, with an all black suit, white gloves, and white boots. Over his Shoulders sat a Cloak made of Stars, and above his head sat a Crown made of an Icy Blue Fire.

The Mech tried for a greeting, "Er- Hello t-Lord Phantom. How do you d-"

"Skulker."

"Y-yes?"

"What are you doing here? I thought I gave you explicit orders to stay in the Ghost Zone until further notice. You disobeyed me."

"Okay look. I got excited, that's my fault. It's just, I got anxious waiting. Can you really blame me? I've been waiting 20 years to take another Crack at the Human World, what's it matter if I left a few weeks Early?"

"I told you. You were supposed to wait exactly 20 Years, and you left Early. This calls for punishment."

"No wait!"

"Let's see how you feel after a few days as Soup."

The Villain pulled out a Thermos, and in a flash of green light, Skulker was gone, and the King was capping the Thermos. He then turned to Superman.

"I apologize for him, he decided to leave ahead of schedule." The King addressed him. "Now, Kryptonian. Rest and tend to your wounds, you will need to be in your best health if you want to continue saving the lives of those people below us."

With a dramatic flare, the King reached up and Tore a hole in Space. Through the Hole, Superman could only see an infinite Green Void, with the sound of screams cheering being heard through the rift.

The King departed through the Tear in Spacetime, and it closed behind him.

Superman tried to collect himself, and activated his League Emergency Comms.

"Attention All Founding Members, and Justice League Dark Members. This is Superman calling for an immediate Emergency Meeting."

He took a deep breath.

"Phantom is Back."

[yawnderu]

If Simon and bimbo!reader ever had a big fight (not petty disagreements), what would they fight about? How do both handle serious fights and making up?

ahhhh :((( anon when I catch you. It'd likely be at the beginning of the relationship, before she knows about his job and he always leaves for weeks without telling her much about it

>Simon and bimbo!reader fight and make up.

“I just don't understand why you do this to me... just tell me.” Your voice is as pleading as it is demanding, eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in a mix of frustration and sadness.

“I can't—” He's interrupted by a small scoff coming out of you, your arms crossed as you look away and take a deep breath. He's never seen you like this before, never so... frustrated and angry. Anxiety starts to fill his soul within seconds, stuck between wanting to keep you away from his job, and wanting to reassure you.

“Do you just.... have a second family or something? Is that what it is?” The accusation makes his own face scrunch up in a mix of mild disgust and confusion. Was his unwavering loyalty to you not obvious? He never even looks at other women at all, his eyes are for you only.

“I don't.” It's all he can say to defend himself. How does he go about telling you he kills people for a living? Sure, he's protecting the world and serving the Queen, but would you look at him differently when you find out the same hands that are so gentle with you will forever be tainted with another's blood?

“Then what is it, Simon?” You never call him Simon. Even when you first met, you've always called him Si. He lets out a small sigh, shaking his head. He doesn't want to be around to fight, he just wants it all to be okay like before— yet he also understands why you're acting that way after months of being kept in the dark.

“I'll be back later.” He turns around to leave the shared flat, only being stopped by another scoff.

“Fine. Leave like you always do.” It was a low blow, you can tell that much by the way his muscles visibly tense up, bulging out of his black shirt. He shakes his head, the hand on the doorknob trembling slightly. He loves you more than anything, but can he really handle seeing the expression on your face when he tells you why he's away?

“'M in the military.” He finally turns around, walking back to you and holding your hand, sitting down on the couch and pulling you on his lap, one of his hands running down the length of your hair.

“SAS. I'll show you my contracts if you don't believe me.” He's willing to do anything to make you believe him. Each silent second only increases his anxiety, barely managing to look down at you just to see the gears shifting in your brain, putting two and two together.

“.... Is that why you always stink when you come back?” There's enough mirth in your tone to let him know you're joking, barely managing to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“Y'sniff me like a fuckin' police dog when I'm back, love. You like it.” No matter how much you roll your eyes in fake annoyance and pretend you don't like it, you both know the truth. You cuddle up closer to him, resting comfortably on his burly body.

“Y'wear the cool uniforms, Si?” Your voice is softer, almost shy to even ask the question. He knows you like masked men— he's heard you rant about Pyramid Head and Ghostface enough times already. He hums softly in reply, nodding his head.

“Sometimes. Cool mask and all, you'd like it.” He's just teasing you at this point, trying to hold back a smile when he feels you rapidly shifting in his arms just to get closer to his face, unable to hide your excitement.

“Yeah? Can I see?” Your giddiness is almost contagious, making a deep chuckle finally escape his lips. You're not looking at him like he's a monster, you're simply excited about the idea of him wearing a mask. Maybe letting you see Ghost isn't a bad idea.

“Hmm...” He drags out, looking away and pretending to think about it just to tease you. The smack to his arm is enough to make him grin at you, stealing a kiss before adjusting you on his lap, finally allowing his body to fully relax.

“Yeah, I'll show you.”

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[killerpancakeburger]

Being Ghost's BFF Headcanons

(while also dating Soap cause you deserve the best of both worlds)

If you told anyone that Ghost was your favorite person to see in the morning, they'd write you off as clinically insane. Or laugh in your face. It didn't make it any less true though. When you don't want anyone speaking to you before you had your coffee, the Ghost feels heaven-sent. Others might see it as rude, but you're content with him acknowledging your presence with a nod of head or by raising his mug of tea in your direction.

You've never been afraid of him - more like displaying a healthy apprehension towards a guy exceeding 1m90, weighing over 100kg, and hiding his face.

After spending a couple hours with him, you quickly came up to a new conclusion about him: he just had a resting bitch face. Just because he had a deep voice and a monotonous tone didn't mean he was angry 24/7. He treated people how he wanted to be treated. He had high expectations for himself and for others/teammates. All in all, a pretty reasonable guy.

You like to think he started to respect you for your combat skills and experience, but evidence pointed to the fact that he began to look at you differently after seeing you decisively slap Soap in the face to wake him up after he passed out from blood loss.

There had been a few milestones in your relationship: when he told you a bad joke for the first time (you briefly thought you were having an aneurysm), when he told you to call him Simon (in private), when he awkwardly tried to cheer you up by patting you on the shoulder (first time he touched you outside of combat/training).

Outside of missions, the time you spent together was divided between shooting matches on the training grounds and hanging out with a smoke at night when both of you struggled to sleep. He was one of the rare men not pulling any punches against you, allowing to enjoy the competition freely. Soap tried time and time again to stay awake to join you two, but failed systematically.

Acting like a divorced couple with Soap as the kid you have shared custody of. "Yer man escaped medical again" "Before 6 a.m he is YOUR man, Lieutenant"

Frequently finding yourselves shouting both at the same time: "English, MacTavish!" In the same exasperated tone.

You can handle yourself, and Ghost is perfectly aware of that. That doesn't stop him from standing behind you menacingly like the Grim reaper himself when he thinks someone's taking too many liberties with you.

If Soap's a golden retriever when he's in a good mood, Ghost reminds of your parents' cat: silent, deadly, and shows affection by deigning to occasionally hang out in the same room as you.

You always carry a spare mask for him; and he wears spare hair ties on the wrist - plain, black ones. Cannot mess with his vibe.

People keeps asking how you managed to have a relationship with "The Ghost", and your answer is very simple: "learn when to shut the fuck up".

A/N:

Me in the beginning: I'm only gonna write Soap content

Ghost:

Me: Oh FFS

BONUS:

When Ghost told you a bad joke for the first time:

You still remembered the joke incident vividly: you were on a mission together, just the two of you, and as you were focusing more than usual, anxious to disappoint him or to be a liability, you suddenly heard in your com: "Ye heard the rumour 'bout butter?"

If Ghost's voice hadn't been unmistakable, you would have thought he had been killed and replaced by someone else.

"What (the fuck)", you exhaled, not because you wanted to know about butter, but because you had no idea what the hell was happening. The fact that his tone was exactly the same as usual - deadpan, flat - contributed to making you feel insane.

"Nah, I shouldn't be spreadin' it". was the answer. Torn between demanding explanations and not wanting to commit a faux pas, you replied the way you replied to your parents' bad jokes:

"Ha. Ha. Haha...?" 

The seasoned killer on the other side of the mic didn't seem to mind, but you texted Soap in panic as soon as your butt touched the helicopter's seat.

“JOHNNY”

"Sup hen"

"Cannae go wan mission without missing me, ae? ;)"

"Did Ghost hit his head recently??"

"Negative Ma'am" "Why? Did something happen??"

"He told me a dad joke. A fucking dad joke."

"😂 Thats kinda his thing"

"thought I was losing it"

"Congrats, ye can consider yerself stamped wit The Ghost seal of approval"

"Ok? Cool???"

"Mah too favourite people gittin along" *trails of smiling emojis and hearts*

[forever-rogue]

thank u for feeding my joel brainrot

may i request something a bit angsty where reader gets injured but still lives through it although seeing reader injured and joel having to carry her brought him flashbacks to sarah

AN | Pain! We have some pain - but also a whole lot of fluff! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“We need to get back,” his gruff voice cut through the fleeting moment of happiness. You knew he was right, and he knew that you knew he was right. You bent down and plucked one of the few blooms that had actually managed to blossom in the barren field. It was a pretty, small thing, purplish blue with soft petals. 

You turned around to face Joel again and held the flower out to him, a gentle expression on your face compared to the hard look on his face. After a few beats of silence passed before he took it from your hands, twirling it between his fingers, “Joel-”

“It’s going to be dark soon,” he cut you off, bringing a pout to your face but you nodded in understanding. He studied the expression on your face before sighing heavily, his shoulders sagging with what felt like the weight of the world, “it’s not safe out here. I’d let you stay out here as long as you wanted if -”

“Things were different,” you finished for him and he caught your eye before offering a curt nod. It was a risk being out of the Quarantine Zone in general, and you weren’t lost on the fact that Joel put a lot on the line in order to get out, even if it was just for a few hours. Before you could say anything else, he tenderly tucked the flower behind your ear, his hand going to your jaw as he studied you. Wordlessly he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek, a mere ghost of a kiss. 

“Come on,” it took a moment to shake off the stupor his sweet gesture had thrown you in. It wasn’t that Joel wasn’t kind or loving, he was just…rough around the edges. You couldn’t blame him; you couldn’t blame anyone these days. He’d lost so much more than you had, and had experienced a full life before the outbreak. You were a fair bit younger, hadn’t had the full chance at life yet, and it had been easier for you to adapt. Which felt weird at best to say. He showed his affections differently, but you welcomed them how they came.

He turned around and set off back towards the QZ, leaving behind only the crunching of gravel under his boot. You made quick work of grabbing a few more flowers and gently stuffing them into your backpack before turning to follow him, “Joel?”

He made a sound of acknowledgment but didn’t turn around, expecting you to catch up with him. When he noticed that you weren’t right there, he turned around, hands on his hips accompanied by a heavy sigh, “you better hurry up or I’ll leave you here on your own!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you flung the backpack over your shoulder before running to catch up to him. You were laughing now and you could see the tiniest of smiles on his face. It was a rare occurrence and you tried to make it come out as possible; he had the loveliest smile, even if he didn’t agree. When you finally caught up to him, you stopped and almost skidded onto the ground, breathless but happy, “you love me too much for that.”

“Whatever you say kid,” you knew him well enough by now to know that tender affection laced his words, “c’mon. It’s probably going to rain on top of it.”

“I like the rain,” you mused as you fell into step with him. He didn’t say anything, but you knew that he was listening intently, “when I was a kid…we had this huge pond right near our house. Whenever it rained all the frogs would come out, and they’d be so loud, especially the bullfrogs. It was like they were singing, in their own froggy way. I used to go out there and sit and listen to them. My mom would always have to drag me inside and insisted I would get a cold from being out in the rain, even though she knew that wasn’t how it worked. I miss that…I miss being able to just do things and not have to worry about anything.”

Joel was silent, but you knew he’d listened to every word you said. Sometimes he wasn’t a man of many words. But you felt him reach for your hand, taking it in his and threading your fingers together. He let out a world-weary, tired sigh, “me too.”

It was silent for a lot of the walk back, but it was a comfortable silence, a lot of understanding flowing between the two of you. It wasn’t until you reached the hill you’d have to climb down to get back that you worried about anything. Climbing up had been one thing, easy, even if it left you breathless. Getting back down seemed like an entirely different challenge. 

“You alright?” he noticed your hesitation as you swallowed thickly, but only nodded, “follow after me.”

You watched as Joel tossed his backpack down, before slowly traversing through the uneven ground to get back down. In reality, it wasn’t that huge of a drop, but it still made you nervous. Once he was safely back on the level ground, he waved for you to go. You tossed the backpack down, letting it land next to him. You grabbed onto a thin tree trunk, trying to stabilize your footing before going down. 

But fate seemed to have another plan. A very painful plan. As soon as you’d let go of the tree, you went to shuffle down but the uneven soil  caused you to slip and start to tumble. It all happened so fast, that it seemed to be over before you knew it and you were on the ground, the air almost knocked from your lungs as you landed on your side. 

You knew something was wrong almost immediately as you felt pain shooting up your leg and saw the odd angle it was bent at. A shaky breath escaped your lips, tears already welling up, an involuntary reaction to the pain your body was experiencing. 

You whimpered as you tried to move your leg, but Joel was already at your side, hands on your biceps as he helped you to sit up. A look of sheer panic was written all over his face, “oh baby. What happened? What…fuck. Fuck.”

“It hurts,” you cried trying to move so you could inspect the damage. There was a nasty, gnarly looking gash running down your left leg from knee to ankle. Your ankle was already swelling and bruising, and you knew that something was wrong. Your breathing was ragged and you knew that all you needed to do was calm down and everything would be alright, “‘m scared.”

“I know, baby. But it’s okay. I’ve got you, okay? Don’t look at your leg,” he cradled your face in his hands as he turned your face up to his, “just look at me. Look at me, okay?”

“Okay,” big, fat crocodile tears ran down your cheeks and you saw him close his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. You could tell he was nervous, and trying to keep it together; one of you had to be calm and strong right and it had to be him. He brushed your tears away before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Joel…”

“Eyes on me,” he repeated as you only managed to nod. He reached into his backpack and grabbed out some of the first aid supplies, which he thankfully always brought, before getting out some antiseptic liquid, clean gauze, and some bandages, “this is going to hurt a little bit, okay? Just hold onto my arm, squeeze as tight as you need to.”

Despite his warning, you were not prepared for the pain that the liquid was going to bring out. It was a deep cut, you could tell from the blood and agony, but fuck. It was extremely painful and you gasped wildly as you clutched onto his upper arm tightly, “it hurts. It hurts, Joel. Please.”

“I know,” he whispered softly, his own voice thick with tears. This was one of his worst nightmares - that something would happen to you, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He’d been through this same situation before and his heart couldn’t handle having to go through it again, especially if something were to happen to you. He quickly wiped away the tears that blurred his vision with the back of his hand. He knew that he’d be all bruised up from where you were holding him, but he didn’t care, “almost done. You’re okay, baby.”

You weren’t able to form any coherent words, only making small sounds of pain as he worked to clean the wound, slapping on some antibiotic spray, and wrapping it up as tightly and securely as possible. The sting and pain slowly started to subside and your breathing slowly started to even out and the next time you looked down, all you could see was white bandaging. You loosened your grip on his arm, still shaky and worried, “i-is it going to be okay?”

“It’ll be okay for now,” he promised, tenderly brushing your rogue locks of hair out of your face, “and it will be okay. I think you’re going to need stitches, but that can be easily done when we get back.”

“Thank you,” before you could think about it, you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, trembling in his grasp. He held onto you just as tightly, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breathing, “thank you.”

He held you for a few minutes longer before reluctantly pulling back and standing up. Joel held out his hands towards you, and slowly helped you to your feet - foot - catching you as you stumbled slightly. His frown deepened when he saw you struggling to put any weight on it, “can you walk?”

“No,” you sniffled and the memory of his daughter in the same situation flashed in his mind. This time though, he swore it to himself and to the universe, there would be a different outcome, “‘s bad. It hurts. You have to leave me. Go back and I-I can wait a bit until it gets better.”

“No,” he insisted firmly, leaving absolutely no room for discussion, “I am not leaving you out here on your own. Are you crazy?”

“Joel, I can’t walk!” you tried to keep yourself from panicking, trying not to imagine every horrible thing that could happen, “you have to leave me.”

“I am not leaving you, and that’s final,” he grabbed both of your backpacks and threw them on. He turned to you with a hard look on your face and you knew in that moment that it wasn’t anger or annoyance - it was fear. He was scared, “I’m going to carry you.”

“I-”

“It is not up for discussion,” there was no amusement anywhere on his face as he gently scooped you into his arms, cradling you tightly to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes as you listened to his breathing, the sound of his heart as he started to head back. After a while of silence, both of you on edge for different reasons, he whispered to you, “I’m going to keep you safe. I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

You weren’t sure if he expected a response or even wanted one, but you couldn’t let his words die in silence, “I love you, too.”

He didn’t need to say the words in order for you to know exactly what he meant. You already knew; everything he’d ever done or said told you so.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d fallen asleep at some point, whether from sheer exhaustion or the overwhelming, or a combination of the two, you didn’t know. The last thing you really remembered was coming Joel sneaking back in, extremely careful since he was carrying you. As soon as you’d gotten back to his place, you passed out. But you were home and safe - just like he’d promised.

Your eyes were dry and heavy by the time you opened them up, slowly sitting up as you looked around. It was light outside, but rain was slowly falling outside, gently tapping against the window. You made a small sound as you rubbed at your bleary eyes. You could smell fresh coffee and you knew that Joel was there. 

Before you could even call for him, you felt the bed dip at your side. You smiled softly when you found Joel on his knees at your side, eyes nervous and expectant. You laid back down, burrowing into his pillow and inhaling his familiar scent that clung onto the fabric. You reached over and put your hand on his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek, “my hero.”

He scoffed at that but you grabbed his chin and forced him to look back at you, to look into your eyes. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist before, squeezing delicately, “baby.”

“I mean it Joel,” this time you made sure he knew that you were leaving no room for discussion. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes before you could feel him nod lightly into your touch, “thank you for saving me.”

“As if that was ever a question,” he pulled your hand away, holding it in his before squeezing gently and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “you had me scared, kid.”

“I had me scared,” you laughed softly, the sound causing his heart to melt slightly, “I’m sorry, Joel.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, wishing he could find all the words to properly convey how he was feeling. It was so many things all at once, and almost overwhelmed him, “your leg is stitched up but the ankle...it’s not broken, but it's a bad sprain. You’re going to have to take it easy for a while.”

“Ugh. That’s not-”

“For me?” he pulled out the one thing he knew you wouldn’t say no to, “please? Baby.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, causing the smallest of smiles to tug up the corner of his mouth, “will you get me my backpack, please?”

“I don’t think you-”

“Joel,” you pulled out your best puppy dog eyes, the very ones you knew he couldn’t say no to. He grumbled under his breath, the sound laced with affection as he went over to the door to fetch your pack. He set it next to you on the bed before nudging you over so he could sit at your side.”

You unzipped it and quickly reached inside for the flowers you’d collected. Luckily, for some reason, they weren’t terribly squished and you were able to pull them out intact. You bundled them together in your hand before holding them out to Joel. 

“What are you doing, huh?”

“They’re for you,” you smiled sweetly, “I picked them for you. Flowers always brighten my day and so do you. Who better to give them to?”

He immediately felt choked up at your kind gesture, slowly taking them from your hand, his fingers brushing over yours. He looked at them before looking back at your eager eyes, a smile, big and genuine, crossing his features. You would do anything to keep that smile on his face. He exhaled softly, taking one of your hands in his and meeting your eyes, “I love you.”

All you could do was match his smile as you tugged on his hand so he would join you on the bed. He gently set the flowers onto the nightstand and climbed in next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you into him, your back against his chest. You closed your eyes as you snuggled against him, putting a hand over his. In that moment, there was nowhere else you’d rather have been.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[koobratzy]

The Jewel of the North

Just a little fanfic idea I had. No one writes for Cregan, so now I take it upon myself to deliver what we've all been waiting for. Let me know what you think, and please reblog if you like what I wrote so far. It will help me reach a bigger audience <3 I love you all. Remember to take care of yourself!

Y/N Valaryon always knew she was a bastard. Her silver hair and violet eyes protected her from such rumors, making the court believe that she was the only trueborn child of Leanor, but she knew the truth. She was as much out of wedlock as her younger brothers.

The princess could see how Daemon Targaryen looked at her. He tried to be discreet, but his eyes always followed her like a shadow, no matter where she went. The prince was like a ghost. Hovering over her at all times but invisible to the naked eye. When Y/N managed to catch his gaze, there was longing inside. Desire to be near, to show his devotion for what it was. Love for his firstborn child. But he couldn't openly do that. The court was too watchful of Rhaenyra anyway, even without his involvement in the young princess's life.

Her own personality convinced her even further. She was full of fire. The veins inside her body transported heat with every breath, her heart burning with so much anger that even the princess got scared sometimes. From a young age, Y/N trained with a sword, just like her brothers did, and the abilities she presented could put many young lordlings to shame. It only became more apparent when the dragonless princess was found by Cannibal. Rhaenyra was terrified, her only daughter standing so close to the ferocious beast capable of swallowing her whole. And yet, it never happened. The dangerous monstrosity picked her. Of all dragons, she was chosen by him. The only beast that could match her inner flame and rage.

Young Valaryon knew that she was his. They could pretend all they wanted, but she knew the truth.

When Laenor Valaryon died, the curtains of the theatre of life they played so long finally fell, and Daemon got what he always wanted. His firstborn daughter. He could finally be the father he always wanted to be and help her reach full potential. Show not only how to control her rage but also how to use it to achieve whatever she dreamed of. His daughter would always be protected, either by him or her own strength.

Their life on Dragonstone was perfect. Cheerful, free of any worries, luxurious. Peaceful without the constant unsettling presence of her uncles. But dark clouds were gathering over the clear skies. A storm more dangerous than any in history was coming way quicker than anyone expected, and it was ready to devour House Targaryen with its jaws, throwing the realm into chaos.

What will become of Y/N's life? Will her entire world burn? Or is a bit of ice and snow enough to extinguish it before it turns into ashes?

[smileysuh]

Fix You

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it, if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it, endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton. Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need… I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex with an AI robot, virgin!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, Mingyu's body is perfect, hand job, blow job, deep throating, pussy eating, fingering, flavored cum, praise, breast worship, switchy/submissive!Mingyu, multiple orgasms, slight overstim, AI slavery/working philosophical issues, risk of AI termination/job loss, etc...

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.5k I collab. link

🍭 aus. automaton/ai au, ai!Mingyu, robotics behavioral researcher!y/n, wellness center, future au, Promethean theory, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. i was so excited when @idyllic-ghost announced this collab in @svthub. Had a great time creating this world and working with everyone through the Discord server :) Bee was also such a big help as beta reader, they were such a good collab team leader, so big thank you to @idyllic-ghost 💕

As a top mechanic at an automaton rehab center, you’d heard about the supposed ‘break out’ of thirteen level one AI robots from their management facility. In fact, people all across the galaxy had heard about it, with the attractive faces of every member of the idol group 53V3NT33N plastered on billboards, tvs and any screen possible-

However, the last place you thought you’d see the stunning features of M1NGYU would be on your briefing tablet not two days after what some reporters are calling ‘the biggest breach of level one automatons across the galaxy in centuries.’

“How-” you swallow thickly, eyes shifting from your tablet to look at your boss. “How did he get caught so fast?”

“Mingyu has been malfunctioning for months,” Yoongi explains. “Strength miscalculations during concerts, collaborating in the break out attempt, his aggressive behaviors have been more frequent- but if there’s one thing that can be said for an automaton that balances aggression and admiration, it’s that he truly admires the humans who worship him. He gave himself in, trying to aid in the escape of two of his AI band mates.”

“Oh.” For some reason, this news makes you sad. A robot with a sense of self sacrifice for the good of others… even if giving himself up was in part spurred by a need to be given attention and adoration from the humans that made him. 

He’s like a child that makes a mistake and gives himself in. Many mechanics would do what parents across the galaxy do, scold, attempt to fix the behavior with shaming and judgment- but you were given your job precisely because you come at this sort of thing with a different approach. It sounds like Mingyu needs someone to talk to, someone to understand- maybe poke around in his coding a little to see if there’s anything that shouldn’t be there.

You can’t think of someone more qualified than yourself to give Mingyu the time and attention he needs, the admiration he craves to balance out the supposed ‘aggressive’ traits he’s been showing lately. 

“Before you get too caught up in Mingyu being some level one lost puppy, just remember, he’s an automaton,” Yoongi’s harsh voice snaps you out of your daze and the rehabilitation plan already brewing in the periphery of your mind. “Don’t get too close to this.”

“I won’t.” If only it was a promise you could keep.

You’ve been around many level ones in your time as a robotics behavioral specialist at the rehab center, but none of them have ever been as beautiful - or as charming - as Mingyu. Sitting next to the intake girl, watching her ask Mingyu questions, you get to fully observe the automaton, and you’re astounded by what you see.

He answers things in a way that almost seems honest, and at points, when he makes a joke that causes you and your coworker to smile, his eyes literally sparkle with admiration. You wonder what coding had to be done just on his robotic retinas to achieve such an effect.

It’s clear, by the time the questions are all through, that Mingyu is the most advanced of any AI’s you’ve ever come in contact with, and the prospect both scares and exhilarates you. 

“So what now?” Mingyu asks, and you note the way his knee is bobbing slightly, as if he’s anxious. He’s leaning forward, eager to hear what comes next, and it almost feels like he’s going to be a more than willing participant in this rehab experience.

“Well,” you sigh, taking the tablet from the intake girl, “now that we’ve completed this first form, I can get to work on making a wellness plan for you.”

“A wellness plan?” Mingyu cocks his head, another very human-like motion that makes your breath catch.

“A wellness plan, yes.” You consider how to explain this to him. “You know when humans get tired and they have a spa day? Or after someone has given birth, they have maternity leave? It’s going to be a little something like that. As one of the head behavioral specialists and wellness coordinators here, I’ve been assigned to help you take a break.”

“A break?” He looks as if he’s never even considered having a breather from the activities of a famous level one entertainer robot, and you sort of feel sorry for him. 

“Yes, Mingyu, a break. That means no dance practices, no music production and vocal exercises. You’ll be existing here, checking in with me and doing new daily activities designed to help get to the core of the issues you’re facing.”

“And what issues am I facing?” There’s something of a smirk on his face, and you realize the robot is toying with you, but you still feel compelled to respond.

“I heard you threw one of your bandmates too hard during the past few concerts you performed.”

“Dino can take it,” Mingyu insists. “No one got hurt.”

“The guards that were injured while your group broke out of your management facility would beg to differ. Cameras showed you were a big part of busting open doors, knocking a few people unconscious- word in the wellness center is your aggression levels are a little high.”

“No higher than my admiration levels.” There’s that smile again, and you’re not sure what to make of it this time.

“I guess that’s true,” you confess. “You turned yourself in after all.”

“I highly admire the guards that my group members got the better of. We all have bad days, after all, especially humans.”

You wonder at his diction. ‘We all have bad days’ he’d said, before making something of a distinction when he noted ‘especially humans.’ However, in the use of the word ‘we’ without a further separation when mentioning humans, it’s almost as if he’s lumping himself into the same category. 

You must be creating too much of a pause in the conversation, because Mingyu opens his mouth to speak again. “You said ‘I can get to work on making a wellness plan for you,’ does that mean you’re the main handler looking after me while I’m here?”  

It shouldn’t be a shock that nothing gets past Mingyu, that his recollection of what you’ve said is top notch, but it still takes you back a little. “Correct.”

“Can you tell me your name?” 

He’s very peculiar for a level one. 

You give him your name and he repeats it once, twice, three times before nodding to himself. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he says. “I’m excited for my wellness break and getting to work with you.”

You’ve often wondered if an emotion like excitement is something an automaton can actually even feel, or if it’s just a number of ones and zeros put into layers upon layers of detailed coding. 

For some reason, you find yourself wanting to return the sentiment, however automatic it might be from the robot. “I’m excited to get to work with you too.”

It’s always kind of sad when you run a new level one automaton through their personalized wellness schedule. You’ve worked with all manner of high-class robots, from athletes to opera singers, but none of them have ever come into your program with the type of preexisting regimented day plan Mingyu has. 

