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yestrday · 10 months

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— BLUSH BLUSH ! anemo | hydro | geo | pyro

⤷ yan! hybrid! zhongli, itto, gorou, albedo

summary ! these land-dwelling hybrids have devotion as sturdy as stone and they’re ready to prove it anytime! if you’re feeling shackled by your father’s chain, do not worry, for you have your trusty hybrids to keep you company. should you have any concerns, just come to them anytime. after all, you are all bound by a contract that will never expire~

content ! possessive behavior; obsessive behavior; yandere behavior; mentions of violence; mentions of biting you; mentions of blood; mentions of drugs; sadism; thoughts of corruption

notes ! woah!!!! i have posted an actual full update!!! woah!!! applaud please!

in the neighboring country of your very own, legends say that a great dragon protected their lands in a time of tumultuous peril. were it not for the great dragon general and his army of mythical beasts, the people of that land would have succumbed to war and famine. he built the broken country from the ground back up, and introduced many kinds of craft to help them prosper. the land and its people did indeed flourish, thanks to the wisdom of the dragon. but wise as he is, he ultimately decided that the humans must learn to rely on themselves, and so he and his army of beasts hid away, till they faded into nothing more but myths and stories…

you stare blankly at the gentleman who is calmly sipping his tea while he tells you this story, and venti's squawking laughter as he dies in the background. having let go of his human form, he sits comfortably with his scaled tail and his golden antlers out, and his black and gold hands gingerly cup the ceramic teacup. aether is beside you giving the man a deadpan stare. all the surrounding hybrids, save for a few clueless ones, give him the side eye. yeah, ZHONGLI is not fooling anybody.

unlike your other hybrids, it was you who came to him. your father had summoned you, much to the anger of your caring hybrids, and your servants had you scrubbed with scented soaps and dressed you in elegant pieces. aether accompanies you all the way to your company's building and soothes your worries away as you ride the elevator going up. the man accompanying you shoots a condescending gaze— the forgotten heir and their hybrid pet— and backing down after receiving aether’s dark glare. when you step into his office, you’re greeted by the apathetic look on your father’s face… and the handsome man beside him.

“this is ZHONGLI,” your father tells you, sounding bored as he resumes to reading his documents. “i heard that you’ve amassed yourself a following of hybrids of some sort.” you tense when you hear that, knowing the positions hybrids hold in this world. “what you do there is of no concern to me. ZHONGLI is a good and efficient secretary– he can help you control those beasts of yours. after all, i cannot risk having so many sources of harm around my child without someone to properly control them.” aether snarls under his breath at the mere implication of them hurting you, but you squeeze his hand. and so off you leave to your isolated villa, your back turning on your neglectful father once more.

ZHONGLI quickly proves himself to be quite the skilled hybrid. he can easily identify from just a glance on what kind of animal they are, as well as the specifications of their behavior, preferred environment, diet, and whatnot. he also helps you sort through your treasures— the jewels and antiques you’ve accumulated over time and tell you stories of these. he entertains you with new knowledge, helping you have a good grasp on the world beyond these walls.

he’s also very, very gentle with you. for the kindness you’ve shown these hybrids, you’ve gained a special place in ZHONGLI’s heart. oftentimes, he will pat your hair down as he recounts an old eastern fable, and straightens out any wrinkles in your shirt when he sees them. it pleases him to know that you are nothing like your father, but he knows that you’re still his blood-related child. if you had to go through any of the trials that your father had, ZHONGLI fears that you may grow just as cold-hearted as he is. so he makes sure to take the utmost care of you, so that you’ll never have to change from your kind and soft self.

ZHONGLI quickly becomes a trustworthy pillar that everyone can rely on. the younger hybrids tend to come to him for advice, and he sometimes even replaces aether as a substitute butler. but when it comes to fights, he only watches in amusement and sips on his tea. youngsters should let out some steam once in a while, he reasons. oh, and aether absolutely forbids him from touching the mora. that’s one thing no one ever trusts him with.

ZHONGLI’s pride and ego as a dragon hybrid has long dissipated since the eras have changed, but even so, it has always irritated him that your father tricked him into a contract. sometimes, when he looks at you, a dark urge dwells in the dark recesses of his mind. it’s a feeling he hasn’t felt ever since he was a young bloodthirsty general— that bloodlust and sadism. he knows you’re not your father… but what he does know is that your father has a great amount of affection he refuses to show to you. so what would happen if ZHONGLI were to… say, ruin you? to push you past your breaking point and present it to your father?

he knows it’s not right to think such things of you, but you can’t blame him. ZHONGLI is sure you’d understand, like how you understand your every hybrid’s troubles. he’s done so much for you, after all. surely you’ll allow him to take a bite of you, and maybe more. you are a treasure, hidden away where no one can hear you scream. it doesn’t help that ZHONGLI is a dragon, heralded by legends as the mightiest of them all, and he wants to possess every single inch of you until you’re not yourself anymore.

he loves you, and he isn’t afraid to tell you. you are kind, and you are everything your father isn’t. his heart swells when you look at him and his smile is unstoppable when you excitedly chatter on about trivial matters. he wants to give you everything and more but it is in his blood to be selfish, and there’s nothing he wants more than to ruin you and your father too.

RELATIONSHIPS: zhongli and venti often get into passive-aggressive fights by covering up their insults with very fake compliments. poor xiao and aether often find themselves in the middle of this verbal war, but the two old men actually get along more than they’re willing to admit.

ITTO makes himself known by destroying a wall and a room. it was a nice and peaceful day, enjoying a cup of tea before another session of studying with zhongli. but soon enough, the entire manor shakes as a loud explosion comes from one of the outermost rooms, and everyone rushes to see what happened. in the middle of all the rubble and mess is a snorting bull, a stab wound in his side. when it looks up at you, it's eyes grow wide.

everyone covers your eyes when the bull morphs and reveals a naked muscular man with the stupidest grin ever. "hello, little one!" his voice nearly booms, but it stills sound faint as blood dribbles from his mouth. "uh, haha, i know it's awkward to ask this of ya since we just met, but ya look like the master of this house. care to help me out here?"

ITTO apparently has gotten himself injured thanks to a gang war. according to his story, his gang pissed off some of the local ones when they barged into their territory ("anywhere's arataki itto's territory!" he corrects zhongli, but is promptly ignored) and he split up from his gang while running away ("strategic retreat!"). the adrenaline must've gotten to him, because he was a long way off from where he originally came from.

ITTO is loud and childish, but you've never had a normal childhood, so his presence is greatly appreciated. he drags you into his silly games— catching beetles with you to raise them into fierce fighters, shouting out cringey finishing moves during your card games— it’s always a fun time whenever he’s around, and he even manages to wrangle other hybrids into playing with him. a lot of people are exasperated by him, but they do like how friendly and stupid he is, so he’s one of the more popular hybrids in town.

stupid ITTO knows how strong he is, but that doesn’t mean he stops to think before pulling you into one of his bone-crushing hugs. gorou often yelps and tries to pull him off, nagging the laughing bull about his strength and carelessness. when he does loosen his grip on you, he does make for a great cuddle buddy— a set of firm abs behind you, muscled biceps wrapped protectively around your hips, and his head atop yours. sometimes you’ll fall asleep in his arms, much to everyone’s dismay, because then itto would fall asleep with you and everyone knows he has a grip like death.

ITTO’s foolish, but he’s kind and surprisingly wise at times. he’s wise enough to know the dark leer in his fellow hybrids’ eyes, and strong enough to be able to whisk you away from potential danger without any consequences. he tends to move you away whenever territorial conflicts arise between the hybrids, distracting you with a game or two. itto knows all too well how hybrids are treated in this world… he doesn’t want you being scared of them either.

that’s why he doesn’t warn you about the dangers of the other hybrids either. one, because he doesn’t want to fill your head with scary thoughts about them and two, well, he becomes a hypocrite. he may try protecting you, but even that’s hard enough for him. when you smile at him so trustingly, it just breaks his heart in two… and stirs up something dark and possessive within his heart.

ITTO wants to cradle you gently, continue to play these silly games with you and have fun with the others for your entire life, but sometimes, you make it hard for him to be a nice man. he’s a big, big man— so big, in fact, that you won’t be able to do anything when he wraps that meaty hand of his around your head and muffles your screams. once he pins you to the floor and starts nibbling at your soft flesh, you’ll be helpless and weak, and it’ll only take him a second before he draws blood. he hates himself for wanting to violate you like that, but the thought makes him salivate.

you don’t know the real world like ITTO and the others does, and he wishes to keep it that way. concepts like innocence and pure are too philosophical for the bull hybrid’s taste, but he wishes to keep you safe. he’s been ridiculed, scorned, and cursed at for simply existing. part of him knows its paranoia, part of him believes it, and a small part of him wishes that you continue to hide in the haven you’ve made for yourself.

RELATIONSHIPS: itto’s quite friendly with the entire inazuman group, ready to loop them in for some fun whether they like it or not. due to his outgoing nature, he’s also made friends with the others as well, especially xiao, and seems to be oblivious to his mythical status with his laments about his poor, small figure. aether keeps a tired yet amused smile at his tirades, but makes sure to keep you away from him to avoid his bad influence.

GOROU joins your family after being wrangled by the neck by itto, who had loudly proclaimed that he had found dinner. when he bursts in the front doors, there’s a yipping dog digging its canines into his hand. someone briefly mentions that bulls are supposed to be herbivores, but all you can think about how cute the puppy is. slowly creeping to the shiba inu, you gently stretch out a hand and start petting its soft fur. the small thing flicks its eyes to you and bares its teeth to growl, but a particularly good scratch has it whimpering timidly.

GOROU just might be the only sane one from the inazuman hybrids, minus thoma, who’s more or less subservient to you and ayato. he’s usually frantically running back and forth keeping an eye on itto (“humans are not to be held like that!”) and heizou (“do not try to eat kazuha again!”). when he’s not trying to keep it all together, he likes training in the open field out back, and his night time routines are often spent with other fluffy tail boys, who sit in a circle to groom each others tails. you’re part of this too, often finding yourself groomed by the others too.

he’s a respected warrior, and he likes to help out around the house too. GOROU is fairly amiable and gullible, so he often plays the straight man of many pranks. he’s strict with himself and with others, but not a lot of people take him seriously, especially with ears and tail as fluffy as that. it’s quite troubling for him, and he doesn’t appreciate it when people stroke his ears out of the blue or ruffle his preciously groomed tail.

although young, he likes to present himself as respectable and responsible. after all, he wants you to trust him, to come to him whenever you need help! but it doesn’t help that whenever GOROU is engaged in a duel, his more base instincts come out and the heat of the fight rushes in his head. he’s growling and scratching the floor, he shoots with a precise aim but doesn’t neglect the use of all four limbs. you find it endearing how embarrassed he becomes when he’s finally relaxed after the duel and you of all people had to see him like that. while you coo and comfort him about how cool he was, all the other hybrids exchange a look— that wasn’t about being cool, it was a show of primal instincts.

GOROU values your approval and affection more than anything in this world. it’s why he works so tirelessly to become a man you can rely on. he doesn’t allow himself to be clingy, but with some encouragement, he’ll immediately melt in your touch and he won’t let go. he sees you like a being near to divinity– if not divinity itself. your touch cleanses him, your voice soothes him, and should you give him a command, he’ll carry it out with perfect execution. he’s been demeaned as a brainless dog by society, an animal instead of an equal, but for you, he’ll proudly carry that title with blood on its name.

if you’re looking to gain more than what you currently have, GOROU is the perfect lackey to have. it’s not to say that all your dear hybrids are more than happy to follow your pursuit of greatness, but they all have their underlying agendas when it comes to you. meanwhile, GOROU’s wants and needs are all based on yours. he doesn’t need to have any other agendas— all he wants is for you to hold him for the night, bloody mess and all.

RELATIONSHIPS: gorou is usually yelling and running after itto, mostly failing to get him wrangled and disciplined. he’s only ever relaxed around kazuha and aether, who both patiently listen to his grumbles and complaints. the three of them are part of the unofficial tail society of the manor, who along with the other fluffy tail-havers like to sit in a circle and groom each other’s tails.

there was once a time when common household products mysteriously disappeared from your cabinets. it whipped the servants into quite a fright, and rumors of a ghost haunting the halls were popular for a time. it was only when a servant found a small cavern in the side of the hill’s landscape, where the said products were organized meticulously, did they find the culprit— a handsome boy sporting feline eyes and a pair of fluffy ears and tail to boot. when ALBEDO meets your eyes, the wildcat hybrid smiles in a way that would make any romantic’s heart flutter.

“apologies for the inconvenience i may have brought you,” he says in a voice like a fairytale prince’s. “i should have introduced myself sooner instead of stealing from your cabinets. but as you can see,” he poi kntedly stares at the dozen wary eyes behind your back. “... i may have gotten a bit shy in the presence of such… intimidating companions.”

ALBEDO is almost immediately absolved of all sin. who can get mad at such a pretty face? even your head maid who had been angrily fuming and ranting these past weeks immediately quickly turned all sparkly-eyed and accommodating as soon as albedo sent a charming smile her way. he becomes a quick favorite among the staff, because oh, he’s so nice to talk to! all these scary hybrids are either brooding or scheming or scarily strong and here’s this angel from above come to give them a sense of normality! he’s not nicknamed prince for nothing!

you always feel at ease around ALBEDO, and you like how gentle he is with you. his words are soft-spoken and carefully chosen, and he listens to your insecurities with a patient ear. he shares with you advice and his own perspective of things (albeit a bit flat on the social aspects), and he draws you little doodles to cheer you up. you both have a little game that you play where he draws on his sketchpad and you try to guess what it is before he finishes it. he always finds a way to trick you though, so you never guess correctly. he laughs quietly when you declare that one day you’ll figure it out, and pout when he ruffles your hair like a big brother.

ALBEDO likes how… warm you feel next to him. a favorite past time of his is accompanying you on your strolls and observe the wildlife with you. his hands squeeze yours as you point out the funny cloud in the sky or when you ask about a specific type of flora. if you’re sleepy, you often nap on his lap under the shade of a tree. he can feel his heartbeat racing as his fingers stroke your chin and trace your eyelids, and his big fluffy tail wraps your torso protectively. all he hears is the skritches of his pencil against paper and your faint snoring.

ALBEDO is… passive. strangely so, amidst a harem of dangerous hybrids. he makes it a point to never admit his feelings out loud. to verbalize such fantasies about you, the one who keeps him sheltered, it feels disrespectful to you. you’re too naive of the outside world, too innocent of the darker recesses of the human, er, hybrid mind. he wants to protect this innocence, because there’s too much darkness already in the world.

he hides away in his study, pencil against paper scratching away as his eyes zero in this unfinished portrait. he plans to make a portrait of your likeness, but none of these copies can compare to the real deal. an eye is too off, the nose too thin, the smile not pretty enough. he doodles some little yous on the corner of his scrapped portraits… and blushes furiously. he tears up the indecency and throws them on the fire.

is it so terrible to want to play with you a little? he may put on the big brother act now, but that’s mostly because he likes seeing the expressions you make whenever he praises you. your expressions are so interesting, despite them being like any other human’s. exactly what makes him so drawn to you? it’s a research topic he must explore one day. but for now, ALBEDO is content to play house with you for a little while, and shut away his more sexual instincts for a little while longer. there’d be plenty of time to experiment on you later, once he’s reached his limits. for now, he’ll let the potion simmer for a little while longer ♡

RELATIONSHIPS: albedo often shuts himself away from everyone and stay inside his lil old lab conducting experiments and the like, but once in a while there are people who drag him out. he often experiments on a disgruntled aether, who he bribes with mora. cyno thinks of him as a like-minded friend, but tighnari thinks that the way albedo stares at the jackal is much like a scientist staring at microbes under a glass.

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli #yandere itto #yandere gorou #yandere albedo #genshin impact zhongli #arataki itto #genshin gorou #genshin albedo #yester.writes #yester.au — hybrids 🪶#yester.au — hybrids 🐾

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hihomeghere · 5 months

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megan, darling sunshine, i have the softest of soft requests for you with our favorite cowboy. 🥺

can i request #6, #34, #36, #41, #83 with arthur? i desperately need protective, soon-to-be dad!arthur in my life. it's what we all deserve, honestly. 🤍

thank you so much! i can't wait to see what absolute magic you make with these prompts.

Deserving | Arthur Morgan / Reader

First off let me give you the fattest smooch <3

Word Count : 1.9k Prompts : 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? Warnings/tags : Cursing, talk of abandonment, Reader is 5 months pregnant, Arthur deserves a second chance at being a father, Self degrading talk on Arthur's part, Switch POV.

Arthur was aware it was a tad foolish the way he was feeling. Although seeing you growing his child has awakened something that had been lying dormant in him. Something that he hardly understood himself. A primal feeling, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. That it was his seed that had made you grow swollen and round and so damn gorgeous.

He was also painfully aware of the gold ring in his pocket, his nerves eating him from the inside out. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, more nervous than when he went on his first job. Unlike a job he had never felt more unprepared. He had always wanted children, and he had dreamed of having children with you. But Jesus, he was terrified he would turn out like his old man. He didn’t- no - he couldn’t mess up this time. Not with you. Yes, he loved you. God he loved you more than anything. Arthur did not necessarily believe in soulmates. Perhaps when he was younger he could have believed that his soul could be tied to another person, but he wasn’t that foolish anymore. Love was something you worked for, it wasn't predestined by whatever god was above. He knew you could easily find another man to love you, even with the babe. He also knew you deserved someone better than him. You deserved the world, deserved someone who would build you a home, someone who hadn’t been too damn chicken to ask you to marry him before knocking you up. But he also knew that no man could love you like he loved you.

“You’re staring Arthur.” You chuckled, raising a brow as you turned to face him. Your hand resting on your hip as you leaned on the boar skinned table.

“You’re glowing.” He said softly, not denying the fact that he had indeed been staring at you. How could he not? You were really glowing, he hadn’t known that that silly saying about pregnant women was the truth. You were like some angel, the glow coming from within, lighting up the small tent. If he squinted he swore he could see a halo around your head. Especially when your bump had finally shown itself.

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you went back to whatever task you were working on. He walked up behind you, his deft fingers working on removing his gun belt. Laying belt down on the table before pulling you against his chest.

His hands lovingly squeezed your hips, before moving to your stomach. He sighed contently, laying his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet smell, his calloused hands running over the soft fabric of your skirt. His heart nearly stopped as he felt the swell of your abdomen. Nearly brought to his knees by such a small thing. Well it wasn’t exactly small anymore, you had finally ‘popped’.

“‘Think you’re showing, sunshine.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he swayed with you in his arms. You giggled, shying away from his lips as they brushed against your neck.

“I would say so, can’t fit in my damn pants anymore.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued to patch a hole in one of his shirts.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to fit in your pants for a long time. It had been almost four months since the fateful day you told Arthur you were pregnant.

You had all the telltale signs, breast tenderness, food aversions, etc. Along with Abigail’s damn knowing glances, and then your monthly cycle had been absent, confirming your suspicions. You had nearly gone mad, a million thoughts running through your head. How were you supposed to care for a child with the lifestyle you had? You had briefly discussed children with Arthur, but it was always in the future. When you weren’t being chased by the law or Pinkertons or whoever. You didn’t want your child to be raised how either of you were raised. Always on the run, never having a true safe place to call home. Speaking of the future, marriage had always been a talk for the future as well. Now you were here, an unwed mother.

And then there was Isaac and Eliza. That was a whole new can of worms to throw into the mix. Would he even want to have a child right now? Would he still want you after he found out? If he left you what would you do?

You would manage, that’s what you always did. But you didn’t want to go through this without him.

He had found you pacing near camp, nearly chewing your lip off. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched you.

“Everything alright darlin’?” He asked, pulling you out of your downward spiral. A similar concerned expression on his face as he took you in. You met his bright blue eyes and instantly you fell apart. Tears welled up in your eyes as he rushed over to you. Taking long strides across the grass before pulling you into his broad chest. His calloused hands warm and loving as they rubbed up and down your back, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t control. “Darlin’ you’re scaring me.” He said softly, laying his chin on the top of your head. “Talk to me sunshine.”

“Arthur I think-“ You let out a shaky breath, “I think I’m pregnant.” You cried, tears clouding your vision as you looked up at him.

He was frozen, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process the words you had just said. He must have heard you wrong.

“What… what did ya say darlin’?” He asked, his hands on your biceps as he held you in front of him. His brows furrowed and his lips drawn into a thin line.

“I’m pregnant Arthur.” You said, your lip trembling as you waited for his response. You were trembling in his grasp, your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it all. Goddamn it Morgan, you’ve gone done it again. Are you seriously the most foolish man alive? His thoughts spiraled into their usual degrading speech. Here you were shaking in his arms like a damn leaf and he was too damn stupid to say anything. Say something, anything, to stop her from crying. Your tears tugging on his heart strings. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, please.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“M’sorry-” You sobbed, looking down.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for this.” He said holding your face, “If anyone ought to apologize, it should be me.” He said, shaking his head. You bit your lip, looking up at him.

“Arthur, what are we gonna do?” You asked, finally calmed down enough to speak a coherent sentence. He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.

“Do you want this?” He asked softly, running his hand down your arm. Taking your significantly smaller hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I-“ You sighed, letting out a long breath. “I think I do.” You nodded, hesitantly raising your head to look at him. He exhaled a breath of relief.

“Okay.” He nodded, “I want this too.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but let out an equally relieved breath, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He nodded, chuckling along with you. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, you or the baby, I swear.” He said gently pulling you closer, his hand moving down to caress your stomach.

You smiled at the memory as Arthur rubbed his hand over your bump.

“They movin’ any?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

“They have been most of the day.” You chuckled, following his lips with your cheek as he pulled away. You turned around in his grasp, laying your hands on his chest. “They’d probably move if you talked to them. You know how the baby loves hearing you talk.” You said, smiling up at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride.

He knelt down, feeling his mothers ring slide lower into his pocket. As he knelt face to face with your round belly, he couldn’t have been more thankful that Mary had returned his ring. That things hadn’t worked out between them, because if they did, he would have missed this.

He pressed his lips against your belly in a chaste kiss, before chuckling softly to himself. “Hey there kid.” He said, his grin growing if that was even possible. “Ya bein’ good for ya mama?” He asked, running his hand over the tight skin. He felt a small kick under his palm, looking up at you for confirmation that it wasn’t a part of his imagination. “Was that a kick?”

“Sure was.” You chuckled, laying your hand over his. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at your belly. There had been too many nights lying next to you on his small cot, twirling the ring in his fingers. Just trying to work up the courage to ask you. Even before your belly started to swell he had dreamed of asking you. He just wanted everything to be perfect, although in hindsight it was a foolish thought. Things would never be perfect, that was the thing wasn’t it?

Now was the time. He knew it, kneeling here in front of you, but how was he gonna ask? How was he gonna get past the lump in his throat?

“Hey kiddo, ya think I could have a moment with your mama here?” He asked, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked up at you. “I got a question for her.” It was now or never. He reached into his pocket, his sweaty fingers grasping the small gold ring. He took in a deep breath before finding your gaze, holding out the ring to you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, tears pricking your eyes.

“This… well this ain’t how I imagined this. I wanted to do something special for ya and I should’ve done this a long time ago. I promised ya when we found out about the kid I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya. I mean to keep that promise. There are men more deserving of you, hell I’m probably the least deserving-“ You scoffed shaking your head, “But none of those men could ever love you the way I do. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asked, gingerly holding your left hand.

“Yes, yes!” You cried, grinning as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He let out a breath of relief, getting to his feet. You threw yourself into his arms, laughing as tears slipped down your cheeks.

“It’s uh- I know it’s nothing fancy but-“ He said softly, “It was my mothers and I know she’d want ya to have it.”

“It’s perfect.” You said, pulling away to admire the ruby ring. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled, wiping away your tears as you admired the ring. Arthur’s heart warmed at your words. He would never know what he had done to deserve someone like you, you and the baby. Although he may not have said his vows at that moment, he made a silent one in his heart. As long as his heart was beating, and there was still breath in his lungs, nothing would ever happen to either of you.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur #red dead redemption arthur #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr #hihomeghere #mini prompt #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john Marston #abigail roberts #abigail marston #javier escuella #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x pregnant reader #jack marston

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thehmn · 8 months

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I’m currently listening to Maren Uthaug’s book 11% about a world where most men have died. I should probably wait until I’ve finished the book but I’m so fascinated by the world building.

