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honestsycrets · 10 months

Text

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.”

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program.

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for.

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking--

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well.

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together.

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers.

“You’ll be working with me.”

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.”

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious. Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.”

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.”

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

“Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?”

“Me.”

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--”

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.”

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?”

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.”

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences.

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out.

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace. Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed.

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder.

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all.

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.”

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side.

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.”

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine.

“Gracias. From where?”

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?”

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.”

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.

“You like my sad love life?”

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.”

“Is that a request or an order?”

“A date.”

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too.

“Miguel?”

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.”

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?”

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely.

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.”

“Even you?”

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.”

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?”

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips.

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?”

“Swaying is good.”

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong.

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!”

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.”

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.”

“No need! I--”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late?

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.”

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky.

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.”

“Hm?”

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet.

“I told you not to wander off.”

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.”

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.”

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?”

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?”

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.”

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for.

He doesn’t make mistakes.

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed--

“Miggy?”

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?”

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?”

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.”

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside.

“You didn’t--”

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.” Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.”

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe.

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.”

“I am.”

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.”

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples. You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.”

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…”

“Lay down,” he told you.

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face.

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.”

You flushed.

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch.

“Touch yourself for me.”

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man.

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission.

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.”

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his.

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand.

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?”

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.”

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.”

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest.

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,”

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.”

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor.

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain.

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--”

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.”

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock, clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks.

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva.

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice.

“Sí,” you answered.

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.”

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.”

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Good. Let's fix our project.”

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spider 2099 imagine #across the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #spider 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut

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babiebom · 1 month

Note

Heyyy! I was wondering if u could do the bachelors & bachelorettes reactin to / dating an s/o who has really intense nose bleeds when they're stressed. But plot twist bc this is literally the norm for the farmer bc they have crippling anxiety, especially social.

Thank u sm!!

A/N: I don’t know why I thought this was funny??? My anxiety just makes my stomach upset but a nosebleed in front of everyone like some sort of anxious demon is funny. Not the clean up tho. I’ve never had a nosebleed but I know they bleed SO MUCH. Also no problemo!!! Always glad to get requests!! I did different things (so not just stressed because I would’ve written the same thing for anyone I made crush aspects as sort of for stress too lmao) for each hopefully they’re good enough!

Tw: cursing, blood, anxiety, the nose bleeds are VERY dramatic because it’s fiction lmao. Physical fights(in Leah’s part), arguments(in almost all of them). Pierre hate Pam hate(kinda) Demetrius hate Morris hate. And Kel is gender neutral! let me know if there’s anything else to tag!

Wc: idk lmao hopefully at least 100 words for each

Stardew Masterlist

Sebastian:

Just frowns

Actually helps unexpectedly

….we can never talk about this happening again if you want……

It’s not often that you get to see the towns resident emo, even after visiting Robin multiple times for various building needs. So when you wander into the house, looking for Robin so you can upgrade your coop, seeing him makes your brain malfunction.

“Oh…hey farmer.” He greets, moving past you to head further into the house. You blink for a second before returning the greeting, watching as his dark hoodie disappears behind a wall.

You try to force your breathing to slow down. There is absolutely NO reason you should be this worked up over a literal one second conversation. While you sit with your thoughts, foot steps fill your ears and the sight of Sebastian returning from wherever he went makes all of your progress regress. “So…you here waiting for my mom?”

You nod quickly, clearing your throat, “yeah…um…just need to upgrade my chicken coop.”

“Oh well, she’s not in today. She usually goes to Pierre’s store to work out with the other moms.”

You frown to yourself, how did you miss that she wouldn’t be in today? Damn now all you can think about is how you just made a fool of yourself. Lost in your thoughts, you miss that Sebastian had cleared his throat a couple times until he waves a hand in front of your face.

“If you want, I can take your order and tell her when she gets home later. That way she can get started tomorrow.”

“Would you?” Your heart flips as you perk up. Was he usually this nice? You kinda heard from Robin herself that Sebastian never really interacted with people he wasn’t already friends with.

“Yeah sure.” He shrugs and moves to go around the counter, setting his slowly cooling food down. “Okay so she usually charges 10,000g and you have to have 400 logs of wood and 150 things of stone. Sound right?”

You nod and hand over the bag of money. The second your hands touch it’s like your body decided it couldn’t handle anything else from him. Luckily he just takes the money and pretends like your nose hasn’t become a geyser as you scramble to try to keep the blood from dripping all over their furniture.