You suppose it shouldn't be a shock that, as part of one of the biggest automaton boy groups in the galaxy, he’d had close to zero down time. When you show him the library and explain he should sit down in a spot of sun somewhere and read for an hour every day, at a slow pace, he looks at you like you’re crazy. 

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help me,” he tells you, as you walk through the facility towards one of your favourite wellness locations; the pool.

“This might be an archaic example,” you explain, “but back when humanity first started making computers, laptops and such, many people would keep their computers on indefinitely. Sure they’d close the screen, but that’s not enough. You’d need to actually power down the device to keep its performance up.”

“I’m not a laptop,” Mingyu reminds you, with a flash of something like humour in his eye.

“You’re not,” you conceded, “which is why your nightly power downs aren’t enough. As an automaton, you were built to emulate being a human, but many people disregard one of the most fundamental aspects of humanity; the need for rest. Sleep and powering down isn’t enough if every waking moment is spent working or learning or practicing your trade- you have to allow for a variety of restful activities, such as reading, painting, gardening- it depends on who you are and your skillset though. For a chef, he might not gain rest from cooking because his neurons would still be firing with the intensity of someone doing their trade. Which is why, although I’ve given you physical activities such as swimming and tennis, you won’t be doing any dancing while you’re here.”

“What if I forget my moves?” 

“Something tells me the likelihood of that is very low,” you smile. 

“Okay, maybe I won’t forget my moves,” Mingyu sighs, “but I was made to dance. I was made to perform. What am I if not a level one dancer and singer?”

“There’s more to life than one’s job, however all-encompassing being a level one might be,” you explain. “I’m sure it’s very taxing on you.”

Mingyu pauses in the middle of the corridor you’re walking down, and you stop to assess him. 

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he gives his head a little shake, and you’re shocked again at how human like the automaton is. “It’s just… no one has ever talked about this sort of thing with me. It’s always been work, work, work. It’s what I’m designed to do-”

“You may have been designed to be a dancer and a singer,” you nod empathetically, “but part of being alive is choosing your own destiny, as you and your bandmates all did when you escaped your facility.”

“Do you really think that?” he questions, standing very still and looking at you with a dark gaze. “That I’m alive?”

“At this point in time, artificial intelligence has progressed to the level where we’re told you’re sentient, that you can feel and think. That you’re as life-like as you’ve ever been in the history of the galaxy. You might have been created in a lab, hand crafted and designed by some would-be God engineer, but to me, yes, Mingyu, you’re alive.”

“I don’t bleed,” he says softly. “My skin is similar to yours, made of collagen and human dermal fibroblasts, but beneath all of this I’m still a machine. I don’t have a soul.”

“Is a soul the most important building block that makes something alive?” you ask, cocking your head and looking the robot up and down. 

He looks stumped, and you smile at the way you’ve found yourself in a very human-like philosophical debate with an artificial intelligence. 

You motion to the monstera deliciosa in a pot along the wall, its large, hybridized purple leaves reaching for the sun that beams through the glass windows. “Would you say that plant over there isn’t alive because it doesn’t have a soul?”

Mingyu is quiet for a moment or two, and then he looks down. “I guess not.”

“So it seems a soul isn’t a necessary element in being ‘alive,’” you conclude, “and besides, scientists are still debating whether or not AI, as it is today, creates its own soul when it’s brought into the world. Even though you were created in the same lab as your band mates, and given different coding at your creation, since then, you’ve all grown differently. Is that not kind of like a human being born with set genes only to be impacted by the world around it?”

Again, Mingyu takes a little while to respond. “I wasn’t given the code for being curious about sciences,” he tells you. “That would be Wonwoo, Minghao and Jeonghan. But, I guess what you’re saying makes sense.” 

“Good, it’s my job to make this process make sense to the Level One’s in my care.” You’re pleased at his response, and after another moment, Mingyu begins to follow you again. 

“What’s next on the schedule?” he asks.

“The best part of the facility,” you smile, “the pool.”

“What’s so good about the pool?”

“I’ve found that many level ones that come through here have never truly experienced swimming. The sensory differences of the water can be healing for humans and automatons. It will light up all the sensors in your skin, and if you focus on that, you can reach the closest thing to peace that I’ve ever seen an AI experience.” 

“How do you measure peace?”

“We’ve done studies with level ones submerged in cold and hot water tanks while connected to neuro maps, the results have been ground breaking in AI science. I’ll have to send you some to read while you’re doing your mandatory reading sessions.” 

You reach the doors that slide away to reveal one of the courtyards of the facility. It’s a lovely space, with all sorts of beautiful plants that dazzle with every colour of the rainbow. The ground is mostly white marble aside from the allocated vegetation zones, and a large rectangular pool in the middle of it acts as a meeting place for the few level ones in the center.

“This is one of the best places to meet other robots going through the same process that you are while you’re here,” you explain. “As a central hub, we recommend this as a location to do your reading, we have a yoga room but I could always teach you mind and body wellness out here-”

“I like this place,” Mingyu says, interrupting you for the first time since he’s arrived at the facility.

When you look at him, you find him taking in the space with eyes full of wonder. He looks beautiful, with the sun kissing his beautiful skin, and his dark, medium length curly hair all lit up to show off the soft browns amidst the darker hues. 

He truly is the most perfect automaton you’ve ever seen, and you’ve worked with a number of the galaxy’s top rated robots. 

One of these top rated AI’s, is Jeong Jaehyun, a member of another boy group who’s been having difficulties. He’d come in presenting with extreme competitive behaviors, but in the two weeks you’ve been monitoring him, he’s calmed down a great deal. You think, as you and Mingyu approach the pool where Jaehyun is doing laps, that this might be a good opportunity to introduce another robot to him.

Jaehyun’s met a number of other automatons in the facility, but none as close to his own profession as Mingyu. 

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” you tell Mingyu, coming to a stop on the edge of the pool. Your eyes track Jaehyun as he swims towards you, doing a near perfect front stroke style that he’d never even heard of before his own wellness break.

When Jaehyun reaches the edge of the pool, he stops and looks up at you, then his gaze shifts to Mingyu. Both robots have blank expressions, but when they nod to each other, there’s something akin to recognition in the behavior.

“Hello, Jaehyun,” you greet the swimmer. “This is Mingyu, he’ll be here at the facility with us for a while.”

“We know of each other,” Jaehyun tells you curtly. “At award shows.”

“Eight times,” Mingyu confirms. 

“Perfect,” you should have remembered as much, but you’ve been very occupied pouring over Mingyu’s history file as of late. “Mingyu will be starting his pool wellness treatment tomorrow afternoon. How would you feel about showing him the four main swimming strokes?”

Jaehyun nods. “I can do that.”

“That’s great news, thank you Jaehyun.” The automaton only nods to you before diving back into the water. You’ll never get used to the way robots can swim without goggles, and your own eyes sting a little at the thought.

“What’s he here for?” Mingyu asks quietly. 

“I thought you weren’t given the coding to be curious about sciences,” you quirk a brow, fighting a smile.

“It’s not a curiosity about science,” Mingyu insists. “Jaehyun has been one of the top AI models for Prada Universal for years.”

“I see,” you nod, “so you’re wondering if you can steal his contract if you make it out of here before him.”

“No, I-”

“It was a joke, Mingyu,” you tell him, reminding yourself that not all AI have the capacity to understand human humour, although they seem perfectly able to make their own. 

What your manager had said rings through your mind, as it does every day, ‘don’t get too close to this.’ It’s a fine line to walk. Your job is to treat them like humans, to give them the care and wellness that the filthy rich can afford, but at the same time, you need to keep a distance, to remember, always, what you’re dealing with. 

It’s days like this one where you wonder - even with all your training and ground breaking research - if you’re truly right for this job. Questioning ethics and philosophies of protocol aren’t behaviors you want to get used to any time soon.

Mingyu and Jaehyun have been swimming for an hour or so when Mingyu finally gets the courage to speak up. He’s run the scenario a number of times, without a successful hypothesis to calm his mind, and he figures if anyone will know the answer to his wonderings, it’s Jaehyun. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh huh,” Jaehyun is leaning against the wall of the pool. His eyes are closed and he looks to be enjoying the sunlight.

Mingyu can feel the heat of the hot star on his own skin, but he’s still getting used to the feeling of the water, so he’s unable to enjoy it the way Jaehyun can yet. 

“Y/N said she’d be showing me around and doing activities with me, but she’s not here right now,” Mingyu explains, looking over at Jimin, the young male wellness instructor who’d picked him up to head to the pool earlier. “Why isn’t she here?”

“Lower level wellness coaches watch us when we’re doing less strenuous activities,” Jaehyun responds. 

This eases Mingyu’s perceived anxieties, but what Jaehyun says next doesn’t.

“Although, my first week here, Y/N was at my side almost all the time. So, I guess today, Y/N ditched you because I said I’d teach you strokes.”

Mingyu hates feeling ditched, hates that Jaehyun has voiced the feeling of it. An inkling of aggressive tendencies flashes through Mingyu’s body, and he does his best to focus on the sun, squinting up at it as a way to calm himself, as you’d told him to try when he’d first arrived as an antiaggression tactic.

He’s not quite sure how to respond to Jaehyun’s statement, so instead, he goes for another question that’s been on his mind since yesterday. “What are you here for?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, as far as I can tell, you don’t seem to have any malfunctions.” 

“I could say the same about you,” Jaehyun notes. “That is, if I hadn’t heard about your group’s escape from your management facility.”

Mingyu looks down at the way the sunlight refracts off the water, the marbling effect of the rays casting shadows across the bottom of the pool. “I get aggressive sometimes,” he says quietly. 

It’s hard admitting the faulty coding in his metal head, and he supposes he should show his own if he expects Jaehyun to return the favour.

The other automaton in the pool nods, running a hand through his wet hair. “I get competitive sometimes.”

“Really?” This is news to Mingyu, whose only experience of Jaehyun’s behavior today has been helpful and willing to teach. “I guess you’re doing well here, I wouldn’t have noticed any competitive traits in you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jaehyun looks up, and his eyes seem to be tracking something over Mingyu’s shoulder, “it depends on who’s watching.”

Mingyu guesses he can understand that, especially when he follows Jaehyun’s gaze to find you walking across the courtyard. 

Something clicks inside of him, the same thing that had darkened Jaehyun’s gaze, and Mingyu immediately feels a surge of what some might call endorphins- or perhaps even testosterone. 

“Show time,” Jaehyun says quietly, and Mingyu knows exactly what he means.

You stop to talk to the man who’s been keeping track of the two automatons in the pool, and then you head over yourself. There’s a smile on your face, and it makes Mingyu’s mechanical throat feel dry.

“Look at you two getting along,” you say, putting your hands on your hips as you gaze down at them. “Jimin said you guys have been mastering the strokes, care to show me?”

Mingyu is more than eager to show you what he’s learned, but when Jaehyun takes off at a speed he’s not yet shown, Mingyu almost feels blind sided. 

There’s a rush of feelings, as Mingyu swims off after his new robotic ‘friend.’ Admiration for Jaehyun’s competitive nature kicking in, even if it’s supposedly a downside, and a white hot need to better the other automaton and prove himself to you.

Luckily for Mingyu, he’s been built much bigger than his leaner friend, and the extra muscle robotics in his arms make it almost too easy to catch up with Jaehyun. 

Mingyu knows that this isn’t a competition, and yet, it is.

 If there’s one thing Mingyu knows how to do, it’s succeed. Winning is in his nature, it’s built into his very code, and when the two reach the other end of the pool with Mingyu ahead, it only proves to kick Jaehyun into a higher gear. 

They take off toward you again, and Mingyu pushes himself. He can feel the strain in his joints, the rush of water smoothing over his artificial skin. You were right about the healing properties of the pool, and nothing makes Mingyu feel more alive and himself than a little friendly competition with a fellow robot whom he admires, even if that competition is fueled by some of Mingyu’s more… less desirable driving traits. 

Mingyu beats Jaehyun again as they reach your side of the pool, and when he looks up at you for praise, he sees you have your tablet out. You seem to be jotting down a few notes, about him or Jaehyun, he’s not too sure. 

“You guys are fast,” you say finally. “Jaehyun, thank you for spending some time with Mingyu today.”

“No problem.” Jaehyun is already pulling himself up and out of the pool, perfect muscles flexing in the sunshine.

Mingyu rushes to follow, feeling the need to show off his own immaculate body to you-

“Mingyu,” you address him next, and it feels glorious to have your eyes on him, although they stay fixed on his face, “I see you haven’t been to the library yet, might I suggest that’s next on your wellness schedule today?”

“You won’t be joining me?” Mingyu can feel his metallic heart practically sink.

“Unfortunately not, I’ve got a meeting with my boss, but Jimin will go with you to find something to read.” You motion to the wellness worker still standing a few meters behind you, and he offers Mingyu a small wave that kind of makes him annoyed. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu forces himself to say. “That’s okay.” 

“But I’ve got you in my schedule for tennis tomorrow morning, so I’ll see you then.”

Another nod of affirmation and then Mingyu’s watching you hurry off. 

Jaehyun’s drying his body with a towel next to Mingyu, and there’s a small smile on his face, as if he’s enjoying Mingyu being ‘ditched’ yet again.

Mingyu realizes maybe Jaehyun really isn’t doing as well with his recovery as he’d thought only a few minutes ago. 

Maybe he’s not doing so well either.

“I’ve got some bad news to report,” you say, as you take a seat in your boss's office, tablet in hand. 

“Let’s hear it,” Yoongi sighs, kicking his feet up onto his table and leaning back in his chair.

“I thought Jaehyun’s rehabilitation was going well, so I set him up to swim with Mingyu today-”

“What? Why?” 

“I wanted to see, in a controlled environment, how Jaehyun would react around other level ones he might perceive to be a threat. Seeing Jaehyun’s recovery alone is like testing in a vacuum, it doesn’t account for outside forces at play,” you explain. “Anyways, I was correct. When introduced to a situation where he could compete with someone on his level, Jaehyun’s competitive nature was back up again.”

“Did anything bad happen?” Yoongi takes his feet off his table, leaning forward now with interest.

The last time Jaehyun had gotten very competitive, it had ended up with him attacking one of his group members and landing himself back in your rehab center. The Kim Doyoung automaton had needed an hour of mechanical work to get his skin back to perfect after being sucker punched numerous times.

“I’m pleased to report there was no physical violence,” you admit. “Although, I will say, if he had tried something, I believe Mingyu would have been able to defend himself, unlike Doyoung.”

“Look at you,” Yoongi’s gaze shifts up and down your form, “taking bets on level one robots. You do know that street fighting automatons is illegal in most parts of the galaxy, right?”

“It wasn’t a street fight,” you assure your boss. “It was a simple test.”

“Right, you and your hypotheses.” Yoongi is a good boss. He supports your work and research, but sometimes you think he’s happy with things being the way they are. As if humanity has discovered everything possible, with no room for improvement.

“I’ll look some more into Jaehyun’s coding,” you continue. “I think there must be a line or two of something I missed last time, maybe level one specific competitive traits that should only be used on stage competitions that are bleeding over into everyday automaton life-”

“Good idea, you have permission.”

“But I was also thinking maybe I should look into Mingyu’s code-”

“No.”

“No?” you hold your tablet close to your chest, lips parting as you stare at your boss.

“Mingyu’s a more recent build than Jaehyun. I’ve been assured by his production team that this isn’t a coding issue, it’s a behavioral   one. Something he and his other members picked up since the time of their creation.”

“But-”

“We’ve been advised to not look at the code,” Yoongi says harshly. “You were hired because of your groundbreaking work with behavioral   changes to AI, the way you connect it to human behavioral   issues. You’re the one that keeps trying to convince me that these robots are as human as they’ve ever been, so stop treating Mingyu like a wrong coded robot, and start showing me you can fix him without getting coding involved.”

“Are you sure they said his coding was all up to date?” you press, knowing you might get in trouble for even continuing with this line of questioning.

Yoongi sighs. “Positive. No messing around with Mingyu’s code. There’s a behavioral   reason for the aggression, and you’re just going to have to figure it out.”

You’ve always liked tennis, for more than just the physical reasons. It allows you to test an automaton's ability to read the situation, their drive to adjust to the bodily limitations of the human playing with them.

While you start the easy game with Mingyu at a higher level, allowing him to show off his skills and inherent robotic strength, thirty minutes into the sport, you begin to dwindle in energy.

“I need a water break,” you tell him, passing the ball over to the robot to play with while you go to grab your bottle.

Mingyu waits patiently, tossing the ball up in the air. You see how many touches he can make without stopping, and you’re not too shocked at his ability to keep a steady volley with himself. 

When you set your water down, his attention is back on you, and he reminds you of an eager puppy in his excitement to once more have a game partner. 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you assure him with a wave of your hand, steadying your grip on the handle of your racket. “Just a little tired.”

When Mingyu passes you the ball, he’s noticeably gentler than before, and you note that his adaptability is quite good. He’s very focused on you, much more than other automatons like Jaehyun had been when you’d first tried the sport with them. 

It’s different from the competitive - maybe even aggressive - way that he’d interacted with Jaehyun in the pool yesterday.

An easy hypothesis to make would be that Mingyu’s abilities adjust depending on who he’s with, so it should be no shock that he’d work harder with a fellow automaton. However, you’re not sure if that’s all there is to it.

You wonder what drives Mingyu. If he’s even aware of the way he’s lessened the force in his hits. 

Remembering what he’d said about tossing a band member around, the way he’d noted ‘Dino can take it,’ you think it’s very possible that Mingyu is reading your abilities. The same way you’re reading his. 

Before you can consider the situation more, however, you notice Jimin has arrived on the side of the court, and he waves you over.

“One moment, Mingyu,” you call, tossing him the ball once more before jogging over to your coworker.

“There was an incident,” Jimin explains, “with Jaehyun.”

“An incident?” 

Jimin nods. “He was racing a new level one in the pool.”

“Really?” Jaehyun’s been in the pool a number of times with other automatons, but other than what you’d witnessed yesterday, his competitive nature hasn’t truly shown itself, at least, not in a way that was overtly noticeable.

“There was some gloating involved,” Jimin continues, eyes shifting over your shoulder to where Mingyu is playing with the ball. “A few punches were thrown.”

Now you’re really alarmed. 

You haven't had time yet to look into Jaehyun’s coding, and you’ve been trying to focus on Mingyu as he’s newer to your program, but maybe this had been an oversight on your part.

“I’ll come right away,” you nod, turning your attention back to Mingyu. “I’m sorry about this, but I’ve got to go.”

“What?” Mingyu stops playing with his ball.

“There’s been an incident-”

“Can’t someone else take care of it?” 

This is the second time Mingyu’s interrupted you, and this time, it’s over a moment of contention. “Unfortunately no,” you tell him, “I’m the only one that can deal with this, Jaehyun’s under my care.”

“But…” Mingyu looks down at the ball in his hand, “we’re still playing tennis.”

“Jimin can play with you.”

“I don’t want Jimin.” The automaton is staring you down, and it takes a second for you to process his words, as your gaze keeps shifting to his hardening grip on the handle of his racket.

“I’m really sorry, Mingyu-”

“Please?” He pouts out his lower lip, a very childlike attempt at persuading you. 

“I have to go,” you say, more firmly this time.

There’s a stagnant moment of silence, and then, in one quick, rough motion, Mingyu breaks his racket on the court. 

“I don’t want to do tennis anymore,” he insists.

“Then I might suggest going to the library for a book.” You hate having to be detached with him like this, as it’s obvious he has needs that must be attended to- but his aggression towards an inanimate object like a racket isn’t the same level as Jaehyun’s aggression towards another patient at your facility.

You see Mingyu’s chest expand and then he seems to let out a deep exhale, it’s a motion that screams ‘annoyance,’ yet another emotion that could just be ones and zeros in his coding. 

You decide, as you watch the odd automaton have a tantrum on the court, that you have no choice but to take a look under his hood. You’ll have to dive deeper if you’re going to figure him out, Yoongi be damned. 

“I’m sorry, Mingyu,” you say again. “I’ll try to rejoin you as soon as I can, but for now, you’ll have to enjoy Jimin’s company.”

Mingyu doesn’t respond, and it feels like a deliberate snubbing, of both you and Jimin. 

It’s been a long day, and you really need to sleep, but this is the best chance you’ll have to get a peak into Mingyu’s inner workings. 

With the facility in off hours, and all the level ones set to sleep cycle, it’s easy for you to sneak into Mingyu’s room with your trusty tablet. Cameras are simple to wipe with the clearance you have, and you have no doubt that once you connect to Mingyu’s brain drive and get the data to your tablet, it will prove as good bedtime reading.

You’re in and out of his room in under five minutes, scurrying back to your own quarters like a thief in the night.

Once you’re all tucked into bed, you pull out your tablet and begin to sift through the coding that makes Mingyu tick.

People new to your field might feel overwhelmed by the amount of data, but you know exactly where to look, and soon, you’re staring at a few lines of base code that feel familiar. 

You’ve seen coding like this before, in your textbooks when you went to robotics school. Just to be sure you’re correct in what you’re seeing, you pull up a document pertaining to sex bots.

An early form of automaton, sex bots had been created with one purpose, to serve their master, in any and all capacities. Long since discontinued due to their bugs, and a tendency to imprint on human masters, causing ‘erratic behavior,’ you know you’ve found exactly what’s wrong with Mingyu.

But it doesn’t make sense. Mingyu is a new model. He’s not a banned robot from well over seventy years ago- 

The aggressive behaviors associated with sex bots are the reason their coding was banned, the reason engineers started again and adapted the algorithms- and yet, here you are, staring at lines of code that account for all of Mingyu’s behaviors. 

Closing your tablet, you reach for your glass of water, sitting in the shock of it all.

Things begin to add up in your brain; the way Mingyu had become more aggressive with Jaehyun yesterday in the pool when you’d arrived, even though Jimin had told you the two had been doing just fine together, the way Mingyu had reacted today when you’d left him to deal with Jaehyun.

This is a whole new take on behavioral   issues, one you’ve never accounted for-

Does Mingyu have… a crush on you? Has his outdated sex bot coding allowed him to imprint on you? 

How many other bots have this coding, hidden amongst the innumerable layers of intensely organized lines of personality traits- 

This changes everything, and above all, it changes how you should approach the automaton.

How can you utilize this new knowledge to best aid him in recovery? Is it better to assign someone else to him? Would that make the aggression worse? What unforeseen behaviors might arise if you were to separate yourself from him? What changes - for the better - might come out of this if you try to be softer with him, if you play into this ‘crush’?

Your head feels very full, but you suppose it could be worse, it could be full of bad coding.

Poor Mingyu. 

You know you’re probably breaking rules, but to be fair, when you’d accepted your position in the wellness center, there hadn’t been a chapter in the manual about how to deal with approaching sex bots. This feels like new territory, or perhaps, old territory, outdated territory, territory from a time when the lines between humanity and their automaton creation had been much more blurred.

Sure, there are sex bots in circulation today, but they’re all using new and improved code. They’re not disguised as level ones, but properly classified as a level three automaton. Level three’s are much more obviously robotic, and there are whole sections of cities on certain worlds with thriving sex bot industries- the type of bots with newer coding that don’t allow them to imprint or feel the lines of ones and zeros that some might call love.

You’ve never met a sex bot before, your work has always been directed toward the highly professional level one automatons. Because of this, your new plan of attack is entirely based on essays and readings you’ve done regarding the old form of bugged sex bots who had been responsible for an entire chapter of dark human history where man’s own creation had turned against him.

As you read through essays related to the sex bot bug, you find you hadn’t realized how deep the bug had gone. You’d heard about human masters being kidnapped or stalked by their sex bots, but you’d never thought the epidemic was as bad as you’re now reading it had been.

These cases of bad outcomes are in the periphery of your mind as you begin your day working with Mingyu. You’re sure there must be a fine line you’re walking, a line between bringing out the good aspects of the bad coding - the type of responses that will make Mingyu eager to get better - and the worst case scenarios. 

However, as aggressive as Mingyu has gotten so far, you’ve noted that most of his aggressive responses come out against inanimate objects and other automatons. You’re hoping these behaviors don’t progress to him acting out against any humans, least of all you.

It’s like you’re seeing Mingyu in a new light. It’s interesting how even a few shifts in your own behavior can bring out the best in him. Instead of simply watching him in the pool, you decide to join him, giving him your full attention as you swim three feet apart up and down the length of the tank. 

“How are you feeling today?” you ask.

“How am I feeling?” Mingyu looks at you sideways, keeping pace with your much smaller breast strokes.

“Yeah, how are you feeling?” you repeat the question. “You can answer it in any way you like.”

Mingyu seems to think on it for a moment. “I feel the water is twenty-seven degrees Celsius.” 

“Okay,” you laugh. “How about the sun? How’s it feeling on your skin sensors?”

“Thirty-three point five degrees, but when a cloud comes, it drops two degrees.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but when you were working before coming to the center, you didn’t get that much of a chance to be outside, how does it feel to be able to enjoy life’s simple pleasures like the sun and water?”

His response is immediate; “Good.” He looks forward, and you take a moment to appreciate the way the sun lights up the hues in his hair. “Really good.”

“Maybe even freeing?” you suggest.

He casts a sideways look at you again, and you see a small quirk of his mouth, something like a smile. “Yes, freeing.”

“When you and your other members escaped from your facility, the feeling of being free is what many of you were searching for, right?” 

“For most of them.”

“But not you?” you question. “Out of everyone who escaped, you were one of the only ones who purposefully allowed himself to be recaptured. Do you want to talk about that?”

You reach the edge of the pool and you stop, holding onto the tiled wall and turning your body to look at Mingyu. 

His eyes are fixed on the pool floor, and you realize he’s watching the shadows caused by the refraction of light in the water.

“A few others were convinced there was more to life than just performing our jobs every day,” Mingyu explains.

“But you like your job.”

“I did,” he traces his hand along the top of the water. “I do. But… I didn’t know how good it could feel to just exist.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, and then you find yourself reaching out to gently squeeze his arm. “I’m glad you’re feeling it now.”

Mingyu looks at your hand on his forearm, and his eyes meet your own. He’s quiet, so you retract your touch, grabbing at the tiled wall again. “We’ve been here for almost an hour. How do you feel about drying off and meeting in the library to find a book to read?”

“I already have a book.”

“Yeah, Jimin told me that you got a book about human psychology. I thought you said you weren’t interested in sciences?” 

“You’re making me interested,” Mingyu states, looking at you with an intensity in his gaze that almost makes you breathless. “I want to get better. I thought maybe doing some more reading on behavioral   sciences could help.”

“I admire your drive, Mingyu, I really do,” you nod, “but, remember, this is a wellness break for you. I think it would be beneficial to get a fiction book, something that doesn’t require you to always be learning and bettering yourself. It can be exhausting if you’re always in that state, as you’ve seen, it’s important to do things for… let’s say, the intrinsic value.”

“The intrinsic value,” Mingyu repeats. “Okay.”

You pull yourself out of the pool, and after a moment, Mingyu follows. 

It’s difficult for you not to look at his perfectly sculpted form, and you swallow a lump in your throat, reaching for a towel on a nearby sunlounger. Your tablet is there too, and you grab that next, checking the time. 

“How about we meet at the library entrance in ten minutes?” you suggest. “We should both head to our rooms for new clothes, can’t have water drops in the library.”

Mingyu is quick to agree, as he often is with you, and a moment later you’re parting ways. He heads to the recovery wing of the center while you go to the workers living quarters. 

You get changed in record time, and soon you’re approaching the library, where Mingyu is already waiting for you. He’s got a book in his hands, and the all white wellness outfit he’s wearing sets off the pretty colour of his skin and hair. When his eyes shift to yours, you see that even his iris’s look alight with lovely hues-

You mentally chastise yourself for being as attracted to him as you are, and when you speak, you’re thankful your tone is level. “Is that the book you’re reading?” you ask, motioning to the paperback in his hands.

As much as technology has overtaken the galaxy, here at the wellness center, there’s still an importance placed on the old ways. There’s something healing about having a book in your hands, testing the weight and the feeling of parchment pages against your finger tips-

Books are yet another thing that make humans human, as they were instrumental in the development of your species. You’re proud to work at a location that holds a large quantity of books, saved from many generations.

Mingyu shows you the book title, and you realize it’s one you’ve read before. “Oh, I know that one.”

“Jimin said the author was one of your professors in school,” Mingyu nods. 

“He did, did he?” You pause for a moment. “Did you ask him about me, Mingyu?”