As of now it’s still unclear why the men died but when the story takes place there’s a mix of older women who fucking hates men and young women who have only met drugged up men at “breeding centers” and imagine “males” as violent boogeymen but otherwise don’t really care and just want to live in the new seemingly perfect society their grandmothers fought for. The only people who still fight for men’s rights are witches who believe masculine energies are as natural and Of Nature as feminine energies, but even they sound more like animal rights activists, standing outside breeding centers with signs every Friday. Their most provocative sign is a picture of a man with Human written on it.

Christianity has been completely transformed and is now run by priests (they don’t call themselves priestess) who can only hold ceremonies when they have their periods and snakes are their most sacred symbol because they gave knowledge to Eva and God is called The Mother.

Trans men exist but are referred to as Man Women and they all seem to be sex workers who have functional silicone penises, though I’m not far enough into the story to know if they have other jobs. They generally also still have breasts because working as a wet nurse is another source of income for them. Testosterone treatments is not an option because it would make them too masculine and dangerous to be allowed into society but they all have male names and everyone use male pronouns for them.

A really fascinating aspect of the world is how people want to get rid of the old “patriarchal architecture” of straight lines and boxes but refuse to tear it down with machines, instead insisting on letting Mother Nature reclaim it. Only Rat Girls are actively trying to destroy the old buildings by releasing hoards of rats into them and planting bamboo to break up the concrete. New buildings have round shapes and are build in ways that make them blend in with cultivated nature and inside they’re painting in beautiful colors with no hard edges. They sound a lot like colorful hobbit homes. Also, locks are considered uncivilized and of a time when violent men roamed the earth and made life unsafe so nothing, from front doors to bathrooms, have locks. For a while after most men died women would go for Night Walks to relish in the fact that they no longer had to be afraid, though they liked to visit the witches at night because it felt a little spooky, which the witches thought was good fun.

The story is naturally about a middle aged witch who is hiding a young boy illegally and gets milk from one of the trans men in the red district while also sleeping with a Christian priest who struggles with her sacred job because her periods are irregular.

I’ll come back with follow up thoughts once I’ve finished it. Unlike what you might think, Maren Uthau isn’t a scary man hater. I’ve listened to most of her other books and this isn’t a recurring trope so clearly she has something to say specifically with this story and it’s rated pretty highly by both male and female readers. I think I’m in for quite the ride.

#humontalks #books and reading #Maren Uthaug

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morning-star-joy · 1 year

Text

bloodshed, crimson clover

Pairing: Joel x Doctor F!Reader

Summary: You run a small practice in the Boston QZ, willing to treat anybody who needs it. After an encounter where you save the life of Joel Miller, you form an unlikely friendship with one of the most notorious, feared men in the QZ, a reputation you didn't realize existed until you come face to face with it yourself.

Warnings: Angst. Slow build. Mutual pining & tension (unresolved). Ambiguous ending. Game!Joel. Canon-typical violence. Reader captured with mentioned physical harm, Feral Joel with descriptions of torture/murder. Vague descriptions of injury treatments (bullet wound with cauterization, cleaning glass/debris from cuts, burn wound). Reader from California & Joel calls her Cali, Reader calls Joel Texas.

Wordcount: 12.1k

A/N: I've had this idea for a while, started it and it sat in drafts, and suddenly I was hit with inspiration again this past week. Also ty @cupofjoel for letting me scream about them to you and all your support, ily!!

In his own ways, Joel Miller was a complete gentleman.

A distinctly Southern one, with a show of selective manners from his upbringing before the world went to hell, paired with a charming ruggedness that pulled your attention to him from the very first time he stumbled through your little clinic’s doors.

You were one of the few legitimately licensed Pre-Outbreak medical professionals left in the QZ, and accepted each and every sick and injured person into your tiny practice. It took a long time and care to get a place out of the view of FEDRA’s ever-looming gaze, but even then you risked the possibility of having a target painted on your back if you treated the “wrong” person.

Somebody always owed somebody else within those tall steel walls surrounding the poor semblances of a society that, in your opinion, should have been left in the dust with the rest of the world. In not discerning who you patched up, you put yourself in danger of getting on the wrong side of someone distinctly more powerful, more violent than you.

But through your diligent work over the years, you’d gained enough of a clientele for your hidden practice to remain largely untouched. There were a few instances with graffiti, but even that wasn’t too terrible—immature Fireflies pissed off that you hadn’t accepted their offer to join them, most likely new recruits trying to earn their place in the rebel ranks.

So when the rickety old doors banged open hard enough to nearly tear them off the top hinge one night, you were up on your feet and running to assist the large body that almost fell to the floor with the momentum of how they had burst in.

There was not an ounce of anxiety in your body other than the familiar adrenaline of assess the damage, stop the bleeding, prevent infection and keep them alive as you wrapped your arms around their waist, using all your strength to pull them up and direct them to one of the two old clinic beds in the dingy old room that you sanitized as best you could between patients.

That was the first thing you noticed about Joel Miller, even though you didn’t know him by name or even face yet—he was heavy. Solid muscle underneath blood-stained fabric that you began to pull away from his torso, hardly paying attention to the low timbre of his pained grunts when the cloth stuck gruesomely to the gunshot wound you finally saw once you got the shirt off.

There were no questions in your mind other than how deep was it, was there an exit wound, did it hit anything vital, not caring how he had gotten it, who had given it to him, or why they had as you paced to your instruments, only taking a moment to make sure they were clean before pulling on a pair of gloves you were running dangerously low on, hoping that they wouldn’t get too blood-soaked in the process of keeping this man alive.

Yes, you would do all you could to save him—but you still knew in the back of your mind that two pairs of gloves spent on him would risk no gloves and losing somebody else further down the line.

It wasn’t a thought you wasted the time to entertain now as you quickly got to work. There was nothing to numb the pain of the man who laid back on the clinic bed, teeth gritted and half-delirious from blood loss, not even bothering to try and say anything to you while you saved his life.

You weren’t offended. In some odd way, it was a breath of fresh air.

Most, if not all patients you treated with this kind of wound, were usually tripping over fast anxiety-fueled words trying to explain to you how they had gotten into this situation. You supposed they were hoping you wouldn’t turn them in for whatever they most likely weren’t supposed to be doing, not knowing that the only thing you truly cared about anymore was keeping as many people as you could alive in this godforsaken dystopia.

This man though, he stayed silent. Not trying to assure you of his goodwill, whether he truly had any or not. He only stared up at the dilapidated ceiling, jaw practically wired shut, maybe to keep in the low grunts and groans that rumbled from his chest, exposed from where you had to remove his denim shirt to treat the wound on his torso.

Unfortunately, you did end up having to switch to a new pair of gloves, the bleeding slowing but stubbornly refusing to stop completely. You were reaching for more of your quickly dwindling supply of gauze to keep pressing against the wound when you heard his voice clearly for the first time.

“Cauterize it.”

You looked back at him with your hand outstretched halfway to the gauze, eyes widening at the simple command that fell from the man’s chapped lips in a low drawl that rasped with pain and dehydration.

Blinking, you looked from his face that was still directed towards the ceiling down towards the wound, a frown pulling onto your lips as you glanced back towards him and began to protest, “I don’t—”

“Cauterize. It.” He repeated firmly, jaw still clenched with the words hissed out through gritted teeth.

You stiffened, not particularly enjoying being ordered to make a medical choice in your own clinic, but then his eyes met yours, filled with an intense determination that had your hand pulling back slightly from its path towards a longer process that would've hopefully let the wound heal naturally.

Then there was a slight shift in the unfathomable depth of that gaze, a fracture in walls even more impenetrable than the ones that had surrounded you for almost half a decade, and his cracked lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them in a desperate attempt for hydration before he gave a quiet murmur of, “Please.”

There was the first hint of those selective manners, emphasized with an underlying sense of unspeakable eagerness, and your face set into your own determination, nodding as you set about preparing for a practice that wasn’t your favorite, but was sometimes necessary.

Maybe this man couldn’t afford the time it would take to stop the bleeding completely, sew it up and let the wound heal on its own. Maybe there was something out there, somebody out to get him.

Or somebody he had to protect, to get home to.

That last thought is what urged you not stop even when the man grabbed the edge of the bed in a large hand, fingers curling so tight around it that you marveled if the rickety old metal would actually break under the strength of that grip. It's what spurred you to keep going even through the sharp shouts of pain muffled around the clean, rolled up washcloth you had gotten him to bite down on through the procedure.

Once the wound was forcibly closed by the red-hot metal of your sterile knife the best you could manage, you found your eyes drawn back to the man’s face, tracing the strength of his features as they relaxed a fraction from relief once the onslaught of pain from the procedure finished.

When you began the process of disinfecting the closed wound, his face had grown so blank that you worried he was on the verge of passing out, but he surprised you by placing his palms flat against the bed, pushing himself up with a loud grunt the moment you were done treating him.

“Sir—”

Any protests towards his movements you were about to make were cut short as he swung his feet over the side of the bed, placing his boots on the ground, heavy-footed and nearly collapsing when he pushed himself up and strode forward anyway, powering through the weakness you would much prefer he would sit in before trying to leave.

“Sir, I really don’t think—”

But he was shaking his head towards your attempts to get him to rest, fingers fumbling with the buttons of where blood was beginning to dry on the faded denim of his shirt, managing to get it most the way fastened back up as he took increasingly more steady steps towards the door.

What flabbergasted you the most, though, was the way he turned his head back towards you, gaze meeting yours for the second time as he muttered a gruff, “Thank you.”

The second show of those bizarre Southern gentlemanly manners, and you still didn’t have a name for him yet.

And then he was gone.

Time passed, and you allowed the mysterious man with the dark gaze and deep drawl to fade into a memory.

Like with all your patients, you spared just enough thought in the days following his treatment to hope he was alive, even though you knew that any hope to ever get confirmation of survival was fruitless. There was no way to know how much longer somebody survived if you managed to save them.

Other than making that wish of wellbeing for yet another soul, you moved on with your life.

So when the door opened one afternoon weeks later, in much worse wear now than it ever had been from the time that patient had charged through it, you were surprised to see the very same man who was the cause of it standing in your doorway when you looked up.

When you saw him, you paused halfway in rising from your squeaky old rolling stool, remembering his face even from the way his head was turned to the side, observing how the top of the door was nearly coming off its rusty hinges before turning to find you.

With a nod, he stepped further into the room, surprising you with how carefully he shut the door behind him, a direct juxtaposition to his whirlwind entrance and exit when you had treated his gunshot wound.

“Doctor,” he greeted in that same low drawl—Southern, maybe Texas, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind—as you finally rose fully from your seat, returning his nod and automatically moving towards your sparse supplies.

“Take a seat,” you said more kindly than firmly over your shoulder, not in a haste to stop him from bleeding out on your floors this time as he seemed to be relatively fine.

“Sorry?”

You paused, glancing from one of the few pairs of gloves that remained back over your shoulder to see the man staring at you with a slight furrow in his brow, a pinch of confusion on an already severe face that pronounced deep lines of age.

He didn’t seem that old—in fact, you guessed he was perhaps around your age. But then, you supposed you were both old considering the world you had survived in, and even so, there was a haunted look to the man’s intensity that spoke of his longer years, one you weren’t even sure he knew that he exuded as his presence seemed to take up the entire room and all your attention.

“Your wound,” you answered simply, gesturing towards where you remembered the gunshot you had treated to be on his torso, and he followed your gaze to look down at himself, the deep lines on his forehead relaxing a bit when you clarified, “You’re here to have it checked on, no?”

“Uh—no,” he replied, giving a slight shake of his head, his head lifting so his eyes could meet yours again. “‘M healing just fine, ma’am.”

There were the manners you had recognized the first time, more distinct this time, and they drew you a step closer towards the man, your body turning away from your small tray of supplies to face him fully for the first time.

“Oh,” you said softly, head tilting as your own brows furrowed, confused as to what had brought him back to your clinic when he had seemed so desperate to get in, get treated as quickly as possible, and get out the last time. “What brings you back, then?”

There was another flicker of something across his face, some emotion you couldn’t name before he shifted the backpack you just now realized he was wearing off of one shoulder. It slipped to his side, where he balanced it on his hip, drawing your attention to how his broad chest and large arms narrowed down to his waist as he began to rifle through it, the quick flare of some feeling in your stomach shifting to trepidation at his actions.

Oddly enough, you didn’t get blaring warning signals of danger from this man. And besides, if he was trying to rob or kill you, he was going about it in a very odd way.

“Here.” His voice was gruff as he pulled something out of his pack, and you blinked rapidly, eyes widening at the same moment your jaw dropped at the sight of what he was holding out to you.

Supplies.

Medical supplies.

Gloves and bandages and—

“Jesus Christ, is that a stethoscope?” you gasped out, reaching forward to take the items before you could stop yourself, too thrilled by the notion of getting your hands on a crucial medical tool that had eluded you for years.

“That it would be,” the man replied, but you weren’t looking at him anymore, instead unrolling the worn leather pouch to see that there was, indeed, a stethoscope inside—one that had seen better days but, oh, the ways you were going to be able to properly diagnose more patients now because of this was—

You finally paused, back stiffening as you looked back up at the stranger who had so easily handed something this precious to you, a sense of unease finally curling uncomfortably in your gut as you took a step back.

“What do you want?” you asked quietly, uncertain as to the terms of whatever arrangement was happening, even as you were now holding the items close to your chest after rolling the stethoscope back up. Unwilling to give them back, even as you were suddenly daunted by the prospect of what he might want in exchange.

He watched you shift, eyes dropping to where you were nearly hugging the supplies to yourself now, and for a moment you worried he was about to try and take them back before his lips parted and he surprised you yet again by mumbling, “To thank you.”

You blinked, taken aback by the shockingly simple sentiment. The desire to repay kindness with more kindness, despite the kind of world you both lived in.

Despite the fact that just one glance at this man—with his hard muscles and intimidating presence, the grim set of his face and the way his muscles tensed not just with the anticipation of something going wrong at any moment, but almost an eagerness that it would happen, that there would be an outlet for that tension ready to snap—would give one the impression that there wasn’t an ounce of kindness in his body.

“That’s…it?” you ask slowly, still wary, hardly able to believe that there were no strings attached. You weren’t a pessimist, but being an optimist wasn’t exactly an option either, not anymore.

But he just nodded, shifting back on the balls of his feet, hands raising with palms turned out towards you, as if to show he had nothing to take, nothing else to give other than this.

“I repay my debts, ma’am,” he uttered with a deadly seriousness in that low drawl, and this time you definitely settled on Texas as being the origin of such a smooth accent.

“Oh,” you said softly, nodding at the explanation, because now this made more sense. Kindness was a rarity, nearly nonexistent, and it wasn’t what he was showing here.

All he wanted was to repay a debt, one that you weren’t even aware existed.

Though you certainly weren’t one to complain when this was the payment.

Clutching the medical supplies tight to your chest, you reel at how saving this man from an untimely death may have just saved even more lives down the line.

You’re opening your mouth to thank him for his own thanks, but then he’s gone once again, leaving the same way he came in, with more tempered control and less chaotic storm than the first time.

You still don’t have a name.

You settle on calling him Texas.

Not that you say it to his face, or that you even see his face.

More time passes now than those few weeks in between your first two meetings with the Southern stranger. One month goes by, then two, and you once again resign him to the confines of your memories, even though the image of him is much more adamant on breaking out since the second visit.

Second and last, you reminded yourself as you disposed of a used pair of gloves after seeing off a patient, seeing his face flash in your mind’s eye as the cause of why you were able to save this life. Why you could save yet another life after this.

And it wasn’t just the gloves, but everything he had given you. There was still quite a bit of the stash left, as you were used to knowing how to make supplies last for as long as possible, dividing them and deducing who needed what the most as you saw to patients throughout your days.

You were thankful for him. Even if this was his way of settling a debt, washing his hands of you and moving on with his life, you still felt immense gratitude.

You also felt unbearable curiosity.

Every now and then, you found yourself wondering how he had gotten the supplies, and that much at that. Surely by no legal means, and none of your business at all, but you still couldn't help but wonder.

And so with the gunshot wound he had first stumbled into your life with, you tried to paint a picture of Texas in your head.

When your hands were idle, you created stories in your mind of the life he’d led that brought him from home—or where you imagined his home to be, if you were even remotely correct in dubbing him Texas—to here.

It was an embarrassing pastime, really, and you had no business entertaining anything more than a passing thought of gratitude about him. But still, you imagined.

Sometimes that imagination was of an exciting life for him, one of travel to far places that you never got to go, pretending that this was a man who had lived through better times and had many tales to tell of them. Tales to tell you, if you were being particularly delusional.

Other times, you pictured him with a life much more humble. Born and raised in the Lone Star State, probably proud to be. A family man who yelled at football, loved barbeques and beers with buddies, working a simple 9-5 until the world went to shit.

You liked that imaginary version of him. You liked thinking that Texas wasn’t too different from you, just trying to get by in the old world and the new.

So used to him staying inside of your mind, you were surprised the next time you actually saw him again.

In hindsight, you supposed you shouldn’t have been. With the scars you had seen just on his torso when you were treating his gunshot wound, you doubted this man lived an easy life now, no matter what it had been before.

It was late, well into curfew hours, but your tiny apartment was just a few streets away from your humble clinic, and you knew the best methods to get back and forth without being seen. You liked to stay as late as you could most nights, just in case somebody needed tending to at the odd hours when nobody else would be able to help.

Your eyes were growing heavy, a few persistent yawns you failed to fight off your body’s way of letting you know you were definitely pushing it, but you held on for a little longer.

And you’d be forever grateful you did, when he was the one needing tending to that night.

The loud, metallic creak of those loose hinges pulled your attention up from where you were staring absentmindedly at your small desk, and you were jumping from your stool the moment you saw him.

There was no stumbling this time, but you saw the streaks of red well, cuts across his face and arms, worn flannel shredded around the skin embedded with glass that glinted in the low, fluorescent light of your lamp that lit up the confined quarters.

“Sit,” you were saying before anything else, and you swore you heard a quiet chuckle under a pained breath as Texas moved to sink down onto a clinic bed.

“Good evening to you too,” he mumbled, and you glanced up at the unexpected humor, unsure if it was for your expense or benefit.

Nevertheless, your eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth snapped shut then. He settled back as you pulled your tray with you, a neat array of the dwindling supplies from what he had given you waiting underneath your fingertips before you pulled on some gloves and began.

Much like the first time, the ruined shirt was removed so you could work, but the lack of the looming threat of immediate death and ample time to wonder about the man between his visits left you now with eyes that wanted to wander.

You hoped Texas couldn’t see each time your gaze flickered across his broad chest in the low light of the lamp, observing the way it illuminated his scarred skin before quickly moving your careful attention back to picking glass and debris from the series of cuts across his body, doing your best to stop more scars from finding a home there.

“Gotta stop meeting me like this, Texas,” you find the words slipping from your lips as you focused on your work, your mind not even catching up to what you had said, too focused on your work until he spoke.

“Texas?”

You pause, feeling a surge of embarrassment at what you let slip, only used to him existing inside your thoughts and not in front of you, warm flesh beneath your hands, the heat of him radiating even through the latex gloves.

Your fingers flexed from where you were bracing yourself against the center of his chest, swallowing thickly when you suddenly noticed the steady beat of his heart underneath your palm. You refocused your attention on picking another shard of broken glass from just below his collarbone, trying to gather your thoughts enough for a somewhat reasonable answer.

“I just—” You bit your cheek, struggling with what to say, a sigh held deep in your lungs before you exhaled it slowly and mumbled, “You are from Texas, aren’t you?”

Your gaze shifted up to his neck, gently cleaning the dirt from a scrape there, your new focus of attention leaving you with a perfect view of the twitch of his lips from the corner of your eye.

“Guilty.” You can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest as he mumbles the word, and you quickly lift your hand from it, not realizing that your touch had lingered there even when you had moved away from that area of his body. “Just surprised you picked up on it, s’all.”

A little smile turned up on your lips; part pleased that you had gotten it right, part embarrassed that you had even thought of it, thought of him, that much.

Quiet fell between you and Texas for a while, as you made sure the cuts on his neck were clean before finally moving up to his face.

Your eyes met with his for the first time since he had sat down that night, and it was also the first time you noticed their color.

All that time he had plagued your mind, and you realized you hadn’t even really seen the color of his eyes. You had settled on brown, but sitting closer now, you saw the green surrounding the warmer color, creating a stunning hazel that was all you could see for a moment before your gaze snapped away, the heat of embarrassment filling you again as you pulled your focus back to his cuts.

You hesitated then, one hand hovering in the air before gently gripping his chin between a thumb and forefinger, tilting his face to different angles as you treated it, a remarkably easy task when he hardly winced with each piece of glass removed, seemingly unbothered by the pain.

Once again, you were sucked into the familiarity of the focus that came with your work, and it was Texas that broke it this time, your brain taking a moment to register what he had said.

“California.”

You paused, tweezers hovering over his cheekbone, eyes meeting that hazel again to see he was watching you, and you wondered just how long he had been doing so—the whole time? Why did you hope he was?

“How’d you know?”

Texas shrugged one shoulder, and you once again forced your attention back to your work, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on your face now that you knew it was there.

“Lucky guess,” he said in that low timbre, and you laughed softly, shaking your head as you pulled the last shard of glass from a cut above his eyebrow, eyes lingering on a scar near his temple before dropping the glass into your tin of medical waste, full of all the once painful remnants of whatever had brought him back to you tonight.

You felt like an awful person, being glad that it had brought him back to you.

Once all the cuts were properly taken care of, you leaned back with a sigh, snapping the gloves off your hands and dropping them into the rest of the medical waste. By some old habit, you patted Texas on the knee before standing, wheeling your tray away with you as you declared him free to go once again.

“It was the accent,” he says, and you pause, looking back over your shoulder as he pushes himself to his feet, and you’re reminded once again of how big the man is when he’s not sitting still while you treat him. “Your accent gave it away. Sure as hell don’t sound East Coast.”

Another laugh left your lips, curling up into a smile as you shake your head and look back towards your remaining medical supplies. Dangerously low again after tonight, but in this moment now, you found yourself not caring just yet.

“Guilty,” you repeated his own affirmation from earlier, and one glance back showed the corner of his lips turning up into a small smirk that had much larger consequences on your heart, racing now at the sight of amusement on his stoic face before you quickly looked away again.

“Long way from home, Cali,” he says slowly, and your heart skips a goddamn beat now at that drawled nickname, as if he wasn’t doing enough already.

“Same as you, huh?” you try to sound casual as you kept your gaze focused on shifting through your supplies, reorganizing them just to keep your mind busy, even as it marveled at how he hadn’t left already,

“Not nearly as much as you.”

At the continued conversation, you finally turn, seeing him bent over at the waist and rifling through the beat-up backpack full of duct-taped holes that he had brought in with him.

You see the gun tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans then, a sight that wasn’t surprising given the injuries he’d come to you with, but your brows still furrow, mind continuing to create different stories to solve the mystery of him before he straightens up and turns back to you.

He holds out a bundle of bandages and gloves to you, and you try to hold back your excitement at the offering as much as you can, as thrilled by the promise they offered for your work as you were by the idea that he’d already had the supplies ready this time.

The idea that he’d been holding onto them for you.

Delusional, an inner voice chides you, but you smile down at the supplies anyway, rubbing a thumb across the box of gloves and sighing quietly as your mind brings forth a time long gone where you never would have thought twice about the availability of what was once such a common thing.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” you say slowly, pondering how you had recognized his accent, attributed him to a long gone place, as he did you. “How even after all this time, we still remember those little things about a world that doesn’t exist anymore.”

He’s not looking at you anymore when you glance back up. The stoicism you had come to associate with him from just a few meetings was back, and you get the sense you had taken the rare offer of a conversation too far.

You thank him for the supplies, and he nods almost absentmindedly, seemingly half paying attention to you before he moves back towards the door, and you turn back to begin to organize your new supplies, eager to restock your workspace.

The only thing that stops you is—

“What’s your name, Cali?”

Your head lifts, body half-turning around to stare at him in shock.

Nobody has asked for your name in years.