Sam:

WOAH DUDE IS THAT LIKE….NORMAL?

it’s like from a movie or something

Is overall sorta scared but at the same time thinks it’s cool

“And this is how I do a kick flip!” Sam shows you skateboard trick after trick and honestly you can’t get enough of it. It wasn’t a secret that the both of you had crushes on each other, and even now it was very obvious by how you were watching him do his tricks that you had feelings for him. Yet still you two weren’t in a relationship, just sort of friends who like each other in a romantic sort of way.

“You’re so cool!” You clap as he lands another trick.

“And you’re cute!”

“What?”

You freeze in your spot and watch in confusion as he sort of freezes midway through his next trick and crashes to the ground. His words echo in your head, making your face heat up and your heart soar. He smacks his face on the ground, sending you into a panic because now all you can think about is how he thinks you’re cute, and now how he probably has a concussion from hitting his face directly onto the concrete.

When he lifts his face off the ground, you’re kneeling next to him, trying to check on him. His forehead is bleeding, his nose is bleeding, and so is his mouth. You shriek and try to go through your backpack to see if you have anything to help him. You didn’t.

You already know where this is leading, and you let out a groan of annoyance right before your nose starts leaking just like his. His eyes widen and he lets out a loud laugh. Maybe you two can move out of the weird friendship you have after all.

Shane:

Would just stare silently

Like no comments no nothing

Doesn’t even act like it’s happening

Having a part time job at Joja Mart during the winter is one of the absolute worst ideas that you’ve had in a while. But you didn’t make a lot during your first year of farming. Stacking the products onto the shelves, your only saving Grace is the fact that you’re allowed to have earphones in. Except for the fact that Pam is now standing next to you asking loudly about where something is. Shane is stacking the shelves behind you.

“I don’t know Pam…the alcohol is probably on the wall in the back.” You frown at her. She obviously knows that you don’t know this store that well, you were a FARMER that NEVER shopped here before. She rasps out another question and it takes everything in you to not snap at her. Trying to calm yourself of course there’s gonna be something else that makes you lose your mind. That something is Morris, coming over and being the absolute WORST and in turn making Pam LOUDER and more insistent.

He’s lecturing you, Pam is agreeing with him way too loudly, the music on your headphones is now overwhelming instead of calming, and the sound of random things in the market is making you want to bite a chunk out of the loaves of bread in front of you, plastic and all. With everything building up inside of you, you already know what’s going to happen. It always happens, but instead of excusing yourself you stand there, staring Morris down as the blood begins to flow from your nostrils.

Pam yells out curses and Morris begins to stutter, but behind them Shane just stares for a second before continuing to work. When you’re finally left alone with him in the aisle as your two stressors hastily take their leave, all he does is let out a dry chuckle.

“Sam has a hell of a mess to clean up…”

Alex:

Oh DUDE your nose is like….LEAKING

Doesn’t help

Just watched and comments

“AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO TELL PEOPLE THAT MY HARVESTS ARE HIS BUT HE ONLY DOES IT IF ITS GOOD!” You rant to the brown haired boy, pacing back and forth in his room. Thankfully both Evelyn and George were out so you weren’t bothering anyone except for the man in front of you.

You huff and puff as he watches, slightly amused slightly concerned. Alex wasn’t the best person to go to when you’re upset unless it was something absolutely devastating. So being in front of him now, complains about your farming woes meant that he was only half ass taking it seriously. “You should go and speak your mind.” He says.

Turns out you should NOT take advice from Alex. Standing in Pierre’s shop, you’re staring him down angrily, anxiety creeping up your throat from you trying to will yourself to call him out on his bullshit. The older man just kind of stares at you in confusion because all you had done was shout his name angrily as you entered the shop then stand in front of him seething.

“You….you…..” you point a finger at him. This was the moment, the moment you stand up for yourself and tell Pierre how HORRIBLE he is!

But of course things don’t work how you want and your nose gushes out blood all over the counter before you can work yourself up to the point of accusations. With a gasp you run out of the shop, hoping that he would keep his mouth shut with Alex running behind you laughing. Again, NEVER let Alex talk you into anything.

Elliott:

Panics

How do I help PLS LET ME HELP

Everything probably gets messy

Fishing had never been your favorite pastime, but now trying to fix up the community center you had to. Unfortunately Willy was gone and couldn’t properly teach you even though he had gifted you an old rod of his, so the next best thing is getting your boyfriend to teach you since he does fish often. Now you stand on the docks, waiting for a fish to bite the hook.