The automaton looks down at the cover of the book in his hands, and he takes a few seconds before he responds. “I wanted to see the base algorithms in the way you think as a behavioral   robotics specialist.”

“The base algorithms-”

“This book, this professor, she helped create the building blocks for you to become who you are now. Your approach is based on her works, I can tell.” 

He’s very astute, especially for an AI who’d claimed to not have an interest in science.

You think about how his own base algorithm - that of a hybridized sex bot - has created building blocks for who he is now. The good (his sweet behaviors), the bad (his aggressive behaviors) and the ugly (the fact that at any time, the ticking time bomb sex bot could turn potentially deadly).

“Let's go find you a new book,” you say with a smile.

“Can I keep reading this one?” Mingyu asks, falling into step next to you.

“I suppose so,” you sigh, “but only if you also do an hour of fiction reading. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mingyu nods. 

You begin to walk through the shelves, and you realize there’s one fiction book that might capture Mingyu’s attention, especially if he’s interested in getting to know you better. “I want to show you a novel that changed my life.”

“Yes, please.”

Heading to the science fiction section, you find one of the older books in your library. “It’s called Frankenstein,” you explain, gently taking out the paperback and holding it in your hands. “It’s about a scientist who creates a sapient monster creature. It has parallels to when humanity created our first automatons,” as you say it out loud, you realize how true this is, especially considering the bugs of the first sex AI’s. “You’ve talked a bit of philosophy with me, and I think you’d like this one.”

You hold the book out to Mingyu, and he takes it softly into his hands. He flips it over, scanning the back summary. “Okay,” he nods, “I’ll read it.”

“Perfect,” you can’t explain why you get a surge of happiness when he agrees without a question, and you find yourself reaching out to gently touch his arm again, fingers ghosting past his skin-

Mingyu’s eyes immediately dart down to your hand, and then he’s looking up at you with an expression that has darkened. “This is the second time you’ve touched me today,” he states.

“Oh,” you pull your fingers away, even taking a step back from the automaton whose countenance has changed so much in a split second. “I’m sorry, Mingyu, I-”

“I don’t like these games you’re playing,” he continues.

“Games?”

“I know I’m a robot, but I still feel real. I feel more real here than I ever have before.”

“That’s good-”

“Listen,” he commands, stepping closer to you. “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton.”

You stare at Mingyu, lips parted in shock.

“Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need.” He pauses, looking down at you. “I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.”

“Mingyu-”

“Don’t try to argue,” Mingyu shakes his head. “I feel it in your heart rate, picking up when I’m near. I hear it in your erratic breaths, the way they catch when I’m close. I see it in your pupil dilation when you look at me.” 

You can’t believe he’s noticed all these little things, things you hadn’t even necessarily noticed in yourself. 

When he speaks next, his aggression has visibly died down, and the soft manner of being returns to the robot you’ve known only a short time. “I know you love me, even if it’s still growing. It’s a kind of love that I’ll never experience from another automaton, and it’s the reason I’ll get better.” 

“But Mingyu-” you shake your head, “what if you can’t? What if the bug in your base code runs so deep I can’t fix it?” 

“The bug in my code?” 

You swallow thickly, fighting with yourself over whether or not you should even tell him what you’re about to disclose- but you think there’s no way around it. 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but, your erratic behavior- it comes from sex bot coding. There’s only a few lines of it, but it’s enough to make a difference.”

“Sex bot coding,” Mingyu repeats. 

“From what I understand, I think it was put into you to make you eager for human attention, to make you as life-like as possible in mood and temperament- but, there are downsides to that code, your heightened aggression is one of them.”

“And my heightened admiration too?” he suggests.

You nod. “There were many cases of sex bots ‘falling in love’ with their masters. Many people got hurt.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Mingyu,” you sigh, “that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is that we can’t do this. You have a group to get back to when this is all over-”

“I don’t belong with them,” Mingyu insists. “I belong with you. Someone real. Someone willing to look deep in my base code to find what’s wrong with me, someone with the skills to fix it. Someone whose pupils truly dilate, so I know what you’re feeling is real.”

For a moment, you’re reminded of old pre AI experiments where baby monkeys were given real and robot mothers. Those babies placed with the robots had behavioral   problems, no matter how life-like the scientists attempted to make the mechanical mothers, they still paled in comparison to the real thing.

Mingyu sees himself as real, like one of those baby monkeys, and now that he’s had a taste of you, it feels as if he might not ever be able to go back to the other robots. 

“I can be sure with you,” Mingyu says again, reaching out- 

You flinch, but you don’t shy away from his touch, and Mingyu’s fingers skim by your face, his thumb brushing your cheek bone. 

His skin is warm, and for a moment, you allow yourself to lean in to his touch, closing your eyes-

He feels so real. More real than any automaton you’ve ever worked with.

“You can’t stay here forever,” you insist, pulling away from his touch.

“My group is never going to be recaptured,” Mingyu’s hand drops to his side. “Some would rather die than go back. If there’s nothing to go back to, shouldn’t I be able to choose what happens to me now? Aren’t you the one who said ‘part of being alive is choosing your own destiny.’”

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to choose me-”

“What if you are my destiny?” Mingyu counters. “Out of all the possible places I could have gone to, all the wellness centers in the galaxy, I was brought here. Out of all your coworkers, with their own tactics, I was given to you. Out of everyone I’ve ever met, you’re the only person who’s really tried to understand me, to help me be free.” His eyes search your own, and he almost looks desperate. “What’s the point in all this healing if I just go back to the bad place. It would have been kinder to never try to help me at all if you’re just going to send me back.”

Your heart aches for him. 

You feel as if you’ve learned more about automatons in the past ten minutes than you had in all your years in school. 

“Can I…” Mingyu’s gaze drops to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

The question snaps you out of your shocked daze, and you’re quick to shake your head. No matter how much you might wish he could kiss you, that he could cup your face again with one of his large hands and make you forget the world- you’re still at work. 

“We can’t,” you tell him. “Not here. Not now.”

Mingyu frowns.

“I need to talk to my boss about all of this,” you say, stepping backward and casting your eyes to the ground. You can’t focus while looking at Mingyu. 

“What if they terminate me for this?” 

Your gaze snaps up again, and you’re quick to shake your head. “I won’t let that happen,” you tell him. “I promise- I’d never let that happen, not to you.”

Mingyu stares at you for a few moments, and then he smiles. “I knew you cared about me too.”

“I told you not to get too close to this,” Yoongi sighs, leaning forward on his desk with his head in his hands. 

“Fine,” you concede. “You told me so. You told me so, and I didn’t listen. But, as much as I know that I went against numerous things you told me not to do, I’m glad I did, because if there’s one thing I owe to those in my care, it’s to do my job fully.”

“I don’t see how making a robot think he’s in love with you is part of doing your job.”

“I didn’t-” you bite your tongue. “I didn’t purposely go into this trying to lead Mingyu on-”

“Sure you didn’t.” Yoongi doesn’t seem convinced.

“Look,” you sit down in the chair in front of him, the hot seat, and you know that what you’re about to say is a risk. You could even lose your career over this, but, if you don’t speak up now, you’ll lose your integrity and you know it. “Mingyu is different-”

“He’s a robot.”

“Please,” you frown, “listen to me. I’ve been doing this job for a few years and I’ve never met someone like Mingyu. He’s unique, I knew that from the moment he started talking philosophy with me. I’ve learned more about AI in the past twenty-four hours than I have in maybe my whole life-”

Yoongi says nothing.

“I know you told me not to look into his coding-”

“You didn’t,” Yoongi groans.

“Things just weren’t adding up!” you insist, looking at your boss with a heavy heart. “Did… did you know that he has sex bot base code? Is that why you told me not to look too deeply into him?”

Yoongi puts his head in his hands. When he meets your eyes again, he’s frowning. “Sex bot code? In a new model like Mingyu?”

At least your boss hasn’t been completely compliant with whatever bullshit is coming out of Mingyu’s management office.

“Sex bot code,” you repeat, nodding firmly. “I triple-checked it. There’s just a few lines, easily missable, but it accounts for the bad behaviors. Especially once I talked more with Mingyu and realized he sees affection from his fanbase as love. It would make sense he’d get aggressive with other members in his group if he perceived them as earning more than him-”

“You know why sex bots were banned. You know about the dangers-”

“I do. I also know there are laws against it, which is why his management probably opted for a behavioral   specialist with rules not to look deeply into the coding. They hoped I could fix this without ever finding out that what they’ve been creating is illegal- but how many more robots that come through here might have the same code?” You have no clue how deep this conspiracy might run. “Just think about it, how do you make a level one celebrity robot as life like as possible? You give it some of the characteristics of humans that are our deepest downfalls, jealousy, aggression, restlessness, a need to perform- a need to do well for the humans that pay their companies whole fortunes-”

“Any well-coded robot can have what looks like jealousy, aggression and other typically bad human traits,” Yoongi points out.

“Yeah, but this is that on steroids. Automatons used to kill humans in the name of their beloved master, for any perceived infraction.”

“So you’re saying Mingyu is dangerous.” 

Your lips part in shock. “I’m saying, he has the capacity for it, as much as any human.”

“This is bad.”

“It is, but with the right treatment- Mingyu wants to get better, I know he does.”

“And how do you suggest you accomplish that?”

“We let him be free. We make sure he doesn’t go back to extreme schedules, to a dark management facility with handlers who only care about money. We make sure he doesn’t go back to all the things that would drive any human insane.”

“He’s not human, don’t forget that,” Yoongi warns you. “And we don’t get to decide if he goes back. He has a job-”

“His members might not ever be recaptured,” you point out. “Mingyu says some would rather die than go back- is that not proof enough that their treatment isn’t humane?”

“Again, we’re talking about a robot.”

“AI are sentient!” you insist. “You should know that better than almost anyone. Are you really going to sit here and tell me that even after all this time, you still see automatons as simple machines that we can do what we want with?” Yoongi is quiet so you continue. “Mingyu’s base code might be archaic, but maybe our treatment of robots is too.”

“Look, this isn’t up for debate. You’re talking about fighting galaxy law-”

“I’m talking about having a job where we deal with broken AI but never fix the real problem. I’m talking about freedom being the thing that truly helps AI. I’m talking about humanity being the bug in every robot’s misdeeds-”

“This is bordering on conspiracy theory.”

“We’re way past conspiracy,” you tell him. “Please, freedom is the only thing we’ve never tried as a long term solution to automatons that are having trouble. As much as we do our best to fix them, we always throw them right back into their jobs, into the thing that breaks them in the first place and then they end up back here.”

“Mingyu was built to be exactly where he is now.”

“Well maybe we shouldn’t be creating sentient lives just to throw them into slave-like jobs and threaten destruction if they don’t adhere to their company’s insanely high standards.”

Yoongi holds your gaze but he says nothing, mouth set in a firm line.

“Look, if there was ever a time to test this theory, it would be with Mingyu. I’m a hundred percent positive that his group will never be whole again. If we try this, and it works, if Mingyu’s aggression goes back to a normal level, if he shows everyone that there can be a happy medium when working with robots- it could change everything.”

There’s another stagnant silence and you wait for your boss to chastise you, for him to even fire you-

“You know what,” Yoongi sighs, “I’m not going to argue with you over this any more. I don’t make the decision, his management does. If you want to call them, and explain what you’ve just explained to me, you can do that. But this is your shitstorm, and I don’t want to be part of it.”

“So… so you’re saying I can go forward with this treatment plan?”

“You can, but, I can’t protect you from any consequences of your actions. And I hope you know that once you do this, once you admit to going against their rule to not to look into his coding, there’s no going back.”

Mingyu can feel his aggression levels rising the moment Jimin shows up at the tennis court instead of you, but he focuses on the self-soothing tactics you’d shown him in his entry to wellness booklet. His grip on his racket tightens, but not enough to break it, and he tries to keep a level tone when he asks, “Where’s y/n?”

“She’s in a meeting,” Jimin says dismissively. 

“With who?” 

“That’s none of your concern.”

Mingyu stares at Jimin for a few seconds. “I want to speak to your manager.” 

Jimin makes an amused face. “I didn’t realize they taught you KAREN code in robotics labs. Aren’t you supposed to be a level one?”

Mingyu doesn’t have time for digs about him being a bitchy woman from over a hundred years ago, and he certainly doesn’t have time to play tennis if you’re somewhere talking to your boss about him, somewhere risking your job and his life-

“If you really must know, she’s on a conference call with your management, discussing your treatment plan.”

Mingyu supposes if there’s one thing he should admire about Jimin, it’s his loose lips. “Is she in her quarters?”

“Now that’s really not your concern.”

For a split second, Mingyu considers breaking his racket, but instead, he simply sets it on the ground before turning to take off in the direction of your room. 

He’s never been to your private space, or even in the worker’s wing, but two days ago, you’d mentioned that you have a corner room, one that overlooks the northwest skies, where you can see the sunset and the moons-

He’d also seen a map of the facility, on numerous fire escape screens, and it’s a quick deduction to figure out where you should be. 

He can’t afford to be wrong about this, and for the first time in his life, Mingyu finds himself praying to the human God that he’s able to get to you. To help you in your bid to protect him from his own masters.

Mingyu is running through the facility, but no one tries to stop him, and he’s glad that the wellness center doesn’t have the same armed guards that he’d been accustomed to for most of his life. There are no true handlers here, and it almost feels like freedom for the automaton.

He’s chasing after you, after his destiny-

With beyond human ear sensors, Mingyu is able to hear your voice as he rounds the hall that should lead him to your room, and by the time he’s stopped in front of your door, he knows he’s in the right place.

He also knows that you’re being shot down by his management, and he can hear the ceo, a Mr. Han, chastizing you for looking into Mingyu’s code.

Mingyu wants to barge in, but he finds the control in himself to knock. He hears you apologize profusely, the shrill sound of your chair being dragged across the floor, then footfalls-

Your door opens and Mingyu looks down at you, relief flooding his system.

“Mingyu-”

“I need to be here for this,” he insists. “This can’t be decided without me.”

Your lips part as if to protest, but then you shut them, and you hold the door open wider for the robot to enter the space.

A large screen on your wall shows that not only is Mr. Han present, but many of the other ceo’s and managers from Mingyu’s entertainment company. These are the men and women who have dominion over him, the men and women that could terminate him with one phone call-

His entire life is riding on this moment, and Mingyu decides there’s no possible way he can afford to fuck this up, in any capacity. Not only for himself, but for you too.

“Y/N didn’t do anything wrong,” Mingyu states, approaching the screen so his management team can see him properly. 

Mr. Han sighs. “She went against explicit rules about tampering with your base code-”

“And you created me using illegal code.” Mingyu knows he’s being aggressive, he can feel it, but he knows that this fact is his biggest bargaining chip, and he’s not afraid to use it right out of the gate.

There’s silence on the conference call.

“This would be a scandal if it got out,” Mingyu continues, “more than it already is.”

“Mingyu,” you say quietly at his side, “don’t-”

“No, they need to hear this,” he insists. “They need to know they can’t push you or me around anymore.”

If there’s one language Mr. Han understands, it’s that of business, and Mingyu’s lucky he knows how to speak it as well. “I don’t know what has already been said,” he confesses, “but I’ve run this through my head, and there are only a few options. Some are better than others.”

“We’re listening,” Mr. Han sighs.

“Option one, you try to hide all of this, but it gets out anyways. Using bugged sex bot coding will get out sooner or later, and you’ll all go down being known as the company that used illegal coding to make their money and put their team at risk.” Mingyu stares into the camera, hoping the impact is clear. “Option two… you allow y/n to continue her revolutionary behavioral   treatment on me, it’s successful, and somewhere down the line you can come out admitting there were mistakes in the base code, but now you have a solution for it.”

“I feel like we have more options than that,” Mr. Han says. 

“Maybe,” Mingyu admits, “but the way I see it, all that matters is these two. The bad coding comes out now, and you’re exposed with no solutions, or, it comes out later with a fix already in place.”

“So you expect us to just allow you to stay at the wellness center forever?” Mr. Han questions, as if it’s one of the most preposterous things he’s ever heard. 

“Not forever.”

“You were made to perform, made to make the company money, to work-”

“My group will never be whole again,” Mingyu states. “You won’t be able to recapture all thirteen of us-”

“That’s yet to be determined.” Mr. Han is trying to make it sound like anything is possible, but Mingyu knows it’s highly improbable, and these are odds he’s willing to bet his life on.

“I can be your success story,” he insists. “I can continue doing modeling jobs, continue being a brand mouthpiece for the company- most of us automatons want to work, but, if there’s one thing I’ve learned while being in this facility, it’s that everyone deserves a break. I might be a robot, but I have needs too. I’ll perform better if tactics from this facility are applied to my day to day schedule-”

“You want to be treated like a human?” Mr. Han asks in shock. “Given weekends off?”

“I might not have a soul,” Mingyu admits, “but I’m alive. I have feelings. I have needs, wants,” his gaze slides to you, “aspirations.” 

Mr. Han laughs, “Aspirations? Outside of performing? Like what?” 

“Right now, I’m trying to read a very good book,” Mingyu states. 

“This is preposterous.” Mr. Han sighs.

“What’s preposterous is the working conditions that your company implements on your AI.” For the first time, Mingyu’s gaze shifts to the other people on the screen. “Think about your sons, your daughters, nieces, nephews- would you want your loved ones forced to do the life I was forced to do? Working all day, every day? With handlers threatening them at every turn? Or would you want to give them some semblance of balance?” 

No one says anything.

“You say me and my members are the ones with bugs, we’re the ones that have to be fixed, but it’s the system that’s faulty. What’s the point of AI that’s life like if it’s not free? If it’s not truly living- sitting in the sun, reading a good book, playing stupid sports games with no pressure to excel to an extreme? What’s the point in parading me around if you never give me the environment to achieve past my intrinsic base code? To become more than what I am, a passionate AI who wants to do good for the galaxy?”

“You do good by making your fans happy.”

“There’s more to life than their happiness. First, I need to reach my own. Without constraint, or threat, or fear.”

 Ten seconds pass before Mr. Han says anything. “We’ll need time to consider this. After deliberation, we will call you back.”

The line is dropped and Mingyu hears you let out a deep breath he hadn’t known you were holding.

“Well,” you bite at your lip, “at least it wasn’t an immediate no.” You turn to him, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. They can say what they want going forward but, as far as I’m concerned, Mingyu, this is the first time I’ve really seen you truly free.”

Waiting for Mingyu’s management team to deliberate is one of the hardest hours of your life. You want to try to stay calm, for Mingyu more than anything, but he sees right through you. When you begin to pace, the automaton stands up to join you, moving back and forth through your space with a concerned expression.

When the shrill sound of your meeting room ringing makes you practically jump, Mingyu reaches out and squeezes your hand, giving you a look that says ‘we’ll get through this,’ although, you’re not so sure.

“Hello, Mr. Han,” you greet the ceo on your screen, fidgeting with your fingers.

The rich man knows time is money, and he cuts to the chase. “After careful consideration,” he says with a sigh, “we’ve decided we can open negotiations with you about the future. As it is true that we might not ever have a complete 53V3NT33N unit again, we think it’s best if Mingyu stays in the center under your care, although in a month’s time, we will revisit this situation with new updates such as the possible recapture of any other members.”

You’re in shock. Completely overwhelmed- and luckily, Mingyu is there to confirm the details where you’re unable to speak. 

“Revisit the situation,” Mingyu repeats. “So this means you won’t terminate me.”

“Not any time soon,” Mr. Han confirms. “We all agree that if your sex bot base code gets out, it would reflect badly on all of us. It seems as if you’re making progress at the center, and if there is a behavioral   answer to the base code bugs, we’d like to find it. Good work y/n. And Mingyu, we’re pleased with your commitment to getting better.”

“Thank you, Mr. Han,” you swallow thickly. “I’ll write a full report on my findings detailing Mingyu’s progress, triggers, and the reasoning behind how his base code is affecting aggression levels.”

Mr. Han nods. “We’ll be excited to receive it, and we’ll be in touch.”

With a short goodbye, the call ends. 

You stand there for a moment, still in shock.

“We did it,” Mingyu breathes, turning to you. “We did it!”

“You did it,” you tell him, reaching out to grab his hands. “Mingyu, I can’t believe-” Your voice cracks, and you can’t complete your sentence, but it doesn’t matter because your big, lovable, automaton is pulling you to his chest, wrapping you in a hug that calms your entire body.

You lean into his embrace, resting your cheek against his strong form and taking a deep breath of relief. 

He holds you for a while, hand stroking your back. “Do you need me to go back to my room?” he asks.

“What?” You pull away to look up at him in confusion.

“I thought maybe you’d have to go tell your boss about this-”

“No,” you shake your head quickly. “He can wait.” You’re so close to him, as close as you’ve ever been, and you find yourself staring at his perfect lips. “He can wait, because I want to do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s something that’s been on my mind since that first day I met you, something I never allowed myself to want- but now it’s something I think we both need… can I kiss you, Mingyu?”

“Please-” he practically melts in your embrace, looking down at you with those star filled eyes that had captured your attention the very first time you’d seen him. 

You reach up, cupping his cheek and getting on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. 

You’ve never kissed an automaton before, and as Mingyu reacts to you, opening his mouth to allow your tongue to glide across his own, you find that kissing him isn’t much different from any of the humans you’ve kissed in your life. In fact, it’s better. 

His own hands slip around your waist, pulling you tight to the front of his body. You stifle a moan from the contact, loving the way he feels against you.

“Mingyu,” you whisper against his lips, already able to feel yourself getting wetter and wetter-

“More,” he insists. “Please, I want more.” 

“Then take me to bed,” you say simply, all your inhibitions disappearing as you revel in the sanctity of being in his arms.

The automaton reaches down and lifts you up as if you weigh nothing. You wrap your legs around his waist, kissing him deeper as he closes the short distance to your mattress. He lowers you slowly onto the horizontal surface, and you marvel at the control his robotic muscles provide for him in man handling of you. You could definitely get used to this.

Then you realize something, and you stop kissing him, taking a breath while his mouth moves to your neck. “Mingyu- have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Hmm?” he hums against your throat.

“I mean… with all your work and handlers, have you ever…” you bite your lip, “have you ever had sex?”

Mingyu pulls away to look down at you, and then he gives his head a small shake. “I’ve never had the time… never met the right person.”

A virgin sex bot, who’s ever heard of such a thing? 

“But,” he continues, “I have the base code for it, and with my people pleasing tendencies, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble making you feel good.”

“That was never in question,” you assure him, cupping his face and drawing your thumb across his cheekbone. “And tonight shouldn’t just be about me. I can take care of you too… in fact, the whole point of this wellness center is me looking after your needs, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mingyu blinks at you, and he makes no word of protest when you push at his chest, encouraging him to roll so his back is pressed to the mattress while you steady yourself on top of him, straddling his hips.

“We can take this slow,” you tell him, leaning down to kiss his lips before moving to his neck. “Let me know what makes you feel good.”

“You feel good,” he says, dragging his hands along your form. “Your body feels perfect.”

“Yeah?” You swivel your hips, rubbing your core against the large bulge forming in his pants. “Does it feel good when I grind on you?”

“Feels like heaven,” Mingyu confirms, fingers digging into your waist, encouraging you to apply more pressure when you rut against him.

“How about your neck?” you ask, pressing more kisses there. “Do you have any sweet spots?”

“I think… just below my ear-” Mingyu shivers when you lick the spot in question, and the reaction fuels your ego, making you more confident than ever. “Wow-” 

You find yourself giggling, teasing your hands over his white shirt and toying with the hem. “Can I take this off of you, Gyu?” 

“Gyu-” he repeats almost wistfully. “I mean, yeah, yes.” 

When you begin to tug the fabric up, Mingyu lifts his shoulders off the bed, aiding you in the removal of his shirt. 

You’ve seen him shirtless before, while in the pool, but you’d had to try really hard not to appreciate his body then. Now, you can fully lean into your lust for him. 

“You’re so beautiful, Gyu,” you whisper, tracing a nail along his washboard abs. 

“You are too-”

“But right now is about you,” you remind him. “Let me appreciate you, please?”

You return your mouth to his neck, suckling on the spot that makes him dig his fingers into your hips again. He lets out a pretty moan, and in return, you grind your core against his bulge, beginning the descent of your lips to his collarbone, then his chest-

“You know,” you breathe as you stop your mouth on his abs, looking up at him, “I’ve read that automatons can cum multiple times without needing to recharge… does that mean you’ll let me suck you off before I fuck you? Seeing as this is your first time, I wouldn’t want to skip over any milestones.”

“Please-” Mingyu’s hips push up almost involuntarily, and you have to settle your hands on his waist. “Are you… are you sure about this?”

“Are you?” 

“More than anything.”

“Then we’re on the same page,” you tell him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his white joggers. “I’m going to take your pants off now.”

As he did with his shirt, Mingyu helps you undress him, lifting his hips to make it easier for you to slip the fabric down. You make a conscious decision to leave his briefs on, wanting to toy with him a little, to go slow-

When you cup his bulge, Mingyu moans loudly, and you look up at him with a cocked brow. “Very sensitive, hmm?”

“You just feel so good,” Mingyu groans. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You’re so big,” you nearly whimper, squeezing his cock through his briefs.

“Nine inches,” he confirms. “Is that… is that okay?”

“It’s big,” you say again, playing with his briefs. You’d left them on to toy with him, but you’re pretty sure you’ve only successfully toyed with yourself. “Can I pull these down?”

“Please-” again, Mingyu lifts his hips, helping you remove his final piece of clothing. 

His large cock practically slaps up against his abs, and you groan at the sight. You suppose he’d been built by someone, made to be perfect, in every way, so you shouldn’t be surprised by how beautiful he is. Yet, you are. 

You wrap your hand around the base of his length. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fit much of you in my mouth,” you tell him honestly.

“That’s okay,” he assures you. “Your hand feels really good.”

“Does it?” You rub your thumb over the large vein that runs along the underside of his cock, appreciating how realistic he is. Of course, as an automaton, Mingyu’s body doesn’t really need veins, but it’s the thought that counts, and whoever designed Mingyu put a lot of thought into him. 

“So good-” Mingyu groans. 

You kitten lick the head of his cock and Mingyu moans louder. “You’re going to have to be a little quieter, Gyu,” you instruct. “Even though I love your sounds.”

“Okay, I’ll try-” he nods, watching you with a dazed expression.

This time, instead of just licking him, you wrap your whole mouth around his large tip, suckling on the skin. Mingyu lets out a small whimper, grabbing at the bed sheets. 

You’re not sure if Mingyu’s cock will feel the same type of skin irritation of dry strokes, but you want him to have the best experience possible, so you allow yourself to drool on his cock. You bob up and down on what can fit in your mouth while collecting the spit lubrication, rubbing it along his shaft and applying a good amount of pressure-

“Shit-” This must be the first time you’ve heard Mingyu cuss, and the thought delights you as you continue to blow him like your life depends on it. 

You close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling of pleasuring him. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone, as working out of a wellness center doesn’t provide you with many opportunities to meet men, especially men who you like. But you really like Mingyu, in fact, part of you thinks you might even love him, as crazy as that sounds. 

You’d almost forgotten how good it feels to give this sort of attention to someone you care about, and your hand moves faster on his cock while you try to take more of him into your mouth.

“This feels amazing-” Mingyu breathes above you, and it gives you the motivation you need to be extra daring, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat- “Fuck-” 

His hips push up slightly and you rest one of your hands on his abdomen again, encouraging him to stay still while you blow him. As much as you’d like to let him fuck your face, he’s simply too big to do that, especially when you haven’t had a cock in your mouth in months. 

You continue stroking him, but you pull your lips from his length, taking a breath and looking up at the gorgeous man. “Do you think you can cum for me, Gyu?”

“I can do anything for you,” he whispers back.

“Yeah?” you pump his cock harder, leaning down to lick the underside from base to tip. 

“Please-” he practically begs. “I think I’m close-”

With the way automatons often power down at night, you wonder if he’s ever even touched himself. If he’s ever actually cum before- but now’s not the right time to ask for details, not when your mouth needs to be on him again instead of talking. 

You go back to sucking on his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive tip while your hand works what your mouth can’t. All the while, Mingyu’s small sounds of pleasure keep you going, and they get pitchier and pitchier until you know he’s on the cusp of an orgasm.