It’s been so long since you’ve said it out loud that the syllables assigned to you at birth feel foreign in your mouth. It taunts you with a time long past, like a bad taste you have to spit out, and when you do, he repeats it back.

The way he says it is…different. He sounds it out just the same as you, but it sounds less wrong leaving his lips. He says it slowly, as if tasting each letter on his tongue, memorizing it before giving a nod and turning to leave.

“Wait.”

He does.

For some reason, he stops when you tell him to, facing the door that he himself was the sole cause of its state hanging off its hinges, something he stares purposefully at when you ask for his own name.

Texas doesn’t look back as his voice wraps around the sounds of his own name, distaste similar to yours when you gave him your own dripping from his mouth as it curves around his syllables.

You start to say it back. The name, his name, Joel leaving your lips quietly, but he’s already back out the door before you can even sound out the M of his last name.

It leaves your lips anyway, his name echoing alone in your clinic, clutching the medical supplies tight to your chest.

Somewhere buried deep in your thoughts, you ponder over the idea that, just from the sheer intensity that radiated from the man the few times you had met him, Joel Miller memorizing somebody’s name feels like irrefutable danger, like you’re in for a very short life span. It’s a feeling you ignore, an instinct you try to forget about as you recall no hostility in his eyes, the hazel sharp as shrapnel you once cleaned from his body with none of the lethality when he repeated your name back to you.

Somewhere, buried even deeper, your heart races instead at the thought that he intends to say it again.

Joel leaves, but he always comes back.

It’s never a social call. The world’s gone to shit; you don’t have the time, and you’re sure Joel doesn’t have the patience.

He shows up in your doorway when he’s injured, and leaves you with enough medical supplies to keep you going until the next time he comes along. At its core, it's a business transaction. He’s just continuing to repay a debt to you so he doesn’t owe you anything. There’s nothing fundamentally personal about it.

That doesn’t stop you from looking forward to those visits. You never know when Joel’s going to show up next, and it does more than keep you on your toes; it holds you in anticipation, keeping those daydreams in the forefront in your mind rather than the back whenever you have time to yourself now.

Because each time he comes through, he leaves you with another snapshot of himself. Another glimpse into the lives he lived once and lives now—usually the former rather than the latter, much to your surprise.

You hold every reveal of the aloof man close; purely off-hand, inconsequential things, like a love for going to the movies now rendered nonexistent, or the time he and his brother rode motorcycles cross country. Those things don’t matter anymore, but you like hearing about them. You like knowing those things about him, fitting the real pieces of him in with your imaginary ones to solve a puzzle that only existed inside your head. It fuels your imagination, spurs on your delusion.

You’re not actually sure if he realizes how much you know about him at this point, while simultaneously knowing nearly nothing about him at all. The important things, like why he keeps showing up with all those injuries, remain unknown.

Joel brings it up, just once, off-hand as you’re wrapping up his shoulder in a spot where you could tell a bullet had grazed him.

“You don’t ask.”

Your hands had paused, eyes lifting from your work to his face, glancing over his side profile before his head turned and he was looking down at you from inches away.

He was waiting for an answer, but your mind was having trouble keeping up with what he had even said, too startled by the swirling of brown and green in his eyes when they were right there. A color as warm and solid as the earth beneath your feet, grounding you to him, pulling you in with that same undeniable magnetism he had first stumbled into your life with.

His facial hair had gotten longer, dark whiskers of hair framing cracked lips, a split down the top one that you had carefully cleaned earlier. You hadn't even thought twice about it when dabbing it clean, but now you couldn’t see anything else, not until—

“Cali?”

You blinked, head snapping up as your back went ramrod straight, and you quickly turned back to where your hands had frozen mid-bandage.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“About what?” you forced the words from your lips, trying not to think about how they ached to have his own pressed to them, split lip and all molding firmly and then gently against yours—

Oh god, no, what were you thinking?

“About any of it,” Joel grumbled, waving a large hand towards his face with a vague gesture, seeming to think you had just been observing his injuries even with the way you’re now staring at thick fingers, long veins, prominent and begging to be traced—

No! Stop!

“You don’t have a policy of asking your patients questions?” he asked, arching a thick brow down at you, and you curse the way your stomach flips at the sight.

“Believe it or not, I actually have a strong one not to,” you finally answered with his shoulder now wrapped firmly, fingers grazing against the gauze before you pushed your stool away from him, gloves snapping off your hands and ignoring the ache to touch him without them. “You do what you have to in order to survive. My job is to make sure you keep surviving. Not to ask questions.”

Joel hummed, and you felt the weight of his gaze on you up until he handed you a new bundle of supplies and left again.

Sometimes, you wonder if he’s picked up anything about you in turn, the way you’ve locked away every small fragment you've learned of him. You wonder if he even cares to listen during those rare moments where you might let something about yourself, past or present, slip.

You dare to dream that he does.

Foolish.

You can almost say with certainty that Joel doesn’t realize the things about himself that you’ve picked up on. Like the movies thing—it had been revealed through slurred words at your last-ditch effort to distract him by asking him questions through a particularly painful procedure, and he had rambled in delirium about popcorn and previews for no more than half a minute before promptly passing out beneath your moving hands.

It had caused bubbling panic in the moment, but when the moment had passed and he had awoken with embarrassment about not being able to tolerate the pain, it seemed all recollection of what he had shared had disappeared.

Or maybe he was just embarrassed about that too.

You would surely never admit that the thought of the large, intimidating man even experiencing an emotion as mundane as embarrassment only endeared you to him more.

And the motorcycle trip—well, that hadn’t even been Joel’s choice in revealing.

A few years into gaining your most returning patient—“we have to get your picture on the wall,” you had jested to him about simultaneously having the best (can somehow survive a plethora of injuries) and worst (has a penchant to keep getting them) luck at one point, much to his silent judgment at your attempted joke—he had entered the clinic the same way he did upon that first meeting, and you winced at the way the door banged against the wall in the same place it'd once left a dent during that first visit from him.

A sharp disapproval at treating your humble place of work like this was on the tip of your tongue, before you saw that Joel wasn’t alone, nor was he the one currently injured.

Any questions other than those pertinent for your new patient’s survival were rapidly dismissed from crowding your fast-moving mind, the same way as always. You helped Joel set the man down, hardly even realizing he was talking, that they were both talking, until after you had snapped on your gloves and assessed the burn wound on the back of the man's forearm.

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Hardly,” Joel bit back, voice rough with a harsh disapproval bordering on anger, the sound of which made the hairs raise on the back of your neck as you busied yourself getting cool compresses ready. “It was goddamn stupid, is what it was. Nearly got yourself killed.”

“But it worked.”

“Tommy—”

“Lighten up, big brother,” this Tommy said while you checked his pulse and lifted his arm above his chest, and now you understood the energy filling up the entire space of the room.

There was a blood bond between the bickering men, tested by the fraying of nerves and something deeper, some unnamable tension that came from something you didn’t know, maybe wouldn’t even understand. Some after effect of the transition into this world you now lived in, something that was none of your business.

Even then, the way Tommy’s body was constantly shifting and Joel hovering over your shoulder as they kept arguing while you tried to treat the burn is what made you finally snap.

“Hey!”

The clear echo of your voice layered over the argument, and instantly broke it, both men turning down to see your narrowed gaze shifting between the two of them.

“You need to sit still because I’m not fond of breaking burn blisters, and you won’t be either,” you ordered sternly, not wavering under the attention of the man finally focused on you for the first time since coming in, before you whipped around to Joel still hovering behind you. “And you!”

For a moment, you found a bit of humor in the utterly stupefied look on the man’s face that matched that of his brother’s, before you stood from your stool so you were chest to chest with Joel.

“You need to stop breathing down my goddamn neck and let me work,” you said firmly, pointing towards the far wall, the order clear in your eyes without even having to say it at this point.

You knew Joel saw it, and to his credit all you saw was his jaw ticking, a brief flare to his nostrils before he spun on his heel, marching towards the wall to lean against it heavily. His arms crossed across his broad chest while he watched you sit and go back to cooling Tommy’s burn.

Order was regained in your clinic, and you smiled a little to yourself at having established it, before Tommy shifted forward slightly towards you and muttered conspiratorially, but not at all quietly, “No wonder you got even this hardass to like you.”

A tremor briefly overtook your fingers with the shock of the unexpected words before you flexed them, willing your grip to steady before renewing your focus on his burn injury as Joel snarled from his spot you had assigned him against the wall, “Shut the fuck up, Tommy.”

Your gaze snaps up, making sure Joel hadn’t moved, eyes narrowing when you saw he had pushed off the wall just slightly. When he notices your look, he shifts backwards, back hitting the wall again as his glare shifts off to the side, towards the loose hinges on the door now in even worse condition thanks to both Miller brothers.

There’s a chuckle from Tommy, more bristling from Joel, and the illusive taunt of hope wound tight in your chest, but nobody says anything else until you’re sending them off with the rest of your low supply of lotion that would be adequate for burn treatment, along with instructions on how to take care of the now loosely bandaged burn.

Tommy nods, thanking you when Joel snaps at him to show some manners. The younger brother leaves with a pointed look towards your door and an offhand, not unkind comment on getting it fixed, followed up quickly by an offer of doing the work himself to pay back your kindness.

Not a debt, but kindness, the exact verbiage he used himself in a Southern drawl a bit lighter, more intentionally charming than Joel’s rough allure.

Joel is still irritated, more than you’ve ever seen, but he still nods at you with a mumble of “thanks, Cali,” before following his brother as the younger man is saying “so that’s Cali!”

There's a hard smack to Tommy's shoulder to direct him away, Joel's reprimanding tone saying things you couldn’t hear before they disappear around a corner.

It was then that you decided you liked Tommy.

You like him even more when he stops by a couple weeks later to actually fix the door like he mentioned, filling your head with stories about his older brother you could have only ever dreamed of.

Because of Tommy you have reasons to giggle into your pillow that night at the thought of the two born and raised Texas boys racing across the country on motorcycles, smiling stupidly against the coarse fabric at the image of a younger Joel Miller with wind in his hair and a carefree smile on his face.

You’d only ever seen tiny twitches of those lips into halfway smirks, and so you dreamed of a time where they weren’t chapped from the smog of QZ air or split from punches to the face, but soft and pink and curling up into a real smile.

You dreamed of making him smile again.

Sometimes it takes a while for a visit from Joel.

Weeks turn into months in-between those short moments where you see his face for quick patch-ups and restocks of supplies.

Once there was about a year that passed without so much of a glimpse of him, and you had tried to settle yourself into the likely idea that he may have finally gotten himself hurt so bad he couldn’t even stumble into your clinic, when he proved your hidden, greatest fear wrong by turning up again.

He had limped through the door without a word, letting in a cold burst of snow laden air with him before it shut. A sigh of relief was exhaled from your lips, dry and chapped from the harsh winter months, and you hurried to him, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you helped him through the room to sit.

Peeling the blood caked jeans from his legs with a mumbled apology of the chill permeating your clinic this time of year, you barely got out one word out after of, “You—”

“Gotta stop meeting you like this, I know,” Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze as you settled on your stool with a familiar squeak of the old furniture, pulling on a pair of gloves you had set aside specifically for him months ago, ensuring that you’d have at least one left for him in the hopes that he could still make it back to you in one piece someday.

Even if that meant one less for someone down the line, potentially sacrificing a life for the uncertain possibility of saving somebody else.

It was unlike you.

Selfish, the inner voice of reason chides you again, as it always speaks in his presence.

And as always, you ignore it.

Your eyes flickered up from critically observing the stab wound haphazardly sewn above his knee—his own work, no doubt, and you were surprised at your frustration that he hadn’t come to you instead. You figured it must have not been an option, some reason having kept him from you, but you still fixed him with a hard look that the surly man actually shifted under, wary under the weight of your scrutiny, for whatever that was worth.

Shaking your head, you turned back to set about the process of thoroughly cleaning the wound, checking for any sign of infection and treating his body properly, because somebody had to do it if he wasn’t going to.

It wasn’t like he was reckless. Despite your visits with the man being few and far between—if they could even really be called visits in the first place—you had caught enough of a glimpse of who he was to know he was far from irrational. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he was.

Joel Miller could keep himself alive, of this you had no doubt.

But the repercussions that came with his survival, infection of the body or wounds that went deeper than that of flesh or blood, were things that you learned he merely shouldered as a consequence.

A burden you would lessen, even if all it meant was making sure one wound out of many wouldn’t fester, if he came to you with it.

It wasn’t until this one was treated and redressed, and he was pulling his pants back on while you stared down at the gloves on your hands—a pair that he had given you, that you had saved to save him, now speckled with his blood, a reminder that he was still alive but maybe just barely—and the words you had actually wanted to say when he came in, the ones that you had held back when he interrupted you, echoed through your mind again.

You scared me.

They aren’t spoken, not with words. Instead, your hand pats his knee again after his jeans are zipped up, fingers brushing against where his properly tended wound is now hidden beneath the heavy fabric.

The touch lingers, for just a second, before you’re up and moving away.

To your surprise, Joel follows.

He rifles through his backpack, and you notice a few new holes, more spots where there’s recently applied duct tape. You absentmindedly wonder why he sticks with this one. If he’s able to find and trade other sorts of goods, couldn’t he get a new backpack?

Thanks is given by reflex when he gives you the supplies, even though you know with this trade, you’re even once again. He doesn’t expect your gratitude, maybe doesn’t even want it, but there’s a sure cause for it this time as you shift through the pile to observe the weight of what you felt sitting unassuming at the bottom, but couldn't discern until you saw it.

Gloves.

Not thin latex, but heavy fabric, fitting in the palm of your freezing hand.

Not medical, but practical, even as the promise of warmth had now become a luxury.

Not for patients, but for you.

Joel had gotten this for you.

When you look back up at him, eyes wide with shock, he’s already explaining it away with a dismissive wave of his hand and gruff drawl, “Gotta keep those fingers in proper working condition, right?”

Your brow furrows then, more gratitude trapped inside your mouth as you notice something again that had lingered in your mind since he had shown up that night, something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

That this Joel in front of you now was different.

Joel had never been a beacon of warmth, but he’s never been colder.

He won’t meet your eye, doesn’t even seem bothered by his lack of ability to keep eye contact now. He’s rigid and tense, something pent-up deep inside of him, worse than ever before, and that’s when you know that whatever had happened since you saw him last had taken another piece of whatever he was. Another part of whoever you dreamed about once existing, gone.

“Hey,” you mumble, and he glances back at you, surely seeing the way your brows are knitted above eyes that put your concern on full display, just judging by the way he stiffened.

He waves another dismissive hand, looks away with arms crossed over his chest in a way that you’d seen before. It was like he was physically containing whatever emotions he was experiencing to his own body, holding them in with the flex of his muscles through his beat up winter jacket. A silent show of his strength, trying to protect himself with it, even if it couldn't stop whatever it was he was feeling.

You expect him to leave then, but his weather and time worn boots are glued to the ground, unmoving.

Eventually, he speaks, and the two words with the flat affect shake you to your core.

“Tommy’s gone.”

Fear blankets your body and sets every nerve on fire, pain flashing across your features as Joel sees it and quickly shakes his head, adding simply, nearly without emotion, “Left.”

The daunting grief at the possible death of the younger Miller brother fades, even as an emptiness remains when you softly say, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the space, and tension with it, setting you on edge with Joel in a way you’d never felt with him before.

“Fireflies,” he finally supplies, and you nod, looking down to the winter gloves you still held tight in your grasp, even as you set the rest of your new stock down.

So that was what had happened. The last thread holding the brothers together had snapped, and Tommy had left, taking a part of Joel with him. Maybe the last part of him, of who he had once been.

No wonder the man before you was even more hardened than you had ever seen him before.

“I see,” you whisper, and neither of you says anything more after that.

Not until you look back up at his face, refocus on the familiar features, noticing a few new lines of age in the year that had passed since last seeing him, some white whiskers in the edges of his beard, and—

Your hand is reaching out before you can stop to think, gripping his chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting his face down towards you in a way similar to when you’d treated him in the past.

Maybe by reflex from those moments, he lets you do it, even as the sharp clarity of his hazel eyes meet yours in confusion.

“What’s this?” you ask, fingers hovering over the new red line of scarring across the bridge of his nose, tracing the length of it without touch.

His eyes flash, not with anger, but with an emotion you don’t recognize. He tries to pull away, but your grip tightens, keeping him in place as you wait for an answer.

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, your eyes narrowing at the evasive answer, the way his gaze shifts away.

“Texas, this isn’t—”

Joel’s hand finds yours then, thick fingers wrapping around your smaller ones to pull them away from where you were still holding his chin, and the warmth of his skin seeping into yours hits you with a jolt as you only then realize this was touch.

Skin on skin, the very thing you had been aching for, dreaming of, for years. Those thoughts of him that kept you going on lonely days and cold nights, longing for something you could never have, an impossible reality now on the edge of your fingertips as he enveloped them in a rough palm, in his touch.

Touch.

Touch you had instigated, without the barrier of medical gloves between you. Without the clear lines that defined all you were to each other—doctor and patient, business transactions, a debt repaid again and again. Lines that now blurred when he didn’t drop your hand right away.

Blurring further, obscuring your vision in a rose-tinted blush when his grip tightened, and your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of him holding on to you.

“‘Ts fine,” Joel assures quietly, your fingers finally slipping from his, the clear hazel of those eyes you had spent a year waiting and hoping to see again, not meeting yours even once.

He hasn’t looked at you even once.

Just like that, you snap from a slow motion daze back to true reality. Your fantasies hit the ground hard, leaving you shattered with the empty aches of your heart forever unfulfilled in the dark crevices of your mind.

But even then, you can’t look away.

Again, you hear the admission aching to be revealed, slipping from the back of your mind to the forefront on waves of anxiety and need that grew larger, more disastrous, crashing through all your thoughts as you watched him looking away, but not leaving.

You scared me.

The words fill your mouth, waiting to be spoken.

But they aren’t.

Even though you wanted to tell him how his absence had filled you with fear, terror that only abates whenever he’s with you until he inevitably leaves again, you don’t dare to say it. Not when he doesn’t even look at you, even though you can’t bring yourself to look away.

The only thing you do say is an assurance that you’d make it home safe when he tells you to before he’s finally gone again.

It’s the first time that you notice that each time he leaves you with a new piece of himself, he takes a piece of you with him.

“You’re scaring my patients, Texas.”

“Good.”

“Joel.”

It’s been like this since Tommy left.

Joel visits you now when he’s nothing less than the perfect picture of health.

At first, he brings you things—the usual, necessary items that keep your unsanctioned practice running. You thank him each time, albeit with puzzled looks when there’s no visible harm on his body, confusion that only furthers when he lingers.

Eventually, he drops by without anything at all. Nothing in hand, sometimes no backpack in tow, but always with that gun tucked into the back of his waistband.

For a while, you think nothing of it. You’re glad that he’s showing his face, that you’re not glancing up with baited breath each time your door creaks open, hoping for just a glimpse of the man to assure you that he was alright.

Joel lets you see often enough now that he’s still in one piece, and for a while, you’re foolish enough to think that it’s purely for the benefit of your peace of mind.

Then one day, when he’s walking out, a patient is walking in—a younger man you’ve seen more than once, treating wounds similar to those that Joel’s had, though not quite as severe.

What is severe is the look Joel instantly shoots at him as they pass by each other, your heart sinking when the injured man scurries towards the available clinic bed while the door shuts.

You try to push it out of your mind, try to ignore the way your patient keeps watching the closed door with baited breath, until he breathes out with certain trepidation, “That’s Joel Miller.”

Pausing in the middle of splinting his broken finger, your brow furrows, glancing up at the nervous scrunching of his face as you reply slowly, “Yes, it is.”

His gaze finally shifts from the door towards you, then back again quickly, like he’s afraid the mentioned man will burst through the moment he’s not looking.

“You—” A gulp, and then the shaky question of, “You know him, don’t you?”

You finish bandaging his injury, gently placing his hand back in his lap and replying honestly, even with your uncertainty lingering at his tone, “Of course I do.”

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s leaving, glancing back at you warily, seeming to struggle over what he wants to say before settling for, “He’s…he’s got a reputation, you know. Lots of folks are scared of that Joel Miller.”

With a nervous wringing of your hands behind your back, and a calm smile on your face, you assure him, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Of course, you don’t know that Joel’s been waiting.

There’s no way to be aware that he’s been in the alley next to the clinic the entire time you treated your patient, no way to know that he trails the man the moment he leaves the safety of your building.

You’ll never know that the man you treated isn’t so good either. Or that he’s not nearly as bad as Joel.

Somebody always owed somebody else, after all. You knew it well, knew that Joel paid you back for this very reason.

But you didn’t know what happened when you owed him.

Or what happened when he went to collect.

And Joel ensured you were never getting anywhere near it.

A sentiment made clear with another broken finger for the lackey of a rival smuggler late on a payment that had sought you out for the last time that day, along with a painful promise made that he and his buddies would never step foot in your clinic again.

There was no way for you to know what happened that day, but you noticed the shift afterwards.

The way Joel takes up residence along the wall of your clinic and doesn’t leave when patients come in. How he watches them, the mere weight of his sole attention setting them on edge.

You tell them it’s fine, shoot him a glare that tells him to back off. And maybe it works for a little, but not for long.

You assure yourself that it’s fine. A reputation means nothing, and you know Joel Miller, don’t you? Or you know all that matters. And you know that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Until there is.

You’re gone.

It’s the first time since meeting you that Joel stops by the clinic, and you’re not there.

Well into the morning, and you’re not sitting there at your little makeshift desk. At this time, you should be half-rising from your stool he’s been meaning to find a replacement for just at the sound of the door opening.

You're always ready to spring into action, to save a life or make one better. Like you’ve done for him, time and time again.

It’s also the first time since before Tommy left that the door is swinging off its hinges again, and that’s when Joel knows.

You’re gone.

He doesn’t need to see the ransacked clinic, but he looks anyway. Searches frantically through the overturned furniture, your well-organized stock of supplies now a mess, some missing because he knows how much you have of everything, he silently keeps track along with you so he knows what to pick up when he and Tess go on runs.

There’s a panic settling in his gut, a burning ache crawling its way up his throat, and his hands twitch with the need to do something, to make somebody hurt, make them pay, make them talk to bring you back.

Back to the work that is your pride and joy, the four walls that have been your safety for years, a safety you’ve only ever extended to others, one you offered to him.

Joel needs to bring you back to him.

No time is wasted when he gets back to Tess. She knows you by now, having visited the clinic herself with or without Joel, for injuries or for chats. He’s noticed his partner always smiling after, the two of you forming a kinship that warms what fragments remain of his heart like so little else can.

Tess is taking charge in a way that’s familiar, and Joel is grateful for that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if left to his own devices right now, uncertain who’d wind up dead in the streets if let loose to find you on his own terms.

But he takes solace in knowing that Tess will let him do what he does best when it's time.

And when it is time, when they’ve cornered the last person who’s had your name leave their lips, the bone of their arm shatters underneath a brutal stomp and twist of Joel’s heavy boot after a series of ruthless hits that have left them begging for mercy on the ground.

But it gets them what they need—a location, information on a deal gone south for a specific kind of medicine that these smugglers had a monopoly on, medicine you most likely needed to save one patient, and deemed it a risk worth taking just for that.

Smugglers that Joel had very specifically warned to stay the fuck away from you.

The whimpering man under his boot gets a bullet to the head for not heeding his warning, for taking you from him, and they’re on their way without another word.

Fear burns so hot that it singes his veins, making him move faster, hit harder when they get to the warehouse. Red is all he sees and it’s all he feels, running through his fingers as he pulls triggers and chokes windpipes before twisting, snapping. Blood, hot and metallic, staining his skin in splatters up to his forearms as he moves from one to the next.

Joel has lost too much to make it quick, and the thought of losing you too only adds to his rage, making his preemptive vengeance all the more deadly. He lays waste to them all, sparing not a soul of his brutality.

His shiv sinks into a neck, and he leaves it there for too long before pulling it out, leaving a streak of evidence of another life he’s stolen across his face as he turns, more than ready for the next one.

Movement catches the corner of his eye, and he’s lifting his gun towards where he sees legs pushing against the ground, a body scuttling away into a corner out of his sight, cowering behind a tower of boxes.