“Keep calm, the fish can feel your fear and it makes them upset.” Elliott spoke. In all honesty you didn’t even know if that was true or not, but you take in a breath to calm down. You did not want to be here all day you had cows to pet.

The second your line begins to pull you try to pull the fish in. And you succeed until it comes time to unhook the eel you managed to catch. The eel is slimy and slippery and all around not a good thing to try to grip. A shriek leaves your lips and the eel struggles, Elliott tries to help you but is also struggling to catch hold of it. And now your nose is bleeding adding another layer to the already hellish experience.

You’re unhappy, the eel is unhappy, and Elliott is unhappy. After what seems like an hour, the stupid thing slips out of your grips and back into the ocean, washing your nose blood off of it and splashing you with saltwater. 0 out of 10 you will not be trying again.

Harvey:

Calm but concerned(after panicking for a second)

Has a doctory approach to it

But is secretly like WTF inside

Your heart thumps in your chest as you sit on the clinic bed. It’s been a while since you’ve been in Harvey’s clinic, having taken a break from the mines, and somehow this seems more shameful than having been beaten almost to death by living slime. Your hands bleed into the cloth you have pressed into it. One of the pigs knocked you over into the broken fence you were in the middle of fixing. Now you sit waiting for the good looking Doctor.

When he walks in he’s all smiles, tapping his clipboard with his pen. “While I’m sad to see that you’re injured, I’m glad to see it isn’t from those mines again.” The eye contact he makes with you makes your heart twist for a second.

He starts speaking of all the shots you need and the antibiotics you need to take, rust poisoning is quite serious you know. “Now,” he says, moving towards you, “let me see your hand.”

Your heart thumps erratically at the close proximity of him and you. You only really ever got to see him this close when you were half dead and barely conscious. His face is much too close for you to be able to do anything but focus on how pretty his eyes are, and how fluffy his mustache is, and how…

“OH MY DEAR YOBA” He yelps and jumps away from you. It takes only a second after him to realize what’s going on, and now your furiously wiping away at your nose with your hands instead of with the cloth, and he’s trying to get something on your nose to catch the blood. It’s a disaster, really. But at least you’re already in a clinic!

Penny:

Probably panics

Doesn’t know how to deal with it

Would try to help though

The warmth of the pool in the spa did nothing to ease your nerves as you waded in the shallow end of the pool. Penny had invited you to come sometime after 7 pm, and when you had arrived she was already waiting for you, kicking her feet in the pool. The thought of her asking you here made your stomach turn, did you do something wrong…? Was she inviting you here to tell you she hated you or something…? You had grown close to her over your time here and would hate it if she thought you were too much or something.

“Do you know why I invited you here?” She asks, moving closer but keeping her eyes on the water.

You shake your head, “I’m not exactly sure, no.”

She frowns and sighs at you, meeting your eyes for a fleeting second then looking elsewhere. “Really? I thought you would’ve noticed by now…” her words trail off and her eyebrows furrow.

The next few seconds are ones that you simultaneously want to remember for forever and forget. She confesses her feelings for you. Feelings that you obviously reciprocate, and the emotions in you mix and grow, rising up your throat as if you were a volcano of conflicting feelings. As soon as you open your mouth to tell her that yes, you like her too, her face morphs into one that’s horrified instead of hopeful, disgusted instead of smitten and you realize a second after she does that your nose is spouting red, dyeing the water you both were swimming in.

Penny shrieks for a solid second before trying to scramble out of the water as fast as she can. You do the same, swirling the red around the pool as both of you splash trying to exit the now crime scene looking pool. When you get out of the water, she’s holding a towel right in your face, smooshing it so hard you can barely breathe and now your nose is throbbing with slight pain. “What do we do?!” She asks moving about quickly. She’s so confused that she just keeps walking and turning as if she’s remembering and forgetting things at the same time.

You just tilt your head downward and cringe inwardly, this was not the way to get a girl to like you. “It’s fine…I’m fine,” you say voice nasally and muffled. “And I like you too by the way.”

Haley:

confused staring

wtf is happening

Actually speechless

It isn’t every day that you get to talk to a beautiful blonde. It isn’t even every day that you talk to anyone. So when she approaches you on one of your trips off of your farm you couldn’t help but feel like either everything is out to get you or that you’re up on your luck. You don’t really know for sure, it honestly depends on how things go.

“Hey farmer!” She smiles as soon as she stops in front of you, the feeling of your stomach twisting makes you want to vomit in all of your nervousness. “I have a favor to ask you…”

“Yeah?” You ask trying to keep your cool. “What is it?”