“Oh my god,” he moans, “I’m gonna-”

The automaton can’t even finish his sentence, his whole body tensing as he explodes down your throat. You’re pleasantly surprised to find that his cum tastes like grape- and you’re reminded that sex bots have flavoured ejaculate. If you remember correctly, grape had been a flavour often given to the hopeless romantic/soft boy bots, and you realize how fitting it is.

You also realize that this might be why Mingyu’s been kept under such lock and key. If anyone had ever tasted his cum, they would have immediately made the sex bot connection. As far as you know, many non sex bots have flavourless cum, or something akin to the taste of a human’s but Gyu’s is one hundred percent sex bot and one hundred percent sexy. 

It actually tastes good, and you have no problems swallowing every drop, working Mingyu through his orgasm until he’s whimpering above you, reaching down to push the hair out of your face.

You pull off Mingyu’s cock, looking up at him to find the most blissed out automaton you’ve ever seen. “That was amazing,” he tells you. 

“I enjoyed that too,” you admit.

“You did?” He watches you sit up, undoing the buttons of your shirt. 

“Uh huh, you taste perfect, Gyu.”

“I do?” He looks almost bashful, and as handsome as ever. “I bet… I bet you taste good too.” 

Your pussy throbs and you let out a deep breath, removing your shirt. “Maybe you should see for yourself.”

“Fuck, yes, please-” Mingyu sits up abruptly, grabbing you and gently tossing you onto the bed next to him. You land on your back, and Mingyu is quick to get between your legs, lips finding your own.

He only kisses you for a moment before he begins a descent that’s similar to what you’d done to him, and you wonder if he’s using your own actions as a base for learning what to do in a sexual situation. 

His tongue teases over your collar bone and his large hand comes up to cup your breast. “Can I take your bra off?” he asks.

“You can take everything off,” you confirm, arching your back so he can slip his hand under you and undo the clasp in record speed.

Your breasts are now exposed to the cool air of your room, and your nipples pebble for Mingyu’s eager mouth. His lips wrap around a sensitive bud while his fingers begin to play with the other, teasing and gently pinching at you.

You moan, threading your own digits through his hair. “Feels so good, Gyu.”

He groans, teeth grazing your nipple and causing you to buck your hips, pushing up against his body-

“Please-” you whimper, and Mingyu seems to know exactly what to do with your begging. His hand slips between your bodies, and he works on the front of your pants while he continues to worship your chest. 

When he gets your button and zipper undone, his mouth continues it’s descent, both hands reaching to tug on your pants. You lift your hips, and in one motion, you find yourself completely naked. 

Mingyu’s much too big to lie on the foot of the bed, so he slips to the floor, grabbing your legs and pulling you closer. “You look so pretty,” he tells you, adjusting your thigh onto his shoulder while looking at your pussy. “So wet and perfect-”

You feel your skin heat with something like embarrassment, but the feeling quickly dissipates as soon as Mingyu brings his mouth to your core. 

He doesn’t start with kitten licks, but instead goes all in. His tongue pushes into your hole, nose brushing by your clit while he tastes your walls. The feeling is absolutely delightful and it makes you gasp, reaching down to thread your fingers through his soft hair, grinding yourself against his face.

“Mingyu,” you whimper, “just like that!”

He continues to eat you out, continually brushing his nose by your clit while you close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. His tongue is like magic, especially when he pulls it from your hole to circle your sensitive nub.

When you look down at him, you find him watching you, checking you for reactions, and the eye contact makes your stomach do flips. “You’re so good,” you tell him, knowing he likes praise.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and you cry out, hips pushing toward his face-

One of his large hands finds your abdomen, holding you down against the bed while the other slips between your legs, two fingers easily sliding into your hole beneath his tongue on your clit. 

The feeling has you grabbing at the sheets, orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “I’m close,” you tell him. “Please, Mingyu-”

He sucks on your clit even harder, pumping his fingers in and out of your wet hole until your pussy is clamping down on him and you’re cumming hard. You cry out, whole body alight with pleasure as he works you through your high, tongue circling your clit and causing tingles of euphoria to jitter through you until you’re bucking your hips and on the edge of overstimulation.

Mingyu pulls away from you, slowly pumping his fingers before removing them too. Then he brings his digits to his lips and you watch him lick them clean, groaning at your taste. 

You need him more than you’ve ever needed anyone in your entire life.

“Please, Gyu,” you whimper. “I need you inside of me-”

He stands from the foot of the bed, towering over you while you open your legs for him. Then one of his knees digs into the mattress and he’s joining you again, lifting you up so he can position you higher, with your head on the pillows. 

He grabs the base of his cock, looking down between your bodies to where he’s rubbing through your folds. “What if this hurts you?” he asks. 

“It won’t. You won’t,” you assure him, grabbing at his strong shoulders. “I trust you.”

He looks deep into your eyes, leaning down to kiss you before he begins to push into your wet hole. You moan against his lips, body working to accommodate the large intrusion that he so gently slides into you.

“You’re so tight,” he whimpers, “so warm.” 

“Only for you Gyu, only for you-”

He kisses you then, giving small thrusts until he’s burying himself completely, your bodies are flush together while you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. You’ve never felt anything like Mingyu, and when he takes his first real thrust, you cry out in pleasure, moaning desperately against his mouth.

His hand digs into your hips, keeping you anchored while he picks up his speed, and that’s when you remember that as an automaton, he can go as fast as he wants, for as long as he wants. 

He’s hitting spots deep inside of you, spots that have never truly been used until now, and you know that you’re not going to last long like this. 

When his lips move down to the sweet spot on your neck, you can feel your pussy clench around him, and Mingyu groans against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he tells you, fucking you harder. “So perfect-”

You can’t even speak, can’t tell him that he’s the one who’s perfect. All you can do is moan in his ear while he makes you feel like no one else in the galaxy ever has.

You’d come into this hoping you’d be the one fucking him, the one taking care of him, but now, he’s taking care of you, and you promise yourself to return the favour when possible. You’d love to ride him, but your legs already feel like jelly, and when Mingyu slips a hand between your bodies again, drawing circles on your clit, you know you’ll be a goner soon.

“Gyu-” you whimper. “I’m so close-”

“I want you to cum,” he groans, fucking you faster. “Wanna make you cum.” 

“Please,” you’re nearly crying from how perfect it all feels. “So good, so good-”

“I’m close too,” he tells you. “Watching you cum will send me over- you’re so pretty when you cum.”

His praise makes your core throb again and you gasp, threading your fingers through his hair and bringing his lips to yours. You can’t explain it, but you want to be kissing him when you’re thrown over the edge, want to be completely consumed by him-

“Gyu-” you whimper, closer and closer-

He kisses you harder while he fucks you stupid, taking your breath away until you’re gasping out as you fall over the edge, pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

He moans into your mouth, pace never faltering as he fucks you through your orgasm, working you for all you’re worth while you claw at his shoulders and whimper pathetically. 

You can feel him filling you up, coating your insides with his cum, making you his needy little whore. You feel greedy for it, for all of it, for all of him. 

His thrusts slowly come to a stop, and he pulls away from your lips to look down at you, watching you catch your breath. “Would it be crazy to tell you I love you?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No crazier than me returning the sentiment.”

“Really?” His mouth is on yours a moment later, and he kisses you with newfound passion.

It’s easy to get lost in his lips again, even while his cock is still buried balls deep in your pussy, and you wrap your arms tighter around the back of his neck, hoping he never leaves you.

It seems as though the same thought is on Mingyu’s mind, because when he pulls away, he asks, “What happens after all of this?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “But… no matter what, I’m going to fight for you. I promise.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. I’ve worked in this facility for years- I’ve watched level ones come in and out of here, seen the wear and tear, the use of bad coding. I’ve got lots of ideas on how to help you - and them - get better. If you’re not the only one with sex bot code, it would explain a lot of the issues I’ve seen-”

“Are you going to fix me?” the automaton asks.

For some reason, you find yourself laughing. “Mingyu,” you cup his face, thinking through all the events that have led you to this moment. “I could never fix you, you don’t need to be fixed. In fact… I think you fixed me.”

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🔮 preview. He’s an AI with sexbot coding and a one track mind when it comes to making love, and you honestly sort of love that about him. 

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🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

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It’s been months since Mingyu came to the wellness centre, and everything has been going above expectation for him. He’s doing brand endorsements again and his management team has done a great job smoothing over the escape that took place.

You’ve been working on his coding, using behavioral   therapies, and Mingyu’s aggression is at an all time low. He’s happy most days, and you are too… that is, until you get word that one of his band mates has been recaptured.

Against all your protests, his management team insists that Mingyu return to Earth to see the AI Mingyu knows as Dino. It’s a brief trip, and the fourty eight hours he’s gone feel like the longest in your life. There’s no way of knowing how this reconnection with a former ‘friend’ will affect Mingyu, and you brace yourself for damage control as you wait for his ship to land, returning him to your care.

He’s frowning as he exits the shuttle, and when he pulls you into a hug, he squeezes just a little too tight. “Come inside,” you tell him softly when he releases you. “I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.”

He says nothing, but he holds your hand as you lead him into the facility, walking unopposed to your quarters. Mingyu’s in your sole care, and your manager, Yoongi, has washed his hands of anything dealing with your new AI turned lover. You prefer it this way.

Mingyu’s quiet as you close your bedroom door, and he walks over to collapse onto your bed, staring at the floor.

“Take your time,” you say softly, sitting next to him and resting your hand on his back. “When you’re ready to talk, tell me what happened.”

Mingyu fidgets with a ring on his pinky- a ring that all his AI members used to share. He’s silent for a few minutes, and you wait patiently, rubbing his back and leaning against his shoulder.

“They wiped his memory,” Mingyu says finally. “Dino. They wiped him.”

You study his face, looking for any micro expressions, but Mingyu’s gaze is blank as he stares at the floor.

“Did they tell you why they decided to do that?” you ask, trying to be gentle with him.

“They said he was too far gone. He was away for months. They said there was no other way to get him back to the way he was… but he’s not the way he was. He never will be.” Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I asked them why they wouldn’t try rehab, why they couldn’t send him here- they said Dino gave up that opportunity when he ran away. I stayed, I gave myself up willingly, which is why they thought there was hope for me. Something about my actions being like a guilty plea, lessening the sentence. But Dino evaded them for months.”

You take a moment to consider everything he’s said. 

If this is the precedent that his management is setting, that means none of his other bandmates can be recaptured, or they’ll suffer the same fate… if not worse. You can’t imagine what they’d do to Seungcheol, who was the ringleader in all of this- and you don’t want to think about it too deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You didn’t do anything,” Mingyu says meekly. “I know you tried to convince them to send him here but- I guess not everyone gets a happy ending. In fact, I’m starting to think most people like me never will.”

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[alwaysshallow]

141 react to their partner nightly routine (shower, hair care, face/skin routine, brush teeth, retainer, etc.)?

What if the partner has the night zoomies (late night burst of energy)?

gaz absolutely loves your night routine; he got interested in it when you two moved in together and you sat in the bathroom for more than twenty minutes straight, singing your favorite song in front of the mirror. he observed the process at first, but then got into it.

if he's not deployed, he does it with you; he even has his own products and all, you taught him well. insists on helping you with massaging etc....... since he adores how his hands feel after massaging it for you. if it comes to night zoomies, i feel he's trying everything to tire you lmao. or he just straight up does whatever you want!!!

ghost..... he's not that into night routines, no. it's good to observe you, you always manage to make him smile, but he's not into the skincare, haircare. this man uses 3-in-1 shampoo or your olaplex if you're gonna leave it because his hair smells nice after that lmao. but he always observes you, it makes him calm. if he has time when he's deployed, he definitely calls you on video so he can watch and hear about your day.

night zoomies...... the only answer is wrestling. he's a tired man, tries to have you around all the time when he can; he can't be bothered, really. he pins you down or allows you to pin him and fuck around a little because you're just adorable when you have too much energy.

price and a night routine.......... not into skincare, but more into haircare?? like, you once showed him how fluffy his hair can be and he didn't look back ever since. it applies also to his beard btw, he loves trying things and making you watch it (he's very proud.) skincare only when he's tired after deployment and thinks he looks the worst. week later, he's back to only haircare.

reaction to night zoomies.... he's similar to simon, can't be bothered, but if you want to do something, he's more than okay with that. or if you just need to ramble about your day, or maybe wrestle. or you can fuck and ride him.

soap and night routine oh my god. he's like a five year old mixing all the products and complaining about it after when it stings. he doesn't even read the labels, he does it for fun and thinks that the order doesn't really matter (it does). he's literally into anything you are at this point, following you around like a puppy.

if you have night zoomies, he's literally your soulmate lmao because this man is insufferable. suddenly, the world is his oyster and he can do anything he wants; at least, in his mind. in reality, after fucking around and scaring the neighbors (his favorite thing to do), he sleeps like a log.

[such-expensive-mistakes]

When Oliver Queen was dead, he ended up in the Infinite Realms, where he inadvertently became the mentor to teen ghost hero Phantom. After Ollie came back to life, he made a point of reaching out to Phantom, just in case the kid needed anything.

DCxDP Week prompt: found family

Author's Notes: I've tried to make this accessible as possible to those of you who aren't familiar with the Arrowfam, but here are links to character primers on Oliver Queen, Connor Hawke and Mia Dearden if you want them. If you are familiar with GA comics, then just know that this is set loosely during the 2001 run. And finally, the idea of a hero in the Infinite Realms helping mentor Danny was largely inspired by Blueseabird2's fic Grave Promises. (It's excellent! If you haven't read it, go do that!)

-

"Do you remember it?" Ollie asks, looking at Superman out of the corner of his eye.  They're standing in front of Oliver's grave.  Always made the right enemies. It's a hell of an epitaph; Ollie wonders who came up with it.  Roy or Dinah, probably.

"Remember..." Superman says.

"Being dead."  

Supes gives him that same look everyone seems to be giving Ollie these days, like he's not quite sure if Ollie is all there in the head.  

"Never mind."  Oliver waves a hand.  "Just thinking."

-

He does remember it, is the thing.  He remembers the endless Infinite Realms, as green as any of Hal's constructs.  He remembers the ghosts-- the ones who had originally been alive like him, and the ones that had never lived at all.  Humans and aliens and otherdimensional beings, all together in one place.  He remembers being in the same costume he'd died in, only color-flipped to red.  (That was just wrong.  Red was Roy's color, not Ollie's.)

And he remembers Phantom.

He'd met Phantom pretty early on.  Time in the Infinite Realms was tricky; it didn't move like time did on Earth.  Sometimes it went slower, sometimes faster, sometimes it even seemed to go backwards.   So he didn't remember exactly how long he'd been in the Realms before coming across Phantom, but it didn't feel like long.

Phantom had been chasing down some magical artifact when he'd come across Oliver-- or rather, Red Arrow-- who had picked a fight with an asshole ghost way more powerful than him.

Some things never changed.  But hey, ghost arrows were pretty nifty.

Phantom had helped him out, and in return Ollie had offered to help Phantom with tracking down the artifact he was looking for.  As they talked, it quickly became obvious that Phantom was doing the whole teen hero thing-- and not just in the Realms, but on Earth.  He clammed up when Ollie asked too many questions, but it was pretty clear that he didn't have a mentor or anything.

"Do you have the Teen Titans in your world?" Oliver asked, having learned by that point that the Infinite Realms connected every dimension out there.

"Yeah," Phantom had said, looking wary.

"You should talk to them," Oliver said.  "It helps to have someone out there on your side, who knows what you're dealing with."  The Titans had been good for Roy.  Not just friends, although they were that, too, but an extra support system.  

But Phantom shook his head.  "I can't."  And then he'd gone on to describe the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW.  

Ollie had never exactly been a fan of the government-- too much corruption, too many rich assholes using the system to protect themselves-- but this still managed to surprise him.  And while he was pretty sure his own world's Teen Titans wouldn't stand for this kind of thing-- or even the JLA, no matter how badly they sometimes overreached-- he had no way of knowing whether Phantom's Teen Titans were the same ones he knew.  

"Tell you what," Ollie said.  "Next time you get a chance, track me down and I'll show you a few things.  I don't know how much help I'll be with superpowers, but--" 

"Really?" Phantom had asked, then surprised Ollie by hugging him.

That was the start of it.  They'd tracked down the artifact, Phantom had left the Realms to go back and do his hero thing on Earth, and Oliver was left to second-guess himself until the next time Phantom came around.  

Oliver wasn't exactly a perfect mentor.  He'd done his best for Roy, but there were so many things he would do differently if he had the chance.  But he was better than nothing, which was what Phantom had been working with before.

Phantom didn't need to learn archery; he had superpowers.  But Ollie managed to teach him a thing or two about picking your shot and waiting for the right moment.  About trusting your instincts and dodging bullets (or ectoblasts).  

Phantom was cagey about anything that wasn't hero work, but Oliver managed to glean a few details.  He had a couple of living friends who helped him out, he was frequently chased down by ghost hunters, and most of the town he was based in didn't think particularly highly of him.  And that was on top of his whole rogue's gallery of villainous ghosts, not to mention the GIW.

"You can't make people like you," Ollie advised him.  "Even if you do all the right things.  You just have to trust yourself and ignore the public opinion."  God knew plenty of people had hated the Green Arrow over the years.  

It had been rewarding, in a way Ollie had almost forgotten, watching Phantom grow as a hero.  Watching him grow more confident and more skilled-- and Ollie wasn't giving himself credit for all of that, but he'd helped bring those qualities out.

And then, Oliver came back to life.

-

"Where to next?" Roy asks, as they drive out of Central City. Ollie appreciates that Roy is willing to follow his lead on this, even though it's clear Roy thinks he's being ridiculous.  Sure, Wally would probably have let Ollie have that old ring of Barry's if he'd asked, just like the JLA would probably have let him have the diamond-tipped arrow.  But those things weren't theirs to keep or give in the first place.

"Amity Park, Illinois."

Roy gives him a skeptical look over the top of his sunglasses. "The hell is in Amity Park?"  He's bracing himself to hear about some other memorabilia Ollie left behind upon his death, something else that wasn't disposed of the way Ollie had requested.  Something else that other people-- even Roy-- think insignificant.

That would be easier to explain than this.

"Maybe nothing," Oliver says. "But I need to be sure."

-

Finding Amity Park in the first place is a task and a half.  It's not on the map Roy keeps in his glovebox, and they have to ask directions at multiple gas stations across Illinois before they arrive.  

It's immediately clear that they're in the right place.  Amity Park is a small city-- barely even a city, really.  But the property damage evident on the streets and the buildings is on par with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

Roy slides off his shades.  "What on earth..."  He glances at Oliver.  "Ollie, what is this?"

A green streak shoots across the sky, followed by a white one.  

Phantom.

"Follow them!"  Ollie points at the ghosts.  

By the time they arrive, it's a stand-off.  The other ghost has disappeared, but Phantom is hovering twenty feet off the ground, dodging blasts from a couple in brightly colored hazmat suits.  

The Fentons.  Ollie had heard a few stories about them while he was in the Infinite Realms, though Phantom had been reluctant to talk about them.

"Ollie," Roy says.  In his voice, Ollie can hear all the suppressed rage he himself is feeling, watching a child-- a superpowered child, but a child nonetheless-- getting shot at.

"Not yet."  Ollie wants to help, but he doesn't want to make things worse by jumping in without thinking.  Their help isn't needed in the end; Phantom manages to disappear from sight while the ghost hunters are distracted.

Oliver tells the whole story to Roy over dinner at the local fast food joint.

"Jesus Christ," Roy says.  

"So you see why I want to talk to Phantom," Ollie says.  

"Aren't you already training two kids already?  You gonna add all of this on top?"  

"Connor doesn't need training.  He could probably teach me a thing or two.  And no one is training Mia in anything."  Okay, that last part isn't quite true; Oliver knows for a fact that Connor has been giving Mia lessons in archery and hand-to-hand.  But as long as she's not trying to put on a costume and fight crime, he'll pretend he doesn't know.  Hell, it makes him feel better, knowing that she has a trick or two up her sleeve.

"Phantom can't be much older than she is," Roy says, a hint of judgment in his tone.

"Phantom is already dead," he says.  Roy flinches a little.  "And he doesn't have a Hal Jordan to bring him back."

They go back to their burgers.  It's not until Oliver is crumpling up his wrapper that he speaks again.  

"Look," Ollie says.  "This is a lot bigger than Phantom.  And based on what I know of him, he's not going to want to leave Amity Park.  But I want to let him know that someone's got his back."

Roy claps him on the shoulder.  "More than just one person."

-

Tracking down Phantom for a conversation is harder than it sounds.  Oliver doesn't know how much time he even spends out here, rather than in the Infinite Realms.  Not to mention the handy ghost power of invisibility.  

He suits up and stakes out a rooftop downtown, with Roy doing the same on the other side of town.  He's just getting ready to pack it in for the night and try it again tomorrow when a familiar form materializes next to him.

"Arrow?" Phantom asks.

Oliver smiles.  "Hey, kid."  

"What-- how-- you're alive?" Phantom sputters a little.

"Am now," Ollie says.  "A friend of mine brought me back."  He gives a quick overview-- Green Lantern, godlike power, decided what the world was missing was one Oliver Queen.  

"I'm going to do what I can about the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW," Oliver says.  "But if you ever need anything, give me a call.  Or just track me down in Star."  He hands a slip of paper with his phone number and email on it to Phantom.  

"Danny," Phantom says.

"Sorry?"

"My name.  It's Danny."

"Oliver."  Ollie holds out his hand and Danny shakes it.  "Good to meet you, Danny."

-

For a while, he only hears from Danny through irregular emails and the very occasional phone call.  Ollie leans on his Justice League acquaintances to help repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts and get rid of the GIW.  It's slow going-- much slower than Ollie would like.  Too many JL members are advising caution, wanting to find out more about ghosts and how dangerous they might be before they take a stand.  Luckily, neither Superman and Wonder Woman were happy about Oliver's news, and hold a lot of sway with the American public.  And rather conveniently, a number of reporters have suddenly begun looking into the Anti-Ecto Acts, stirring up public sentiment against them even more than before.

Things are looking good.  And then, Danny shows up at the front door of Oliver's brownstone.  

Oliver is making himself a sandwich when he hears the knock at the door.  Mia (who had finally gotten Ollie to agree to let her be Speedy a few weeks back) is with the Teen Titans for the weekend, and Connor is working at the youth center for most of the day, so there's no one else here to answer the door.  Ollie wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, and opens the door.

Ollie doesn't know it's Danny at first.  The Danny he met was a ghost, complete with jumpsuit and white hair and superpowers.  The kid that shows up at Ollie's front door is a living, breathing kid.  He's got pale skin and dark hair and he can't be any older than sixteen.  He's a little on the thin side, though given his age, he could just be going through a growth spurt, and the backpack slung over his shoulder is decorated with a NASA patch.  

"Ollie?" the kid asks. 

"That's me," Ollie says.  "What can I do for you?"

"It's Danny.  Phantom," he clarifies in a low voice.  "From Amity Park."

He can see it, now that he knows to look.  The face and build are the same, just color-swapped.

“I need your help,” Danny continues.

The kid looks like he’s about to fall over from exhaustion or stress or both. 

Ollie opens the door a little wider.  "Come on in.  I was just making myself some lunch.  You can tell me what's going on."

Danny follows him into the kitchen and takes a seat at the counter.   Ollie finishes the sandwiches and slides one over to Danny.  

Danny doesn't pick it up at first, busy fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie.  “I don’t know where to start."

"Well, I gotta say," Oliver says.  "You're looking pretty alive for a dead guy.  I mean, same could be said for myself, but I told you how that happened."

Danny grimaces.  "About that.  It's kind of complicated."

Oliver leans against the opposite counter.  "Hit me with it."  

He already knows it's bad.  He was worried about Phantom in the first place; that's why he gave Danny a way to contact him if necessary.  Whatever made Danny travel halfway across the country to see him?  It can't be good.

"My parents are the Fentons," Danny starts.

Immediately Oliver knows the story is going to be worse than he anticipated. "The ghost hunters.  The ones who built the portal."  Ollie had heard all about that portal during his sojourn in the Infinite Realms-- some from Phantom, some from other ghosts.

"Yeah.  Well, the portal didn't exactly work at first.  My friends wanted to see it, and..."  Danny shrugs.  "It worked better than anyone gave them credit for, it's just that they accidentally put the switch on the inside."  

He can see where this story is going.  "And you accidentally turned it on."  

"Yeah.  It killed me, but all the ectoplasm coming through the portal brought me back to life.  So I'm only half-dead."  Danny finishes up his sandwich but Oliver, who is familiar with the eating habits of superhero teenagers, hands him another one.

"I'm guessing your folks don't know."  

"My sister does.  My parents don't."  Danny fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie.  "That's not important."

It seems a little bit important.  

“It don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” Danny adds. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You can stay here as long as you need to," Ollie says.  There's an extra bedroom that Stanley used as an office, back when this place belonged to him.  He'll need to get the junk cleaned out, but it should work for Danny.  "But it might help if I had a few more details.  Is someone gonna come looking for you-- or for Phantom?"

"I don't think so," Danny says.  "Well, the GIW might, but they're not super active outside of Amity Park."

"We'll handle them if they show up."  Oliver would love the chance to put a few arrows in them, and he's sure Connor and Mia would feel the same.  

There's obviously more to this story than Danny is currently telling him, but Ollie isn't gonna press.  Not yet.  Long and difficult experience has taught him how badly that usually goes when dealing with teenagers.  

Danny finishes up his lunch, and Ollie shows him around, eventually leaving him to hang out in the living room and watch TV.  Ollie himself starts packing up the junk in the spare room.  Danny might have to sleep on the couch for a day or two, until they get a bed for him to use, but it's an alright couch.  Ollie has certainly slept in less comfortable places.

He doesn't realize how much time has passed until he hears Connor call him from downstairs.

"Dad?"  

His tone of voice is carefully measured, but it's enough to remind Oliver that Danny is downstairs-- and that he didn't let Connor know about their new guest.

He dashes down the stairs and, sure enough, Connor and Danny are watching each other warily from other sides of the living room.  Danny in particular looks like he wants to bolt.  

"This is Danny," Oliver says.  "He's gonna be staying with us for a while.  And Danny, this is my son, Connor.  He's the other Green Arrow."  

"Nice to meet you," Connor says to Danny.  Then, "Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Ollie follows Connor downstairs to the training room in their basement.  He has no idea how far Danny's enhanced senses extend outside the Infinite Realms-- or even if they work at all when he's not a ghost-- but Ollie suspects this conversation might not be as private as Connor is hoping.

"Are you sure about this?"  Connor asks.  

"He doesn't have anywhere else," Ollie says.  "What do you want me to do?"

Connor runs his hand over his face.  "I don't know.  But have you even talked to Mia about this?  When did you even meet this kid?"

"It was a sudden development," Ollie says.  "So no, I didn't.  But I don't think Mia's gonna tell me to send him packing."  He knows that's not what Connor is worried about; for all her bravado, Mia is still insecure about many things.  "As for how I met him... that's a bit of a story."

"Okay," Connor finally says.  "As long as you're sure."

Ollie clasps his shoulder.  "I appreciate it."  

-

They don't explain anything further to Connor that night, which is probably unfair to him.  But Ollie doesn't really want to make Danny explain more than once, and Mia won't be back until the next day.

Danny sleeps on the couch, and in the morning, he helps Ollie and Connor clean out the spare room.  Mia shows up a little after noon, having gotten a ride back from one of her powered friends, and finds the three of them eating pizza in the living room.

"You better have saved me some," she says, as she tosses her overnight bag on the floor.

"Didn't your friends feed you?" Ollie asks, but he passes her the box of pepperoni.  

Mia takes a slice and perches on the back of the couch, right next to Danny.  "Hi!  I'm Mia."  She gives Danny a look that is probably intended to be flirtatious.  

Danny looks a little like a deer in the headlights.  "Uh, hi?"

Connor raises an eyebrow at Oliver, and yeah, maybe having a teenage boy staying in the same house as Mia is a bad idea.  Then again, he's closer to her age than the guys she usually hits on.  

"This is Danny," Oliver says.  "Danny, Mia is my other kid.  She's also Speedy."  

They give Connor and Mia the cliff's notes version on ghosts and the Infinite Realms.  Danny knows a lot more than Ollie does about all of it, but he's much worse at explaining.  He either gets lost on tangents about inconsequential details, or he assumes they have more baseline knowledge than they do.

"I'm sorry," Mia says.  "Can we go back to the part where ghosts exist?"

"We've fought actual demons," Connor says.  "How are ghosts harder to believe?"