Joel’s finger is already on the trigger before he sees the shoes peeking out behind the cardboard, the tips of well-worn sneakers that he knows well, having seen them turn and move quickly around one tiny room for years.

Relief doesn’t rush to him yet, not until he’s rounded the boxes, not until he really sees you.

There’s an angry purple bruise forming along your jaw, and fury burns hotter, seeping through the edges of sweet relief that you’re okay, although injured.

You whimper, and his heart breaks, reaching out a hand towards you to help you up, to bring you back to him.

At the movement, you press your back against the wall, cowering away even further as your eyes fix onto his face.

Joel’s brow furrows, anger and relief both ebbing away slowly, and he says your name, holding his palm out further for you to take.

You whimper again.

Eyes wide and clouded with fear, lip quivering as you shrink away from the hand that he had stained with blood again and again to find you, to bring you back.

Above where your back is pressed to the wall, there is a line of windows. They offer a view to the first floor of the warehouse, now littered with bodies he had left, a clear trail of evidence of his path of destruction from the moment he had entered the building.

And that’s when Joel realizes you’re afraid of him.

The worst part is, he’s not surprised, not even in the slightest.

On the contrary, he thinks some part of him had been waiting for this. Waiting for you to finally open your eyes and see him for what he is.

Someone like you, who has spent her whole life patching up the kind of wounds he inflicts, who saves lives and gives while all he does is takes and takes, by his own choice or some kind of curse—of course you’re afraid.

Joel’s bloodstained fingers twitch, remembering the softness of your own the one and only time he had held them that cold winter night. His hand hovers in the air halfway to you, yearning to comfort a hand that heals with one that only knows how to kill.

But then you flinch at the twitch of his fingers, having witnessed their deadliness, and he pulls back.

When Tess arrives a moment later, you turn to her, allowing the other woman to pull you to your feet. You lean heavily on her as she helps you leave, takes you back, but not to him.

Because Joel knows now with certainty that it's a distance that was never meant to be closed.

He knows it's for the better.

Weeks turn into months once again.

Joel doesn’t come back.

As time passes, you reflect on the man you’d known, and the one everybody else knew. You compare the image of those half-smirks that you always hoped would turn into a smile to the face splattered with blood as he ruthlessly murdered any man in his path.

You feel like a fool. For more reason than one, but mostly because you knew.

You had seen the signs of just who Joel Miller was from the first time you met him, signs that you had ignored every time they lit up right in front of your face, blaring signals that you replaced with the naïve images you had created in your mind’s eye. Fantasies of a man that may have existed once, long ago, but not anymore.

It wasn’t the killing that bothered you. You knew what people had to do to survive, and you had always known just from his injuries that this was an indisputable truth heavily ingrained in Joel’s life, no matter who you imagined him to be before.

No, it wasn’t the killing that scared you, but the slaughter.

What you were afraid of was his lack of mercy. His lethality. His intent to make them suffer.

After days of being held at the whims of dangerous men, only to discover that the only man you had come to consider a safe space in years was just as, if not more dangerous than them…

It rattled you.

Changed you.

Left a scar that even you didn’t know how to heal.

In the days that followed, you were glad that Joel kept his distance. You needed time to recover, to process what you had gone through, what you’d seen.

After a few weeks passed, you found yourself staring at the door, waiting once again for him to come back. Waiting to talk to him for once, to say the words that had plagued your mind once again. Even if they had shifted, they still rang true.

You scared me.

Because he did.

Joel Miller himself scared you, and you didn’t want him to.

Because you knew, you knew, that he’d done it for you. He'd done it to save you.

He’d saved you the same way you saved him, in the only way that he knew how.

Maybe it was senseless. Maybe it was wrong, and horrible, and unforgivable.

But he had done it for you.

So you wait for Joel to come back.

Months fade into years; one, and then two, then five and still counting.

Joel Miller never comes back.

At some point, you hear that he’s gone. Left the QZ completely with Tess at his side and never looked back.

You hope that they made it, wherever they were going.

You hope that he doesn’t think of you the way that you think of him. The image of him plaguing your mind every night, broken memories of everything you had memorized about him constantly shifting through your mind, a lonely ache filling in your heart that you knew was your own fault.

He had bloodied his knuckles for you, and you had turned away.

God, you hated yourself for turning away.

You missed him, with every breath, with every moment the door of your clinic opened and you glanced up with the automatic reflex of hoping it was him, even though he was long gone.

You know it's for the better.

Joel is not supposed to be here.

Any form of radio communication is strictly forbidden. He knows this well, knows that if he’s found here, he could be risking everything, even if his brother is married to the woman who keeps Jackson up and running smoothly.

But he’s here anyway, hands trembling with the cold and something else, something that settles deeper into his bones as he holds the microphone in hand.

Waiting.

It’s his second time up here in a week, and though he’d been lucky enough to not be caught the first time, he wasn’t an optimist.

You’re a cynic, a voice echoes in the back of his head, and his eyes flutter shut with the image of you that never seemed to quite leave him, even with the years that have gone by.

But you’re not, his own voice, younger, replies to you in his memories.

I try not to be, you replied honestly, one of your first discussions when you had begun to settle into each other’s presence. Don’t think I could keep doing this if I was.

Joel’s gaze darts down to the small notepad he had brought with him, the pages where he had written one message only to cross it out, rewrite it, and torn pages of it to throw away in frustration.

In front of him was the one left uncrossed, his eyes scanning the words he could only hope had gotten relayed to you, the message he had left for the black market radio specialist in Boston earlier that week.

Found a nice place that could use a doctor, followed by a date and time for a conversation, not wanting to air Jackson’s location without hearing confirmation from you yourself.

Following that sentence, another one, the last thing he had said: they could use you.

And another, crossed out after, the last thing that he would never say: I could use you.

Joel’s head lifts when the static on the old machine clears, a click resounding through the speakers of the radio, and his heart races with the weight of the microphone in his hands.

It’s lifted halfway to his mouth before he hesitates. Your name hangs heavy in his mouth, syllables he had not sounded out in years, but when he finally says it, it feels…natural. Like not a day has passed since the letters of your name were hanging on his lips, the way he always longed for you to be.

There is a pause, long and heavy, and Joel feels his heart sink with every second that passes.

This was stupid. So incredibly stupid.

The last time he had seen you, there was fear in your eyes. Fear of him, well-placed at that, and surely he had taken up no voluntary thoughts of yours ever since other than your worst nightmares.

Surely you were—

“...Hey there, Texas.”

When your voice crackles to life through the speaker, Joel sighs, a sound filled with relief and a rush of longing he thought his mind had forgotten, but his body—no, his soul—had not.

And then a whisper, softly in return, with a smile on his lips.

“Howdy, Cali.”

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @dissentientss @harriedandharassed @ladyfiery47 (tag won't work!)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot

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liloinkoink · 1 month

Text

last night i asked if people would be interested in me posting a backstory piece for Martyn from the hero/villain / yellow rose au i’ve posted a single oneshot for despite the fact the backstory piece doesn’t seem to outwardly relate to the posted oneshot. no one outright shot me down so. here you go

for some context, the powers in this world of yellow rose come from a catastrophic event that took place almost 20 years prior to the start of the story, which wiped out a lot of the world’s cities/towns and gave many of the survivors powers or mutations

backstory takes place when Martyn is 0-10 years old (he was born shortly before the aforementioned catastrophic event) and focuses on an OC parent character / martyn’s relationship to said parent

anyway. yellow rose is an au made w @cherrifire. time for you all to meet robot dad

It’s hot on the day the world ends. This is not the only thing it remembers, but it’s one that still stands out, even years down the line.

It’d been dealing with a patient with symptoms of heatstroke, the third it had seen in an hour. Heatstroke is an easy enough ailment to give to a nurse bot to treat, so it gets the job. It had stepped out of its patient’s room and run into a doctor, who had asked it to fetch something from the basement storage.

This is why it had survived, it thinks, looking back. It had been in the basement, and by some stroke of luck, the building had not collapsed so completely as to destroy it alongside the rest of the building.

It had not had a concept of luck before that moment, before the shaking had stopped and the dust had cleared, leaving it mostly in tact. Once it had forced its way up the stairs, it found it was not sure whether surviving the collapse was good or bad luck.

When the nurse bot tried to ring its network for help, it found the line inside its head had gone dead. When it looked to the surrounding street, it found hundreds of buildings similarly smoldering. When it called out, it found only its own voice returning to it.

The nurse bot had tried to comb through the wreckage of its practice, looking for survivors. It found nothing, heard nothing, but it still attempted to sift through the rubble, to search for the people it had been built to assist.

A nurse bot’s arms are not meant to move stone and iron, however. It was not used to the strange things that happened in its processing when it thought about what might be under the wreckage, and did not know how to handle them. It made a mistake, lifting things it could not, and when the wreckage in its grasp had buckled…

Well. It had thought itself lucky, distantly, that unlike humans, robots are not generally “handed” in one way or the other. Statistically, it would have preferred its right hand, and it would have been much worse off when the debris crushed its arm, taking its limb from the elbow down.

Ah, and pain, of course. It would have been quite bad if it had been able to feel pain, or bleed. It probably would have died, had this fallen on it, or had it lost a flesh and blood arm.

It… does not look in the wreckage any longer.

The nurse bot did not know what to do, with the practice it had spent its whole existence in destroyed. It had never been outside before—at least, not while activated. It had never left the walls of the hospital it was built for. It had not been intended to function without direction.

It knew its purpose, though, direction or not. The nurse bot had been built to heal. It knew, direction or not, how to do this, and that it must do this. And certainly, if it looks, it would fine someone out there who needed it.

When it comes to matters of health, time is of the essence. With its direction decided, the nurse bot begins to walk.

It finds people, rarely, stumbling and unharmed, or nursing small bruises or minor sprains. It helps these when it can, and gives advice when it cannot. It finds bodies, often, and it looks away, as it has never seen a funeral, and it does not know to help the dead except to assist the living.

It finds a woman soon to be a body, despite its best efforts to help her. It lacks supplies to stop the flow of blood from her wounds, and the woman lacks any hope without stitches or bandages.

It offers her sympathies, and it holds in its one hand both of hers. There is little it can say to her, but it tries, quiet promises of I am here and I will not leave you and you will be at peace soon.

She holds its hand with all the strength in her body, knuckles white as paper, a stark contrast against the dark blood staining the rest of her body. It feels as the strength fades. It watches as the light in her eyes fades with it. She lets it go, and it closes her eyes.

The nurse bot keeps walking, keeps looking, until it hears crying. The sound is loud, a desperate sob of a young child, and it seems to stem from a building sagging in three places, roof and door and floor all ready to give in.

If it were human, the nurse bot may have thought the place too risky to enter. But it is not, and so in it goes, pushing the door open with one hand.

It finds the boy lying in his crib, a round-faced infant wrapped in a patterned onesie and kicking away a thin blanket. He cannot be more than a year old—the nurse boy would guess him to be maybe six months. The fact the boy and his crib have survived the destruction of the city is a miracle, one not offered to the rest of the home.

It reaches down into the crib, brushing its hand over the boy’s face. His sobs stumble, a bit curious, but the baby ultimately doesn’t stop crying.

The nurse bot hadn’t worked with a pediatrician, but it knows about children, as any nurse bot would.

“Are you hungry?” it asks. He doesn’t answer except to cry more, which is understandable—this is what babies do, it knows, and besides, this has been the chosen course of action for most of the people it saw today.

It could not help those people, but it can help with this.

The nurse bot steps away from the crib to examine the boy’s room, though the boy cries louder when its face disappears from his view.

“I will return shortly,” it tells him. This assurance does not calm him down.

It finds what it can in the rest of the home—food for the baby, a warmer blanket, a box of diapers. It finds the living room, where living is not what his parents are doing, and gingerly shuts the door. It finds a photo album and flips through, searching for the information it needs: delicate handwriting next to an image of the boy, held in the arms of the woman on the floor a room over.

April 7th, 20XX: Welcome to the world, Martyn!

His name is Martyn. His birthday is April 7th. The nurse bot usually keeps these things on file about its patients, and so it files them away.

When it returns to the crib, the baby inside is no longer crying, having worn himself out. It reaches down again, face blank.

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “I am going to be your caretaker for now. I hope we will get along well.”

— — —

They don’t stay in the house. It finds a baby carrier in a closet and a duffle bag in the bedroom, and it packs what Martyn will need and carries him out of the collapsing home.

Martyn laughs a lot. Once he’s been fed and changed and has slept, the nurse bot finds he laughs all the time.

He doesn’t know, it thinks. He must miss his parents, probably, but he doesn’t know. He isn’t old enough to understand any of this. He watches the broken and bloodied street with awe—has he ever been this far from home before? This is all a big adventure to him.

It doesn’t tell him.

— — —

It stops three times a day to change and feed him, and to let him crawl around in the cleanest and sturdiest places it can find.

“Movement is good for development,” it tells him, watching him play with a piece of rubble.

It doesn’t stop to rest at night—it doesn’t need to, and the rocking motion of his continued steps helps Martyn sleep. When that isn’t enough, it tries to replicate the songs it has heard playing in the clinic’s waiting room, or seen mothers and fathers sing in the clinic to calm their children. Martyn seems to like that.

He likes the nurse bot’s hair, too. He tugs on it all the time as the nurse bot walks, held close to its chest, close enough to its head to access it. It lets him—it doesn’t hurt, and besides, it has few other ways to entertain him.

— — —

Martyn grows. He starts to babble, and to toddle. He becomes too big for the bot to carry him, but by then it has become adept at finding places to hunker down for a while.

“Your name is Martyn,” the bot tells him, pointing to his nose.

“Ma,” he tries.

“Very close,” it says. He grabs its hand, tugging, and continues to babble.

“Da,” he says, and it knows that he doesn’t have a concept of fathers or parents or the English language, and he is only making sounds.

“That is me,” it says anyway, and Martyn continues to babble.

— — —

“Dad,” Martyn tugs on its arm, barely tall enough to reach its fingers. “Daaaad.”

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “What is it?”

“I’m bored,” Martyn says, “And I’m hungry.”

“We still have some food left for you, though I should start a fire soon,” it says, “We will need to move soon. Children your age need a variety of foods to—”

“Grow up healthy, I know,” Martyn whines, “That’s boring. I’m bored.”

“What would you like to do?” it asks, and he lets go of its hand, running off. It stands to follow, but then he’s back, holding a battered old book—some kind of short novel, something with a torn cover that used to have a dragon on it. The title is gone, as is the dragon’s head.

“Read this,” he says. Martyn is learning to read, but he hasn’t quite got the grasp to read a real book on his own yet.

This hasn’t stopped Martyn from searching for them, though, nor from presenting them to his father to read. It had started reading one aloud to Martyn to entertain him when Martyn had come down with a fever last year, and he hasn’t stopped asking to hear them since.

“After you eat,” it says, and Martyn cheers.

—

There is a group of survivors picking their way through town. The bot sees them before they see it, watching the street from a window. It does not know their intentions, and it doesn’t plan to find out.

It crouches down in front of Martyn, putting its hand on his shoulder.

“Hello,” it says, “We’re going to play a game, okay?”

“Okay,” Martyn says, and it nods, once.

“It is called hide and seek,” it says, “There are some people who are looking around town, trying to play, and we are going to hide from them. We will win if we are not found.”

“That’s a dumb game. Why don’t we play something else?” Martyn asks.

“It is their favorite game. We are going to play because that is what they like to do. But we are going to be very good at it and hide very well,” it says, “You can hide with me, okay? If we win, there will be a special prize.”

That’s all it takes to convince Martyn, who smiles and nods and follows it as it ducks away into the closet. Its legs creak as it sits down, and then it opens its arm, letting him sit in its lap. It can’t be comfortable, all cold metal, but Martyn wraps his arms around its torso and settles right in, content with the hand on his back.

“Now we must be very quiet,” it tells him, “I will tell you when we can talk again.”

Martyn nods, and it puts its hand on the back of his head, and it waits.

When the strangers leave, it asks him what he would like for his prize.

“Hug me again!” He says, and it obliges for as long as he wants.

— — —

Halfway through its sentence, the bot’s voice cuts out.

That has not happened before. Martyn seems unfazed, especially when it begins to talk again, but it takes note of the error.

— — —

It happens more. Its voice cuts out, stutters, corrupts. Martyn really only complains when they’re reading, but it starts to fear the worst.

It sits Martyn down, crouching down to meet his eyes.

“Martyn, I have something very important to tell- to tell- to tell you,” it says, and if it could, it would wince.

“Yeah?” Martyn asks, “Are we moving again?”

“Soon,” it says, “But that is not what I want to tell you.”

“Oh,” Martyn says.

“I am… sick. Do you remember what being sick is?” it asks. Martyn nods, reaching up to put his hand on its forehead, the way it had for him when he had been feverish.

“You feel warm,” Martyn confirms, “It’s okay. I’ll read to you until you’re better.”

“Thank you, Martyn. You are very kind,” it says, “But that is not the kind of sick I am. There are many kinds of sick.”

“Oh,” Martyn says, “Then what kind of sick are you?”

“I am… robot sick. I am- I am- I am- I am- getting old,” it says, “And my voice is starting to… not work properly.”

“I know that,” Martyn says, “You talk funny now and you keep messing up reading.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’re very smart,” it confirms, “But it might get worse. I might not be able to talk anymore soon.”

“But you’ll get better, right? I got better,” Martyn says. It shakes its head.

“I might, but I might not. Robot sick is different,” it says, though it knows it is lying. “I just wanted you to know. If you talk to me and I do not respond, I am not ignoring you. I am still listening. I am just sick, and my voice- my voice- my voice- my voice—”

It shakes its head, the way humans sometimes do, to clear the sentence. When it looks at Martyn again, he seems thoughtful.

“Will you still read to me?” he asks.

“As long as I am able,” it promises. And, for good measure, “I love you, Martyn. Do not forget.”

“I won’t,” Martyn says, “I love you, too.”

— — —

It makes a point to show him how to read. He had already been learning it, but it doubles down when its voice begins to waver.

It picks up novels and reads them to him with Martyn in its lap. It holds its arm around Martyn’s waist, and Martyn holds the book for it to see, and it reads the words Martyn points to, so Martyn knows what they are.

It doesn’t want him to lose this. It doesn’t want him to lose his fun, his creativity, his imagination, just because it cannot read to him anymore.

— — —

It loses its voice for good while it is reading to Martyn.

— — —

Its voice is the first thing it loses, but it is not the last.

Control of its fingers becomes… tricky. Martyn has to help it, doing things that require finer movements.

“Is your hand sick?” he asks, and he sounds afraid. It nods, because it knows it shouldn’t lie to him, even if it wants to.

It loses what little control it had over its face next. Then its neck becomes stuck. It doesn’t seem able to walk as fast, though that might just be due to Martyn getting faster—he grows older still, full of energy, constantly wanting to run and jump and play on his longer legs. It tries its best, but it cannot keep pace like it used to. It used to sing and walk all night, and now it cannot do either.

Martyn is as patient as a six year old can be, which is not very. He gets frustrated and bored, and he complains often. It does not blame him for this. He is doing his best, too, and that is all it can ask.

— — —

There are people. It tries to hide—pulls Martyn into a closet, tucks him close to its chest, pets his hair with his hand—but Martyn doesn’t like to play hide and seek, and he doesn’t know he has to be quiet.

“My name is Martyn!” he tells them, once the closet door opens, “This is Dad. He’s sick.”

They’re nice enough, a woman and her teenage son. It—he, now?—releases Martyn to talk to them, and climbs out of the closet. He hovers at Martyn’s side when they climb out, a hand on his son’s head.

“Why were you two in the closet?” the mother asks.

“We were playing hide and seek. That’s what Dad said other people like to do, but I don’t like it very much,” Martyn explains. She nods.

“Most people do like to play that game,” she says, because, as a parent, she must understand his fear. “But we don’t, either. Do you want to travel together for a little while, Martyn?”

“I want to!” Martyn says, and he looks up at his father, and his father would sigh if he could.

He nods, because what else is he meant to do?

— — —

The teenager entertains Martyn, reading to him the book his father never did get to finish. The mother cooks, and she takes a look at his hands.

“I used to be an engineer,” she says, “You’re a bit above my pay grade, but I could take a look, if you want.”

He doesn’t let her crack him open or anything, but she inspects the pieces of his wiring she can see. He’s reminded of his old clinic, though he can’t tell her how ironic this is.

Her prognosis is… grim.

“You probably only have a few years left in you,” she admits, “Your model was supposed to go for regular updates, replacing parts and…”

He doesn’t listen as she explains the old process, his focus instead on Martyn.

Only a few years? What will happen to Martyn? Who will take care of him?

Humans need care until they are eighteen.

Martyn is six.

“I could try and make some minor repairs for some of the obvious damage, but I don’t have tools for anything more. I can also try and tell you some things you can do to try and stretch that time out,” she says. He nods, understanding, grateful, as she does what she can.

He had been in her place, once, years ago, and so he understands, too, when she offers sympathies, when she holds his hand.

— — —

They split off from each other eventually. The other two are traveling to a place they claim never fell. He does not believe in such a place, and so he does not go with them.

Martyn cries. The mother hugs him, as does her son, and they are gone.

As they walk away, he holds Martyn’s hand, and he does not let go.

— — —

He teaches Martyn how to do… anything he can. He is too young to understand how to hunt or set a trap or clean an animal or cook or treat a fever or start a fire or boil water, and it is very difficult to teach when he cannot speak. He’d wanted to wait until Martyn is older, he does not have the luxury of time anymore.

Martyn is clever, is bright. He takes to the skills as well as a six, eight, ten year old can, and it is only partly due to the fact he has no choice.

— — —

He knows he is dying.

Martyn does not.

He picks up a stick, waving Martyn over. There is a patch of dirt that is mostly clear, and he crouches in front of it.

I AM SICK he writes, and Martyn reads it, and he frowns.

“I know that,” Martyn says, and he shakes his head. The dirt is soft, and so he clears it, trying again.

I AM VERY SICK he writes. Martyn reads it, and he frowns deeper.

“What does that mean?” Martyn asks.

I WILL SLEEP SOON he writes. He wants to be delicate, but he can’t—the patch of dirt isn’t very big.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I sleep all the time,” Martyn says, “That’s how you get healthy again. It makes you feel better. You told me that.”

He wants to nod, but he can’t. This is the bit he was dreading the most.

I WILL NOT WAKE UP he writes.

For a long moment, Martyn doesn’t say anything.

“What if we get you medicine?” Martyn asks, “When— when I was sick, you found medicine. It made me better. It would make you better.”

NOT FOR ROBOTS

“That… that isn’t fair, though,” Martyn says, “Are you sure? We could get some and try it!”

I AM SURE he writes, and then he erases it, I LOVE YOU

Again, Martyn says nothing. He isn’t sure what Martyn is thinking, and then Martyn charges him, hugging him around the stomach.

He has more he wants to say to Martyn—he wants to teach him so much, to tell him to be careful, to tell him he’ll be okay.

He drops the stick, wrapping his arm around Martyn as tight as his failing joints will let him.

— — —

His goal is to find somewhere safe. An old house, maybe, somewhere where Martyn will be able to survive on his own for a while.

He looks, and he does not find it. He’s been looking for ten years, after all—of course he wouldn’t find one now, just because he is dying.

Other than that, his life does not much change. He holds Martyn’s hand as they walk, and Martyn talks to him about birds and books and whatever else he can think of. Martyn has become very good at filling the air for them both. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

He doesn’t actually know when it is going to happen, just that it will be soon.

When the moment finally comes, he does not realize.

They stop to rest for a night. Martyn is tired, as he is a child, and his legs can only carry him so far. He is tired, too, but he does not have it in him to think about why, or how strange that is.

It’s nowhere special, where they stop. A random house that has kept its roof, somewhere safe from rain and sun. Martyn finds a place to roll out his sleeping bag, and when he lies down, his father lies with him.

He does not let go of Martyn’s hand.

#lew writes #yellow rose au #robot dad #top hits

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wutheringcaterpillar · 2 months

Note

Hey! I love your little reader x Tommy ( I guess that what you would call it). I was wondering if you could do a one shot showing how they met and how Tommy fall in love with the reader. Thanks ❤️

Thank you for the request! I loved this one!