“I would totally love love LOVE you forever if you could bring me an amethyst? It’s for Emily’s birthday and I don’t really like Clint so I don’t wanna buy anything from him. I’m willing to pay 150g!”

You cough into your fist, nodding along and taken aback by how casually she’s speaking to you. Before you can accept doing her the favor, the horrified look on your face makes your words falter.

She looks absolutely horrified, and touching your hand to your face you can feel why. Your nose started dripping blood, and by dripping you mean you can now feel it running down to your chin. A flurry of curses leave your mouth as confused noises leave hers. It's not much of a surprise that this has happened, but man did you wish it wasn't in front of her.

Emily:

Surprisingly chill about it

Probably has a weird story about a nosebleed or something

Actually helps

You sit at the bar alone, upset at a horrible farming day. You tried your best, you really did, but those stupid ass crows actually ate ALL of your seedlings. Or…almost all of them but that’s basically the same thing! There is no way you’re gonna make enough to make it through winter comfortably. You told Emily exactly this, appreciative of her listening ear in the middle of her busy shift.

“You know they probably didn’t mean it…or maybe they did,” she sucks in a breath eyebrows furrowing as she thinks, “you know crows are very smart they probably know that you’re using that land to farm and stay there because of all the free food.”

“But it’s not free!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in annoyance, “I have to buy those seeds! They’re just putting me into debt!”

She hums and nods, wiping the bar next to you where a person had just left. You had only a couple months left until the snow started falling and making it virtually impossible to grow anything. The little plants you had left you had to fight the crows for. And by fight I mean you angrily swung a broom at the with the intent of scaring them (not hitting them that’s mean). Still the growing anger inside you was not easily crushed by her warm and quite frankly outlandish words. No, in fact your anger grew the more you thought about it.

You felt it coming before anything had even exited your nose, hurriedly snatching the rag from Emily’s hands. Damn now you would have to buy the bar a new one. She just blinks then nods as if your nose becoming a bloody waterfall was normal.

“You know…nose bleeds cause by stress is usually because your heart rate and blood pressure increase and it causes your blood vessels to dilate!”

You stare at her before laughing. Maybe she was helpful after all.

Abigail:

WOAH

WTF

WHAT DO WE DO?

You stand in front of Pierre in front of the shop, arms crossed as you watch his face grow redder the longer time goes on. “-IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY DAUGHTER?” You’re not really listening to his tirade, over the whole ‘protective dad’ thing.

“Dad I’m an adult! You have no say in who I date!” Abigail yells back, face equally red. Who would’ve known that he would have a problem with the farmer he rips off constantly dating his daughter?

He yells out more reasons that the two of you shouldn’t be dating, and in turn points a finger into your chest roughly. You sputter out an offended sound, moving away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

“You shouldn’t be touching my daughter!”

“What? Dude we just started dating, you’re weird as hell!”

The arguing only gets worse from there, accusations flying around and now an audience comes with the drama. It’s almost too much for you to handle with now Caroline, Harvey, Haley, and the Milner family standing and watching the chaos. “Abby let’s just go to my place…” you try suddenly feeling the need to escape and no longer feeling the ‘fuck you dude’ attitude.

“No! He needs to understand that he can’t control my life!”

It’s like a volcano in your body and just like a volcano your nose begins to erupt. Now you’re screaming, Abigail is screaming, Pierre is screaming, the Mullners are screaming. Could this get any worse?

Turns out yeah, it can get any worse, like a family fight worse and now all of you are sitting in Harvey’s clinic. At least you aren’t the only bloody one now.

Maru:

Is surprised

Also forgets what to do

Would probably make things worse

Maru talks about robots and space the way you would talk about her: totally and completely enamored. You sit on her bed listening to her talk about her newest invention, some sort of robot that can cook and clean and basically be a free maid. You laugh and move your arm to get in a more comfortable position to watch her. Unfortunately your arm had other plans and smacked hard into her bed post. Groaning out in pain, your eyes close and begin to water from how much your elbow hurt.

Demetrius is in your face before you even realize that he was in the room. You yelp out in surprise as he starts ranting about you ruining his daughter’s future. You blink in surprise and try to retreat back into the mattress. What was happening. You can hear Maru screaming over his words but your ears feel like they’re filled with water.

“We’re just friends!” You find yourself shouting. Like damn is the man insane? It wasn’t the first time he’s gotten upset at you over Maru, but it was the first time that he was absolutely losing his mind.

“Dad stop!”