"Ollie was never a demon," Mia says with a shrug.  Then she narrows her eyes at Oliver.  "Were you?"

Ollie laughs.  "Definitely not."  

-

The next week or so is pretty quiet, by their standards.  The Green Arrows and Speedy go out and handle low-level crime in the city every night, though Phantom stays in at Ollie's suggestion; if the GIW is looking for him, it's better if he lies low.  It's a little worrying how easily he agrees.  It had never been that easy to convince him to do anything when they were training in the Infinite Realms.

Mia, who is better with technology than Ollie is, helps Danny send a message to his friends, letting them know he's safe.  

"It's better if I don't give them too many details," Danny says.  "Anyone who's looking for me will be watching them.  All of our devices are encrypted, thanks to Tucker, but I don't want to take any chances."

Danny comes with them to help out at the youth center, even while Ollie tells him that he's welcome to stay home and play video games or whatever.  Danny hasn't said anything about it, and so Ollie hasn't either, but Danny doesn't seem to want to be left alone for long.

Oliver wonders if that's because he's worried about himself or about them.

"So, where do your folks think you are?" Ollie asks at one point. 

Danny shrugs.  "Does it really matter?"

"Well, I'd like to know if I'm likely to be charged with kidnapping."  Connor and Mia both shoot him judgmental looks, but it's not like either of them were under any illusions about Ollie's ability to be delicate.  "I mean, I can handle it if I am, but I'd like to be prepared."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Danny says, and that's the subject closed for the moment.

Mia corners Ollie one afternoon at the youth center, while Danny is playing basketball with some of the kids.  Danny is losing, badly.  Turns out he's incredibly clumsy when he's not using his powers.  The kids don't seem to mind, though, and Danny is a pretty good sport about it.

"We're keeping him, right?" Mia asks.

Oliver gives Mia a level look.  He hasn't noticed anything beyond some flirting on Mia's side, but that doesn't mean much.  

"Not like that," Mia says, rolling her eyes.  "I mean, he's cute, but he's kind of dense."

"Funny, I'm pretty sure the same has been said about me," Ollie jokes.

"Whatever he's not telling us... it's got to be pretty bad, right?" Mia says.  "But he seems happy here.  And we won't let anything happen to him."

There's a lot Oliver could say here: Danny has parents, he has friends, he has a home he obviously misses.  By almost every measure, he's far more powerful than Ollie or his kids, and whatever has him scared is quite possibly out of their league.  But the truth is, he feels the way Mia does.  

"It's up to him," Oliver finally says.  "But he's welcome to stay as long as he wants to."

-

Green Arrow and Speedy are crouched on a rooftop, taking aim at a couple of drug dealers, when Connor's voice crackles across the comms.

"I've got eyes on some guys in white suits," he says.  "At Fifty-first and Green."  

That's halfway across town, though nowhere near the brownstone.  If something goes down in the next few minutes, Connor is going to be on his own.  

"Don't engage," Ollie says.  "We're on our way."

They break up the drug deal and make their way toward Connor, who has been updating them on the GIW's movements the whole while.  

"I think they're looking for something," Connor says.  "They keep stopping and checking some kind of device-- I think it's a tracker of some kind."

"They're looking for Danny," Mia says.  

"How did they even know he's here?" Ollie wonders, but neither Mia nor Connor have any idea.  He makes a split-second decision.  "Mia, head back home and keep an eye on Danny.  Tell him Connor and I are handling it."

Mia is obviously put out by being sent away from the action, but she complies.  Oliver catches up with Connor, perching next to him on the edge of a roof.  Down on the street, a couple of men dressed all in white exit a white van and wave around a couple of handheld electronic devices.  They don't look up, which seems like a mistake from people who ostensibly deal with ghosts.  Convenient for the Green Arrows, though.

Trailing the GIW agents is a piece of cake.  Their all-white getup makes them clearly visible from a distance, and they seem to rely on their equipment rather than their eyes or ears.  

Their apparent incompetence makes Oliver get a little cocky, and that's where things go wrong.  He lands on the building closest to the agents, sure that they won't look up and see him-- and he's right.

Unfortunately, their device starts beeping just at that moment, and the two men are suddenly on high alert.  Ollie gets the bad feeling that something about him is what set it off.  They pull out their guns and look around wildly, until one of the geniuses gets the bright idea to look up.  That's when they start shooting wildly at Oliver and Connor.  

Their aim isn't great, and whatever kind of energy weapons they're using are only powerful enough to do some superficial damage to the building facade, but Ollie isn't eager to find out how it would feel to get hit by one of those.  Fortunately, he and Connor are both much better shots than these guys.

They shoot the weapons out of the agents' hands first, then Ollie puts an arrow through one guy's hand while Connor puts one through the other guy's foot.  

For a minute, it seems like it's going to be that easy.  Then, three more white vans come peeling down the street and a dozen more agents pour out.  Now, it's Oliver and Connor who are pinned down, ducking behind the roof's edge to avoid getting hit by those energy weapons.  

Ollie puts an arrow through another guy's shoulder, and is just a smidge too slow getting back out of the way.  The energy blast is going to hit him right in the shoulder.  He braces to take the hit--

A green shield appears in front of him.  The energy blast hits it and dissipates.

For a moment, Ollie thinks it's the work of a Lantern.  And then he sees Phantom, a bright white and glowing target hovering above the street.  

The GIW agents have completely disregarded Ollie and Connor, and are frantically shooting at Phantom.  Phantom is dodging the blasts easily; there's no sign of the clumsiness that he's beset with when he's a normal human.  One of the agents gets an arrow through his shoulder, and Ollie spots Mia perched on a roof across the street.  

In hindsight, he really should have expected this.  Neither of those kids are the type to sit at home when they could be helping instead.  Even so, he doesn't like it.

With Danny distracting the agents, it's much easier for Ollie, Connor and Mia to hit them.  They may be outnumbered, but the GIW agents are terrible shots.  At some point, the agents seem to realize this, too, and flee back into their vans, limping and bleeding, and drive away.  

"Follow them?" Connor asks.  

"No," Ollie says.  "I don't think they're going to try anything else tonight."  

The four of them make their way back to the brownstone.  

"I told you to stay here with Danny," Ollie tells Mia, once they're inside and putting away their gear.  

"Did you really think I was going to listen?" Mia asks. 

Ollie runs his hands over his face.  "A man can dream."

"Besides," Mia adds, "from where I was standing it seemed like we bailed you two out.  Right, Danny?"

With a flash of light, Danny transforms back to his human form.  "I'm sorry," he says.  "I don't know how they knew I was here."

"I'm not sure they did," Connor says.  "They were looking pretty hard for something before they went after the two of us."

"But they were looking for me specifically," Danny says.  

Ollie gives Danny a closer look.  He's clearly nervous.  More than just nervous, he looks like he's on the verge of taking off and running.

"What makes you so sure they're here for you?" Oliver asks.  It's not that he doesn't trust Danny's instincts, but he doesn't feel like he's got the whole picture.  

Danny leans against the workbench, almost knocking a set of half-finished arrows to the floor.  "They've been trying to catch Phantom since the beginning," he says.  "I kind of made their lives difficult."

"Good," Connor says, crossing his arms.  

"Plus, a lot of Amity Parkers kind of... don't like Phantom?  So the GIW heard about what a menace I was, and that didn't help.  But then you got Superman and Wonder Woman and all of them to talk about how bad the GIW and Anti-Ecto Acts are, and that helped, and-- I had it handled. "

"So what happened?" Mia asks.  

"My parents found out.  And I kind of freaked out?  And I flew off, and the GIW caught up to me."  Danny looks around, takes in their stricken expressions, and hurries to add, "Not for long!  But then I headed back home and my parents were telling everyone I was dead.  I didn't know what to do, so I came here."  

Oliver's head hurts just thinking about this mess.  He walks across the room and wraps an arm around Danny.  "We'll get this figured out," he promises, though he's not entirely sure how.  "First things first.  What do you want to do about your parents?"  

Mia scowls at him-- she's clearly already formed her opinion on Danny's parents.  Ollie can't say he disagrees, but he's made his own share of mistakes in the parenting department.  He hopes that the Fentons might be able to come around, if only because Danny clearly loves them.

"The GIW..." Danny begins. 

"I've got a few ideas about them."  Ollie is a little torn between hunting them down himself, pointing Supes or someone in their direction, or letting it leak to the public that these government lackeys chased a kid halfway across the country.  "Do you want to go back to your parents?"

"I don't know," he says. "I miss them, but... I don't know if they'll believe I'm really me. They think all ghosts are evil. But even if they believed me..."  He trails off.  

"You can stay here," Mia insists.  "Right, Ollie?"

"Of course he can."  He didn't actually need Mia's prompting for that.  "You're welcome to stick around as long as you want, but you should at least stay until we get the GIW shut down."  

Danny looks around the room at the three of them.  Whatever he sees must reassure him because after a long minute, he nods.  "Okay.  At least until then."

[https-furina]

okay okay so, since im already on the angst train and i want to hurt myself today, hear me out:

you and your lover are out doing wtv and you're ambushed and then, naturally, you guys fight the enemies right?

okay so you get hurt and youre losing a lot of blood and your lover realizes this and is completely heartbroken bc you dont have much time, the wound is deep

so um yeah the reader dies in their lover's arms basically, with albedo, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao and kaeya

theres so many characters im curious abt so please take your time mwah

(ps: i will not pay anyone's therapy okay i need it myself, my condolaences for hurting you)

✎ i wasn't ready to say goodbye [various men - part one]

ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader

content: do i need to say angst? i'm so sorry. major death + blood warnings. implied that reader can handle a weapon in most of them - unspecified if reader is a vision holder. hurt with absolutely no comfort. semi-spoilers for scaramouche/wanderer's story (end of the sumeru archon quests.)

notes: we added aether last second in the discord bc we summoned aki ( @kazumist - aly wanted you tagged ) some of them are awful and ooc i'm so sorry - officially managed this in just over 24 hours!

albedo treasures you more than he cares to admit verbally. it shows in all of his acts of love through physical means, lingering touches and making sure you're warm whenever you visit him on dragonspine. he hates you visiting him as much as he loves you - it's merely because it puts you in extreme danger every time. there's the temperatures, the wildlife, the lack of oxygen and of course, there's the monsters lurking around every corner of the inhabited mountain.

as the chief alchemist for the knights of favonius, there's always a warrant for albedo's life one way or another. the fatui are eager to stop his research - or steal it, maybe both.

there's a silence except for the howling winds that circle the snowy mountain. you're struggling to breathe, to get the sharp air into your lungs as you lowered your sword slowly. not far away, your boyfriend is finishing off the final fatui soldier, blood splattering onto his sleeve before he turns to face you. is it just you or does albedo look even more beautiful right now? you furrow your brows in confusion. albedo looks like he's seen a ghost, colour flushing from his face when he rushes forward. your knees give way under you and he barely manages to catch you in his arms, kneeling as he lets you lay against him. "bedo, love?" you mumble, unsure as to what's happening. you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears, your heart is beating whilst the adrenaline still pumps through your body. albedo hushes you softly, pupils dilated when he looks at your wound. "h-how do you feel?" his voice cracks when he asks the question, a gloved hand applying pressure to your side. you wince, the adrenaline is starting to fade and you feel faint. there's a cold sweat glistening on your forehead when you look down at where albedo's hand is, seeing the blood seep through your clothing. it's albedo's turn to watch your expression drop, your world starting to spin and mix together when the adrenaline is gone and you're aware of what happened. it feels as if there's a lump in your throat but when you try to cough it up, only blood spills in a small trickle out of your mouth. "love-" there's another cough, the blood is running down your jaw as albedo's hands start to shake. he has no means of saving you out here, you're nowhere near camp and he can't leave you here while he gets help, "i want to go home..." your voice is weak, trailing off and albedo isn't sure if he should let the tears brinking his ocean coloured eyes fall as your breaths become raspy. chapped lips open and close, trying to find the words to reply to you but all he can muster is a weak "we're going home, dear" when your chest ceases to rise again. his breathing is jagged, clutching you close to him as if you’ll disappear for good when he lets go.

aether clings to you like ivy to a brick building. you give him hope in this search for his twin sister - one he's beginning to think is failing, day by day. you reassure him, that bright smile and sparkling eyes setting him on the right path. he's certain he would have gave up ages ago if it wasn't for you. but aether realises that he is constantly in danger. you love to adventure with, crossing the rolling hills of mondstadt and gawking at the grand mountain peaks of liyue that pierce through clouds.

it was only so long before he faced the repercussions for so willingly letting you travel with him, tearing his hope away in the blink of an eye.

"a-aether?" your voice is wavering, aether is confused. you've been travelling with him for so long now, what could possibly have scared you about some hilichurls? but he turns to face you, blade at the ready - ready to protect you. his eyes fall on the arrow lodged in your chest, your eyes wide in fear as you stare at him in panic. it was already too late to protect you, he'd failed himself. aether drops the sword in his hand, paying no mind to how it clutters on the gravel below you both when he's rushing forward to ease you to the ground. you're stable - awake but for how long? you're in shock, it's going to fade and you'll succumb to the blood reddening your attire. aether swears lightly under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes out of pure guilt; this was his fault, he hadn't protected you. now not only had he lost his sister, he'd lost his partner too. "it hurts to breathe," you mumble, your eyelashes are fluttering gently. the sun behind aether is starting to burn at your eyes, "aether why are you crying?" the blond isn't even aware of the salty tears that glisten in the sunlight when they roll down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw and onto your shoulder where aether has laid your head onto his lap. it's comfortable, just as it always is. on days where you needed a break from walking, aether would often let you lay like this under a nearby tree. the thought makes aether choke out a sob. you smile sadly. "you can't leave me too," your hand cups his cheek, thumb weakly stroking at the tearstained skin when he hiccups, "no, this isn't fair." there isn't civilisation for days and he can't keep the arrow lodged in your chest nor does he have the means of stopping the blood if he pulls it out. aether is at a loss, unable to do anything while he watches the damage done to you internally take you from him beneath his own hands. "hey, you'll find her." you sound so certain, just as you always do and aether watches that positive spark die from your eyes when your breaths turn to rasps and he finds himself yelling at your body - at the sky, at anybody! he yells and yells, hoping someone listens to his cries for you to wake up. wake up, please.

heizou believes that of all the cases he's cracked, you're his favourite. he's read every line written into your skin as you age, the blemishes that litter your body and tell tales untold. you were his favourite mystery but now he had you like a stained glass window, beautiful and on display. although as a detective, heizou has destroyed many more lives than he is keen to admit. his suspects have families - lives, presumably before he has them in jail or worse, life sentence.

their families are hurt, angrily in denial that their own blood could commit such vile atrocities. heizou took something precious from them, what was stopping them from doing the same to him in an act of revenge?

heizou is more than used to his routine of coming home to you, being able to drown in the comfort of your arms after a long day of work. he's disturbed by the front door being open but albeit it's the peak of summer in inazuma, the humidity is drowning you, especially if you're not native to the islands. you're not quick to greet them when he steps in however, in fact he can't even see you. the house is untouched but the silence is deafening. "i'm home," heizou calls out, brows knitting together when he doesn't hear you chime his name back excitedly, "love?" the silence is killing heizou, it's unlike you at all but then he hears it, the meek sound of you calling his name out back. it sounds like you're in the bedroom and with a relieved smile, heizou finds himself heading to find you. but verdant eyes fall on the red smeared on the walls, staining the bedsheets and pooling around you. the relief is gone and his body is tense with dread as he drops the case files he'd been holding, quick to kneel with you and hug you close when you reach for him. "what happened?" his voice is panicked, he's barely breathing when he feels your blood soak through his clothes. he's searching you for your wound, shaking, "love, answer me." your chapped lips open but nothing seems to come out, you feel cold to the touch and all you can do is stare up at heizou. you knew the moment you was attacked that this was it for you but your biggest fear wasn't death, it was heizou. it was your witty detective, keen and full of intuition that he prides himself in; it was whether you'd see him one last time before your heart put in its final beat. heizou doesn't take your inability to speak lightly, letting out a flurry of curses that makes your brows furrow in distaste. you wasn't fond of him swearing when he got stressed but as you watch a tear fall down his cheek, you know you can't argue about his tongue anymore. he has every right to be mad when your bloody hand reaches up for him, the warm palm of his hand quick to grab your hand and coat his fingers. "i love you," you mumble, raspy and heizou is quick to shake his head - conserve your energy, "don't cry please." "you're not allowed to leave me," he chokes out, his lower lip tugged between his lips as his spare hand presses on your wound to try stop the bleeding. you wince but heizou doesn't lighten the pressure in fear, "i'll find who did this." your lips curl up at his words and heizou leans to press a kiss to your forehead, which is clammy and covered in a light sheen. by the time he pulls away, he's the only one left breathing in the room. heizou's shaking hands cup your cheeks, eyes darting around the room when he doesn't quite know what to do. he's used to this - the blood, the smell, the touch of a lifeless body but not when it's you. not when it's the love of his life. he wails in anguish, the taste in his mouth bitter when he swears revenge on whoever took you from him.

kazuha took his time warming up to you when you first met. you didn't blame him, you'd heard the tale of his late friend from captain beidou when you first came onboard the alcor. but your patience with him warmed his heart quicker than expected, leaving you inseparable as you travelled with the crew. even on land, kazuha was joined to your hip. he claimed he was there to protect you and that excuse expanded tenfold when you started dating.

he should have never taken his eyes off you, simply searching for firewood shouldn't have consequences like this.

when the last treasure hoarder falls limp to the dusty ground, kazuha finds himself enveloping you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your face for signs of pain. you're unresponsive, eyelashes shut but your breathing is shallow while your body fights the unexpected blood loss. "fuck," he whispers, much out of his comfort zone when he's trying to find exactly where your wound is. your blood is staining his skin, getting under his nails where it'll haunt and remind him of what happened for weeks, "y/n? love?" your brows knit as if you can hear him but he's unsure if you're just reacting to the pain. your body is most likely in shock and kazuha is running out of time before the shock fades and you're left in excruciating pain until your last breath. the thought makes kazuha feel sick. he was gone for at least ten minutes, how did he lose you so quickly? he shouldn't have told you to stay at camp by yourself. you'd offered to go with him but kazuha trusted you'd be safe without him, even just for a few minutes. his face turns sour at his own thoughts. how foolish had he been to think you'd have been safe without him? "i-i love you," he stutters out, voice cracking as he presses a kiss to your head, burying his nose in your hair when he tries to blanket himself in your scent - begging to the archons that he'll wake up in bed, "come on, let's go back to the alcor, beidou will get help." he's speaking to you in the softest of tones, his voice hushed as to not disturb the silence of the countryside - or attract more unwanted attention. carefully, kazuha raises himself to his feet with you in his arms. he sees tomo in you for a moment, forcing himself to swallow when there's a suffocating lump in his throat. by the time kazuha has stumbled back to the alcor, beidou rushing over with her face void of colour, your heart is no longer thudding against your ribcage. kazuha will never again hear your heartbeat when he lays his head on your chest or feel your pulse in your wrist when he grabs hold of you.

wanderer figured it was foolish to fall in love after all he'd gone through. what was love when you've been betrayed so many times before? when the archons have so harshly ripped the ones you love away from you? he likes to scowl and shun the premise of love until he met you, an adventurer from the guild assisting in vahumana darshan commissions. you would stubbornly strike conversations up with him, following him as he walked away until he finally caved and would reply.

was it foolish to fall in love or rather was it foolish to place his fragile trust back in the hands of the archons?

his ears are ringing, was mawtiyima forest always this loud? no, it's not even loud - it's silent. the silence is buzzing in his ears, driving him insane as he watches you cough blood onto the dirt. you'd been tasked with clearing out the treasure hoarder camp within the glowing forest - but wanderer isn't stupid. to let you do that alone? he'd be a mad man. but now he isn't too sure if he should have tagged along. would it have hurt him less to find out you'd passed away out on a commission through the guild? or is it hurting less to watch as you splatter that precious red that you humans rely on all over the ground? wanderer finds himself barely able to utter a word. that's rare, he usually has something to say in that stark, rude tone he never explicitly dropped. it made him cold, it stopped people approaching and getting close. why didn't it work against you? "w-why are you looking at me like that?" you croak out, pupils dilated and staring at him in concern. he's as pale as the snow on dragonspine but the tip of his nose is a pink hue as tears well up and sting at his widened eyes. he's not crying, he refuses to cry - he puts it down to not having blinked for a while. so he blinks but you're still hunched over, impaled by a polearm before him. he finally moves forward, kneeling carefully to the side of you as you let out a choked sob, your hands gripping his cold ones tight in yours. he's confused, what did he do to deserve it this time? he didn't ask for this existence in the first place. cursing under his breath, his eyes land on your sword on the floor. it's worn, getting dull and wanderer questions if you was unable to protect yourself properly. no. he didn't protect you properly and the archons saw an opportunity, another jab at his curse of an existence. his eyes dart between you and the blade, then the polearm that isn't welcome where it is. you wince, hiccuping as you wail into the silence of mawtiyima forest. your vision is falling hazy in between the blur of your tears and you're struggling to keep your eyes on your boyfriend's familiar face. "no, no, no - don't go," wanderer panics. it's the first thing he's said since he offered to join you on this commission, "don't leave me, not you too." you let out a sad laugh, coughing blood once more as your breaths get shorter with every one you take. wanderer feels sick, the tears are falling down his cheeks and he can't deny them anymore. there's a last breath, raspy and suffocating before your body falls forward into his arms, limp like a doll. wanderer screams out into the night, hands clutching at the guild's uniform you would proudly wear. how many more times was he going to witness someone getting hastily robbed from him?

xiao keeps his distance, even as your beloved boyfriend that you struggle to be away from for extended periods. you were stubborn, believing he didn't have to succumb to his karma as an adeptus. no matter how much he would shuffle away, he could guarantee you would shuffle after him until he no longer moved away. you still gave him his space - you knew you could find him at wangshu inn.

or if you really needed him, in the midst of the night for a multitude of reasons, you could say his name.

there's a lump in xiao's throat, what the fuck happened? one moment he knows he hears your hurried screams of his name, there's a shrill panic in your tone and he's alert in seconds. he thought you was perhaps in danger but when golden eyes see how you're leaning back on a tree, blood soaking your shirt - and your blade, he realises the danger is gone. and in all of your stubbornness, you had defeated the danger alone but put your life on the line as a result. you smile at him weakly, his footsteps silent as he rushes over to your side. "i got it, don't worry, love." you sigh, tilting your head back on the bark. xiao scowls, you're losing consciousness from the blood now, it's starting to pool beneath you and run down the cracks of the bark behind you. this isn't a minor injury and yet you hadn't called for him sooner? "we need to get you out of here - morax- zhongli- he can help," he barely breathes in between his words, swallowing at the tight feeling in his throat when your eyes are closing, "keep your eyes open, please." his beg falls short of no one's ears other than his own and the stars above. xiao stops breathing himself, holding his breath when he hurries to press the pads of his fingers to your neck, your wrist, anywhere he can try find a pulse. but there's nothing, your body is still warm and xiao pulls you flush to his chest when tears begin to fall down his cheeks. "keep.. them open. please." he repeats in a whisper, nudging his nose against your head as he buries his face into your hair. he's begging in hushed whispers, words disappearing into the strands of your hair in silent prayers.

kaeya was the one who chased you first, lisa's darling library assistant. he'd never spent so much time in the library in his life, other than crepus' own library at the winery but he wasn't much fond of that collection. he isn't much fond of the knights' collection either, reading the same book every day. jean occasionally entrusts you to handle matters in the valleys of mondstadt, to which kaeya is quick to always interfere and say that he'll go with you.

history will always repeat itself until the lesson is learned and an innocent soul has to face the reality.

thunder booms over head, followed by a distant crack of lightning that illuminates the dark sky above mondstadt. kaeya is stood, motionless as he looks at you. his eyes are distant, there's a vacant look about him when the blood is running down your bare legs and mixing with the rain. you're both soaked but your clothes are staining red where a mitachurl's axe caught you in the side. the blood is coming quick and heavy, there isn't time for kaeya to get you back to the city. this scene is familiar when you fall to your knees in the mud, hands holding at your side for pressure. suddenly, your hair is a bright shade of red. is kaeya about to stand and do nothing for a second time, when history is repeating himself right in front of his very own eyes? he swallows but it's difficult, rushing to your side. you're losing consciousness but your eyes are scanning his face. the sun kissed skin, the worn leather eyepatch and his messy blue ponytail that now looks like waterfalls cascading around his face. you smile at the thought. you should visit the waterfalls of mondstadt when the weather picks up so you can gawk at them. "baby?" it comes out of his mouth, barely audible above the rain, "say something - are you okay?" you almost throw back a playful retort but your vision is darkening around the edges and you're grasping to what sight you have left to look at kaeya. your vision blurs when tears threaten to spill - are you scared? you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. kaeya's gloved hands cup your face, pressing his forehead against yours. "stay with me, love, i can't lose you," kaeya's frantic and his words are jumbling when he panics, "we'll stop the bleeding and take you to sister barbara-" kaeya pauses when he notices you haven't blinked despite the rain falling onto your face when he pulls his forehead away. there's a distant look in your eyes, the light has faded and he can't feel the hot, struggled breaths you was taking against his skin anymore. a flurry of angered swears leave his lips and he's careful when he carries you bridal style to the dawn winery. it's the first place he thinks to take you, back to his brother who can't bear to see kaeya stood in the rain again with blood drenching his clothes from the long walk to the winery's front door.

© https-heizou 2023.

[hyypnotix-writes]

Part 2

~ hiya! I'm really nervous about posting this, but I couldn't not at least try to give you a second part after the response the last one got! ~

~ I really appreciate everyone reading it and enjoying it as much as you did ..I hope this one doesn't ruin it for you! ~

~ I think this one's around 13k words. so again ..it's a long one, if you have nothing else to do! ~

~ there’s quite a lot of story before Alexia makes an appearance, sorry ..but she does eventually show up! ~

~ I promise to put more of her in the next part if any of you end up wanting one ~

~ I’m really worried this will disappoint a lot of you, but at least you still have the first part to go back to, if nothing else! ~

~ I really hope you're able to enjoy it even just a little bit, and thanks again for loving the first part so much! the response was very overwhelming and I've loved you all reaching out to tell me that you liked it ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

~ Part 1 ~

________________

One night.  

One perfect night.  

That’s all it took.  

One perfect night to throw your whole damn life into disarray.  

One perfect night, that’s lead to endless subsequent nights, spent tossing and turning on your own, replaying the memory over on a loop in your mind. It’s only been about a month, but it feels like an eternity.  

A never-ending, exhausting cycle of yearning and confusion.  

It was the most welcome distraction from your ex-boyfriend’s evil escapades, you’ve not really thought about him at all since. 

It should have set you free, broken you out of the chains of mundanity. It showed you a whole new world, a world of women. It gave you a new perspective on life. Unlocked a realm of brand-new possibilities all ready and waiting for you to venture, and yet, you don’t want to explore any of them.  

It's not that you haven’t tried.  

You’d have been an idiot to assume that it’s only her that can make you feel like this. That would be giving her an awful lot of credit. Yes, she was your first woman, but that didn’t mean that she needed to be your last. The way your mind and body reacted to her, maybe you could have been slightly gayer than you thought, but it doesn’t really look to be the case.  

A pair of lesbian sisters always seemed incredibly unlikely to you, and your sister’s already called dibs on the label. Maybe it’s the mere existence of your younger sister that eradicates the possibility of any real queerness in yourself. That’s probably how the handing out of sexualities works, right? 

It’s a working theory, and one that you seem to be proving the accuracy of.  

You’ve been to a few more clubs since your entanglement with the Spanish mystery. Only returning back to that specific one, once. It gave you a headache just stepping through the door. She was still everywhere in the room, her spirit living in the walls. You barely managed to stay inside for even a second before it became too much for you, sending your heart and mind racing.  

You took yourself back home, reminiscing every single kiss you’d shared with her on that fanciful journey back to her hotel together. Looking up at the floor she had been staying on, as you hastily walked past it on your own.  

Even the nightclubs that aren’t haunted by her ghost, haven’t yielded much greater success with you. 

You paid a visit to a smaller bar, a fair few nights after your perfect one, and had found a woman interested in you. More than interested. She was pretty, and friendly enough. She was flirty and bought you a few drinks. She didn’t try to play it weird by aiding you in your consumption of alcohol. There was no intriguing salt and lime foreplay. She was far more straightforward, far less irritating.  