Based off this and this

warnings: age gap (20 years, everyone of age), fluff, fluff, fluff, sibling bickering, soft!tommy, hint of sexual tensions, mention of murder and war

The building was quiet, Tommy walking in with a vengeance and confident stride as he looked for his sister, all he needed was a book, a singular fucking book to take down the latest enemy, and where was his Ada? Nowhere to be fucking found of course.

His crystal eyes scanned several shelves of books, one after the fucking other and this was getting him nowhere. What was the point, he tried to be civil, to be aware of others relying on this space for quietness, for the opportunity to study but he was at ends meets.

“Ada Shelby!” All heads turned around, some irritated, some frightened as they stared at Tommy. He eventually muttered something rude beneath his breath how this didn’t concern anyone else and they could go back to their readings.

Ada stumbled hastily over, aggravated of her brothers lack of kindness and common sense for others while she smacked him on his shoulder with a book in her hand.

“Y’know unlike you people rely on words to learn something useful, maybe it’s a hobby you should pick up. What’re you doing here anyway?” Tommy explained the matter at hand, Ada knowing right off the bat what book may be of use, shoving her brother in the direction.

As he rounded the corner, throwing a joke over his shoulder at Ada, there you were sat in the secluded area wearing that little short skirt with knee high socks, the bows of your pigtails resting delicately against the scalp of that smoothe, beautiful hair. The dimlit lamp on the table you were using to read illuminating the pale, pink polish of your nail. The bright colors of your wardrobe making you stick out like a sore thumb compared to every other ordinary person, you were different. Tommy was intrigued by the aura of innocence you radiated, the pretty, fragile girl all alone in the mean, cold war. He felt a fierce need to protect that pretty face, to claim you and boy did he have a plan.

“Ada, my dear sister. Who is she?” Ada pulled the book from the shelf, following her incredulous brother’s eyes.

“Oh her? Her name’s Y/N, very whimsical one she is, never seen anyone dress like that or always happy regardless of that state of the world, kinda frightening actually.” When Tommy didn’t respond, unable to take his eyes off of you, Ada glanced from you to Tommt, knowing that look on his face. She was smart, fast, and she knew her brother like the back of her hand.

“Tommy no!” She yelled in a hushed tone not to disrupt the people studying more than Tommy already did. Before she could say another word, Tommy waved her off, stepping over to your corner with a poised stride and pulling out a seat.

Ada sighed, not in the mood for her brothers games instead tossing the book on the table, reeling you away from the fantasy novel you’d been indulged in.

The man sitting beside you now, his charming blue eyes greeting you like the ocean did the sandy shore on a sizzling summer day.

He was older than you, much older, probably old enough to be your father if you’d guess. Bookmarking your page with a pink sticky note, you leaned forward, cleavage now much more apparent to Tommy’s eyes but he hadn’t moved his gaze from your eyes, wanting to make a decent first impression and not have you feel like he was objectifying your body.

“Can I help you?” Your voice swooned him, so gentle, so quiet that he could feel his adrenaline pump through his veins, but patience was key.

“Thomas Shelby, and you?” His calloused hand lifted yours, placing a soft, chaste kiss to your delicate skin.

“Y/N…” Your voice trailed along as you crossed one thigh over the other to contain the fiery heat building rapidly in your panties.

“Y/N, lovely name. Tell me what is a girl like you doing all alone? It’s a dangerous world out there y’know? Crime wars and what not.” He reached inside of his tailored, black suit, obtaining a case of cigarettes from one of the interior pockets. Offering you one, he wasn’t surprised when you declined but still thanked him. Such a sweet, good girl you were.

Tommy’s blue eyes were charismatic like a prince out of a vintage film straight out of the movie screen.

Your eyes beamed with curiosity as to why the interest in the odd girl of Birmingham, but you were flattered. He was muscular, intimidating, yet oh so devilishly handsome.

“Oh well, Mr. Shelby-“

“Call me Tommy.” He interjected respectfully, lips curling into a charming smile. Not that he wasn’t thinking of you in a far too disrespectful manner of what that ass would look like bent over this god damn table.

He blew smoke into the thin air, making you cough slightly to which he apologized and moved the glass ashtray, diminishing the flame while igniting yours.

“Well Tommy, I think the world would be far better off without the endless crimes, without the wars in a world full of chaos and despair, wouldn’t you agree?” He shook his head in disagreement.

“You see Y/N, if there weren’t men like me to protect such an innocent, young girl like you, you may have no hope to survive. I’m a lover darling, not a fighter, though some may disagree.” He glanced over toward Ada whom was chit chatting with a friend, causing you to release such an infectious giggle that could possibly cure all the famine and disease of the world.

“How old are you anyway, you don’t look a day over twenty five.” You nodded toward his compliment, admiring his chiseled features.

“That’s because I’m not, I’m nineteen.” This hadn’t veered Tommy away from his original conquest when he saw you, instead fueling the blood flow inside of his crotch.

Tommy bit down on his bottom lip, taking note of how your eyes sparkled with impure thoughts that he knew you held, regardless of how other people may find your demeanor innocent.

“39.” Tommy had a knack for reading people, and you? You needed to be controlled, you needed a protector someone to look after you and fuck you hard though you’d never say it out loud.

“Tell you what, let me take you out. I own a pub down the street, serves great food, can’t promise pristine service but I can promise you a good time if you’ll allow me?” Gathering your books, you smiled widely, wanting to give this strange, attractive man a chance, something you typically wouldn’t do. He was the complete opposite, wearing dark, depressing colors, spoke with negativity toward everything going on in the world while you were the optimist. An optimist with a plan to show Tommy here that not everything in the world was so terrible.

With the readjustment of the sleeves of your pale shirt, your cleavage pressed up against the books. Causing Tommy to be confident in his next move, rubbing his large, veiny hand over the delicate, smooth skin of your thigh beneath the table causing your pussy to ache and butterflies to swarm your tummy.

“It’s a date then.” Your cheeks heated a rosy shade of pink, eyes sparkling with excitement.

He hated to watch you leave but loved to watch your ass bounce in that short skirt that swayed as you walked away. Ada watched you pass by her, looking back at her brother, shaking her head in disapproval before approaching Tommy.

He raised his hand, demanding to speak first.

“Relax Ada, I’m not going to break her heart. She’s a cute little thing, I think I could actually learn a thing or two from her, maybe you can learn the trait of being calm.”

When Tommy arrived at your drive, you were wearing a pastel pink dress with white shoes, hair curled with butterfly clips holding strands in place at the sides of your temple, not really much makeup either which was refreshing compared to his past lovers.

He held the door open for you like a gentlemen before whispering in your ear.

“You look dazzling love.” He placed a soft kiss at the side of your head, careful not to ruin all your hard work.

“Thank you Tommy.” Your heart pattered rapidly in your chest, before getting inside and driving off to his pub.

Upon entering there was no one in sight other than the bartender, dressed in a suit and tie but not serving alcohol, instead tea, and multiple trays of desserts.

The windows were dressed with white, sparkling lights, a bouquet of pastel purple roses sitting at a table for two with a pink tablecloth. It had taken him hours to track the flowers down but he had noticed the stickers of them decorating your notebook in the library.

“I presumed you didn’t drink so I went with something else, I hope you don’t mind. Let’s take a seat shall we?” The bartender approached taking your white, dress jacket before leading you toward the table.

Pulling out the chairs for you both, Tommy nodded and winked at the man having another surprise up his sleeve for later on in the night.

“Tommy, this-this is beautiful you didn’t have to do all this for me.” He nodded agreeing that he didn’t have to, but he was determined to make you his girl, he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

“No, but I wanted to. You seem like a sweet girl, and I want to show you that I mean that.” The bartender approached, introducing himself as “Harold”, before offering a cup of tea and a course before dessert, to which you obliged nodding kindly before carrying on conversation.

“So why me? Surely you have girls fawning over you all the time.” Tommy chuckled, thanking you for the compliment before filling your tea cup for you.

“Those girls only want me for my money, not love. When i tell you the women out there today, most women, not you might I clarify, only want two things Y/N. Money and sex.” You choked on your tea from how straightforward he was, his hands rushing up to ensure you were alright. God you felt embarrassed.

Then again you never had money, you were never confident enough to even approach a man for sex let alone accept an offer for an actual date. You were always quiet, submissive and introverted yet in the short amount of time you knew Tommy, he didn’t scare you. He didn’t make you feel like you were less because of your unique way of dressing or acting. He made you feel comfortable around him.

“Well I can assure you, I’m not most girls, I mean look at me.” You looked down insecurely, chuckling awkwardly until you felt Tommy’s hand beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I am and I like what I see Y/N.” Chills rushed down your spine when your eyes met his piercing blue gaze. He hadn’t blinked, he hadn’t looked away from you. He was serious, causing the butterflies to flutter once more, and that anxious first date jitters set in.

“Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets that no one else knows and I’ll tell you mine.” The first course arrived, a buttered noodle plate with a creamy vodka tomato sauce, laced with what smelled like parmesan on the top. It looked delicious and Tommy insisted you take the first bite.

“I um- I have imaginary friends. I know it sounds childish and probably crazy but I was bullied a lot for it in school.” Tommy simply shrugged, un phased by this confession.

“Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes imaginary friends are what we need in life to help get us through a stressful day.” He hadn’t laughed, he hadn’t made a joke about it, instead carrying on eating with the meal set out before him, enjoying his time with you.

It was refreshing to not feel like you were some kind of reject in society. Finishing off your cup of tea, Tommy refilled it from the kettle, taking note of how much sugar you’d used, definitely a dessert girl. He had the right idea.

“What about you Tommy?” Oh, now it was his turn, perhaps he should have thought this through more as this is typically where the women would pretend they didn’t care and it would turn into some kind of argument down the road but, he didn’t hold back.

“I’ve killed a man before. Multiple men actually.” At first you were taken aback, but reminded yourself he hadn’t judged you from your secret and you could argue yours was much less violent, nor a crime but you could tell by Tommy’s character judgement was the last thing he needed. He needed someone to understand him, understand his ways and why he chooses to stay in this life.

“Someone hurt you haven’t they? Not a past love, not a family member but an experience.” Tommy stopped eating, folding his hands, eyebrows raising with surprise as to how fast you were to pin the tail on him.

“Given the state of the economy, and violence. I want to say military. Sometimes we often find it difficult to move away from past negative experiences, instead searching for something similar because you miss not necessarily the feeling, but the actions of being in a position of power, to feel like you have control over it. So you found something else but a way to make you money while shielding your true emotions. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, especially if they are bad people. Don’t forget that Tommy.” Tommy was too stunned to speak, instead watching you finish your plate and motioning for Harold to take it away and bring out dessert.

Tommy had never heard a woman justify his ways in such a logical way, that he hadn’t felt like a terrible man for once in his life. It was right then and there as he watched you wipe away the sauce from your lips with a napkin that he was falling astoundingly, quickly in love with you. Something he hadn’t felt since his first girlfriend.

His lip quirked up in a slight smile when Harold brought dessert over, a mixture of different freshly baked goods on small metallic trays.

There was yellow cake, brownies, soufflés, a mixture of a variety of cookies and small cupcakes with adoring designs.

You had tried every singular one, not at all hiding your true self from Tommy.

The topics had changed to lighter ones. Him explaining the good memories he had of his sister chasing rats with a revolver, the times him and his brother would sit at the dock of a lake fishing, sometimes stealing the others fish causing fights. You bringing up how drawing and coloring were always a passion, sometimes even reading children’s books because of the art and whimsical stories that always had a life lesson while still filled with humor. Tommy even asked to see you drawings and offered to sit down and color with you when he wasn’t busy with nonsense meetings.

Things carried on well, you chatted for hours upon hours, Harold eventually falling asleep with his head on the bar, Tommy joking about what a bloke he was.

He retrieved your jacket, placing it over your shoulders while pulling a velvet box from the inside of his coat.

“I know it’s only a first date but, I saw it and thought you may like it.” He opened the box revealing a diamond necklace, decorated with a pink gemstones butterfly in the middle of it. Not too flashy, not too big, exactly what you liked.

“Oh Tommy! I love it.” He circled around you, placing the expensive accessory around your neck as you held your hair to the side, biting on your lip from the overwhelming happiness accompanied by the warmth of your heart.

“I have outstanding expectations when it comes to gifts. I don’t give them often but when I do, it means that person is special. Will I see you again? I hope I didn’t scare you off love.” He brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, knuckles shaving over your cheek.

“On one condition. You attend a tea party with my friends.” Tommy pursed his lips nodding.

“Then a second date we shall have. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?” Your eyebrows raised, a kind smile etching over your delicate features.

“Eager are we?”

“I know what I want, and I am determined to keep you right under my arm. Do I have permission to kiss my sweet baby girl?” You nodded excitedly, but patiently.

His hands cupped your cheeks gently, head inclining down to your level, as his lips moved closer to yours, your heart now beating violently fast until his lips landed on yours. He tasted of the cherry soda he had, with a mixture of carrot cake and tobacco. Such a unique taste that was intoxicating when his partially chapped, yet velvet lips pressed against yours in an enchanting lock, making you feel complete. Your heart swooned magically, you felt like you were in heaven as you matched his movements before he pulled away, those crystal, intimidating eyes softening when he smiled. Something Tommy didn’t do often until now.

#ranaewrites #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders #Tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas shelby x you

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bruhnze · 1 month

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Personal records - Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

This is for the pookie that asked. Thank you @okaybronze i had fun writing this, this one is dedicated to you!

Thank you to this, this, this, this and thisssss anon. (you guys sure know how to inspire me)

Summary: This is in an alternative universe where Ona and Lucy are not footballers. Lucy is a personal trainer, Ona is a buisnesswoman.

Wordcount: a bigggggg one 12k+, so i advise to get comfy

Warnings: Minors DNI, smut. It has a lottt of plot bcs i got carried away, but what's new :)

I hope you like it, and i hope i didn't make any mistakes while copy-pasting this thing to here, as this was quite the big one and i proofread in Word so.. if something doesn't make sense, you can ask me, i think i did it right tho :)

Personal Records.

The Batlle family was one of the richest families on the whole planet of earth. In the last years of his working life, Ona's grandfather had completely invested in the internet and technology. His eldest son, Ona's father, had taken over the business and helped it to even greater success. They dominated the tech industry, from hospital equipment to mobile phones and coffee machines.

With so much money and only two children, Ona and her brother Joan were doing anything but bad.

Yet, especially since she had that head start, Ona wanted to create a legacy of her own. Unlike Joan, who filled his time with vacations and his DJ career.

But Ona’s passion wasn’t tech, she liked using her iPhone, yes, but she had no special talent or interest in the subject.

No. Her passion was architecture. She had studied it in college and with her dad paying her tuition, it gave her all the time in the world to go networking at business events. One thing led to another, and by the age of 20 she already owned 15 buildings.

Now, just after her 25th birthday, she had a portfolio of hundreds of buildings and apartments, and was a very well-known high-class real estate agent all over Europe.

She didn’t like the way her life was filled to the brim with meeting after meeting and the fact that she sometimes felt like she was living in airplanes more than in buildings, the thing she loved most in the world, but it was worth it if she could once again sell a characteristic old building to the right owner.

That was the most perfect thing about her profession in Ona’s opinion, sometimes a house was perfect for a certain type of person, she couldn't explain it, it was just a feeling, but when she closed such a deal, it was one of the few moments that Ona could feel a little bit of satisfaction and happiness flowing through her body.

This had been a problem for a long time, she had been through some difficult years, feeling lonely at times and working far too hard without having an outlet.

After talking to some professionals and trying a few things, Ona discovered what worked perfectly for her: so she hired a personal assistant and got on weekly exercise sessions.

Sophia was a perfect PA, she was a 33 year old woman who was dedicated to work just as much as Ona was and most of all she could speak English perfectly, as she was from the United Kingdom. That was exactly what Ona needed as she got most tired from answering all the endless calls that she received.

The exercising also worked out perfectly. Her PA always found a personal trainer for her, no matter what city they were staying in. The first few months Ona really had to get in shape, but now she always came back with a wonderfully empty head after sweating for those two hours and of course, the six-pack she ended up with was also a great bonus.

This summer she had to spend in London, it was not really her preferred place to be for the next month or two, as English summers were not really something to write home about, but with the deals she had waiting for her, she happily went.

What also helped was the beautiful apartment she had in the center of London, overlooking the bridge, it was one of her favorite houses.

But besides the deals she had to close, she also wanted to relax and exercise a bit. Maybe she would even have time to go shopping.

Wednesday – Ona’s penthouse, London

A week before the big deal, Sophia and Ona arrived in London.

"Miss Batlle," the doorman said, as they walked into the building where Ona ‘lived’, or at least she did for 1 or 2 months a year. She was surprised they guy remembered and greeted him happily.

‘’You sure you don’t want an hotel room?’’ Ona asked as they were standing in the elevator.

Sophia shook her head, ‘’for me it’s easier to be close to you, safes me travel time’’ she sincerely confirmed, ‘’oh gosh, do you want some privacy, I’m sorry I didn’t-

‘’No, no, está bien’’ Ona smiled, ‘’I admire your work ethic, I was just wondering if you didn’t miss privacy’’.

‘’Well your penthouse is very big’’ Sophia smiled, ‘’and it’s not like I have a husband to call or something’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona grinned, ‘’our love lives are doomed’’.

A careful smile tugged on Sophia’s mouth, ‘’well, it has been a while since I had to leave space for a date in your schedule’’.

Ona smiled internally at the way Sophia got more and more comfortable with her, she was usually very professional, something Ona admired, but sometimes she felt Sophia and her could be friends a bit more, as she suspected her PA was actually a pretty funny person.

‘’It has’’ Ona confirmed, ‘’i'm basically celibate at this point’’, she added chuckling.

‘’Ona!’’.

At the same time the elevator stopped at the top floor with a ding.

‘’It is true though’’, Ona said as she stepped out the elevator to open the door ‘’maybe I should add searching dating sites to your to do’s’’.

Sophia groaned as she followed her, ‘’I’ll do it if you would really want that, but I do want to show you my current to do list before’’.

‘’I’m joking Soph’’ Ona said as she took of her heels and dropped her handbag, ‘’I trust you a lot, but, I do think love is something that just needs to happen, I don’t believe in dating apps’’.

‘’Well I do think you need to go out to make that happen’’ Sophia chuckled, ‘’or are you hoping to have a really hot woman buying a house off of you?’’.

‘’Hmm’’, Ona said as she walked into the big living area and stared outside of the windows, ‘’that would be the best thing ever, and I’d know she got taste’’.

Laughing Sophia walked in behind her, pulling her suitcase along ‘’do I got the same room as last time?’’.

‘’Mhm’’.

Sophia laughed to herself as she walked to the familiar room she had slept in before, recognizing that Ona had entered her thoughtful mode, something that often happened in places with a good view, and when Ona was thinking it was best not to disturb her.

They had ordered dinner, a bit tired from the travel they had decided to eat in and discussing the details of their work trip and calling it an early night.

Sophia had already set up meetings with various clients in a rented meeting room, made a list with properties they needed to visit and when the viewings would be and had booked a personal trainer.

‘’Sadly she is only available once a week’’ Sophia had said, knowing Ona liked to exercise two times a week for two hours, ‘’but she was the only one available in this period, apparently most trainers have this thing called -summer break-‘’ she joked, ‘’but she is really good, I read a dozen of reviews and she also trains athletes when they’re in between seasons’’.

‘’She?’’ Ona asked after the PA was done talking.

Sophia stilled, ‘’oh is that not-

‘’It’s okay, just surprised’’.

‘’I read she can be quite the pusher, helping people break their personal records’’.

Ona laughed, ‘’well I hope she doesn’t expect such a level of me’’.

Sophia frowned, ‘’you’re well fit, I’ve seen you in the pool, you have a killer body’’.

‘’Aesthetics is different to performance’’ Ona decided, ‘’anyways, thanks for arranging that, you’re the best’’.

Friday morning – Ona’s penthouse

‘’Okay I’m heading out to the gym then’’ Ona called through the living space.

‘’Have fun’’ Sophia called back, ‘’don’t break too many personal records!’’.

Friday morning - Bronze Fitness Forge

It was a nice building, Ona was pleased as she walked inside to search for the gym owned by one ‘Lucy Bronze’.

Ona thought it was a perfect name for a business owner and she liked the way the nameplates that showed the way were also done in Bronze, it was chic.

The Catalan businesswoman got to the front desk and told the lady behind it her name.

"Ah for Bronze herself" the lady smiled, "you may use dressing room 2, you will recognize it by the number on the door, when you've changed you just go through the other door in the changing room and then you're in the gym".

"Great. Thank you." Ona said in her business voice. It just happened whenever she spoke to people that were working.

"You can leave your bag inside the changing room but we've also got lockers".

"It's okay" Ona said, "only have some clothes with me".

The changing room looked very nice, Ona appreciated the way that this whole place was set up, it was not clinical or characterless, but it was very neat.

After changing, Ona went into the gym.

A dark-haired woman, just a little taller than her stood with her back to the door, the silhouette was muscular built, broad shoulders protruding from the tank top she wore.

Ona cleared her throat, ´´hello´´.

The woman turned around from what she was doing and met her with a smile, ´´oh hey´´ she said, ´´uhm´´, she strutted over to Ona and offered her hand, ´´Lucy´´.

´´Ona´´, Ona replied as she mirrored the smile Lucy was wearing. Ona was delighted to notice the woman infront of was rather hot, but she didn´t want to be objectifying and most of all, she was here to clear her head, not to drool over a woman. So she shook the thought from her head and focused back on what she was here for.

´´So´´ Lucy said as she retracted her hand.

Only then Ona realized she was shaking it for a little too long.

´´Oh yes, I´m here for a two hour training session´´.

´´Yes´´ Lucy chuckled, Ona thought it made her look cute, ´´so what are we working with, you didn´t attach a schedule or any of your records or something, did you bring them?´´.

‘’What?’’ Ona said confused, ‘’records?’’.

‘’Yeah what field are you in?’’ Lucy tried, ‘’What do you need working on this summer?’’.

‘’Ohhh’’ Ona breathed out with a laugh, realizing what Lucy was thinking, ‘’I am not an athlete’’.

Lucy scrunched her nose and her head turned slightly in confusion, ‘’not?’’.

‘’No I’m town for business and I always train with a personal trainer, my PA booked you’’.

‘’Oh’’.

‘’Do you not train, uh, regular people?’’.

‘’Oh uh, yes’’, Lucy blushed.

‘’But?’’.

‘’Okay no offense’’ Lucy said carefully, ‘’but they’re usually.. a bit.. older’’.

Now it was Ona’s turn to be confused, ‘’why?’’.

‘’it’s expensive’’ Lucy said, hating herself for being so awkward.

‘’ohhh’’ Ona chuckled, ‘’well we better spend those expensive minutes good, shall we?’’.

‘’Yeah I’m sorry, I’m trying to work on that whole -not judging people by their cover- thing’’.

‘’It’s okay’’ Ona said cheerfully ‘’I come to clear my head before I have some important meetings next week’’.

‘’Great’’, Lucy said as she had called herself back to her senses ‘’and how can I help you with that’’.

‘’Well, I always go to a personal trainer because I don’t know anything about training, so I just - listen, do it and enjoy the muscle ache the day after’’.

‘’Hey’’ Lucy laughed, ‘’people always call me crazy when I say - I enjoy that’’.

Ona shrugged, ‘’one of the few things that make me feel alive’’.

“Okay, so you want to get completely worn out” Lucy chuckled, “we’ll make that happen”.

Ona gulped as Lucy took off, damn, this woman was cute.

They had been working out for almost 2 hours without much talking, Ona enjoyed it, Lucy respected the fact that she was doing this for relaxation, not for dumb chit chat, she hated when trainers were like that.

‘’Do you have a neck issue?’’ Lucy asked out of the blue.

Ona looked up, surprised but not in a negative sense ‘’yeah, how did you notice?’’.

‘’It’s stiff’’ Lucy stated, ‘’ I graduated as a sports physiotherapist’’ she offered as an explanation.

‘’Really?’’.

‘’Yes and right now I’m working on some injury research, stretching and massages are a great interventions for stiffness’’.

‘’So next time we start with neck stretches?’’ Ona joked.

Lucy nodded, ‘’best recipe is stretching – exercise – tissue massage’’.

''Well then, guess I'll do that next time, sometimes my neck really hurts, so I hope it will help''.