Time froze for a second as you and Demetrius stared at each other, Maru standing near him. Breathing in you can taste blood in your mouth before your nose starts bleeding, yet you can’t bring yourself to do anything but sit and catch your breath.

“Oh my god!” Both Demetrius and Maru exclaim moving around the room trying to find something to help. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at him acting concerned now.

Thankfully Maru looked cute trying to help you which at least made things a little better.

Leah:

Is also freaking out on the inside but calm on the outside

Helps you with tissues

Is understanding

Going on a date with Leah is a dream come true. There’s paint, wine, food, and you’re sitting in the prettiest meadow you’ve ever seen, well it’s pretty because Leah is there and she’s pretty and you’ve been here multiple times because it’s near her cottage but it still looks different today.

You sit, paintbrush in hand, laughing at something she’s saying. It’s fun and if she hadn’t have asked you would’ve spent the day farming like usual, this little break was needed. The day couldn’t be ruined, absolutely nothing can ruin it.

Okay, one thing can ruin it and that one thing is Kel coming and ruining everything. The argument that ensues is one of the worst that you’ve seen. Kel tries to walk up on you(translation: Kel wants to fight you), Leah stops them but in turn gets into a fight with them which causes you to actually get up and try to defend her.

You kinda block out until you can hear Kel call out “I made your nose bleed bitch!” Which again causes you to want to drown in your anger.

“My noses is bleeding because I’m stressed, stupid!” You back. It’s obvious Kel hadn’t been able to hit your nose so claiming to be able to hit you so hard your nose bleeds isn’t even possible. It’s almost childish how the two of you argue.

Leah finally gets Kel to leave and hands you a bunch of tissues as she sits you down on the now rumpled blanket. As the two of you catch your breath and calm down, you find yourself smiling at her behind the wad of tissues catching blood flowing from your nose.

At least the situation would be funny in the future.

324 notes · View notes

jagibee · 7 months

Text

Call Me Luna

(Stray Kids x Reader)

Chapter 8

5,994 Words

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter as an apology for taking so long but also bc it was originally supposed to be two chapters and I just couldn’t find a good split point😭, and I did change the story title bc I got bored with Stray Pack but this is the same story and plot, and I’m sorry but my taglist is at its limit (which I didn’t even know existed?) so if I didn’t tag you on this post, it will be on the reblog!

Also, Happy Birthday to the love of my life who isn’t in this chapter nearly enough, but will be in the next chapter. Bang Chan, you have brought me a light and inspiration that I haven’t felt in a very long time and even if you have no idea who I am, you will always be the one for me🖤

Also

Nobody:

Me with the foreshadowing in this chap:

Let’s get started!

TW: references to sex, mentions of spanking (not necessarily sexual but could be interpreted that way)

…

You all settled down so that they could get through recording. Felix was sandwiched between you and Hyunjin, just as a small precaution in order to prevent any more growling. On your other side was Jisung and Seungmin sat on Hyunjin’s other side, providing extra padding against alphas. Chan and Changbin were both at the sound table and Minho was currently being recorded, so you didn’t have to worry much about them getting too close anyway, at least, not at this exact moment. Jeongin himself was settled at Felix’s feet like a trusty guard dog.

You, Chan, and Felix had all taken off your scent blockers as well, which helped to calm Innie down.

Minho was the last one recording, so everyone was a bit subdued. Changbin had paced around a bit while being sure to keep enough space between him and Jeongin. When the youngest alpha had recorded, everyone in the room held their collective breath, but he seemed to be doing fine.

Next to you, Jisung had leaned down so he was laying down on the couch with his feet splayed out in front of him, body posture indicating that he was zoning out, but one look at his eyes told you that he was paying rapt attention to what was happening in the recording box and at the table.

On your other side, Felix leaned his head against you and pulled out his phone instead of watching the older boys.

He pulled up Twitter and started scrolling through. You wanted to give him some privacy, but curiosity got the best of you. It’s not like he’s actively turning his phone away, you told yourself.

Once the word ‘caretaker’ caught your eye, you gave up the pretense and shifted even closer. The movement caused Felix to notice and he tilted his phone so you could see it more easily. “They’re sort of all over the place with the caretaker news.” He told you, deep voice soft as he tried to not interrupt the others. “Some people are really supportive of it but of course there are some people who think that either caretakers are sasaengs who manipulated the system so that you could be close to us, or that you’re going to steal our attention away from our fans.”

“Both of those statements are true, also, did I forget to mention I’m a spy from Dispatch meant to expose your secrets?”