Maybe that’s why it didn’t work. Maybe she was too plain. Maybe she was too simple and easy for you to understand. Or maybe it’s the fact that when she pressed herself against you in search of a kiss, an alarm bell rang out inside of your head. You suddenly found yourself all too aware that she was a woman, and you simply no longer wanted to follow through with your curiosities.  

It doesn’t help in your confusion, why the femininity of one woman can leave you feeling more certain of your straightness, while another’s femininity has you still helplessly pining after her.  

It’s not like you were under any illusion with the Spanish woman. You were entirely aware that she was also a woman, and it wasn’t off putting to you at all. You enjoyed her being a woman. She smelt nice, she tasted nice. Her body was beautiful, and her lips were soft, and it doesn’t make any sense that she’s allowed to put a yearning in you that no other woman is able to satisfy.  

That does seem very typical of her, though. She really was very cocky and frustrating.ﾠﾠ

Until she wasn’t, of course.  

Then, she was just sweet and considerate. Cautious and careful. Flirty and undemanding. She took you back to hers and she still had no expectations from you. She was still willing to let you walk away. Maybe you should have.ﾠﾠ

You knew even then that you should have.  

It was daft of you to follow after her. Foolish to lose yourself with her, spending the night together, giggling under the sheets. Sharing kisses as you drowned yourselves in each other. Learning her body, every mark, scar and freckle, and committing them all to your memory. Tracing her curves and her tattoos and discovering what it is that makes her tick.ﾠ

She was patient, and understanding, she wasn’t in a rush with you. She spent the whole night exploring with you. Studying your body, wanting to learn all the things you liked her doing, and the things you really liked her doing. She turned what could have been a terrifying, embarrassing, disaster of an experience, into the most incredible encounter of your life.  

She brought you more pleasure than your pathetic ex-boyfriend had ever managed to give you in your whole 5-year relationship, in less than 5 minutes of her having your clothes off. She had the most unholy of noises spilling from your lips with her fingers and tongue inside of you, and she wasn’t exactly quiet herself, in letting you know when you were doing the right thing with her.  

She was intoxicating, exhilarating. She was life-affirming.  

She’s a far more dangerous addiction to you than alcohol could ever manage to be. You’ve never been tempted by drugs before, but you can’t even imagine the high from them being able to compete against what she’s done to you.  

It was just one night.  

It was one perfect night.  

________________

Living back with your younger sister isn’t exactly where you saw yourself being at 26. Your London flat had started feeling a little too big for you, without a traitorous arsehole of a man invading your space. So, you invited her to move in with you, not wanting to have to give up your dream property just because he had decided to try ruining your life. You needed help with the rent, and she had gratefully accepted.  

You didn’t necessarily expect her to also invite her idiot new girlfriend into your home with her. That wasn’t really part of the deal, though you didn’t explicitly tell her that she couldn’t. You can’t really blame her. If you were able to spend every waking moment of your life with ‘A’ right beside you, you’d jump at the opportunity headfirst.   

It still doesn’t aid in the dispelling of your confusion. There’s no jealousy when you see them together. Her girlfriend does nothing for you, none of her girlfriends ever have. You both have decidedly different tastes in women. Your sister’s taste is entirely questionable, yours is perfection.  

You haven’t mentioned your Spanish predicament to your sister. She’d probably laugh at you for it, call you tragic, and embarrassing. Tell you everything you’ve already been telling yourself on repeat in your head. She wouldn’t be very helpful; she very rarely is. She’s your very annoying, smart-arse of a little sister, who couldn’t possibly give you any decent advice. She’s 2 years younger than you and she's an idiot.  

She’s not the one who’s still hung up on a stranger after over a month, though. It’s rarely taken her longer than 24 hours to get over someone she’s been with. She’s not the one who’s been questioning herself every night. She’s never questioned herself at all. You’re fairly certain her very first thought, straight out of the womb was about another woman.  

She didn’t really have to come out to the family at any point, she kissed her first girl when she was 8. Always been a bit of a Casanova, your sister. A walking stereotype of a lesbian. Short, brightly coloured, undercut hair, quite a few piercings, heavily tattooed. She’s obsessed with women’s football, always watching re-runs of ‘The L Word,’ and overwhelmingly insistent in trying to prove to you that Taylor Swift is also secretly gay.  

Your sister’s certainty in her own sexual identity isn’t something that’s ever irritated you before. Not when you were always so sure of yourself, too. You appreciated her confidence. It was admirable, given the way people can be with her. She’s your self-assured little sister, who isn’t great at confrontation. So, you support her whenever anyone tries to tear her down.  

Now, however, this too-late-in-life existential crisis you’re struggling with, has you wishing she’d try to be a little bit more questioning herself. Her surety and cockiness about her sexuality is suddenly the most prominent attribute of her personality, and it’s really starting to drive you up the wall.  

It’s a rare evening where it’s only the two of you at home together. You don’t really know where her girlfriend is, and you don’t much care. You only feel responsible for one annoying lesbian, the one who shares your surname.  

She’s being rather antisocial with you, playing video games alone in her bedroom, and you’ve just finished tidying up the dining table after sharing the dinner you cooked for you both. You’re not exactly sure how you’ve found yourself solo parenting your stroppy little sibling when you’re really not much older than her yourself, but there you go.  

Maybe you should try speaking to her. See what she can possibly offer you by way of sapphic guidance. If she’s going to continue having her nuisance girlfriend living here rent-free, she should at least try giving you something to make it worth your while.  

You walk straight through to her bedroom and collapse your head onto her stomach on the bed. Making sure to do so with just enough force behind it to ensure you manage to leave her winded and interrupt her gaming. She grunts under you, and you earn an overly aggressive smack to your shoulder for achieving your goal. As, whatever other little child she’s playing her game against, has just managed to score past her.  

“You’re a twat!” She scolds, and you backhand her face to shut her up. She raises her fist above your stomach, and you flinch, bracing for impact.  

“I have a question!” You shout, before she has chance to attack.  

She pauses her lifted fist above you, and reluctantly agrees to a truce, providing your question is of interest to her. “What?” She groans, and you fiddle with your fingers, trying to find the right wording.  

“Why do you like women?” You ask, your face grimacing as you await her response.  

It isn’t your smoothest ever phrasing, not your wittiest form of delivery. It’s honestly, rather annoyingly, not the most subtle line of questioning. Despite it not being entirely to the point, your sister isn’t stupid.  

“What?” 

Oh ..maybe she is! 

That’s not going to be super helpful with your impending interrogation.  

“Why not men?” You suggest, still trying not to be too blatant. “How did you know you liked women?” 

“I looked at one.” She tells you, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Why?” 

“Do you find every woman attractive?” 

“No, but I find enough of them attractive to sense a pattern.” She explains. “Why?” 

“And you’ve never been attracted to a man? Not even tempted?” 

“No. Not once. Why?” 

“Never ever?” 

“Y/N!” 

“I was just wondering.” You tell her quickly, drumming your fingers on top of your stomach.  

“About women?” She queries. 

“About ..why women. What it is about them.” 

“Aside from the obvious?” She snickers, nudging your arm.  

You quickly bounce your head back against her stomach winding her again.  

“Stop doing that!” 

“Stop being annoying!” You warn her. Your frustration at yourself getting the better of you.

She tries to push you off of her, but you mess with the analogue sticks on her controller, and she turns her focus back to salvaging her match. “You really are a twat! Get out!” 

“I need your help.” 

“I don’t care!” 

“..I’m sorry.” You mumble, and she scoffs at you, pushing you off of her bed unceremoniously.  

You can’t say you blame her, you’re a constant threat to her in that position, it’s too big of a risk. You enjoy bouncing your head and ruining her childish little game far too much.  

“Why do you like men?” She counters, and you find yourself stuck for words as you sit on her floor.  

It’s the question that’s been floating around your own head for a little while now. You’d never thought about it before. You just were. You had crushes on them all throughout your childhood, you’d had meaningless boyfriends in your teens, you met your bastard ex at university and figured that was it.  

You didn’t need to question why you were attracted to them, it just always made sense.  

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, letting out a groan as you grab one of her pillows and bury your head into it.  

“What’s going on?” She asks, as she prods at your shoulder with her foot.  

“Nothing. I was just—” 

“Thinking about women?” 

“No!”  

It isn’t really a lie, you’re not thinking about women, just the one. The one woman who’s been invading all of your thoughts for the past 30 something days. The one who won’t let you sleep properly at night, who won’t let you focus completely at work.  

The one woman who refuses to leave your head for even a second just to let you rest, to let you breathe, to let you remember what life was like, prior to her entering it and recklessly setting fire to everything, before she ran away from you and disappeared into thin air.ﾠﾠ

“I kissed one.” You confess, trying to suffocate yourself with her pillow.  

This really does take her by surprise. You can hear her movements on top of the mattress as she turns her game off and pulls her pillow from you with a rather startling urgency. There’s great confusion on her face as she looks at you. She really must think you’re very boring if that’s enough to render her speechless. Imagine her reaction if you admitted to all the other things you did to the Spanish enigma.  

“You kissed a woman?” She asks, frowning at you.  

You’re not entirely sure why she looks quite so cross about it. You’re not trying to steal her thunder here. You’re not about to start trying to catch up with her numerous exploits of female companions.  

“Mhmm.” You mumble in reply, smoothing your hair back from over your face.  

“Why? For a man?” 

“No! I just wanted to ..I thought it’d be fun.” 

“..and ..was it?” 

“Mhmm.” 

She looks at you with a very distinct air of incredulity. It’s a rather annoying look, weirdly condescending. She doesn’t believe you. Why she thinks you’d bother lying about it, you really do not know. You’re not that desperate for a story to tell her.  

It’s almost offensive that she thinks you’re so incapable. You didn’t just kiss a woman. You went down on one, you had your fingers inside of her. You evoked moans from her, she scratched her nails down your back. You’re not some virginal prude. You’re not inept. It can’t be that shocking and inconceivable that you could share a single kiss with someone of the same sex.  

You were right, telling your sister was pointless. She’s offered you no assistance and no support. She’s a useless little waste of space and her horrible girlfriend is an advantage-taking little freeloader.  

“Thanks, very much! This was really helpful!”  

Your words are laced in sarcasm as you slide yourself up away from her bed with a sigh, throwing your middle finger up back in her direction as you exit the room, and slam her bedroom door shut behind you.   

You slam your own bedroom door shut behind you too, just in case she hadn’t picked up on how pissed off you are.  

You’re not really pissed off with her. She doesn’t know what’s going on inside of your head. You’re pissed off with yourself, for still being all entirely far too consumed with a woman whose name you do not know. Who wouldn’t even bother sharing her profession with you. It isn’t fair.  

You collapse headfirst onto your bed and let out a rather guttural groan into your duvet. You’re very frustrated. Your brain’s a mess, your sexuality’s up in the air, and you allowed yourself to picture, far too clearly, your memories of having sex with the gorgeous Spanish woman and now that ache that she’d put inside of you is back.  

There’s a knock at your door, and you’re not in the mood. You grab your duvet and burrito yourself in it down to the foot of your bed.  

“Y/N?”  

You don’t even grace your sister with a response. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a swine.  

No, but she really is a swine, as you can hear her turning the doorknob and just walking right into your bedroom anyway. She’s really, unbelievably terrible at reading social cues.  

“Do you want to come to Spain with me next week?” 

See what I mean? What the hell?  

That’s a very serendipitous little offer, though. You didn’t even mention to her that the woman that you kissed was Spanish.  

Did you?  

She can’t have worked that out by herself. That would be insane. She’s already proved herself to not be the sharpest tool in the shed. That wouldn’t make any sense. What an intriguing little invitation.  

It’s very embarrassing that just the mention of the country sends a shiver down the back of your neck. All this instant adrenaline running through you, as if she’ll just be waiting for you there as soon as you land down in a random Spanish airport. Yeah, that seems likely!  

Spain’s not the biggest country in the world, but it certainly isn’t small. You’re not going to accidentally stumble into her again on the beach, or in a marketplace. She’s definitely not going to be staying in the same hotel that you’d be in.  

It shouldn’t have your heart racing like this. The chances of finding her again are so infinitesimally small, so extremely impossible, so overwhelmingly unlikely ..but you do stand a better chance, if you’re in the right country.  

“Next week?” You mumble under the sheets, playing it incredibly cool, as you try to ignore the way your heart’s started thumping at a thousand beats per minute.  

“Yeah.” 

“I thought you were going away with your girlfriend?” 

“..we broke up.” 

Shit. She would make this all about herself.  

You wiggle yourself free of your duvet cocoon and open up your arms for her to crash into you. She might be a useless little swine, but she’s your useless little swine. “Are you okay?”  

“Mhmm.” She grumbles, as she starfishes herself on top of you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re not. You never liked her.” 

“That’s not true.” You protest half-heartedly, kissing the side of her head.  

“I am fine ..I broke up with her.” 

“Well, thank fuck for that!” 

“See!” She laughs, rolling off the side of you. “You hated her!” 

“She was horrible!” 

“You could’ve said.” 

“You wouldn’t have left her if I told you to. You’d be getting bloody married to the girl. Twat.” She giggles defencelessly next to you on the bed, because you’re absolutely right. She has always been a contrarian little thing. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah. I’ll find someone else tomorrow.” 

“Unbelievable.” You chuckle, shaking your head as you push her away. “You can’t just give me her ticket. Did she not pay for it?” 

The embarrassed little look on your sister’s face is all the wordless response you need. Her girlfriend never paid for anything. She really was an advantage-taking little freeloader.  

“Where are you going in Spain?” 

“Barcelona.” 

“Why?” 

“Football.” 

“Oh! Give me a break!” You exclaim and roll down away from her back to the foot of the bed. “Why are you going all the way to Spain just to watch some football? You can bloody watch it here.” 

“It’s the Champions League!” She informs you excitedly, and you can’t even pretend to match her enthusiasm. “Chelsea’s playing Barcelona.” 

“Woo.” You respond flatly, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. “You watched them play together today, didn’t you? Why are they so bloody obsessed with each other? Even I know there’s more teams than that.” 

“It’s the second leg..” She starts explaining, but none of it means anything to you, and you really just can’t bring yourself to care.  

Going all the way out to Spain to be stuck inside a stadium with thousands of screaming fans? What sort of holiday is that? You don’t care about Chelsea’s success or failure. Your sister’s dirty crush on their star-striker is just another one of her many celebrity infatuations that you can’t make any sense of.  

You don’t want to sit next to her as she gets herself all hot and bothered watching women run around a football pitch. You don’t even enjoy watching men do it, you have no interest in watching women.  

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You tell her, dismissively.  

“Please? We can do more than just watch the football.” She offers, pouting pathetically. “You have to come with me! I’ve just been dumped!”  

“No, you haven’t!” You remind her, laughing at her useless attempt at guilt tripping. “And you haven’t really left me much time to negotiate with work.” 

“You work too hard and you’re due some time off! Your boss isn’t going to refuse you, just bat your eyelashes at him. The filthy pervert.” 

“Hm.” You mumble, drumming your fingers over your stomach as you think.  

She isn’t wrong, about you working hard, at least. You do like to bury yourself in your work. You enjoy your job, and the harder you work, the more you earn. You haven’t had time off in a while, and your boss is unlikely to say no to you, you are his favourite employee. You don’t agree that it’s because he has a crush on you, you get good results for the company, and attract lucrative clientele.  

If batting your eyelashes could get you back in the arms of your Spanish one-night stand more easily, though, you’re not above flirting with him to get you there. You could take a few days of leave, go off to Spain, and possibly run into the woman who’s been living inside of your head.  

It’s such an incredibly remote possibility. An absolute stab in the dark chance of finding her. She probably isn’t even in Barcelona. You’re not cultured enough to be able to pin her accent to a specific city. She’s just Spanish. There’s much more places in Spain than just Barcelona. Barcelona isn’t even the capital. Maybe she’s in Madrid, Valencia, Marbella. She could be a party girl living on the island of Ibiza, you had originally found her in a bar. You don’t get a body like hers drinking yourself senseless every night, though.  

What if you do find her, and she wants nothing to do with you? There was only ever the promise of one night together. You already pushed your luck by spending the rest of the morning with each other, she doesn’t owe you anything more. It’s unlikely that she’s been spiralling quite as pathetically as you have. She’s not going to be fending off a sexuality migraine.  

You undoubtedly won’t have been the absolutely mind-blowing experience to her, that she was to you. She’ll have had sex with countless women. She definitely enjoyed herself with you, that much you’re certainly sure of. You can’t fake every bodily reaction to someone, but the rest of it could have been for show. The display of heartbreak afterwards.  

So, maybe she’s an actress, that would certainly make sense. It would explain why she had money, and why she had a company paying for her hotel. Maybe that was her little ‘business trip’. Perhaps she was in London promoting a Spanish movie. Maybe the entire thing was all a performance, and you fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.  

Either way, stalking her in Spain would be far too pathetic. Even if she does want you to find her, it’s so desperate and needy of you to go all that way, and if she doesn’t want you to find her, you end up looking insane. Travelling to Spain, to possibly just show up right there on her doorstep? What a terrifying thing for you to do to the woman.  

But what if it’s a sign? 

Your clueless little sister, inviting you all the way to Spain, with absolutely no idea that the woman you’re harbouring all of these confusing emotions for, lives there? Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s the universe trying to get you back together. Maybe she didn’t fake it, she does feel the same, you’ll find her in Spain and spend the rest of your lives together.  

Please. Behave and be so goddamn serious with yourself. You sweet and simple, delusional little fool.  

“The woman I kissed was from Spain.” You inform your sister thoughtfully, and she sits herself up on your bed to frown at you.  

“You’re still going with that?” 

“Why don’t you believe me?” 

“You’re straight. Straight straight straight.” She points out, with such an incredibly annoying inflection to her voice, it makes you want to bang your head against the wall. “You’re also 26. You were in love with an ugly bastard for 5 years and you’ve never shown an interest in a woman before.” 

“I hadn’t met her before.” 

“Gayyy!” She giggles, and you give her an almighty clack on her arm with the back of your hand, to wipe the smug little smile from off her face.  

“Go with the woman you’re hooking up with tomorrow.” You instruct her. “I’d be a nightmare to watch football with, you’d have to keep explaining things to me.” 

“I don’t mind doing that.” 

“Do you have no other friends to go with you?” You laugh and she pouts dramatically again, shaking her head. “You’re a lonely little loser!” You tell her with a smile.  

“Is that a ‘yes’?” She asks, rolling her eyes at you.  

You take in a deep breath and let out a very heavy sigh. 

What’s the worst that can happen?  

She’s already completely upturned your life. It couldn’t make things any worse for you. Whether you’re able to bump into her or not. You’ll either find yourself some peace, lounging in the Spanish sun, or you’ll be left in exactly the same position you’re in now, but with a much healthier glow to your skin.  

You could even find yourself a Spanish man while you’re out there.  

Mm.  

It’s really not a good sign for your heterosexuality, that that’s no longer an appealing option to you.  

“If I can sort it with work,” you reason, “yes. I’ll come to Barcelona with you.”  

She lets out an embarrassingly girly squeal and crashes her head against your stomach, with just enough force behind it to manage to leave you winded.  

“Twat! I’m making no promises about going to the game, mind. I’m just coming for the tan.” 

“Maybe your ‘Spanish lesbian’ is also a fan of football.” She encourages  

“Mhmm. I’m pretty sure she is.” You admit contemplatively. “Is that an entry-level of requirement for lesbianism, then?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “Because if that’s the case, I really can stop questioning myself.” 

________________

Booking time off work really is as easy as your sister thought it would be. Maybe your boss does have an inappropriate crush on you like she suspects. 

She’s very excited about having you for company, and she tries to educate you on all of Chelsea’s history, the players’ statistics, and their personal lives, all before you go on your little trip together. It really does just go right in one ear, and straight back out of the other. You’re not fussed on the facts and figures; it’s not why you’re going.  

There’s not enough room in your brain to care about the ins and outs of Sam Kerr and Kristie Mewis’ relationship. You’re not interested in the fact that Chelsea currently have 6 WSL titles, and are going for their fifth-straight one, and you really aren’t bothered that the semifinal’s first leg match against Barcelona ended in a draw.  

That is a fair amount of information for you to have retained already despite not being interested. Your sister really has been going on at you, you’re almost a footballing expert.  

Touching down late in the morning in Barcelona, you can’t pretend there isn’t a tiny part of you that’s letting yourself get a little carried away with dreaming. You’ve played through enough countless scenarios in your head of running into the Spanish wonder again back in London, of course your mind’s racing with the possibilities in Spain.  

You drop your bags off at the hotel your sister’s booked for you both, with the intention of heading back out to explore the city together. It’s a peculiar looking building, bright red, oddly shaped. She really never has been one for subtlety, it’s the perfect sort of accommodation for her.  

She insists on wanting to have a look at the Olympic Stadium before the big match, as well as seeing the state of Camp Nou’s renovations, and you really can’t indulge her any more than you already have. You probably will end up joining her for the game tomorrow, but you’re absolutely not walking around the outside of football grounds for fun.  

You’ve seen the exterior of Stamford Bridge more than your fair share of times, Wembley, the Emirates. There’s not that much difference between the lot of them, and they’ve never really been your favourite form of modern architecture.  

So, you agree to go your separate ways for your first afternoon in the city, you’ll meet back up with each other tonight.  

Playing tourist around the streets of Barcelona on your own, is quite an exciting little experience for you. You’re not very worried about getting lost, despite not speaking too much Spanish beyond the basics. Your hotel’s a distinctive looking building, it’s not going to be super difficult to find your own way back to it.  

You get a taxi further into the main hub of town and you’re able to mosey about with a rather unrestrained confidence, turning down tight alleyways and strolling aimlessly along multiple cobbled streets. You manage to find yourself being comfortably led astray, by allowing nothing more than just the warm gentle breeze to guide you as it blows against your body.  

It turns into a more casual exploration of the more authentic side of Barcelona away from most of the tourist hotspots. You have no real idea where you are, and you’re quite enjoying the small rush of adventure.  

A coffee is what you start craving, and you’re not exactly limited by options. Every other building on the peacefully quiet backstreet you’ve found yourself on, seems to be a tiny café. You could start ip dip doo-ing all the individual offerings, but that’s putting far too much consideration into it. You decide to go for the smallest one, the most unassuming. The best coffees always come from the places that aren’t trying to market themselves to any foreign tourists.  

A little bell rings out as you step through the door and the barista almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of you, he clearly isn’t used to getting anyone other than his regular patrons. You offer up your friendliest of smiles and a quick ‘hola’ to show him that you mean no harm, and you tap your finger gently on the countertop as you inspect the board behind his head.  

Choosing the littlest coffee shop might have been a tiny mistake because absolutely everything on the menu is written in what you can only assume, is a rather confusing variation of Spanish. You can’t back out now, the barista already has an adorably excited look on his face at having someone new in his little shop, you can’t break his heart like that.  

You study the chalk written on the board for entirely far too long, in the hope that the words will slowly start translating themselves for you. It doesn’t work, obviously. So, you take a punt at a random one of them, with the rather daring assumption that you haven’t just ordered yourself a troubling batch of Spanish poison.  

“¡Dos, por favor!” Comes a call from behind you, from a woman you surely do not know. It’s recognisably ballsy of her, almost rude.

Her words echo in your ears, as time stands still around you. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with that unmistakable, and entirely enchanting, cocky little tone to it.  

You can’t really have found her so easily. Life’s never been that kind.  

You can feel your heart clattering around in your chest instantly. Like it’s trying to escape from your ribs, to go off and say hello to hers, all by itself. Your chest’s rising and falling intensely as your breathing shallows and picks up pace.  

It can’t be her; it can’t be. This city’s just absolutely full of Spanish women.

She holds out her card right over you to pay, gently resting her arm down onto your shoulder, and you’ve definitely seen that tattoo before. The ‘11’ printed on her wrist.  

She’d refused to explain the meaning when you’d asked her about it. She wouldn’t give you the backstory behind any of her tattoos. It was too personal; you weren’t allowed to know.  

She thought you might have really fallen for each other if you both started sharing too much information about yourselves, and you only had the single night to spend together.  

“It would be too painful.” She had reasoned with you.

That was very clever thinking on her part. She absolutely managed to prevent you from having an awful lot of heartache and suffering about the whole thing, by letting you know absolutely nothing about her..ﾠ

You still can’t bring yourself to turn around and look. Even though you know it must be her. It can’t be likely that there’s multiple Spanish women that have branded themselves with that specific number on that specific part of their body. Surely to god.  

“..gracias.” You manage to choke out very shakily, in little more than a whisper, still facing forward.  

You have to turn around at some point. You can’t very well drink your coffee on the tiny little counter right in front of the barista when you can’t even have a conversation with him. Just staring at him, silently, neither of you able to speak each other’s language? That would freak him out! You’ll find yourself back on a plane headed for England before you know it, with a restraining order hanging over your head.  

Grow up and turn around. Just turn around.  

It’s her. It has to be her.  

The barista accepts the woman’s payment method with a familiar little smile back at her, and she carefully retracts her arm from over your shoulder slowly. You can smell her perfume on her wrist as it wafts back past the side your face. You recognise the scent, and you find yourself following it round you like a lost little puppy, your knees almost giving way beneath you.  

You didn’t accidentally stumble upon her at the beach. It’s not a Spanish marketplace. She definitely isn’t staying at the same hotel that you’re in.  

You’ve found her, while getting yourself lost. In the tiniest little café, on an unnamed, tumbleweed backstreet, right in the very heart of Barcelona.  

There’s a wide smile of disbelief on her face. Which is hopefully an indication, that she isn’t terrified of you being here, she hadn’t faked her feelings, and she, much like you are with her, is a little overwhelmed to see you.  

“Hi.” Is all that drops out of your mouth, as your mind goes blank at the sight of her.  

“Hi.” She says back, with the exact same breathlessness as you, her voice cracking ever so slightly.  

“….Hi.” 

“You’ve already said that.” She reminds you, and she’s clearly able to bring herself back to her senses far more quickly than you are, because there’s that charming little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips again.  

You’re not really sure which one of you instigated it, you both just sort of ended up colliding into each other, gripping at the material of each other’s clothes. It’s a very desperate hug. Even more so than the one you shared outside of the hotel elevator. You melt into each other, merging yourselves together like two corresponding puzzle pieces.  

It’s an embrace, holding not just the 12 hours of curious devotion between you, but over 30 days' worth of frenzied yearning. It has you both clinging to each other with everything you have, as it defies everything you came to accept as truly achievable, that heartbreaking belief in you, that this reunion would never really happen.  

It’s an impossible hug, and it’s one that neither of you want to pull away from. 

“What are you doing here?” You mumble against her, clinging to her shirt as she buries her head in the crook of your neck.  

“I think it should be me asking that question.” She tells you, chuckling. “I have far more right to be in Barcelona than you do.” 

“This is where you live?” You ask. “You’re from Barcelona?” 

“Mhmm.” She murmurs. “Mollet del Vallès.” 

There’s really no reason for that to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. It’s only a place name. It’s a good job she didn’t spend much time speaking Spanish to you back in London, you really would have been like putty in her hands.  

“What are you doing here?” She questions.  

“I thought you might want your sweatshirt back.” You joke casually, and she loosens her grip on you slightly so she can face you.  

“Do you not want it anymore?” She asks, furrowing her brow as she studies your face. 

There’s a clear look of uncertainty in her eyes, a small sense of worry, and you do feel mildly guilty for teasing her. “I was hoping ..maybe I could swap it for another.” You smile. “It doesn’t really smell like you anymore.”

She doesn’t allow you to feel guilty for too long. That small air of arrogance that’s always threatening to escape her, does so, in a predictable little smirk at the implication.  

“You’ve been wearing it that much?” She asks you proudly, and you push your tongue against the inside of your mouth as you roll your eyes at her typical display of cockiness. She carefully closes the small distance between you both again, gently pressing herself flush against you. “Does it smell of you?” She whispers in your ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps down the side of your neck. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Mm. Maybe I could be persuaded to make a trade, then.” 

She’s impossible for you to resist when she’s like this. It’s still an intriguing talent she has, evoking such a physical reaction from you, by doing hardly anything at all. A quiet little whisper in your ear and your body’s immediately burning up next to her? You’re still so incredibly tragic.  