‘’Your neck hurts?’’.

‘’Yes, I always just assume it’s my stress traveling to my weak spot’’.

‘’Do you want me to massage that right now really quick? We’ve got-‘’ she looked at her watch, ‘’-10 minutes left’’.

‘’You?’’ Ona let out before she could stop herself.

Lucy crooked her head ‘’yeah?’’ she laughed, ‘’who else?’’.

‘’Ahh’’ Ona chuckled as she spotted the physio bench in the corner of the gym, ''that's where that thing is for''.

‘’Yup’’ Lucy said as she swayed on her feet, ‘’So cooling down? Or quick rub down of the neck?’’.

‘’Well if you’re offering..’’ Ona said as she looked at the big hands Lucy fiddled with, ‘’I do have to warn you that I’m a bit sweaty’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’if you weren’t I wouldn’t be good at my job’’.

...

Friday - Ona's penthouse

‘’Hello’’, Ona called out as she stepped back into her apartment. She felt amazing, Lucy was great with her hands and after the hot shower she took, she felt totally relaxed.

‘’How was it?’’, Sophia asked from behind her computer.

‘’fucking amazing’’ Ona said dreamily, before she stepped into the living room and snapped back to reality, ‘’uh yeah, it was good’’.

Sophia chuckled, ‘’whattt happeneddddd?’’.

‘’She’s hot’’ Ona said as she went through the fridge, ‘’and great with her hands’’.

‘’WHAT?’’ Sophia yelped, ‘’did you hook up with her?’’.

‘’Oh dios mío Soph! no, who do you think I am!’’ Ona shook her head amused, ‘’she gave me a sports massage’’.

‘’Ohhh, hot and handy’’ Sophia chuckled.

‘’You sure you couldn’t book her for more than once a week?’’.

‘’I’ll try again for you’’ Sophia said with a grin, ‘’maybe I can book her for some nightly exercises’’.

‘’Soph!’’ Ona said sternly, ‘’no objectification!’’.

‘’Sorry miss Batlle’’ Sophia answered timidly, ‘’I’ll call them later’’.

‘’It’s okay’’ Ona smiled, ‘’thanks for getting groceries’’ she said as she took eggs from the fridge.

...

Tuesday evening - Bronze Fitness Forge, London

It was a couple of days later, Sophia had bribed Lucy Bronze’s secretary if she could at least ask the woman herself if she could do a couple of more lessons, ‘’Hello, yes, Miss Batlle’s PA, uhm, my boss, she wants to exercise two times a week and I was wondering if you had some more spaces available, she doesn’t mind if it’s outside of office hours, or if it costs extra’’.

Eventually she had persuaded the woman, one and a half times the rate for two hours in the evening, when Lucy actually exercised herself.

Sophia didn't mind making a little effort, she was just happy that Ona was okay with the trainer, that couldn’t always be said.

So this night, at a quarter to eight, Ona walked towards the building with the ‘Bronze Fitness Forge’ logo and headed in.

‘’Hey, miss Batlle’’ Lucy called out from a few meters behind and started jogging towards the door.

Ona held it open for her, ‘’you can call me Ona’’ she said as she let the woman pass.

‘’Oh right, hi Ona’’ Lucy smiled awkwardly, ‘’uhm, to the gym?’’.

‘’Mhmm’’.

Lucy unlocked the door and let Ona in, out of habit Ona walked to dressing room 2, the one she’d used earlier this week too.

Lucy hesitated about what to do, she cringed at herself, she wished she was a bit smoother, ''hey uhm, my stuff is also in 2'' she said as she stopped the door from closing.

''Oh'', Ona looked up, ''i can go to the other-

'''No i'll just take my bag'' Lucy rushed to say.

''Oh no'' Ona said, ''it doesn't bother me, you can change in here as far as I'm concerned''.

‘’O-Okay’’ Lucy said as she looked at the smaller woman, ‘’sure you don’t mind?’’.

Ona looked up with a smile, ‘’should I?’’.

Lucy looked startled ‘’No no, I was just --’’ she mumbled and swallowed the rest of the sentence.

Ona zipped her bag open and got her gym shoes out, she now stood with her back to Lucy, ‘’anyways, had a good dinner?’’ she asked, trying to start some conversation.

‘’Uh yeah’’ Lucy said, now also starting to get her things ‘’I cooked some chicken and vegetables’’.

‘’Nice’’ Ona said as she shimmied down her pants.

Lucy gaze fell on the Spaniards behind, she shook her head, she couldn’t be looking at a client like this, ‘’d-did you have a good dinner?’’ she asked, taking of her shirt.

Ona turned around and sat down on the bench to put her shorts on ‘’yeah I had-‘’ she lagged as she saw the shirtless woman infront of her, who was currently standing with her arms up, struggling to find her arm holes it seemed, she cleared her throat ‘’uhm, I had a business dinner, it was nice but sometimes I get a bit tired of it’’.

Lucy’s head popped up and they looked at eachother. Lucy smiled, ‘’is that why you needed more exercise?’’.

Ona didn’t feel the need to explain anything, frankly, there was not really anything to explain. She had settled for one time a week as she hadn’t known the woman was hot an amazing personal trainer, now that she knew, her assistant had booked her some more time, so she settled on just saying ‘’yes’’.

‘’What branch are you in anyways?’’ Lucy asked as she switched her pants.

‘’Uhm’’ Ona said as she took of her top, ‘’I am a real estate agent’’.

‘’Really’’ Lucy stared at her, partly because she was surprised, partly because the woman looked mesmerizing.

Ona sat up and digged through her bag, it was awkward that she still had to put on her sports bra ‘’yes, I have real estate in a few cities throughout Europe’’ she said and finally found the sports bra. She figured she just had to put no attention to it and quickly get it over with.

Bronze sat down to put her shoes on, ‘’oh.. real estate in a few cities throughout Europe’’ she repeated, ‘’impressive’’.

‘’Thanks’’ Ona said as she took her bra of, ‘’your business is too’’ she turned her head to Lucy ‘’how old are you anyways?’’.

Lucy looked up and blushed when she saw Ona’s bare back, ‘’uhm, I’m 32, and you?’’.

Ona smiled at her, ‘’25’’.

‘’Ah shit, we aren't past your bedtime, are we?’’ Lucy mocked and grinned.

Ona clutched her sports bra infront of her chest and turned around with narrowed eyes, ‘’don’t mock me’’ she said sternly, like how she’d put her workers in place. She had dealt with enough age discrimination, it annoyed her that Lucy did this.

Lucy apologized ‘’oh I’m sorry.. uhm.. I didn’t mean it like that’’. Ona turned around and quickly pulled the sports bra on,.

‘’Uhm, I will start to set up some things, see you in a bit’’ Lucy said before she quickly rushed out of the locker room.

Ona finished dressing up by putting her shoes on and followed her.

‘’Hey I’m sorry, it’s just- Ona stopped as she saw Lucy carrying a weight plate to the matts.

Lucy smiled ‘’I’m sorry too, I am a bit stupid sometimes, you should take everything I say with a pinch of salt.. i suck at talking to people that’s why I chose sports’’.

‘’-sometimes people do not take me serious because of my age’’ Ona confessed, ‘’it’s a bit of a sensitive topic for me’’.

‘’I am sorry’’, Lucy said sincerely.

Ona shook her head, ‘’you’re aloud to make jokes, I should be able to deal with them’’.

‘’Noted, see if I can help you improve on that front too’’ Lucy grinned.

‘’too?’’.

‘’Oh yeah-‘’ Lucy said with renewed energy, ‘’I mean, I was going to ask you about it - but by the way you move, I think your neck feels better’’.

Ona smiled, ‘’oh soo much, I have had the best days honestly, how could I forget - I wanted to thank you for it, I feel so… loose, uh, supple’’.

Lucy held her hands up, ‘’magic hands’’ she said with a wink. Immediately cringing at herself.

Ona laughed, ‘’they seem to be’’.

‘’So’’ Lucy cleared her throat, ‘’stretching, than exercising, which I will leave you to do a bit more on your own than last time because I need to do mine as well, and then last 20 minutes another tissue massage’’.

‘’Sounds good’’.

The stretching went well, Ona learned a few exercises she had never done before, 'good for the back and neck' Lucy had said, and had followed them all before the real work started.

Lucy finished her warm up a bit earlier than she did, which made sense, as she had been warming up all day and she went to set up some weights for herself.

When Bronze started squatting weights with her back to Ona, she couldn´t help but have peek every once in a while.

After her lunges were done Ona asked what she was doing next.

Lucy proposed for Ona to do a bit of cardio on the stair-master, a machine she hated, but Ona agreed and went on it.

Lucy kept squatting, Ona saw her adding small, little plates to the bar each time she got it.

After a few minutes, the Spaniards thoughts got interrupted, the low grunts were swapped with a yelp, she was startled and almost fell of the stair-master, luckily enough she could jump of in one piece and put the machine off.

‘’What happened?’’ Ona said as she walked towards the English trainer.

Lucy looked up as she undid her waistbelt and wrist wraps, ‘’hm?’’.

Ona came closer, ‘’it sounded like you were in pain’’.

‘’Oh’’ Lucy said as she looked better at Ona, ‘’no I just broke my squatting record’’.

Ona chuckled.

‘’Wait did it sound like was in pain?’’ Lucy laughed now too, ‘’I don’t know what to think of that’’.

‘’Well I’m glad you’re alive’’.

‘’and broke my PR’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’how much was it?’’.

‘’139,5 kg’’ (307.5 lbs) Lucy stated as she took out her phone, ‘’let me put it in my notes real quick and then I’m all yours again, I’m sorry for just directing you to the cardio machine, I had this on my agenda for tonight’’.

‘’You have a schedule for when you’re gonna break which record?’’ Ona laughed.

After Lucy had typed it in her phone she looked up, ‘’is that weird?’’.

‘’No’’ Ona shrugged, ‘’I like when people are driven’’.

‘’How much is your squatting PR’’.

Ona laughed, ‘’not even half of what you do, I think 50 kg, and that includes the bar’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’want to do 55?’’.

´´Let´s see if I can do 50 first maybe?’’.

Lucy first had her squat the bar alone and with 5kg increments she guided Ona to a 50kg squat.

At 50kg Ona had trouble getting up, her legs shaking as she did a rep for the 3rd time. She felt Lucy stepping a bit closer, ''you can do it'' Lucy said, ''and if not, I got you''.

Instead of feeling more at ease, Ona became more nervous. She felt Lucy's hands hovering just above her skin.

When she remained in her squatting position, with wobbly legs, Lucy held her sides, ''together then''.

With a little help, Ona stood up again, and immediately she racked the weight and stepped forward, shaking her legs.

‘’Legs tired from the stair machine?’’ Lucy asked.

Ona nodded ‘’think so, maybe next time we can try again’’.

‘’Oh we are’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’and now you’re doing 45, 3 sets of 4 reps’’ she said as she started changing weights.

‘’I don’t know if i-‘’

‘’-I believe in you’’ Lucy cut her off, ‘’and I’m spotting you so if you can’t I’ll help’’.

Ona looked at her with dark eyes, ‘’let’s just do something else’’.

Lucy’s head tilted, ‘’no, why?’’.

‘’I’m tired of squats’’ Ona said, mostly because she was and partly because she didn’t want to fail and have Lucy saving her, as she got way to distracted by the way she felt under their skin contact.

‘’Do your other trainers just accept that?’’ Lucy asked as she finished preparing the bar of weights, she stood infront of Ona now, ‘’in 5 sessions I’ll have you squat 55’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’I don’t care about how much I can squat’’.

The English woman grinned, ‘’no but you did ask me to help you get sore muscles, If you just listen to me I can guarantee you will not be able to walk the stairs tomorrow, how does that sound?”.

Again Ona rolled her eyes, this time with a little smile ‘’fine’’ she said before quietly adding ‘’molest’’. (annoying person).

They took positions again, but Lucy stood a bit closer then last time. Ona was almost going to make a comment about needing room to breath when Lucy whispered something, ‘’think of your most annoying rival’’.

Ona took the weights on her shoulder, she figured to just ignore Lucy and started squatting, the first 4 went easy.

She racked the bar and stepped forward to shake her legs again.

‘’See, that helped’’, Lucy said ‘’come, another set’’.

‘’Your comment did nothing’’ Ona said, getting slightly annoyed at the woman.

‘’Oh’’ Lucy studied her face, ‘’sorry’’.

Ona took place under the weights again, ‘’okay, let’s get this over with’’.

With two squats her legs started quivering again.

Lucy let her figure it out by herself, she kept close, but didn’t say anything or touch her.

Ona took a deep breath and forced herself up with a deep breath out.

"Good job" Lucy said, but when Ona tried to hang the weight on the rack she was less pleased, "uh-huh, one more rep".

Ona groaned and kept standing there, doubtful about her abilities.

‘’Ona, one more’’ Lucy said sternly.

Ona was allergic to getting ordered around and almost wanted to stop but a fire lit inside her with Lucy’s next comment, ‘’what is it with youth and giving up’’.

She bit back a grumble and did one more squat easily before racking the bar again.

She shook her legs out while still being under the bar and after a few seconds she took it on her shoulders again, squatting with pure annoyance and anger, only at the last squat she had to do she struggled again.

‘’Is your anger already used up?’’ Lucy teased, ‘’I expected more spirit at such a young age’’.

With that she groaned and came up for a last time, angrily racking the weight.

‘’Good, shake it off and we’ll head to leg presses’’.

Ona turned around and looked at her instructor, ‘’more leg exercises’’ she grumbled.

Lucy grinned, ‘’I’ll talk to you on Friday, you’ll thank me’’.

Ona rolled her eyes and followed the English woman to the leg press.

After a long session it was finally time for the massage.

‘’You can take your shoes off, I’ll massage your lower body, back and neck’’ Lucy said.

Ona didn’t respond, ‘’sounds good?’’ Lucy tried.

‘’Oh yeah’’ Ona said tiredly, ‘’perfect’’ she said as she took off her shoes.

‘’Was I too harsh?’’.

Ona looked up at Lucy, ‘’hm, no’’.

‘’Sure?’’.

‘’Yeah I am, I’ll tell you if you go too far, I’m not shy about speaking my mind’’.

‘’Okay, good’’.

Lucy started massaging Ona’s leg and Ona couldn’t help but closer her eyes at how good it felt.

‘’Okay that was that, how do you feel?’’ Lucy said as she was done.

Ona smiled, ‘’great, thank you, I’m sorry if I came across as a bitch at one point’’.

Lucy grinned, ‘’at one point? Hmm..’’.

Ona slapped Lucy’s shoulder playfully, ‘’oh come on’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’I’m kidding, you don’t come across as a bitch’’ she looked at Ona with a mischievous grin, ‘’just a bit spoiled’’.

The Catalans mouth dropped open, ‘’I’m not spoiled!’’.

‘’I’m joking’’ Lucy said as she rested her hand on Ona’s forearm, ‘’I’m proud you finished those sets, that proves character’’.

‘’Oh’’ Ona furrowed her eyebrows, ‘’because I had a choice’’.

‘’Ofcourse’’ Lucy tilted her head, ‘’you just said you would speak your mind if you really didn’t want to do it’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’okay, maybe I did want to do it’’.

‘’Good’’ Lucy said with a smile as she withdrew her hand, ‘’well, you go shower, I have to clean up this place’’.

‘’I can help?’’.

‘’No’’ Lucy shook her head, ‘’I like to do it myself and I want to do a couple more exercises’’.

‘’You’re crazy’’.

‘’I’ll see you Friday’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’and then I’ll make you do even more, because you shouldn’t be able to be this much of a smartass if those exercises really were that hard for you’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’yeah see you Friday’’.

In the dressing room Ona jumped straight under the shower, after quickly washing herself and rinsing her hair out, she walked to her bag wrapped in a towel.

As she dug for clean underwear her phone rang, it was Sophia, she had a couple of questions about a client.

‘’Why are you still working Soph?’’ Ona chuckled but as she looked at the time her smile faded, ‘’no way, 22.45 already?’’.

Now it was Sophia’s time to laugh, ‘’yeah got a bit carried away exercising huh?’’.

‘’So it seems’’ Ona said ‘’anyways, for mister Potter you-

-did you ask her number yet?’’ Sophia interrupted her.

‘’Soph! that would not be professional’’ Ona said.

‘’You think she’s hot, what’s wrong with asking a number’’.

‘’Yeah she attractive’’ Ona confessed, ‘’but I don’t even know if she’s a lesbian, maybe she’s just sporty’’.

‘’So ask’’ Sophia simply said.

‘’No I-

A knock on the door interrupted her.

Ona looked up to see Lucy standing in the doorway, ‘’You forgot your shoes’’ she smiled.

Ona’s face got redder than the 2,5 kg weight plates that Lucy’s gym owned, ‘’oh uh thanks’’.

‘’No worries’’, Lucy said as her eyes lingered on Ona’s body for a second before she redirected herself to face Ona and , ‘’see you Friday’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona smiled, ‘’see you Friday’’.

Lucy turned around.

‘’Oh and’’ Ona called out.

Lucy turned back around with a smile.

‘’uh, thanks for my shoes’’ Ona said.

Lucy’s smile faded a little but she nodded, ‘’ofcourse’’.

The dressing room door fell closed behind her.

‘’Aahhhhhhgggg’’ Sophia screamed in her ear, ‘’I felt the sexual tension through the phone’’.

‘’Sophia!’’.

‘’What, you fumbled so hard, you said thanks twice, for a second I thought you were going to ask her number’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona sighed as she thought about the fact that she was originally planning too, before remembering she had Sophia on the phone, ‘’and give you a listen in on my rejection, don't think so’’.

Sophia groaned, ‘’she likes you too, why are you so uncertain’’.

‘’Why are you so sure, anyways we’ll talk about that client when I’m home’’.

...

Wednesday morning – Ona’s penthouse

It was the next day, Ona woke up in her big bed as the curtain automatically opened and stretched.

As she was completely stretched out, she suddenly shrank, ‘’merda’’ she groaned as a cramp hit her left leg, she tried to hold the muscle but it took a while before the cramp went away.

After the pain had disappeared she got out of bed, walking to the bathroom, when she wanted to lower herself to take place on the toilet she cringed, she couldn’t just normally take a seat, so she held the wall and let herself plop down.

When she got back to her room after peeing, she grabbed her phone to Google what she could do best in this situation.

A protein-rich breakfast, a warm bath and some stretching exercises later, she felt a little better and started her workday.

...

Friday morning - Bronze Fitness Forge

‘’Good morning Property Princess’’ Lucy said as Ona stepped into the gym.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’allright Lucy Lift-a-Lot, what are the plans for today’’.

Lucy grinned, ‘’how were your legs Wednesday?’’.

‘’Terrible’’ Ona smiled, ‘’so perfect’’.

‘’Stairs?’’.

‘’Well, I don’t really take those, but the toilet was a pain’’.

Lucy laughed, ‘’good, I suggest more squatting today’’.

Ona scrunched her face, ‘’not to much please, I have this event tomorrow’’.

‘’Work on Saturday?’’.

‘’Well no, it’s like networking event’’.

‘’Oh, is that one of those thing were you have a stand and promote your business’’.

Ona chuckled, ‘’yeah, but i’m not there with a stand’’.

Lucy tilted her head.

‘’I got invited to look at peoples stands’’ Ona clarified.

‘’Isn’t that like..’’ Lucy didn’t finish her sentence.

‘’What?’’.

‘’Boring?’’.

‘’Yeah’’ Ona laughed, ‘’but its good for my image to show up, and the event payed me to show up’’.

‘’Really’’ Lucy said with disbelieve, ‘’so you’re actually a big name in the real estate world?’’.

‘’I guess’’ Ona shook her head as she laughed, anyways I’ll be bored out of my mind because Soph is taking this weekend off to see her family’’.

‘’Soph?’’.

‘’’Sophia, my PA’’ Ona clarified.

‘’Oh right’’ Lucy nodded, ‘’she was on the phone bribing me’’.

‘’Bribing?’’.

‘’Yeah, you wanted two sessions a week’’.

‘’Oh that’’ Ona nodded slowly, ‘’yeah, I hope she was sensible about it?’’.

‘’Oh yeah yeah, it was not actually bribing, she asked nicely’’.

‘’Good, but anyways, I will be walking around all day, so I need some power left in these legs’’.

Lucy nodded and explained some stretches they were starting with.

After the session, where they went a little less extreme as the last time, Lucy gave Ona a massage again. Whilst working her back she broke the silence, ‘’do you not know anyone else in London?’’.

Ona looked at her confused, ‘’what?’’.

‘’For the event, you said you have to go alone, do you not know someone you could take?’’.

Ona shrugged ‘’everyone is on holiday, it’s very last-minute anyways and I wouldn’t drag someone with, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was boring’’ she said into the table.

‘’I think it would be entertaining to see how you talk to everyone professionally’’ Lucy chuckled and acted out a conversation she imagined Ona would have with another realtor. She mockingly acted out the situation, putting on different voices.

Ona’s shoulders shook from her laughter, ‘’I think you will greatly disappointed’’ she laughed.

‘’Yeah?’’ Lucy sad as she put on a pouty face, ‘’is it not like that?’’.

‘’No not at all’’ Ona chuckled, ‘’way more boring’’.

‘’I don’t believe you’’ Lucy challenged.

‘’Well you’re free to join at your own risk’’.

Lucy’s face twisted up in a weird mischievous way, ‘’are you asking me out Batlle?’’.

Ona grinned, ‘’no, I offer you the position to be my plus one to a very boring event so you can entertain me’’.

‘’Well I am free tomorrow’’ Lucy contemplated, ‘’would you like me as your companion?’’.

‘’As long as you don’t publicly mock me’’ Ona rolled her eyes.

Lucy grinned, ‘’I’ll try to keep that for when were alone then’’.

Ona sat up and narrowed her eyes at the taller woman ‘’or like, not do it at all’’.

‘’I’ll see about that’’ Lucy grinned, ‘’what’s the dress code?’’.

‘’uhm, I think you’re best to wear a suit, a light color’’ Ona said as she studied Lucy, ‘’ if you have that’’.

‘’I don’t know’’ Lucy scrunched up her nose, ‘’I’ll have to dig through my closet’’.

‘’Send me a pic, if it’s not good I’ll send some things you could try on’’.

‘’are you going to judge if I look good enough to join your side’’ Lucy laughed, ‘’wow’’.

Ona shrugged, ‘’it’s a cruel world’’.

‘’fine’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’can I get your number?’’.

Ona looked at her with big eyes.

‘’Or do you want me to send Sophia that mirror pic?’’ Lucy grinned.

‘’Oh right, no we’ll exchange numbers, it’s more convenient for tomorrow too’’.

‘’How late is it anyways?’’.

They spoke about the details until Lucy noted that her new appointment would arrive in two minutes. With that Ona went to the changing room and got under the showers, she couldn’t hide the fact that the thought of spending tomorrow with Lucy made her feel giddy.

Friday afternoon – Ona’s penthouse

‘’Okay, I’ll see you Monday morning’’ Sophia said as she embraced Ona, ‘’have fun with your hot date’’.

Ona rolled her eyes but didn’t deny her PA’s words, ‘’you have fun at your parents’ house’’ she wished Soph.

‘’Mhm, I will’’ Sophia said as she walked towards the door with her suitcase, ‘’see you Monday!’’.

‘’Bye Soph’’ Ona called out as she got distracted by her phone buzzing.

An unsaved number had sent her texts, she opened her phone curiously.

@ Bronze Fitness Forge: hey, this is Lucy, hereby my outfit, hope you approve 😅

@ Bronze Fitness Forge: *mirror selfie of Lucy in a mint green suit with a white blouse*

@ Bronze Fitness Forge: ignore my bare feet, sorry, I’ll wear shoes tomorrow I promise

Ona changed the contact name to Lucy and texted back.

@ Ona Batlle: Looks good, what shoes do you plan on wearing?.

@ Lucy: sneakers?

@ Ona Batlle: no.

@ Lucy: i don’t have much else

@ Ona Batlle: what size are you?

@ Lucy: a UK size 7

Ona asked her for her address and ordered her a few shoes and a few white blouses, from a store she had great relations with, making them deliver the products before 10 o’clock tonight.

...