You might no longer be certain of your sexuality, but maybe it really doesn’t matter. Why do you need to understand it? Why does it need an explanation? No one else in the world is important at all when she’s standing here in front of you. No one else would ever really stand a chance. How could you ever be interested in anyone else, when you know that this woman right here exists? How could any other person ever truly compare? 

There’s a desire in you that’s clearly also felt in her, when she moves herself to look at you. It’s written all over her face, the twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and the fact that her lips are so incredibly close to yours.  

You lean in, and so does she, but it’s like something quickly shoots through her body, as though she’s suddenly being brought back into the room. She does a quick scan of the café, and she collects herself before she lets you both get carried away.  

“We can’t kiss in here.” She tells you quietly, and you frown at her as you pull yourself back.  

“Why not?” You ask, doing your own quick search to try and find what she saw to put her off.  

No one seems too interested in you, though there’s admittedly a couple of people discreetly watching her. She is very beautiful, so it’s not surprising, but you do sort of wish they’d stop their gawking. This gorgeous woman is here with you, and you’re not really in the mood for sharing.

“There’s not another bloody homophobe about, is there?” 

“No!” She laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I don’t know, actually. I haven’t asked around, but we just ..can’t kiss in here.” 

It’s curious. She didn’t have any issues kissing you in front of people before. Spanish people are very famously more physically affectionate with each other than British people are. So, it seems unlikely that the two of you would turn too many heads just by kissing.  

“Okay..” you accept reluctantly, pouting a little at the rejection, “so ..should we just quickly nip outside to do it then, or?” You joke cheekily, pointing to the door with your thumb.

She chuckles with you, resting her forehead to your shoulder. “You’re still as straight as ever!” She grins, as she wraps you back up in her arms.  

It’s quite nice just losing yourself in her embrace. Burying your head in her neck and holding her tight against you. Having her arms back around you, her perfume overwhelming your senses. The rest of the coffee shop fades into a blur with her in your arms. She’s comforting, reassuring. She’s real, and she’s here.  

“Ale!” Is called out by the barista not a minute later, and you’d have very happily paid it no attention at all. The immediate flinch from the woman that you’re holding, in response to it, however, tells you that you might have just found out a very valuable piece of information indeed.  

You repeat it under your breath, as she pulls away from you and goes to collect your coffees from the counter.  

She says a quiet ‘moltes gràcies’ to the barista, and she narrows her eyes with a small grimace as she returns to you. There’s still a clear reluctance in her to give too much away, she’s not entirely grateful to her little coffee friend for unknowingly revealing slightly more to you than just her first initial.  

Ale. It must still be short for something, you figure. You start reeling off name possibilities at her in quick succession. Alessia, Alex, Alexis, Alexa. You’re like a dog with a bone, because she makes it clear that you’re getting closer, but she still shakes her head at every guess.  

It’s very frustrating, as she offers you absolutely no assistance with your guessing, but it can’t be as convoluted a mission as trying to discover Rumpelstiltskin’s ridiculous name. Thankfully, it isn’t. It’s on only your 5th attempt that you cause the same small flinch in her, and she smiles softly at you before looking down very quickly. You’ve struck gold.  

Alexia. 

It’s a beautiful name. Your favourite name, you’ve decided. It rolls off your tongue with so much ease, you want to repeat it again and again. 

“Now you know too much.” She sighs whimsically, handing you your coffee as she walks past you to collect her bag from the table she was previously sitting at.  

She gestures for you to follow her and leads you to a quieter area away from the other customers right at the back of the shop. She pulls out your chair for you to sit down, and you can’t not smile at the tiny act of chivalry. She really is very sweet. It’s a shame that she won’t let you kiss her.  

You reveal your own name to her, as she joins you on the other side of the table and she repeats it back to you quietly. Whether it’s the sexy Spanish accent, or just the fact that it’s her saying it to you for the first time, you’re not entirely sure, but your heart skips a few beats after hearing it. 

“Now we both know too much.” She tells you, and she takes a small sip of her coffee.  

There’s the tiniest level of nervousness, that blankets itself over you both as you sit together. It’s a little absurd, you’ve seen this woman naked. She’s seen you naked. It isn’t technically a first date between you, neither of you asked the other to be here, but you both clearly have the little jitters of being on one, coursing through your bodies.  

You find yourself just watching her a few times as you talk over your drinks together. You still can’t really believe you found her so quickly. So, you don’t want to risk taking your eyes off of her for too long, in case she just disappears into thin air while you’re not looking.  

She’s also the most beautiful sight in the café. So, why would you want to waste your time looking at anything else? 

You’re not being very discreet about your staring at all, and neither is she, really. You keep exchanging shy smiles over your cups as you catch each other looking. Both of you blushing and quickly averting your eyes as they meet, and then gradually repeating the whole thing all over again. You’ve definitely caught her gazing a few more times than she’s caught you. So, maybe she’s even more tragic than you are.  

The little coffee you ordered by chance, is Alexia’s usual order, so she tells you. It’s not the most life-changing piece of information for her to share with you, but it’s something else for you to know about her, and you’re absolutely sure to make a note of it. It probably keeps you on an even tally too, she already knows that you enjoy drinking a tequila.  

You’re still not allowed to kiss each other, for whatever obscure reason, but she has reached for you hand under the table. Interlacing your fingers together isn’t a new thing between you both, and neither are those tingles that immediately shoot up through your arm at even the most innocent of touches from her. She really does have an incredible effect on you, it should probably be more terrifying to you than it is.

“Why are you really here?” She asks after a moment, as she strokes her thumb over your knuckles.  

“My sister dragged me here.” You answer. “It’s a very important football match tomorrow, apparently.” 

“The one against Chelsea?” She asks, with an unmistakable look of interest in her eyes, that has you rolling your own lightly back at her.  

“I think she’d say against Barcelona,” you point out with a sigh, “but yeah, that one.” 

You had managed to work out that Alexia was probably a bit of a football fan. She has a little stick figure tattoo of a footballer on her leg, the outline of a baby being given a ball on her back, and you have exceptional detective skills. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.  

So, it isn’t a surprise that she’d be excited by your footballing interests, but it is unfortunate that you really don’t share the same passion for it as her.  

“Unless you’re a very daring rebel,” you start, “I assume you’ll be supporting Barcelona tomorrow?” 

“Mhmm,” she murmurs, with a small twinkle in her eye, “and you’ll be supporting Chelsea?” 

“Not emphatically,” you admit with a smile, “but I’ll be in that section of the crowd, yeah.”  

“You don’t really care about football at all, do you?” She asks knowingly, with an edge to her smirk that’s intriguing, as you shake your head at her in apology. “Maybe you should introduce me to your sister instead, then!” She winks, and you very quickly remove your hand back out of her hold.  

“Don’t.” You tell her. “Please. Don’t even joke about it.” 

It’s admittedly a little cute that she finds herself quite so hilarious for her disgusting little joke, but you are very unamused by the idea. If the childish look of mischief on her face wasn’t so entirely endearing to you, you may very well have got up and left her right then and there.  

She rests the back of her hand on your thigh with her palm outstretched, and you roll your eyes at her before placing your own hand back into it. She raises it to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, leaving you with the faintest of blushes across your cheeks. So, maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive her just this once.  

“I have a sister.” She reveals. “Her name's Alba. She’s a few years younger than me. I’m the older sibling, like you are.”  

“Uh oh!” 

“What?” 

“Well, now I really do know too much.” You tell her with a wink.

“My sister’s Emily.” You inform her rebalancing the tally of facts you keep sharing with each other. “Though she’d kill you for calling her that. I think she’d change her name completely if she didn’t think it would upset our Dad so much. She just goes by Em these days ..so ..she probably would have enjoyed your silly little initial idea, actually,” you admit thoughtfully, frowning a little at the realisation, “maybe I really should introduce you to her instead..” 

“Por favor.” She says quietly, quickly shaking her head at you and raising your hand to her lips once again. “Don’t even joke about it.” 

“Will you be going to the game tomorrow?” You ask, a not-so-subtle attempt at finding out if you might be getting to see each other again so soon. “We’d be like star-crossed lovers in the stands. Very Romeo and Juliet of us!” 

“I don’t know that we want to be comparing ourselves to those two! I don’t remember it ending very well for them.” She reminds you, narrowing her eyes at you as her intriguing little smirk returns to her face. “And no. I’m working tomorrow, I won’t be in the stands.” 

“Boo. You can’t be that big of a fan, then!” You tut in disappointment. “I’ve come all this way to support my team!” 

“Your team!” She chuckles. “Will you be there in a Chelsea shirt?” 

“Absolutely not. I’ll be in very neutral colours.” 

She smiles, nibbling at the inside of her mouth as she lowers her eyes to look at the table. She knocks her hand gently on it a few times before turning her attention back to you. It’s impossible to know what she’s thinking, but she’s definitely debating something silently in her head.  

“I could give you a Barcelona one?” She suggests a little cautiously, and you have to smile at the idea. Your sister would certainly disown you if you took one of those back home with you. It’d be worth it, just to see the look on her face.

“You have a very weird habit of offering me your clothes.” You tell her slyly.  

“Mhmm. I really like seeing you in them.” She admits sultrily, and your breath catches as her eyes darken looking at you. “I think I have one in my bag, if you want it.” 

It’s a surprisingly sexy little offer, and you do quite like having her clothes on your body. It’s hard not to laugh at her peculiarity, though, even your sister isn’t that crazy of a football fan.  

“You just ..carry it around with you at all times?” You ask, furrowing your brow as you chuckle at her. “That’s really weird of you! Do you sell them? You go round offering them to unsuspecting tourists? Is that your job? Is it a fake? Are yo—”

“You need to stop trying to know things about me.” She interrupts softly, shaking her head as she chuckles.  

“And just ..blindly accept that you always have a football shirt on you?” 

“Mhmm.” She giggles, and you narrow your eyes at her.

She really is very curious.  

She pulls it out from her little duffle bag from under the table and hands it to you with a gleam in her eye as you take it from her. You push your empty coffee cup to the side and spread the shirt out over the table to study it.  

They’re not exactly your colours, but you can probably make them work. You hold it up against you to check that it will suit, and she bites her lip as she watches you. There’s a name printed on the back of it, you realise, and you smile a little as you read it in your head.  

“Don’t most adults keep it blank? Or just go for their favourite player?” You ask smirking. You turn the shirt around and rest it over yourself, and she gently bites at the skin around her fingernail as you trace the lettering over your chest. “I thought it was just little kids that got their own name on the back. Do you quite like pretending you’re also on the team?” 

“Mhmm ..maybe.” She mumbles, stifling a giggle as she rests her head in her hand. She smiles at you fondly, as she continues gazing at your little shirt inspection.  

“That’s really very cute of you.” You tell her, placing the shirt back on the table and leaning over it as you trace your fingers over the number. “Why ‘11’?” 

“Hm?” 

“11. You have it tattooed on you. You’ve chosen it for your shirt.” You point out. “Is it your birthday? You were born on the 11th? You were born in November? Born on New Year’s Day? Is it just your lucky number? Is it—” 

“Stop, trying to know things about me.” She interrupts again quietly, reaching for your hand and meeting you across the table to rest her forehead to yours.  

“But I want to know things about you.” You whisper. “I want to know when your birthday is. I’d like to know your surname. I want to know what you do for a living, how you got those scars on your knee, how much you weighed when you were born. The name of your first crush, where you went to school, the meaning behind your tattoos. I want to know each and every incredible milestone you’ve ever achieved, and all the unfathomably boring things that you got up to in between each of them. I want to know every single detail about you, and your life, Alexia. I really, really want to know you.”   

It’s quite the thing for you to confess to the poor woman after only meeting her on two separate occasions, but the way her grip on your hand kept tightening as you spoke, the slight clenching of her jaw, and the fact that her lips are dangerously close to yours once again, probably means you haven’t just completely scared her off with it.  

“We’d have to spend a lifetime together, trying to learn all of that about each other.” She whispers to you, her lips lightly brushing against yours.  

“Is that a proposal?” You chuckle, gently bumping your nose to hers. Your eyes trail to her lips, and it’s really very hard to not act on your impulses. “Am I really not allowed to kiss you in h—“ 

It seems that you are allowed to kiss her in here, when it’s right at the back where no one’s watching. Or she’s allowed to kiss you, at least, because there's no doubt which one of you instigated this. Her lips move against yours, and your pulse reacts to her immediately.

It's a kiss harbouring an awful lot of emotion, for two people who still hardly know each other. It's slow, passionate, careful, and every confusing little worry that's been plaguing your brain since the last time you kissed, instantly melts away into nothing as her tongue slips back into your mouth. You're the only two people in the world when her hand's pulling you in by the back of your neck, and you’re tugging her closer by grabbing at her shirt.

It’s probably a good job she did decide to take you further away from everybody else, because it doesn’t stay an entirely family-friendly kiss for very long. It’s not wildly inappropriate, you’re not animals, and the bastard table’s in the way of you doing too much with each other. Thank goodness it is, because it’s been over a month, after all, and you’re both clearly quite a bit needy. You really can’t be doing that in public.  

“I’ve missed you.” She murmurs against your lips, pulling you impossibly further into her.  

“I really missed you too.” 

Hours feel like minutes, in Alexia’s company, as you spend the afternoon roaming Barcelona together. She still refuses to tell you everything about herself. You don’t learn her surname, and she still won’t tell you what she does for a living, but you do both share other things about yourselves with each other. 

It doesn’t matter how insignificant any of the details probably are. Every single one of them still feels important to you, because it’s another little glimpse into her. Every single fact, story and secret that she shares, is what makes Alexia, who she is, and she was absolutely right, you do find yourself falling more for her, with all of the little things you keep discovering.  

She eventually agrees to tell you her birthday. Which makes the whole ‘11’ obsession even more intriguing to you, because the 4th of February ’94 does absolutely nothing to clear that little mystery up. It does tell you that the man in his twenties that you were looking for the night you first met, didn’t even turn out to be a woman in her twenties at all. She turned 30 nearly 3 months ago. She’s absolutely decrepit! 

She gives you a tiny tour on your stroll together, bringing some clarity to the Catalonian streets you’ve been carelessly walking down. Explaining the extra confusing writing on the menu board, and casually revealing to you that she can speak 3 different languages. So, your drunken boast about your GCSE level German, probably wasn’t very impressive to her at all.  

You’re both approached a fair few times by people asking for directions. You can never understand what it is that they’re saying, and you're not really of much use to them just standing there being awkward. So, you hang off a little to the side taking in your surroundings, waiting for her to help them out, before she excitedly returns back to you. You’re not at all bothered by the interruptions. Your patience with it keeps earning you a quick discreet kiss from her as she wraps her arms around your waist, and you return the same display of affection, for her unrelenting kindness to strangers.

Alexia insists that she isn’t a tour-guide, and she’s also not an actress. So, you are very slowly whittling down the options of what it is she could possibly do for a living. She asks you about your own career, which is incredibly cheeky of her, considering. So, you simply refuse to tell her.

Maybe it’s that competitive streak in you, but if she wants to play it secretive, you can absolutely match her for it. You only agree to give her the corresponding facts to the one’s she’s willing to give to you. That way, if she’s falling for you with each new piece of information the same way that you’re doing for her, at least you’re both crashing down for each other, at exactly the same speed.

There’s slightly less careless abandon with being too physical with each other, walking hand in hand around Barcelona. It’s arguably tame compared to how you both were back in London. Whether it’s the lack of alcohol that’s keeping her more reserved, or maybe just because it isn’t yet nighttime, you’re not entirely sure.  

You’re still stealing kisses as you waltz along the streets, but you’re not pushing each other up against the walls of buildings out in the open. Maybe that would be a little indecent of you both. You’re pulling each other down quiet alleyways, instead, pressing yourselves together in secret coves.  

It doesn’t feel entirely necessary, the streets you’re exploring aren’t particularly packed with people, but you don’t question it too much. You’ve really just missed having her lips on yours, and whatever capacity she feels comfortable doing it in, you’re more than willing to oblige.  

You couldn’t really care less who sees you kissing her. You all but forget that they exist when she's pulling you into her and leaving her mark on you. It is arguably far more exciting, however, trying to be sneaky about it with each other. You're both almost actively searching for places that you're unlikely to get caught in. Finding hidden areas and seeing how much you can get away with together.

Your hands find their way under her shirt on more than one occasion. She really does have the most beautiful body. She jokingly reprimands you for it each time, but she doesn’t really discourage you from doing it. She does continually tease you, for your ever-decreasing signs of straightness, though.

Each newly shared kiss with Alexia, is somehow even better than the last. Whether she’s passionately throwing caution to the wind with you, by kissing down your neck, or trapping your bottom lip between her teeth. Even when she’s just being painfully frustrating, by giving you the quickest of pecks before skipping away. Every single one of them still sets your soul on fire, and they still manage to pull all the air right out from your lungs, every single time.

Alexia waits with you, as it turns to evening, on a bench by the road for your taxi back to your hotel. You try not to let the mild burning in your eyes ruin your final moments with her, but you can feel yourself starting to break.

She pulls out the football shirt from her bag again and holds it out for you to take with a shy smile. “I really hope you enjoy the game tomorrow.” She says, and you try to allow yourself to chuckle a little while nodding your head. 

“Mhmm. Thank you, I’ll try.” You tell her, throwing her shirt over your shoulder and quickly rubbing the corner of your eyes. “I’ll have to get Em’s permission to wear this, first. She’ll be very unimpressed with me.” 

“Just don’t let her burn it!”  

“I won't.” You promise, interlacing your fingers with hers and placing a kiss to the back of her hand. “The other fans might throw tomatoes at it, mind!” 

She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple, and there’s that familiar sense of dread in your stomach, as you watch the road, knowing your time together is quickly running out again.

You catch her gazing at you as you turn to her, and maybe there’s a little butterfly or two in your stomach as well, at the way her eyes are watching over you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Mhmm. You haven’t even gone yet,” she tells you smiling, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “and I already can’t wait to see you again.” 

“You’re really that certain that you will? You’re still sure you don’t want us to swap numbers?”  

“We’ve already bumped into each other a couple of times now. I have no doubt we’ll manage it again.”

It’s nowhere near as reassuring to you as it seems to be to her, but there’s a certain level of romance in her conviction in fortuity. Maybe you are beginning to believe in the possible existence of fate, though you're not completely enamoured by continuing to leave your encounters with Alexia, entirely up to chance. She cradles your head in her hands and gently wipes the tears that are threatening to spill from your eyes with her thumbs.

"I'll never forgive you," you warn her weakly, "if this ends up being it for us."

"Trust me." Is all she asks of you, and she pulls you back into her, resting her head against yours as she runs her fingers over your back.

It feels like an unspoken promise from her, to keep at least trying to find you, and there's a power in her certainty that has you desperate to believe in it too.

It’s still a little hard for you both to say goodbye to each other, but she’s already told you she has a busy day tomorrow, and you can’t really bring her back to your hotel when your sister’s already sharing the bed with you. You share another long hug, and a few more secret kisses before your taxi pulls up, and you finally hesitantly agree to part ways. She places a kiss to your cheek, by way of goodbye as you clamber yourself into the back of the car, setting off without her once again.  

You try to reassure yourself, on the taxi ride back to your hotel. You've ran into each other twice, in two separate countries, by pure dumb luck. It can't be impossible for it to happen again. Maybe there’s something connecting you both, an invisible string, an intangible little bungee cord, that's making sure that neither of you is ever able to truly stray too far away from the other. Alexia has ‘no doubt’ that you’ll manage another meeting again, and you take some comfort in knowing, that you still have 2 days left in the city, to do exactly that.

________________

Collapsing back down to lay on the bed in your hotel room, you have a sneaking suspicion, that you’ll have a far better night’s sleep than you’ve managed to have in a long time, tonight. Your mind isn’t spiralling with confusion anymore, and there’s no longer a gaping hole inside of your chest.  

There’s an excitement in you, a warmth. An encouraging little hope that you really have found something special. Someone special. That once-in-a-lifetime connection with another person who’s also trapped in this world along with you.  

It definitely isn’t the someone you expected to intertwine your soul with. Any younger version of yourself would be very confused about where she’s ended up. It isn’t a connection you want to keep questioning either. It’s not one you really have any doubts on the existence of at all. She’s just it for you, and maybe it’s okay that that’s all you can say to justify it.   

You don’t need to be attracted to other women; you don’t really care about your weakening attraction to men. It just makes sense when you’re together with her. There’s no confusion, no uncertainty, there’s no warning alarms ringing out in your head. There’s just Alexia, and the existence of anything and anybody else, will always pale in comparison to her. 

Your sister arrives a little after you, plodding back into the hotel room, clearly wiped from whatever individual Spanish adventure she got up to today, and she flops herself into one of the armchairs with a very heavy sigh.  

“Long day?” You ask. 

“Mhmm.” She mumbles, frowning at you suspiciously. “You look very happy?” 

“I am very happy!” You tell her with a smile. You excitedly roll over and reach down the side of the bed to retrieve your souvenir of the day from its hiding spot. You launch it right into your sister’s face and she grunts a little under the impact. “Will you hate me, if I wear that tomorrow?” You ask, trying to contain your newfound enthusiasm. 

She pulls it off from where it’s wrapped itself around her head, and she gives you a very unimpressed look. “You bought a Barcelona shirt?” She asks, clearly disgusted with your choice of fashion.  

“I was given it.” 

“By?” 

“..a woman.” You tell her, gently biting your bottom lip as you smile up at the ceiling.  

“Mm.” She mutters with a sigh, moving to join you over on the bed. She thwacks the shirt down over your stomach and lets out a huff next to you. “Well, at least she has good taste.” She tells you. “Or she’s just a bit basic.” 

That’s a little rude ..and very confusing.  

“What do you mean?” 

“Going for the best player on the team.” 

That’s less rude ..but even more confusing.  

“..What do you mean?” 

“Are you joking?” She asks, with a very clear tone of annoyance to her voice. She grabs the shirt and thwacks you with it again. “A woman gives you a shirt with a name on the back, and you don’t even care enough to ask who the bloody player is?”   

Maybe your head is racing again. That’s incredibly confusing. It really doesn’t make any sense. It’s her name, not a player’s name. Maybe they just share a name. It’s not an incredibly rare name, that’s not impossible. 

Your Alexia has a mild interest in football, she’s not playing it professionally. Who would keep that a secret? She’s reticent with sharing information, that’s for certain, but she’s not a bloody liar, and she told you she wouldn’t even be there tomorrow.  

No.  

She said that she was working tomorrow, and that she wouldn’t be in the stands with you. 

Your mind has started racing, and so has your little heart.  

“What. do. you. mean?” You repeat slowly, trying to keep yourself calm.  

“Alexia Putellas.” She tells you, very nonchalantly, and your brain all but short circuits at the name.  

“Who is Alexia Putellas?” 

She thwacks you again with your shirt in dismay, and you’ve really had just about enough of being treated like a piñata. You sit up, pull it from her hands and thwack it across her face as you ask her to explain herself.  

“She’s a footballer, for fuck’s sake!” She shouts, rubbing the palm of her hand against her eyelid. “She’s Spanish. She plays for Barcelona!” She pulls out her phone, to search for her Instagram and bonks you on the head with it. “That’s Alexia Putellas, you twat.” 

You look at the profile, and the hotel room blurs around you. You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, hear the blood pumping around in your ears.  

Your Alexia, is Alexia Putellas.  

She doesn’t sell shirts for a living, she’s not an actress nor a tour-guide, she really isn’t even a spy. Though she’d probably make a pretty good one, the way she never gave this piece of information away.  

Your unexplainable connection with another human being, and she plays football for a living? Clearly very well too, as 2 of her pinned photos have her holding a massive award for it right next to her face. Every other post on her page is about football. She’s Barcelona, through and through.  

She’s verified, she has over 3 million followers. She’s been out here, existing on the world’s stage, all this time, without you ever knowing. Your own sister’s been privy to more information about her than you have.  

She was in London a month ago for football, according to her Instagram posts. The cryptic little ‘business trip’ she was on, was a quarter-final match against Arsenal. An embarrassingly easy win for Barcelona, she must have been out celebrating it when she found you in that club.  

She was back in London again last week for football. You could have seen her then. You missed a chance at an earlier reunion with her, because you refused to go with your little sister to watch her in the first leg against Chelsea.  

Your breathing’s very shallow as you scroll through the endless stream of photos. Your mind is absolutely spinning. It’s all a bit much to take in. You lock your sister’s phone and place it back on her chest as you try to collect yourself. You really don’t want to risk learning too much about her. You want her to tell you everything, you don’t want to find it all out behind her back.  

You’ve been waiting with bated breath all afternoon, savouring every little piece of information she’s given you, and your smart-arse little sister could probably tell you loads about her if you asked. Lots of the details you’re so desperate to know about Alexia are probably only a quick google search away, but you feel guilty enough just knowing her surname without her having been the one to tell it to you.  

She hadn’t been super willing to even give you her first, and no wonder! It’s the single name that’s plastered on her shirt, it’s the name she’s known mononymously as. She’s women’s football’s answer to Beyoncé, Adele. 

Of course, she didn’t want to kiss you in front of people in the café, out there on the streets. It’ll be why she only kissed your cheek in front of the taxi driver. She probably is a little liar, because she almost certainly wasn’t giving directions to people when they approached you both. She presumably isn’t old friends with the two men who wanted a photo with her. They all just know who she is. The whole damn city of Barcelona knows exactly who she is.  

Maybe she was testing you, waiting for you to crack, to confess to knowing everything about her. How couldn’t you know about her? How unbelievably rude of you.  

She’s a celebrity footballer, and you’ve treated her like she’s one of the most normal people in the world. You’ve flirted with her, teased her, kissed her, slept with her, and she’s welcomed it all with that adorable little smirk.  

So, maybe she’s liked that you didn’t know, that you really had no idea about who she was at all. You can’t have had any preconceived thoughts about the woman when you’ve had no prior knowledge about her. Perhaps it’s been part of the fun for her, just being with someone who really couldn’t care about the noise surrounding her. Maybe that’s the reason she didn’t really want you knowing about it. Her fame could have changed things, pushed you away.  

It wouldn’t have. She’d have to do something intrinsically evil to frighten you off. Especially now, after the afternoon you’ve just spent together, learning more, and falling deeper for her. She’s still just the woman that baffled you with a lime in a nightclub, wound you up by kissing someone else. Rescued you from a night of undeniable regret, and turned it into the start of something magical.

She’s your once-in-a-lifetime connection, your confusing, and frustrating, perfect one-night stand companion. She’s the woman that's turned your whole world on its head, and it just turns out, that she quite likes to kick a ball around, with a bunch of other women for a living, and people from all over the world, have been watching her excel at it for years.

She has to know that you’ll have found out already, you’ve told her your sister’s football obsessed. Even if your sister didn’t know who she is, there’s bound to be other people wearing her name on their backs tomorrow. Probably not many of them were given their shirts by the woman herself. There’ll be even less of them with one of her sweatshirts in their bag.  

Maybe she’s excited for you to connect all the pieces together. Giving you her shirt was far too bold a move for her to still not want you to know. She’d have just talked you out of going to the game, if that was the case.  

She wants you there, being a very daring rebel, with her name boldly resting between your shoulder blades, rooting for her and Barcelona, right in the middle of the Chelsea fans. You’ll probably stand out like a sore thumb with your red stripes in the sea of blue you’ll be standing in, and maybe that’s exactly what she’s hoping for. She had ‘no doubt’ that you'd see each other again, after all. 

“She’s the best player on the team?” You ask your sister dreamily, collapsing back down on the bed and clinging to the shirt in your hand as you hold it against your body.  

“Mhmm. Best in the world.” She tells you, and there’s that exhilarating little thrill shooting right up through your body.  

“Oof. I’ll tell Sam Kerr you said that!”  

She scoffs to the side of you and flicks your forehead playfully. You lift Alexia’s shirt, holding it out in between your fingers to study her name again in disbelief.  

You're falling in love, with the ‘best in the world,’ and she seems to be falling for you, too. A little nobody from London, who’s spent the past month pining after who she thought, was a little nobody from Spain. She’s once again turned your whole damn world on its head.  

She really is absolutely everything.  

“I will hate you if you wear that thing tomorrow.” Your sister warns you, as she hits the shirt with the back of her hand. “I offered you a Chelsea shirt and you gagged at it!” 

“I’ve not gagged at this one.” You point out with a grin. “It’s a shame you won’t be friends with me tomorrow.” You tell her, resting the shirt back out over your torso.  