Friday night – Ona’s penthouse

@ Lucy: why did I just receive 4 pairs of shoes and 3 white blouses

@ Ona Batlle: fit them, see which you like best

@ Lucy: I have blouses

@ Ona Batlle: your suit is nice, can’t ruin it with a cheap blouse

@ Lucy: how can you recognize that from a picture

@ Ona Batlle: I got taste

@ Lucy: spoiled

@ Ona Batlle: do you want to come still?

@ Lucy: *3 pictures in the different blouses*

Ona admired the way Lucy’s arms looked in the blouses, the woman was well fit, with one particular blouse she swore she could even recognize the outline of abs.

She chuckled when she noticed the shorts Lucy was wearing, Barcelona football shorts.

@ Ona Batlle: nice shorts 😉

@ Lucy: shut up, which blouse.

@ Ona Batlle: deffo the one with the green buttons

@ Lucy: that one feels a bit tight

@ Ona Batlle: it looks good, but if you feel like it will rip, I’ll go for the one with the collar that’s got leaves on the inside.

@ Lucy: what shoe do you like best, they all fit

@ Ona Batlle: blouse got brown buttons so maybe the brown Loafers

@ Lucy: great, they were the comfiest

@ Ona Batlle: pic of the complete fit?

@ Lucy: tomorrow, I don’t want to put everything on again

@ Ona Batlle: lazy

@ Lucy: demanding

@ Ona Batlle: you know me so well

@ Lucy: you send a pic of your outfit then

@ Ona Batlle: no.

@ Lucy: then you’ll just see tomorrow

@ Ona Batlle: fine

Lucy was disappointed Ona didn’t ask her to send a full outfit picture more, she would’ve done it with a bit more insistence, but she guessed Ona wasn’t someone who lowered herself to such things, she was sure Ona would never beg for anything.

...

Saturday afternoon – London, network event.

The event went great, Lucy had been the perfect acquaintance. Making jokes in quiet, boring moments, but shutting up when Ona was talking to people she needed to talk to.

Lucy had on her part also enjoyed the event, there had been going around servers with appetizers and drinks, although they tasted amazing, Lucy tried to stay modest and allowed herself to accept something once in every three time she got offered something.

It was also fun to be around Ona, the woman was classy, she looked beautiful in the emerald colored dress she wore. She wore white heels and had a white bag with her, Lucy didn’t know if she had seen anyone walk as comfortable and elegant in heels as Ona did.

The event had gone by quite quickly, it was already passed eight o'clock.

‘’Oh fuck’’ Ona whispered, pulling Lucy from her thoughts.

They were standing together after Ona had just finished another conversation with an old guy, Lucy had introduced herself too and Ona had told the man they were working on a project together, it was not true but Lucy didn’t mind, and the guy didn’t ask any questions about it anyways.

‘’What?’’ Lucy asked, turning towards Ona.

‘’Don’t look’’ Ona said discretely, ‘’my ex is there, I didn’t know she’d be here’’.

Lucy suppressed her curiosity and kept looking at Ona, ‘’didn’t end well?’’.

‘’No she cheated’’ Ona grimaced, ‘’she’s the worst, she plays unfair both in business and in her private life’’.

‘’That sucks, how long ago-

-oh my god’’ Ona interrupted her, ‘’she’s coming over’’.

As Lucy stood straight again to prepare for an uncomfortable encounter, Ona leaned in and whispered something to her ‘’It was a year ago, if you like you could act like my girlfriend, that would be funny’’.

Lucy grinned and looked at Ona’s face ‘’ofcourse babe’’.

Ona chuckled at the way Lucy took on the role immediately, ‘’if she questions us we answer one after the other’’ she quickly whispered when the women almost had reached them.

‘’Ona!’’ the woman said as she looked at the pair, ‘’nice to see you again’’.

‘’Evelyn’’ Ona said coldly, ‘’how are you’’ she said as the woman forced a greeting with two kisses on her.

‘’I’m good’’ Evelyn said as she directed her gaze to Lucy and eyed the woman, ‘’you to it seems’’.

Lucy extended her hand to the woman who was also wearing a suit, Lucy giggled a little inside at the fact that it was a dark colored suit, since Ona had asked her to wear a light colored suit, ''Lucy, Lucy Bronze'' she introduced herself.

‘’Evelyn Thomas, Thomas real estate’’ the woman said, ‘’what do you do’’.

Lucy smiled, ‘’I am a sports physio, I help injured athletes with their recovery, I am currently also doing research into knee injuries''.

‘’Charity work?’’ Evelyn rudely asked.

Lucy replied with a smile, ‘’well the research doesn’t really bring in money, but that’s a passion of mine, no, I earn my money with my gym, but I get if you’ve never heard of it, it is an quite expensive membership’’.

Evelyn huffed, ‘’sure’’ she turned to Ona.

Lucy stepped closer to Ona rubbed the small of her back before she let her hand rest there.

‘’How long have you two been together?’’.

Ona smiled ‘’about half a year, right Luce?’’. She asked sweetly as she turned to Lucy, who already had her eyes on her.

‘’Best half year of my life’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’It feels like last week that we met’’.

‘’Right babe?’’ Ona sighed out and reached to pet Lucy’s face and kept looking at her, hoping Evelyn would just take the hint and leave.

‘’Allright’’ the woman said, but the pair didn’t look up.

‘’Well, great saying you again Ona’’, she tried.

Ona let her hand glide from Lucy’s face and turned back to Evelyn ‘’oh yeah, I’ll see you around’’.

Lucy smiled, ‘’nice meeting you Evelyn’’ she said in an overly sweet voice.

Lucy took two glasses of champagne from a server that passed them, ‘’here you go darling’’ she joked as she handed Ona one.

‘’Thank you’’ Ona sight as she looked around, ‘’wow, this bitch is still looking at us’’ she whispered in Lucy’s ear.

‘’Behind us?’’ Lucy asked quietly, getting a bit more into Ona’s personal space.

‘’Yeah, don’t look’’.

‘’No I was curious if I could get your consent’’.

‘’For what’’ Ona chuckled.

‘’Touch your butt, I bet she would eat herself up, she is so hung up on you still’’.

Ona grinned and leaned in to kiss Lucy’s neck softly, ‘’do it’’.

The Catalan peeked from Lucy’s neck at the woman a few meters behind them, she saw the woman had her gaze already fixed on Lucy’s hand, the hand that had rested on her lower back until now, smoothly Lucy let her hand travel south and squeezed Ona’s bum. Ona looked back at Lucy’s neck, she didn’t feel the need to watch Evelyn’s face a second longer then necessary.

Ona chuckled as she felt a shiver run down her spine from the way Lucy’s strong hand dug into her clothed flesh.

Lucy rubbed the place she had just squeezed gently and let her hand rest on the small of Ona’s back again, just a bit lower then she had been before.

‘’Thank you’’ Ona quietly said.

Lucy looked at her with a wicked grin, ‘’it was a pleasure’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’not that, for playing along’’.

‘’I was talking about that’’, Lucy said with raised eyebrows, trying to come across honest, ‘’okay squeezing your butt was fun too I guess’’ she sighed.

Ona’s mouth hang open to act as if she felt offended, ‘’liar’’.

‘’No I feel a bit like a cheap whore’’.

Ona chuckled, ‘’a cheap whore?’’.

‘’You buy me clothes in exchange for physical services’’.

‘’You make it sound like I’ll make you sleep with me’’.

‘’are you not?’’ Lucy said acting disappointed.

‘’Lucy!’’ Ona said in disbelieve, ‘’are you proposing to come home with me’’.

‘’I mean, the house of the best realtor is probably very impressive, maybe you can give me a tour’’.

‘’I thought you joined me to distract me from work, not give me more’’.

Lucy shrugged, ‘’okay, worth a try’’.

Ona grumbled on the inside, she wanted Lucy to come with her, but she wasn’t about to beg, ‘’fine’’ she stated, ‘’let’s go then, this event is dead anyways’’.

They were stood in the elevator of Ona’s building, ‘’how are you so bold all of a sudden?’’ Ona asked.

Lucy smirked, ‘’bold, how?’’.

‘’You straight up asked me to sleep with you’’ Ona said as she studied Lucy.

Lucy held her hands up, ‘’I’m confident in my abilities to break personal records with you in several areas, the bedroom being one of them’’.

Ona’s jaw dropped, ‘’does that work on all the girls you hit on’’.

‘’No just the one that are attracted to me’’ she answered with a smug smile.

‘’I’m not- i- how do you-

Lucy grinned, ‘’the dressing rooms are not call-proof, or at least, if it’s a private call, you should probably choose another place from now on’’.

Ona blushed and groaned, ‘’you heard that?’’ she said with a scrunched up nose and palmed her face.

The elevator stopped and with an elegant tone it indicated the arrival to the top floor.

Lucy smiled as the smaller woman walked away with cutely blushed cheeks and opened the door, Lucy followed Ona who stepped in to her appartement.

When she took of her shoes Lucy did the same.

‘’wow’’ Lucy gasped as she walked over to the windows, ‘’this is amazing’’.

‘’Thanks’’ Ona said, ‘’do you want something to drink?’’.

Lucy turned around with a smile, ‘’maybe after the tour? I had some drinks there already’’.

‘’Okay’’ Ona said as she got herself a sparkling water ‘’Okay this is the kitchen, that is the living-

‘’nooo’’ Lucy pouted and walked back to Ona, ‘’the fun way, make me want to buy this place’’ she said as she discarded her jacket on one of the bar stools.

‘’You already would’’.

Lucy rolled her eyes ‘’Like how you-

‘’don’t roll your eyes at me’’ Ona blurted out before she knew it was happening.

Lucy’s mouth fell open, ‘’says you! You roll your eyes every once 10 minutes’’.

Ona walked around the counter and stepped into Lucy’s personal space, ‘’shut up, I can do what I want’’ she said with a grin.

Lucy looked her, quiet from the sudden closeness, ‘’you shut up’’ she said, coming out clumsier than she wanted.

Ona chuckled, ‘’make me shut up then’’ she said as she traced her hand along the row of buttons from Lucy’s blouse.

‘’If you don’t stop me I’ll kiss you’’ Lucy said as she leaned in.

Ona smiled against her lips, ‘’if you don’t kiss me I’ll book you a cab home’’.

Their lips crashed in a hungry, exciting kiss, Lucy was the first to introduce tongue in their facade and Ona cupped the back of her neck as she gladly accepted it in.

Lucy’s hands travelled to the hips she had been eyeing all afternoon, the smaller woman looking delicious at the way the dress hugged her figure just right.

The English pressed herself closer against the Catalan.

Ona broke the kiss.

They both panted as Lucy tilted her head in confusion, ‘’not okay?’’.

‘’How about a quick tour of the bedroom?’’ Ona answered instead.

Lucy gulped, ‘’please’’.

Ona grinned as she took Lucy’s hand and guided her to her bedroom, ‘’wow’’ she gasped for a second time this evening.

‘’Is this enough light for you?’’ Ona asked, ‘’if you want more light we have to close the curtains’’.

Lucy quickly turned to face the woman, ‘’yes, lights on and curtains closed please, I’m not about to be on display for everyone in London to see’’.

‘’that’s why you keep the light off’’ Ona chuckled, ‘’and it can be fun you know, exciting’’.

Lucy shook her head, ‘’nah, as much as I like the view, I bet the view in here will be way better’’.

‘’Oh quite the charmer’’ Ona said as she pushed the button and the curtains started closing, ‘’ let's see if you can live up to all that big talk’’.

Lucy walked over to her and went in for another kiss, much shorter this time, ‘’just give me the green light and I’ll make you experience things you have never before’’.

‘’sure Bronze’’, Ona said as she started to undo to buttons from her blouse, ‘’you have permission do what you want, just stop if I say so’’.

Lucy grinned, ‘’always princess, your wish is my command’’ with that she attached their lips again.

While they were kissing Lucy shook her blouse off, figuring Ona wanted that as she had been tugging on the ting for minutes now. She walked with Ona towards the bed, making her walk backwards. When they were almost there Ona broke the kiss ‘’take my dress off’’ she said breathlessly.

Lucy grinned, ‘’not yet, you look so pretty in it’’ she said before planting her tongue back in Ona’s mouth, a few small sounds escaped the smaller woman as Lucy deepened the kiss and reached to pull up Ona’s dress.

She pushed Ona on the edge of the bed and started kissing her neck, ‘’do you want this’’ she asked between kisses ‘’want me to make you feel so good’’ she asked before licking and sucking the sensitive spots on Ona’s neck.

Ona whimpered, ‘’yes’’.

‘’Allright pretty girl’’ Lucy said she dropped to her knees, she looked up to meet Ona’s eyes as she started to kiss the insides of her thighs, ‘’I bet you taste so good’’ Lucy said as her hands travelled along the skin of Ona’s legs, giving her goose bumps.

‘’Can I taste you?’’ Lucy said as she latched her mouth to Ona’s other leg, she saw the Catalan fighting to keep composure, ‘’y-yes’’ she said with a breathy voice.

‘’Are you so worked up already?’’ Lucy playfully asked as she redirected her gaze to Ona’s thong, a dark-green piece of lace, with an even darker green spot right between the Spaniards legs.

Lucy kissed closer and closer towards the woman’s heat, until she could smell her wetness. Lucy groaned and sat back, ‘’up’’ she ordered as she hooked her fingers in the underwear.

Ona quickly cooperated.

Lucy dropped the thongs on the floor and went back to kissing Ona’s bare legs.

‘’Fuck Lucy, get your mouth on me’’ Ona said jaded.

With a smug face Lucy looked at her, ‘’you still think you’re calling the shots here?’’ she said as she let two fingers glide along Ona’s slick.

‘’Please’’ Ona whimpered.

This was all Lucy needed to hear, the rest of the begging could be done later, now she needed to get a taste.

She spread Ona’s leg wide with her hands as she dove in, letting her tongue glide softly along Ona’s core to make her get used to it.

She reached out for Ona’s hand and placed it in her hair as she kept up the gentle exploration.

When she had found a spot that she felt made Ona quiver, she grinned and kept Ona’s legs apart more strongly before diving in completely.

Ona’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, she head never experienced head like this before.

The skilled tongue rippling against her clit, the strong hands, making her spread out for the English woman on the edge of her bed.

With the hand that was guided to Lucy’s hair she gripped the woman’s dark brown hair, pushing her deeper against her, Ona felt the orgasm building up already. If it didn’t feel this good she would surely have been embarrassed about it.

‘’merda, se sent molt bé’’ (feels so fucking good) Ona moaned before she bit her lips as she struggled to keep herself up, leaning with one hand on the mattress.

Lucy didn’t know what the woman above her was muttering about, but she figured the words were positive. With two fingers of her right hand she teased Ona’s entrance, at this her legs shocked. Lucy looked up.

Ona groaned at the loss of stimulation and looked down at Lucy, ‘’fuck, you can use your fingers’’.

Lucy smirked as she put the fingers inside Ona’s mouth, as Ona sucked at them, covering them in her saliva. Lucy returned to what she was doing, she let her tongue dance along Ona’s clit.

When Ona opened her mouth and moaned, Lucy pulled her hand away and with very little preparation she plunged them inside of the dripping hole between Ona’s legs, deserving a loud guttural moan.

Lucy curled her fingers and searched for Ona’s weak spot, when she’d found it she started thrusting her fingers in a steady but provokingly slow pace.

The difference in paces from Lucy’s tongue and her fingers drove Ona mad, she couldn’t keep her eyes open as her eyes kept rolling back and the arm where she was leaning on was shaking.

After a few second she dropped on her, the leg that Lucy wasn’t keeping open with a hand almost crashed into Lucy but she didn’t budge.

Lucy sat up a bit more and kept working her tongue and hand as she felt Ona’s walls convulsing around her fingers.

She groaned as she felt a new gush of wetness covering her fingers, and dripping on her hand.

With a loud moan and a tight fist in Lucy’s hair, the woman below her orgasmed.

Lucy smiled as she slowly came to a stop and sat back when the hand left her head.

Ona's legs came back together and she stretched with her arms above her, "that was…" she breathed out.

Lucy grinned, ‘’quick?’’ she offered.

Ona sat up and rolled her eyes, ‘’I was going to say good’’.

‘’Both can be true’’ Lucy with a smug face.

After a few hours well spent, Lucy and Ona were standing under her rain shower.

‘’Do you want to sleep here?’’ Ona asked as she was lathering herself up with soap.

Lucy grinned ‘’are you asking out of politeness?’’.

‘’Maybe’’ Ona grinned back, ‘’don’t want you to feel like a cheap whore’’.

Lucy laughed, ‘’no I’ll book my own cab home, thanks’’.

‘’I had fun’’ Ona said sincerely, ‘’thanks for coming along’’.

‘’Me too’’ Lucy returned, ‘’and I’m happy for it to be a one time thing’’.

‘’Mhm’’ Ona said, ‘’perfect’’. She was amazed with Lucy’s maturity about the matter, some woman could get very offended.

‘’What do you want me to do with the shoes and shirts?’’ Lucy asked as they were drying off.

Ona smiled, ‘’keep ‘em, give ‘em away, I don’t care, it costs me more to make effort returning them, then what I would get for it’’.

Lucy shook her head in disbelieve but thought it was very kind she had bought her the things, ‘’thank you’’.

Ona nodded, ‘’it was my pleasure’’.

As Lucy walked back to the bedroom to put her suit back on, Ona just put her robe on, she was home alone anyways, she couldn’t help but look at Lucy’s back and ass, looking perfectly toned.

She bended to pick her clothes up and turned around to lay it on the bed, she looked at the clothes before looking at Ona.

Lucy caught the Catalan staring at her abs and grinned, ‘’could I borrow a pair of briefs?’’ she asked, ‘’I can’t put this back on’’, she said as she held her underwear up.

Ona gaze traveled form Lucy’s muscles to the piece of cloth and she smiled, ‘’ofcourse’’ she said before going into her walk-in wardrobe.

She came back and handed Lucy the underwear, ‘’and you can keep this too’’ she winked.

After that, Ona left Lucy to get dressed and went to the kitchen, she downed the glass of sparkling water that was still on the counter and went to her table, opening the laptop that laid there.

In a few minutes she was completely indulged with the things on her screen and hadn’t noticed Lucy been done with getting dressed, now standing infront of her.

‘’Bye Ona’’ Lucy said as she walked closer to the woman.

Ona jumped at the voice breaking the silence, but quickly got her composure back and smiled, ‘’sorry, I was reading something’’ she stood up, ‘’I’ll see you Tuesday Lucy, thanks again’’.

‘’I had fun’’ Lucy smiled, ‘’I’ll see myself out, see you Tuesday’’.

Tuesday night – Bronze Fitness Forge, London

Ona and Lucy had another session. They both thought back at their one nightstand as a perfect encounter, the sex had been good and they were both on the same terms as far as relationships are concerned.

Lucy didn't think Ona was the type of girl she’d ever date, but she could say that she was absolutely perfect in terms of appearance. The fact that she was shorter, the freckles, her slightly defined muscles and most of all her perfect butt. Ona’s ass might be her favorite thing about the woman.

Ona was happy Lucy had been on the same page as her about at sleeping over, she didn’t like waking up next to people, they often looked and smelt bad and Ona didn’t like anyone in the world enough to deal with that. Ona was happy to go to the woman’s gym again this day, she felt like her sexual frustration had been cleared up and was ready to maybe even break that squatting PR.

Lucy was a little bit nervous about seeing the woman again, hoping it wouldn’t be awkward, she had gotten in a bit earlier than last time, to make sure they could at least get dressed separately. Even though she would be lying if she’d say she wasn’t at least a little bit curious if the hickey’s she had left were still there.

She shook her head, she shouldn’t be thinking about this. Ona had been perfectly clear, heck she had wanted it herself, this was a one time thing and in a month they’d maybe never see eachother again.

Ona came walking in to the gym, disrupting Lucy’s string of thoughts.

‘’Hey Ona’’ she cheerfully said, but she couldn’t help but notice the fact Ona was wearing a shirt and shorts now, rather then the sports bra she had worked out in until now.

‘’Lucy’’ Ona smiled, ‘’ready to break some records?’’.

‘’I sure am’’ Lucy said, ‘’do we go squatting straight after warm up?’’.

‘’Yes’’ Ona replied, ‘’I hope I can do more then 50 today’’.

‘’Enthusiastic, i love it’’

‘’Oh you know me’’ Ona joked.

‘’Always enthusiastic to break records’’ Lucy said, after which she cringed at herself.

They warmed up and went to the weight rack, ‘’hey have you already set it up?’’ Ona asked, smiling.

‘’Ofcourse’’ Lucy said smugly, ‘’six sessions left until you’re doing 55’’.

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’if you weren’t hot I would’ve hired another personal trainer six sessions ago’’.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’well first off all thanks, second off all, what do you think a good personal trainer does then’’.

The Spaniard shrugged, ‘’not being annoying’’.

‘’I am not annoying’’ Lucy said as she quirked her eyebrows.

‘’How would you describe a person using insults as motivation’’ Ona challenged her.

‘’motivational’’

‘’annoying’’

‘’did you do those reps or not’’

‘’yes’’

‘’so, motivational’’ Lucy stated as if it was settled.

Ona shook her head and walked over to take place under the bar, ‘’please keep from your motivations until really really can’t go anymore’’ she stood up and took the bar on her shoulders, ‘’until then, you spot me quietly’’.

‘’yes ma’am’’ Lucy joked as she took position behind Ona, ‘’I kidding, I’ll shut up’’.

Surprisingly, Ona squatted the 50kg the first 8 reps perfectly, without any problem.

‘’I’m impressed’’ Lucy said as Ona was shaking her legs to get ready for the last set, ‘’you finally found your right mindset’’.

Ona smiled but kept quiet, she couldn’t get distracted now.

She took place under the bar again and accidentally walked into Lucy with her butt.

‘’Oh sorry’’ Lucy chuckled as she took a step back, ‘’okay last 4, let’s go’’.

Ona blushed at the way heat traveled to her core from the brief touch.

She took the weight on her shoulders for the third time and for some reason they felt twice as heavy.

Ona didn’t squat but kept standing there with the weights in her neck.

‘’Come on Ona, you can do it’’ she felt Lucy’s hot breath in her neck.

‘’I don’t know if I-

‘’You can do it Ona’’ Lucy pressed up against Ona, and put her hand under her arms, ‘’we’ll do it together’’.

Ona gulped as she felt Lucy front pushed against her.

She squatted and easily came back up with Lucy’s strength supporting her, she wanted to rack the weights as she stood straight again.

‘’3 more Ona’’ Lucy said in her ear.

Ona groaned as she did another.

‘’Good job Ona’’ Lucy said, in a voice close to a whisper. Ona couldn’t help but think the woman was doing this on purpose, she was so close, Ona could feel her abs in her back, and her thighs against her own, no other trainer had ever spotted her like this.

After the four squats Ona racked the bar and turned around, Lucy stepped back.

She studied the woman’s face, Lucy casted her eyes to the ground.

Ona ducked under the bar and stepped into Lucy’s personal space, she noticed a slight blush on the English woman her cheeks, but then again that could be from warming up.

Ona shook her head, thinking it was her mind playing tricks with her, ‘’so what next’’ she asked.

Lucy looked up at her with surprise but quickly put on a neutral face again, ‘’have you ever bench pressed?’’.

‘’Ofcourse’’ Ona chuckled.

Lucy insisted on showing Ona the best technique and did a few quick sets with the weights she had grabbed for Ona.

However, when Ona did the sets with those weights it went a lot less smoothly.

After the set Ona set up and set the weights down on the ground.

Lucy took place on the bench next to her, ‘’have you ever heard about the mind-muscle connection?’’.

‘’no’’ Ona said as she shook her head.

‘’Okay, so during an exercise touching the muscle is a great way to help increase the mind-muscle connection. When you physically touch the muscle, it provides tactile feedback that can be used to better understand which muscles are being targeted and how they should feel during an exercise’’. Lucy explained.

‘’Look’’ she said as she did a bicep curl, ‘’I am working my bicep right now, so then I’ll tap or touch the muscle and that will eventually help with increasing strength in that muscle’’.

Ona sighed, ‘’okay, so you are going to be poking my biceps as I bench press’’.

‘’With a bench press we target arms, shoulders and chest’’ Lucy said, ‘’one of the most useful exercise to work on your mind-muscle connection with, as you automatically start to use the muscles that are touched more then when you just do it, it helps with knowing from where you need to provide strength into the push’’.

‘’Okay lets do it professora’’ Ona chuckled.

While she was benching the weights Lucy poked the concerning muscles, but Ona couldn´t really take it serious, she was getting distracted with the way Lucy´s hands were resting on her chest now, just above her boobs.

´´don´t be so distracted Ona, focus´´ Lucy said, as she noticed Ona slowing her pace.

´´Allright´´ she said, and Lucy retracted her hands at her sudden harsh voice, the effect she hoped it would have, she dropped the weights besides her, ´´you sit here´´ she said as she stood up.

Lucy looked at her confused, ´´what?’’.

‘’Go sit here and do bench presses’’.

Lucy was confused but went to do what Ona ordered, as she had took the weights in her hands she started, ‘’just like this’’ she carefully said.

‘’Yes’’ Ona said as she took place on Lucy’s lap, ‘’go on, keep going’’ she said as she let her hands travel along Lucy’s arms, shoulders, chest and ended at her abs, as Lucy stopped and looked confused at her she repeated what the English woman had told her earlier, ´´don´t be so distracted Lucy, focus´´.

Lucy chuckled, ‘’I wasn’t sitting on your lap’’.

‘’I wasn’t grinding into your ass’’ Ona bit back.

Lucy set the weights besides her, ´´I’m sorry.. I couldn´t..

´´couldn´t what Lucy?’’ Ona sat as she leaned closer towards Lucy’s face, ‘’couldn’t help but wanting to feel my ass?’’.

The English woman swallowed hard, she knew it wasn’t professional of her.

Ona bit her lip as she looked at the woman squirming below her.

She leant to whisper something in Lucy’s ear, ‘’I am going to take a shower’’ she said before softly laying a single kiss in Lucy neck and getting up.

Without turning around she walked towards the changing room, hoping Lucy would follow her.

Lucy scrambled to sit up and wondered what the fuck just happened, she was very confused, a part of screamed that she should follow the woman, another part said to stay in the gym, as she had done more then enough.

-I am going to take a shower-, the words repeated over and over in her head, if Ona really wouldn’t have wanted her to follow her she would’ve surely said something else right, and not give her a kiss.

Without more contemplation Lucy jumped up, she hurried to the changing room and got in, the shower was already running, Lucy spotted Ona’s clothing on the bench.

‘’Uhm’’ Lucy cleared her throat, ‘’sorry’’.

‘’I can’t here you’’ Ona called from under the water, ‘’what did you say?’’.

Lucy stepped closer to the shower, the shower was just an extension of the dressing room, separated by a tiled wall and a corner, in there were 4 showerheads, which turned out to be the stupidest setup ever, as only one person showered here at a time, but they hadn’t thought about it like that when she helped designing the place.

‘’Sorry’’ she tried again.

Ona chuckled, ‘’Luce come here’’.

Lucy stepped along the wall and was met with a very wet, very naked Ona.

Ona grinned and walked towards Lucy, ‘’it’s okay’’ she said before pressing the taller woman against the wall, ‘’but now you've triggered something in me’’.

‘’w-what’’.

‘’Strip’’ Ona said coldly.

Lucy did as told and stepped out of her shoes before she threw her clothes in to the dressing room, in the same undressed state as the Spaniard she walked back to her.

‘’Good’’ Ona said as she pulled Lucy by her wrist to join her under the weak beam of warm water.

Lucy closed her arms around Ona and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

Ona groaned and broke the kiss, ‘’I don’t know what it is but I feel a weirdly big amount of attraction towards you’’.

Lucy narrowed her eyes, ‘’thanks I guess, I think you’re very hot too’’.

‘’No’’ Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’I mean, I have never not been able to suppress the urge to fuck someone’’.

Lucy smirked, ‘’it’s hard when it’s that good’’.

Ona rolled her eyes again, ‘’shut up, your dumb words turn me off’’ she said before kissing Lucy again.

The English woman grinned against Ona’s lips as her hand roamed Ona’s body until they settled between her legs, ‘’Do you get wet when you’re turned off?’’ she asked with an annoying smirk on her face, ‘’or where you lying’’.

‘’I am not lying’’ Ona said as turned them around, ‘’you’re the hottest when your mouth is closed’’.

Lucy chuckled as Ona dropped to her knees and kissed along her upper thighs. ‘’Or when you are cumming’’ Ona added before tugging one of Lucy’s legs on to her shoulder.

She made sure Lucy’s other leg was planted firmly on the ground before she buried her head in between the woman’s legs. Lucy closed her eyes as the shorter woman hungrily started eating her out. Ona reached around Lucy to grab her ass and guided her to grind down on her face. The muscular woman let out a groan and gripped Ona’s hair. The groans of Lucy and humming of Ona echoed in the tiled room.

With a hand coming down on the Catalans shoulder, pressing into her, she almost lost balance for a second, but she recovered and gripped tighter into the flesh of Lucy’s ass while she kept fucking with her tongue in and out of her entrance.

The leg that was hanging over her shoulder started jolting as Ona heard the breath of the woman above her get more and more unsteady. Lucy felt she was about to come undone and braced herself on Ona and the shower wall, grabbing the rod where the shower was connected to.

She bit her lips as she looked down at the beautiful woman bobbing her head between her own legs, she grabbed the hair she was holding and pulled at the roots as she pushed the head deeper into her core. Ona moaned at the act, a shiver traveled along Lucy’s spine at the vibration.

‘’Fuck’’ she breathed, ‘’I’m cumming’’.

At that last word her voice went up her voice went up an octave and her eyes rolled back while an electric pulse travelled through her body. Ona kept lapping at Lucy, dirty sounds filling the room, only when Lucy’s hips started jerking from sensitivity, she stopped. Only now she realized how hard she had been holding onto Lucy and she caressed the skin gently before pulling her hands back. She sat back and stood up to look at Lucy.

The English woman wore a dopey grin, with hooded eyes she smiled at Ona, ‘’that was amazing’’ she said as if she was under the influence of drugs.

‘’Good’’ Ona said, ‘’because I need this to be our last time’’.

At those words Lucy seemed to get sobered up immediately, ‘’I’m not done’’ she said.

Ona rolled her eyes but couldn’t ignore the way she felt her core pulsing at Lucy’s hungry gaze. Lucy stepped closer and kissed her. Lucy grinned as she felt the Catalan pushing herself against her, almost searching for some kind of relieve with the way her core searches for one of Lucy’s thighs.

‘’Not here’’ Lucy said as she broke the kiss, ‘’come home with me’’.

PART 2

#lucy bronze smut #woso smut #woso fanfics #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze x ona batlle #woso #woso imagine #ona batlle smut #ona batlle

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recreationalfanfics · 1 month

Text

Twisted Wonderland x Lab Rats Crossover HCs

The world's first bionic superhumans.

They're stronger than us. Faster. Smarter.

The next generation of the human race is-

STUCK IN TWISTED WONDERLAND?!

Because I'm hyperfixtaited and love making crossovers, I've decided to make a crossover where YOU can choose which Davenport sibling you want to be and what dorm you'd be sorted in and what your life would be like as a bionic human in Twisted Wonderland. The reader will be using gender neutral pronouns but if I overlooked some please let me know!

Feel free to send in asks or questions about this AU!

Before We Get Started:

- Ace and Deuce are still your very first besties and are the ones who meet you first.

- Grim is your precious kitty and still calls you his bionic henchuman and definetly uses you to get out of situations he got himself stuck in.

- I'm sorry but Crowley is so Donald Davenport coded so you're not as surprised or annoyed by his narcissistic tendencies.

- You've been here at NRC for a while, as a result, Ignihyde managed to build you a bionic recharge chamber in Ramshackle.

- I haven't finished book 7 yet so pls keep that in mind.

- I'm rewatching the show currently but I'm not following any specific timeline.

Adam Davenport! Reader:

- The thembo of your siblings and now, of NRC.

- Okay, but imagine that you see your little brother, Leo, in Ace and Deuce. Ace obviously reminding you of Leo's more mischievous and clever side and Deuce reminding you of his more well-natured and clumsy side. As for Grim, HE'S LIKE THE PET YOU NEVER GOT TO HAVE.

- The fact that you're living at a school is your worst nightmare though. Trien and Crewel have you absolutely stressed😭 During studying sessions, Ace and Deuce get somewhat annoyed with you but they do know it doesn't come easy so they help you study by explaining it to you the same way they would to a five year old.

- But, thanks to your awesome durability that you keep hidden from teachers, if you guys ever feel unprepared for a test then you just casually fall down the stairs and Ace and Deuce act all worried for your safety and BRAVELY volunteer to skip class. However, you kept using it as an excuse a bit too often much to Ace and Deuce's dismay so they eventually caught on.

- You are the BANE of Riddle's existence, you have no regard for the rules AND you aren't able to be collared. Much like how it is with Floyd, Riddle openly despises you but unlike Floyd, YOU DON'T CATCH ON THAT HE DISLIKES YOU. Which makes him feel guilty and puts him at an impasse.

- Since Riddle's collars only work on people with magic, imagine that you can just rip it off with your bionic strength. When Riddle first used his unique magic on you, Ace and Deuce were in ramshackle when you walked in with one of the collars on.

Ace: "OH NO, RIDDLE PUT A COLLAR ON Y/N!"

You: "Haha, guys, check out this dope friendship necklace Riddle gave me! I'm gonna take it off and put it somewhere safe! AW, MAN, I BROKE IT....I'm gonna ask me to make another one!" and then they have to stop you.

- LOWKEY, SAVANNACLAW IS THE PERFECT PLACE FOR YOU. The other guys love having you there but also, they will be nicer to other students because you are still a hero after all. When you see them messing with other people, you lift them up and put them in air jail.

- You're like Leona's little court jester ngl. While you're not a complete idiot, you're pretty foolish and it can get entertaining for a while but when you get a bit too destructive, he will have Ruggie escort you out. He likes to take naps on you, though, especially because if someone disturbs him then you shoot a warning shot with your laser vision and are all: "SHHH! The kitty is sleeping!" But if Grim chooses to kick Leona out of your lap, you 100% obey your favorite kitty.

- Jack is your one-sided rival. He wants to be just as strong as you and demands to train with you. He even tries to copy your work out regimen and kinda stalks you to try and learn how you're so strong but then he sees you casually lifting up the sports shack for Vargas.

- BRO, AZUL WOULD 100% TRY TO PUT YOU IN A CONTRACT. A strong bionic superhuman with laser vision AND the ability to breathe underwater whose incredibly stupid and naive? It's like you were sent to him by the Seven themselves. So Ace, Deuce, and Grim and your other friends have to steer you away from him.

- Azul: "Y/N?~ Would you be interested in a deal!"

- You: "Yeah, sure! Just let me finish my applesauce."

- Ace: "Y/N, NO! You're not allowed to make deals with Azul, he's a shady businessman, remember?"

- You: "Ooooh, okay. Sorry then, but I can't."

- Floyd: "Silly Tiger Shrimp, it's opposite day!~"

- You: "Okay! Sorry guys, I have to make a deal with Azul- Wait, I mean NOT make a deal with Azul! Hehe~"

- KALIM IS IN AWE OF YOUR STRENGTH, Jamil thinks that you're a clumsy and reckless fool and he doesn't trust you around Kalim. Like, Kalim was talking about how Jamil is so awesome at basketball and in awe of how high he jumps so you're all: "Haha, wanna see what it's like?" and Jamil walked in on you THROWING THE HEIR OF THE AL-ASIM FAMILY AT A HOOP.

- Jamil: "KALIM, ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?"

- Kalim, on the ground: "THAT WAS AWESOME!"

- You're not allowed in Scarabia without supervision, nevermind that you have to be a certain distance away from Kalim because JAMIL REFUSES TO LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN.

- YOU ARE EPEL'S HERO, HE TOTALLY LOVES HEARING YOUR STORIES ABOUT SAVING YOUR WORLD AND THINKS YOU'RE AMAZING. Like, Vil is forcing you to sit down for a makeover and you're all: "Oh, this is like the time I had to sit still to get ready for my interview after stopping an asteroid from hitting the planet." and Epel is all: "AWESOME!" and Rook is next to you and is all: "Tell us more about this enchanting tale, mon cœur brave!~" and Vil is trying to stop you from eating make up.

- I'm sorry but Epel would so try to convince you to throw Plasma Grenades at Vil when he's overblotted😭 and he's all: "What!? I'm sure it won't hurt him that bad!"

- During book 6, YOU ACTUALLY DON'T THINK IDIA'S FAMILY HQ IS THAT CREEPY and you feel so nostalgic. Like, they go through the sanitation station and you're all: "Aw, this reminds me of my capsule back at my dad's lab in his basement...I miss my dad...and Bree and Leo and Tasha...and beating up Chase...AND CHASE!"

- But when you're fighting the other overblot monsters, that's when you show how much of a competent hero you are. You're protecting everyone and keeping them safe, as well as doing your best to keep the monsters away as your fellow classmates try to recharge the thunder spears.

- Idia would totally want to uncover your bionic biology to see if he could improve upon Ortho and you're just there like: "WOAH. At least take a bionic person out to dinner first before you ask to dissect them, man-" and Idia just being all flustered.

- YOU AND ORTHO being technogically advanced buddies, obviously there's huge differences between you guys but YOU AND HIM JUST HAVING SLEEPOVERS AND IT'S JUST YOUR CHARGING PODS BEING IN THE SAME ROOM. Anyways, he totally brings out the older sibling instincts with you and Idia kinda tolerates you and your thembo ways.

- MALLEUS THINKS YOU'RE SO FUNNY and he just laughs when you say something foolish but Sebek is all: "STAY AWAY FROM LORD MALLEUS, your ignorance is an insult to his majesty!" and you just kinda wanna bully him a little bit because he reminds you of Chase but in a bad way. When Silver falls asleep, you just carrying him around and stuff because he's your friend! Lillia also finds you amusing as well ngl, you're such a spirit young individual.

Chase Davenport! Reader:

- OKAY, BUT YOU LOWKEY PANICKED AT THE REALIZATION OF NOT BEING IN YOUR WORLD. Not only because you're in a strange and totally unfamiliar world but BECAUSE YOU'RE NO LONGER THE SMARTEST PERSON.

- Ace and Deuce during the detention thing were just staring at you weirdly as you read and try to get as much information on the world of Twisted Wonderland as much as possible. Grim literally having to sit on all of your books or swat them out of your hands.

- Even though you respect and like rules, you think that the ones in Heartslabyul are kind of excessive but YOU STUDY THEM REGARDLESS because you will not be caught lacking. So when Ace and Deuce come to you and they're collared, you're all: "Ha, let me guess, you forgot to take your shoes and wear them around your neck today, huh? Amateurs." and they just glare at you or roll your eyes.

- Despite that, as an experienced team leader, you can somewhat influence the Adeuce doubt and Grim to listen to you and they do respect you to some degree when you're not being a know it all. GRIM WILL BRAG ABOUT HOW SMART YOU ARE and try to convince you to let him copy your work and you're all: "Grim, when you cheat, you're only cheating yourself." and he just hisses at you and you roll your eyes.

- Tbh, I love the idea that when Riddle went through his Overblot, you were using your bionic supervision to analyze the threat but then Ace punched Riddle and you're all: "Oh, okay, that works too, I guess."

- While Adam! (Y/n) would fight the Overblots, your concern would lie in protecting your fellow students so you tell Adeuce and Grim and any other students to come close to you and you activate your force field to protect you and them.

- During the whole Savannaclaw thing, you were the first to figure out about Leona's whole plan but you were quickly humbled when he Overblotted. When he's done, you and him bond about being younger brothers with older brothers. TO BE FAIR, Leona admits that you have it worse because Falena doesn't constantly throw him around.

- Also, if you have a sensory overload because of your enhanced senses; I can totally see Savannaclaw kind of having a room to calm down because, like, they're Beatmen. You don't necessarily like Savannaclaw but they do think your martial arts skills are cool.

- DURING THE EVENTS OF BOOK 3 IS WHEN YOU ACTIVATE YOUR COMMANDO MODE and everyone meets your alter ego, Spike. Like, Floyd is threatening you and your commando app takes over and you and him duke it out. When you finally take control, Floyd is all: "WE HAVE TO DO THAT AGAIN, DWARF SHRIMPY! THAT WAS SO FUN!" and you're confused while Jade is all: "Huh, who knew Bionic Humans can be so interesting and complex!"

- But yeah, while Azul took you as a fool, you do a very good job at finding loopholes and mistakes in his contracts to help people out of them. Which he would find respectable but sadly, that's bad for business. So much like he does with Jamil, HE WOULD SO WANT YOU TO JOIN OCTAVINELLE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. IMAGINE THE PROFITS.

- During Schemer of the Scalding Sands, you totally agree with Jamil and sympathize with the fact that he never got to have a normal childhood. HOWEVER, he is still doing bad things and as a hero, you can't excuse that behavior. I can see you guys being good friends and bonding with each other.

- ALSO, Chase was always awkward girls so imagine that you're awkward around pretty people in general. Like, you meet Vil and your brain short circuits and you're all: "H-Hi!" or you'll be explaining things and Vil is all: "Davenport, I need you to help me with something!" and you just turn around to face him and you're all: "...Y-Yeah, sure! Okay! Wow, your eyes are so pretty-" You also totally agree with his perfectionism and not just because he's the most jaw dropping person you've ever seen but also because you're a perfectionist yourself.

- YOU'D BE IN THE SCIENCE CLUB WITH ROOK AND TREY. Mostly to learn about the amazing science of this new world but also, you show off a bit of science of your own. Trey is super impressed by your knowledge of chemistry and Rook is their like: "Oh, how does one become as smart and charming as you?" and then you just giggle and blush and you're all: "Haha. You don't mean that~...Do you?"

- LIKE THE REGULAR CHASE, YOU'RE ALSO A HUGE CUTIE. You would totally love to watch cartoons and play pranks on people except they're completely harmless pranks. Jade will do something to annoy you and you'll be all:

Y/n: "Jade might think he got the best of me but little does he know, I'll get the last laugh!"

Ace: "I've never seen this side of you before, Y/n. What'd you do?"

Y/n: "I switched his No. 2 pencil with a number 1 pencil. LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE SMUDGED NOTES, LEECH. CAN I GET A HIGH FIVE!?"

- And all of the first years just look at you and leave you hanging and you frown and you're all: "See, its perfect because No.1 pencils are higher in graphite and much softer, so they're more prone to smudging-" and they're all: "No, (Y/n), we get it. It's still stupid."

- I can see you hanging out in the Ignihyde dorm, mostly because they have all the resources needed to try and figure out how to get back home but also, I can imagine that after a few months of coaxing and bonding with Idia, you guys would become friends due to your love for your siblings and your awkward ways.

- I CAN TOTALLY IMAGINE YOU AND HIM GAMING WITH LILIA, aka, Muscle Red. I can also see that Ortho would adore seeing you and his brother getting along, until you both sneak out of gym together to go and play your video games.

- I love the idea that you would love to listen to Malleus talk about gargoyles and you'd look up things with your supercomputer brain. You also would love your guys' walks because he can talk to you and inform you more about the magic in your world and you can talk to him about the science in yours. Your mind is still getting used to the idea of magic but Malleus would totally love to see your views on everything.

- SEBEK THINKS YOU'RE AN INSOLENT HUMAN, how dare you think your stupid human brain can match to that of the Great Malleus!? But he does admire your dedication to knowledge. SILVER SOMETIMES DOZES OFF WHEN YOU TALK but you're used to it and sigh but Silver tries to assure you it wasn't because he was bored.

Bree Davenport! Reader:

- Much like the ICON that is Bree Davenport, you will 100% sass back Crowley. He has to ask advice from Mozus on how to approach you since he's handled sassy teenagers before but that knowledge is sadly limited when it comes to BIONIC sassy teenagers.

- Not to mention that you're very maliciously compliant with him. When he asks you to run an errand and tries to imply he'll turn off Ramshackle's electricity if you don't, you just roll your eyes and go do it. But NOT BEFORE YOU TRASH HIS OFFICE WITH YOUR SPEED.

- When it comes to Grim, you totally decorate him with cute little bows and pamper him but you guys also exchange witty comebacks and retorts once in a while.

- ACE WOULD LOVE TO PIGGY BACK RIDE YOU SO HE'S NOT LATE TO CLASSES. At first, you did it out of the kindness of your heart but when he kept trying to trick you or guilt trip you, you ended up just dropping him off on the opposite side of campus from his classes. He was made but Deuce defended you.

- You're a little bit of a romantic as well, sometimes bordering on delulu but to be fair; you were raised in a basement and occasionally allowed to watch high school musical dramas. And being sent to a magical all-boys college is a dream come true!

- Until you have to deal with overblots and the very real possibility of innocent people dying, then you're just reminded that this world isn't SUPER different from your other world but being a hero is a never-ending job.

- You don't really get along with Riddle but you and Cater would be such good friends, you carry him to take him to places he said would be so "magicamable" and you turn invisible and listen in on all of the juicy gossip so you can report back to him and you two can giggle about it.

- You would 100% be able to tame the rowdy Savnnaclaw students because size doesn't scare you. You would be a little bit of a simp for Leona because he fits your type and he gets kind of annoyed by it but when you go back to your usual sassy and fiery self, he does kind of think twice.

- As for Jack, he admires your speed and likes joining you on runs. You happily let him know whether he's getting faster than you or not, even if he knows it's not achievable to be as fast as you, you do a good job of helping him monitor his progress. He reminds you of a smarter more competent version of Adam!

- You and Ruggie would team up to sometimes do small jobs, only if he handles the gross stuff just because you personally can't, but delivery jobs are up your alley because of your speed and you guys split the profits.

- Speaking of profits, AZUL WOULD LOVE TO TRAP YOU IN A CONTRACT TO WORK AT THE MONSTRO LOUNGE. When you briefly took Ace and Deuce's place to work, you were a one person serving machine. Getting impatient when dishes weren't done fast enough, you ran in the kitchen and took care of everything yourself.

- However, he now tries to make it not so obvious because the last time he did, you created an tornado with your super speed and shot him and his creepy twins from it. Floyd thought it was the coolest thing ever and begs you to do it again, while Jade pretended to sniffle as he mourned about how, "rude bionic humans are to poor eels like them."

- As for Scarabia, after Jamil sends you guys into the dessert and they have to make an oasis, you're just there like, "So...I'm going to just speed my way back to the dorm. Meet you guys there!" and then you're off.

- I DO THINK YOU'D BE IN THE POP MUSIC CLUB WITH KALIM, CATER, AND LILLIA. So after the events of book 4, you do kinda make sure Kalim doesn't put so much on Jamil. Such as throwing a party and you help him with the decorations instead so Jamil can have a break or, at the very least, you handle the clean up yourself.

- Also, you're not as surprised as everyone else is when Kalim decides to forgive him, purely because your uncle/father was forgiven from killing you and your family multiple times.

- OKAY BUT YOU WOULD SO BE IN POMEFIORE, after all, you've longed to be an ideal sophisticated and classy version of yourself. However, it simply isn't possibly when you're around your brothers who love to mess with you and tease you. So Vil is your go-to when it comes to makeovers and bonding. I'M SORRY BUT BOTH OF YOU BONDING OVER BEING NEPO BABIES *but well deserving nepo-babies* and it's nice to finally have make up without someone EATING IT OR DOING SOME WEIRD SCIENCE THING WITH IT.

- Rook, per usual, will be a freak as always and try to hunt and stalk you like he does with Leona and the other non humans. According to him, you are "the most elegant of prey. With the eyes of a soulful bird and the speed of a gazelle." and you'll use your speed to run away from him but he would totally have a list of places that you would run too and meet you there.

- Like Bree, you always wanted to have a friend that was a girl so you totally mistook Epel as one and that did not bode well for the both of you. Still, you make it up to him and tell him about how being strong and manly isn't really all it's cracked up to be.

- When it comes to Idia, he gets so nervous and flustered around you because you're so...peppy. Whenever you speed into his lab, he gets all nervous and flustered. Sometimes you tease him about being a nerd but you mean it in a loving way. YOU ADORE ORTHO THOUGH. He's such a cute little guy♡

- When fighting overblots, I can imagine you use your super speed to evacuate everyone and use your invisibility to jump out and surprise them at the last second.

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