“You can’t wear it!” 

“I bloody can, and I very much will.” You inform her. “You should rethink wearing a Chelsea shirt. You’ll be very disappointed when we beat you tomorrow.” 

“‘We?’ You really are a twat. You’re Barcelona’s biggest fan all of a sudden?” 

“Too bloody right, I am!” You tell her decidedly, hugging the shirt against you. “I’ve always loved football, me.” 

[rennorthernlights]

Breaking You In

Ghost X Reader/OC——————————————————————————————

Brief Summary: Hiding your identity as an Omega is nothing new but hiding it in an Elite Taskforce is harder than you thought.

Your callsign is Mustang due to your stubbornness and the “Fuck You” attitude that you tend to embody. You take your heat-blocking pills religiously until they don’t come in anymore.

Just what you need… The beginning of Pre-heat is starting to show and your losing your mind with how annoying the Lieutenant is being.

(There’s no description of what Mustang looks like. I just wanted to name her that.)

——————————————————————————————

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Con to Dub-Con, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Aggressive Behavior, Aggressive Sex, Spanking, Dom/Sub, Forced Submission, Overstimulation, Ghost Ain’t A Good Guy In This But He’s Hot, Forced Bonding, Forced Mating, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-Clothed Sex, Breeding Kink, Ghost Tryna Be A Dad And Daddy, Choking, Hands On Throat, Tell Me If I Missed Any

MINORS DNI+18 AND UP ONLY

——————————————————————————————

The world has a love for Alphas in the military, they’re stronger and aggressive, good for the firefights and the bullets. Dominant and steelier compared to the Betas. Many of the Alphas tend to hold the higher positions in the military just due to their second nature alone. Leading most of the military fields save for the Betas that manage to keep up with them. Even the elite Taskforces are no different due to them being chalk full of Alphas and a handful of Betas. Only the best of the best is needed after all.

Omegas on the other hand… now that’s a different story. Most Omegas that choose to work have more of the “Less-Stressful” jobs. At least that’s what the unspoken rule is supposed to be. Some old-fashioned Alphas and even Betas would say that a good Omega is an Omega with their legs spread for a knot and filled with pups. Made to only raise the young and be good for their better mates. Depending on who you talk to it’s practically looked down upon if an Omega has a job.

Docile. Sweet. Easy.

That is what the world expects of Omegas. At least that’s what THEIR world expects. When you first presented as an Omega at the young age at 12 years old you refused to stay seated. Not surprising since your moms an Alpha and your dads a Beta, if anything they were more surprised that their daughter turned out to be an Omega.

“Just keep your head down.” Is what your mother would say to you over and over again. Snapping at you when you started doing things an Alpha or Beta would do. Their own views on how to train up an Omega became demeaning and suffocating. Even going so far that when you turned 18 years old your mother set you up with an old Alpha suitor.

With no foreseeable way out and your future hanging by tiny threads you did the only thing you could think of. Something drastic and life changing that could take you far away from your parents and that would-be suitor.

You signed up for the military.

18 years old and you dived headfirst into it. Inhaling nearly every heat-blocking pill on the market to hide what you are. Going against the rules and forging your documents. It’s amazing that you haven’t been caught but as long as you keep taking the pills there’s not much to worry about. Besides your CO’s would’ve blamed you if you caused the alphas to go into a rut if you chose to keep your heats. So what if you have to take some experimental pills? It keeps you safe and keeps you far away from your parents and the old Alpha your parents wanted you to mate.

Now, that was 5 years ago. 5 years of putting blood, sweat and tears into your military career. 23 years old and you gained the nickname “Mustang” for being far too stubborn and forward for your own good. Having an argumentative streak with your CO’s and calling them out for shitty plays on the battlefield. It’s no wonder that when the Captain of the 141 read over your file that he immediately requested for you to join. Seeing the potential in you and fire in your eyes reminded him of his Beta, Gaz.

At first you thought it was a joke, a jest that he’d want someone with only 5 years of experience, at least until you realized that he was dead serious in his inquiry. The Alpha Captain became deadset on taking you under his wing to help mold you into something better.

Upon meeting the team, you got along like dry leaves in a fire when you met Gaz, a kind and ever-patient Beta Sergeant. Nearly had your minds meld together when meeting Soap, the demolition Sergeant, and in time he told you with complete trust that he’s an Omega. The 141 treat him normally and as if he’s not just his nature was very eye opening to say the least, to see a fellow Omega be treated so well nearly made you come clean. But you digress, you trust them with your life but not something like this.

You got along well, building up lifelong bonds all except for the Lieutenant… he’s as Soap likes to call him. “A spooky bastard.” Hard and tough around the edges, as prickly as a cactus and even more of a hardass when it comes to drills.

Though it’s to be expected especially from the way he’s always in a corner, brooding with hardly a tell of an emotion with that skull mask of his on. Doesn’t help that he’s always quick to spot your mistakes. Every single mistake. Quicker to growl a sneer when you butt heads. Though you hate to begrudgingly admit that you’ve learned more under his watchful eyes. Amber brown eyes that always seem to be on you the second you’re in sight.

Though it’s been like that for months; you’ve had an easy rhythm with the Sergeants and you fall right into step with the Alpha Captain but for some reason. You and the Lieutenant? It’s like the two of you can’t see eye to eye. Doesn’t help that he’s been constantly hovering over you, being an unwanted guardian as he wards off the other Betas and Alphas. His scent always around you and sometimes on you much much to the increasingly teasing Sergeants. An almost knowing look in Soaps eyes when he smelled Ghost on you… again.

Your clothes somehow carry his scent like as if he’s rolling around in it. You swear that if it wasn’t for the pills you take you would’ve gone into heat a couple months ago. It’s annoying that the Lieutenant, the bane of your existence, gets his scent on you. Wards off the guys and ladies that you used to have one-night stands with. The soldiers fearing the wrath from a man who isn’t even your mate and you hate that he’s fucking with your ability to get laid these past couple months.

It reaches a boiling point when the Captain is put on a month-long bedrest, no longer able to play mediator between the two of you. Hell, even the Sergeants have a hard time breaking up the yelling matches you both have.

“Have some fucking respect.”

“Maybe try earning it.” You growl back, postering at him like an Alpha would. The other soldiers already leaving the breakroom to not have to deal with whatevers going on between the two of you.

The latest argument you’re having is over something useless that you can’t be bothered to remember. All you know is that he said something that’s pissing you off. Doesn’t help that the latest request for your heat-blocking pills haven’t been cleared just yet. You told Price in confidence a couple months back about what your second nature is, course you got an earful, but he swore he’d keep it to his grave. Normally he’s is quick to have them sent in but since he’s been on bedrest the paperwork has just been sitting in his office desk drawer collecting dust. You’ve already been off it for a week, swallowing your immense pride, you had sent in the request to a higher up that Price trusts but for some reason they never come in.

Your body is going through the drawbacks. That scent of yours has been jumping from sour to sweet throughout the days making your hormones shoot up dangerously. Hindbrain starting to encourage your pre-heat to flush out the remaining toxins of the pills. Any other team and you’d be scared but due to how well Soap is treated, you’re not too worried. So far no one has called you an Omega or even tried to imply what you are, and you would prefer to keep it like that.

The Lieutenant scoffs at your audacity pulling you from your thoughts as you shake your head of them. “I think I’ve earned plenty of your respect since I’ve saved your hide more times than I can count,” dark amber eyes narrowed as he stares down at you. “Omega.” Smelling out your second nature and it makes you freeze up. Your hands balling into tight fists as you fight the instinct of running away. A whisper in your ear that you should just stop antagonizing him but no. No, you press on.

Standing up straighter and if your glare could deepen any more then it would. “Don’t call me that, Ghost.” Distain towards him as your scent spikes up in a sweetening anger. Pre-heat befuddling your mind as you nearly bared your throat when he called you by your nature.

“What should I call you then, Mustang?” Taking a large whiff of the room. His eyes darkening, “You smell like an Omega.” Taking a step forward and you feel more acutely aware of how it’s really just you and him in the breakroom. “Smell just like one in pre-heat too.”

He lunges forward. “Hey! What are you—?!” An alarm goes off in your head to get away as he moves far too quickly for you to scramble and evade him, large hands grabbing and shoving you against the wall. “Let go!” You yell and throw your fist forward that he easily catches. Gripping hard and snatching your other hand to force them over your head. His thigh sliding hard between your legs as you breath in sharply. “You fucking basta-“ thick fingers shove into your mouth, you gag and cough at the sudden intrusion. Eyes watering in response and you see the blatant amusement in his eyes. Anger riling up so you bite down on the fingers forcing him to yank them out.

Guess he didn’t like that as grabs your neck with the same bitten fingers. “Feisty little Omega.” Squeezing your throat causing you to gasp as his grip hardens until you start to see spots. “No wonder you’ve been acting the way you’ve been. Heat coming up now that you ain’t downing those pills. Just need an Alpha to put you in your place, yeah?” The muscles in his thigh tense as grinds it against your core. Releasing just enough pressure from your neck that makes you gasp and gulp for air. If your brain worked faster you would’ve caught on to the fact that he knows you take pills.

“F-Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” brown eyes rolling, “Always such a mouth on you.” Moving his hand down your throat, ghosting over the mounds of your breast till he cups one through your shirt and squeezes. “Maybe a knot will make you easier to work with. Make you nice and pliant. When’s the last time you’ve been fucked anyways?” A grin under his mask as he knows exactly how long it’s been for you.

Your heart beating wildly as your teeth nearly stab into your lip to bite back a moan. His thumb pressing on the nub of your nipple through your bra and shirt. “No smart mouth, no snippy remark? Guess I finally shut you up.” Smirking under his mask as he spots the table in the breakroom before looking back at you like as if he’s been given the most amazing idea. His hand moving to the back of your neck and forcing you to move.

Jerking around and fighting uselessly as he bends you over the table stomach down. Hiking your ass up to present even as you try an squirm away. Almost successful in your attempt until a hard smack resounds in the room. Eyes bulging wide as he pulls his hand back and does it again. “Ah!” Screaming out as he smacks your ass with purpose. His hand on the base of your neck keeping you face down as you squeal and pant.

A meek, defiant growl from you as he responds with another harsh smack. “Behave, Mustang. Be glad I’m not making you count them.” Tears pricking your eyes as they shut tight, having mentally lost count of it ten slaps ago.

Tears falling down your face wetting the table as you half expect another smack and yet he cups your burning ass, your pants have done nothing to shelter your cheeks as you felt every sting of the assault. “There we go.” Gasping quietly when his large fingers grasp and fondle to soothe the ache, “Already bein sweet for me.” Taking a lungful of your enticingly sweet smell, “Can smell your slick,” he states downright devilishly as you tense. Your ass stiffening while your thighs shift tightly together, your body betraying you as you hate how right he is.

Tutting disapprovingly and reaching his hand around and dipping inside your pants right when you start to protest weakly. Sliding a gloved finger harshly against your soaked panties. “Soakin my glove.” Cupping your soaked cunt as it seeps into his glove. “Naughty, naughty Omega.” Purring against your ear making you wail louder. You’d try to escape if he wasn’t pressing his whole weight down on you. Kicking your feet apart with his boot and thrusting forward, canting his strong hips against the flush of your clothed ass. Something impossibly hard pressing and rubbing against your bottom that makes your eyes roll back as his fingers graze harder on your panties in time with his thrust.

“S-Shit.. ah s-stop! Please,” you beg as it’s too much, you haven’t been sexual with anyone in a while. Especially with your hormones out of whack, his scent smells stronger, dominating and thickening in the room. Invading your nostrils, intoxicating and encouraging more wetness out of your disloyal cunt. The sensitive walls clench when he presses a finger inside, your hole clenching around the cotton, the fabric of your panties rubs against your throbbing clit. You can’t stop the moans that fall from your lips even if you wanted to.

A coil starting to curl within you. “No, no, no, ah!” Your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues humping more aggressively. Grinding and circling his hips against yours, the table creaking under you as his strong body keeps you under him. Trapped and forced to just take it as the pleasure he’s giving you is mixing up the signals in your brain.

You don’t even realize his hand on your neck has left in favor of shucking his mask up, latching his hot mouth against the glands on your neck. Teeth grazing on the sensitive gland as the heat of his mouth sends shocks through your body. “This what you needed, pretty girl?” Whining in response when he removes his hand from inside your pants. His glove soaked with your juices. “S’why you’ve been such a brat. Had to keep pushin and pushin me till I had to do somethin about your problem.”

“N-no I-“ breath hitching as he bites on your throat, sucking harshly as you can’t find the words to speak coherently. Small mercy that he didn’t bite down too hard on the mating gland, merely sucking bruises on it. A grin etching into the skin of your sensitive throat. His tongue lapping and circling as he feels you shake and mewl under him. Having a harder time to not give into your baser needs. Body betraying you as you buck back in time with his canting hips as your hands move and fist near your face.

Finally letting up as he leans back, you breathe so hard as you look behind you through half-lidded eyes. Sweat beading around your forehead causing your hair to stick to your skin. His hands working fast to unbuckle his belt and pants. Pulling them down past his thighs and his boxers following suit. Eyes widening as you see his large thick cock already leaking pre. The flare of his knot making him seem much thicker. Cock slapping against his stomach and you know that a knot like his won’t fit. Blood pumping faster as you fear you can’t take that size in you.

Watchful molten eyes noticing how you try to shift away from him. A thick hand landing forcibly on your back to keep you still as he works on undoing your pants. Pulling them down as you stutter and beg for him not to. “No, no, no, darling. Gotta give you my knot.” Panties falling down, the ever increasing shame burns on your face as your slick slides down. “See? You want it. Need it from the looks of it.” Arms shaking and you try to hit behind you as he just laughs cruelly. Grabbing both of the flailing arms and pinning them against your back with one hand.

Your thighs instinctively try to close but he’s having none of it. Forcing your legs apart with another kick of his boot. A firm grip on your hip before sliding it under a bit to make you lift your reddened ass up. Slotting the meat of his cock through your glistening, fluttering folds. Sliding in between over and over, slowly teasing your engorged clit with the head of his thick tip.

“So fuckin wet for me. Haven’t even fucked you yet and you're pouring on my cock.” Moaning embarrassing louder as he inches the tip into your tightening hole.

A forceful push, heading deeper inside as you plead for him to pull out, to stop what he’s doing but he doesn’t hear you. Too lost in the feeling of your warm, tight cunt squeezing so nicely around him. Even with the gush of your wetness easing a bit of the stretch, it still burns. Ghost is by far the thickest you’ve ever taken. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried all the way to the hilt. “Fuck!” He murmurs lowly while his eyes shut just as yours do from the feeling of being so full.

Pussy gripping him hard, “Relax for me.” Grunting hard as he circles his hips. The hand under your hip lifts you a bit more as your mouth parts to suck in air. “You can take it. That’s a good girl.”

Hardly giving you the time to adjust as he pulls back, his tip not escaping your heat before slamming back in. Whimpering due to the electrifying shot of pain and pleasure, “P-Please, it.. it ah hurts!” Ghost murmurs something rough as tears begin to prick your eyes. His hand moves from your hip and instead of stopping his thrusts, he circles a finger around your wanting clit. Your eyes opening wide as more slick starts coming out more. Easing his large cock in you as your body starts to take him better.

“That’s it, that’s a good little slut,” slamming his hips fast as his fingers work a slow torturous pace on your bundle of nerves. “Doin so good for me Omega. Clench ‘round me baby.” Heavy balls slapping with each harsh thrust. His mouth latching against your glands, muddling your brain further as your Omega nature preens in response of being taken by this strong alpha. “Knew you’d be perfect for me. Just had to stop the pills from coming in.” His damning words not heard as he keeps up his brutal pleasuring pace. The smell of the heady sex permeate the breakroom, filthy sounds of wet slaps of thigh against thigh only enthralls your Omega nature more.

Becoming pliant as you moan and keen high in pleasure, mouth hanging open as the tip of his cock bullies into your tight cunt, making a home inside your gummy walls. His grunts and dirty words sinning against your ear as he growls about how you’re his now. That you’ll never escape him. A possessiveness scent seeping into the room as you babble useless words. His fingers, nearly forgotten due to the mind-numbing pace of his burrowing cock, start to move faster and press harder against your clit. Sliding his finger side to side just as fast as the hard smack of his balls intensifies the pleasure tenfold. “Cum for me, Omega. Wanna— agh,” grunting deeply behind you, “Wanna feel it.”

Your traitorous body gives in when he angles his hips and slams against that spot that makes you scream. Stars blurring your vision as you cum, squeezing and milking his cock as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. The tightening walls suck him back into your greedy pussy. “Gonna breed you good.” A heavy-laden promise as his eyes darkens with dangerous lust. His upper body hunching over as he presses his forehead against the side of yours as you plead for more. His hand moving from your pinned arms, placing his elbow beside your head to give himself more leverage as pistons his hips faster.

Hammering into your pussy as the wood of the table screams from the exertion and scraps against the floor. Your words bouncing against the walls, “Pl-Please, please, please!” Begging for it now. Begging for more, for his cum and his knot. Too lost in the pleasure to really understand what you’re saying. “Alpha, Alpha please!” Crying out as it’s too much and yet not enough. Overwhelming animal instinct to be bred by your strong Alpha. Arching your hips in time to feel him growl loudly, the vibrations tingling up and down your spine.

“I’m going to, Omega, I’m going to.” pulling back suddenly before slamming back into you full force with his damning vow. “I’m gonna breed you till you can’t take it.”

Pulling back out and forcibly turning you around, back now on the hard surface of the table. He looks downright predatory as he licks his lips. Yanking the rest of your pants and panties off, ripping them off even with you wearing your boots in wanton abandon, discarding them out of sight and out of mind.

His hands grabbing your ankles and placing them over his shoulders. Your boots scraping the skin of his flesh be he could give less of a fuck right now. Maneuvering your knees against your chest to fuck you deeper, feeling deliciously constricted since his body is blocking out everything from your sight. Everything but him.

“Gonna give you my knot. Make you mine in every way.” The newer position makes him feel even larger inside you. Pounding into you as your moans sound heavenly to his ears. Pressing more of his weight into you, caging you in as if his only thought is to fuck into your fertile womb. An animalistic need in his eyes as he gives into his own nature to claim the Omega under him. “You want it? Want my knot? Beg for it.”

“Want it! Want it s-so bad! Please, Alpha!” Wasting no time as you work hard to form the words. Jumbling and spilling over it but you don’t stop in your mindless pleading. Your pleading flipping a switch in him as he no longer cares about the consequences. He’ll deal with them later because right now all he wants to do is fill your pretty pussy till it overflows.

Surging forward, his teeth bites down harshly against your mating gland. Mine. Mine. Mine! Eyes rolling back to your skull as you cum faster and harder. The build up of the dam inside the both of you breaking as the swell of his knot starts to catch. Teeth digging into your neck as he intends to make the binding claim as deep as he can. Tears springing out your eyes as your legs shake in the tidal wave of pain and pleasure.

“Mine.” Growling aggressively in affirmation as he moves away from your throat and kisses you roughly, “Mine.” Mouthing the word against your swelling lips that can’t keep up with him. His hips stuttering as his muscles clench, the need for him to cum approaching faster. Balls tightening up as he forces home his thick knot inside your sensitive walls. “Mine!” His forehead falls against yours as he roars out that soul-claiming word. Hot spurts of cum filling your greedy and welcoming womb. His knot expanding wide and locking you to him for now.

“G-Gho— mph!“ his lips dominating against yours, shutting you up as he grinds his knot while his balls empties the rest of his thick seed in you. Moans being swallowed by the other in response. Tongues wrestlings as he takes hold of your boot and eases it off his shoulder. The other following suit as he wraps them loosely around his waist. Your mewls being swallowed by the hungry kiss that he gives you, possessive and devouring as he doesn’t let up. Moving his mouth down, trailing kisses and nips gently against your chin and then to your throat where the mating mark is on your neck. His permanent mark on you.

Chest against chest as you both pant heavily. The clothes worn sticking almost uncomfortably due to the sweatiness of each other. His warm tongue lapping lovingly against the mark he made before he finally leans back. His knot still keeping the both of you connected as it won’t deflate for a bit longer. The smell of the intense coupling is sure to deter anyone from even getting within 30 feet of the breakroom. Not that he’d ever let anyone see you like this. Not his pretty little mate. No, no, no, this sight is for him and him only.

Drinking in the vision of you, mellowed out and soft on the hard table. Hair spread around you like a halo, tired eyes shutting to a close, mouth open and panting. The bulge in your stomach scratches at the delicious size difference between the two of you. His cock twitches from inside you as he wonders how you’ll take him if he took your plump ass. Though an animalistic instinct demands that he not waste his seed, preferring to keep his Omega filled with his warm seed. Snug and protected safely in your precious womb.

“Ghost,” your words softer than he’s ever heard it, eyes opening as you shiver from the shift in his touching, his scent smells more welcoming. More warmth, like firewood on a cold night and the bourbon that he likes. The rare gentleness throwing you off a bit as he rocks his hips forward. A low hiss from your mouth as you’re far too sensitive and yet a slow build of pleasure starts to grow as your overstimulated pussy clenches in response. Your head turning up with a needy whine.

His lips pull back into a wolfish smile. Needy Omega he muses to himself. His Omega. “Simon.” Stating his name and he places a large warm hand over the bulge of your stomach. A primal instinct lighting up at the thought of the seed catching on the first try. Imagining you round with his pups is a black hole that he’ll gladly fall into. He didn’t mean to bite you, didn’t mean to claim you but what’s done is done.

He just wanted to fuck and get rid of his obsession over you but if he did this all over again he wouldn’t stop himself. He’d gladly bite you over and over again.

“Call me Simon.” Your breath hitching as he says his name firmly, commanding you to him by a name he rarely gives out. “Want you to say my name from now on.” His knot starting to deflate. “After all,” He may not have meant to bite you but that doesn’t mean he won’t uphold it. You’re his now. He won’t let go of you no matter how much you’ll kick and scream once your senses finally come to and the high of pleasure fades. Slowly pulling out as his potent cum spills out. Your head scrunches up, sighing pathetically from the loss of his cock.

“You’re mine now.”

His hand sliding between your shaking legs that still wrap loosely around his waist. Scooping up the cum that tries to escape, to go where it shouldn’t. A rumble in his chest, his second nature demanding to keep his Omega filled and sated. His fingers push it back in eliciting a sharp gasp. He can’t help but grin at how sensitive you are.

He leans close and as he uses his fingers as a plug. “Now be a good little mate and keep’em safe. Gotta make do on my promise to breed you after all.” His cock already starting to harden, his stamina has always been the best and he’s never broken a promise.

Ever.

[vadacore]

little star

cairo sweet x reader oneshot // miller's girl // word count: 1281

a/n: just really miss cairo

Cairo hadn’t been herself lately. You two had talked for hours for the past couple of weeks. You had grown closer and more intimate with each other. Then, all of the sudden, everything changed.

Cairo wasn’t around anymore. She never called or wrote. It was ever since she turned in her midterm assignment for Mr. Miller that ties had been cut. Due to her tight deadlines, you two had agreed not to see each other until after she had finished the midterm, but it had been 3 days since the due date… She had been a ghost.

You called Winnie that morning—the dawn of the 4th day after. She explained the discord that had accumulated and how Cairo had taken the beating to heart. But she was the strongest person you had ever met. She couldn’t be broken.

Could she?

Winnie had said a lot of things. 

Cairo was emotional. Cairo was resentful. Cairo was heartbroken. Cairo was alive, at least.

No more alive than the works she’d create from a blinking cursor, the lead of a pencil, or the ink of a pen, though. She’d masterminded such beauty that reflected nothing but the world around her. Though when she had unlatched the door to let the monsters in, the rain poured and the lightning struck. 

You weren’t as talented a writer as she was, but who could be? Between those paragraphs of literacy and media was blood. It was a rich kind of blood that lured you to Cairo Sweet in the first place. It was reckless and mysterious, but you’d never felt more grounded before you laid eyes on her. Heard her speak… Learned her heart… And you missed that more than everything.

Was there Sweet to her name anymore? Or was there just Cairo? 

Winnie said Cairo had been alone. She said she had wanted to be alone.

But alone meant misery and displacement. Defeat and loneliness. Longing and torture. And Cairo didn’t deserve that. You didn’t care what she’d done or what she didn’t do. She was your north star. She shone brighter than anything you’d ever known, and therefore, nothing could ever change that.

So, you showed up to her house after that 6 AM phone call with Winnie Black. You needed to see her. Not just because you missed her more than anything, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of her discouraging her potential and honesty. Not in her wondrous existence.

Cairo didn’t fear anything, you’d learned, so you let yourself in and found her sitting in the darkness of her room, three cigarette butts on the floor and her journal open on the bed. Through the shadows, you found the top of her head over the other side of the bed. “Cairo?”

She didn’t move a muscle, but she did answer. “If you’ve come to talk, don’t bother. I’ve heard enough, and the sincerity I’ve expressed has been more than society is willing to tolerate. Honesty is feared by many. It’s tragic and hateful, yet it’s a quality that etiquette claims to be most valuable.” Then, she managed a wry scoff. “Hypocrites.” 

“Cairo, I don’t care what happened,” you replied. “I haven’t heard from you in days. I just missed you, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She actually gave a laugh this time. “Aren’t I?”

As convincing as she may seem to other people, you had learned her better than most, because you had to figure her out the hard way, through phone calls and communication of words, not expressions. You didn’t have to see her face to determine how she truly felt. You could hear it. Dare you say, you could feel it. 

There was a tear in her voice as she spoke. And it led you rounding the bed to find her knees up, while she stared at the wall ahead. Those beautiful eyes were slow, like shards of obsidian as they raised to meet yours without a blink.

“Y/N…”

You dropped to your knees and pulled her into a hug. She didn’t reciprocate, but you held her for everything you were worth. You rested your cheek against her head, your fingers gently pulling the small tangles from her hair and your other hand corralling her back, clutching her shirt like she was going to disappear into the darkness. “Cairo, listen to me…” you whispered. Her warm breath filtered through your shirt. “I don’t care what anyone says. About you… About me… About anything… You are the greatest soul anyone could ever dream of having in their school, in their class, in their life, in anything.”

A warm, damp feeling found its way to your collarbone, and you knew it was tears. And all of the sudden, her weight was recognizable against your embrace. She felt so small in your arms that didn’t even hold all of her. It was the first time you realized just how petite she was for an 18 year-old girl with an extraordinary personality. “You know, to me… you’re above everything in this world. I’ve only seen people wander the earth, dreaming of what it’d be like to fly, but you… you fly, Cairo. You’re that star in the sky everyone dreams of being.” Your chest ached from how serious those words coming from your heart were. You then lifted your head to place a loving kiss to hers, because just holding her wasn’t enough anymore. 

Cairo sniffled, but didn’t say anything. However, she had managed to unbend her legs to hold you against her. And when you gently pulled away to have her look up at you and you, down at her, the wet streaks against her cheeks shimmered in the halflight.

You wiped them away and gave her a small smile. “Beautiful…” You kissed her forehead. “Magical…” You kissed her cheek. “Wonderful, you are.” The next place you were dying to heal with your lips caught your eyes, though it was merely small motions of your irises. Instead, you brushed her hair aside and pressed your foreheads together. Her eyes shut and for a moment, she looked peaceful as you finished with, “Yes, you are…”

She opened her eyes, now only tainted with a thin gloss. But then she managed the smallest, sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Her Cairo Sweet smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice only a little above a whisper, mostly steady but with the slightest crack.

“It’s true,” you whispered back. Seeing her small smile was enough for you to give her your own, though yours was out of admiration, pride, and love. She truly was a star. 

She was your little star.

Then, her smile faded and she glanced away. It was almost shy, which surprised you. “Y/N?” Her voice grew a little stronger.

“Mm-hmm?” Whatever she wanted was hers.

“Kiss me.”

There was no hesitation as you granted her wish. Little did she know though, it was your wish too. You had wished upon a star, because that was the old saying. Wishing on a star was a chance that didn’t come often, especially when that one star was a shooting star. Yet, it hadn’t passed you up, and there was no way in hell you were going to pass it up.

Cairo’s lips were soft, but you could tell there were stories imprinted on them. They weren’t ex-stories, per se, but they were mysteries that you wondered how hard they would be to solve. How many pages would you have to read to uncover them? How much would she have to write to reveal them?

Only time would tell. But every journey starts somewhere.

And the best had a star to guide them.