Felix giggled and you let your eyes scan over the comments.

Maybe if y’all stanned TXT this wouldn’t have happened🤷‍♀️

tell this random weirdo to stay away from my lixie!!!!!!!

YALL IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS THE CARETAKER IS THE ONE IN FELIX’S BUBBLE POST

Reading over the last one, you bumped your shoulder lightly against Felix. “What exactly did your bubble post say?”

He frowned. “It just said ‘lunch with a new friend’ with a yellow heart emoji. It’s kind of impressive that they did actually connect the dots.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Well, at least people probably won’t recognize me out on the street just from my hand.”

Felix smiled and went back to scrolling, giggling at a semi-professional debate about what Lee Know would give up for the rest of his life between pudding or butt hunting.

Said pudding lover and butt hunter then finished recording, striding out of the recording box as Chan spun his chair to face the rest of the room. Changbin rolled his own chair across the floor until it stopped in front of Minho, who grabbed it and spun it so he could sit in Changbin’s lap. Changbin squeaked in surprise but didn’t make any signs of protest when Minho brought the younger’s arms to wrap around his waist.

“Alright,” Chan began, “I think it’s pretty much a free day from here on. I know Jisung has a vocal lesson and Hyune wants to talk to Y/N, but other than that, I’ll be in the studio and Minho is going to be going over choreography so if anyone wants to join either of us, feel free.”

“But not too free, I need a break from you degenerates sometimes.” Minho retorted from where his head lay against Changbin’s shoulder.

You missed what Chan said in response as you leaned across the back of the couch behind Felix to consult Hyunjin. “You wanted to talk to me?”

His wide eyes met yours then quickly moved to Felix’s hair as Hyunjin started twirling it nervously between his fingers. “Yeah. Chan-hyung said we should talk about my h-heat. Especially since it comes so quick after Felix’s that we might not have enough time between our heats to properly talk.”

You could hear the other members join Chan and Minho’s discussion, but your focus remained on Hyunjin. “That’s a good idea,” you murmured, “But you don’t want Chan or another member to sit in with us?”

He shook his head, glancing back at you and biting his lip. You didn’t want to push him when he was so clearly nervous so you nodded and turned back to the others.

Right next to you, Jisung was declaring that “this group is not a democracy, hyung”.

“Sungie, you are the one person in this room that has a strict schedule today.”

“Don’t you start with me, Kim Seungmin-”

“Okay, okay!” Chan raised his hands. “I think that’s enough. So, Han will go to his lesson, Jinnie and Y/N will talk, Seungmin and Felix will come to the studio with me, and Bin and Iyen will go with Lino to the dance studio. Wait.” He paused and turned to you. “Is it okay to have Innie with the two members he’ll be aggressive towards?”

You considered it for a moment. “I think it should be fine. It might actually be better, hypothetically, since Innie won’t have to deal with either of them getting too close to Felix, so I think he’ll actually be less aggressive.”

“If my aegi-alpha gets too aggressive, I’ll just give him a good spanking.”

Chan turned to Minho and stared at him, narrowing his eyes while his knuckles turned white from his grip on his chair arms.

Instead of retracting his statement or apologizing for it, Minho simply basked in the attention, leaning back against Changbin and crossing his arms with a smirk on his face.

You glanced at Jeongin to see his reaction, but he was a bit preoccupied with Felix’s fingers running through his hair. Innie’s eyes were shut as he leaned his head back in between Felix’s knees.

You felt like you were intruding on a special moment, so you looked up and your gaze met Chan’s. He had a soft smile as he glanced from you to the two boys.

He blinked as if coming out of a trance and cleared his throat. “So, everyone know where they’re going?”

“Wait, hyung!” Jisung’s hand shot up in the air like he was a student eager to be called on. “I know you told us that we can be comfortable around Y/N-noona, but exactly how comfortable is that? Like, is it the same level as we are with our managers, or our makeup noonas or what?”

Chan smiled at him and swiveled his chair to face him more directly. “Since Y/N’s job actually involves a little more… familiarity with our group, especially when it comes to our emotional and physical health, I figured that we could be a little more open with her. She knows about our relationship and everything. The company did ridiculously thorough background checks and she’s signed several NDAs, so we can be as honest with her as we want.”

Han scooted forwards until he was barely on the couch and gestured with his hand for Chan to come closer. When Chan rolled his chair over, Jisung leaned to whisper in his ear. Whatever he said caused Chan to giggle. “Yes, we can kiss in front of her.”

“Oh.” Jisung blinked twice. “Well, in that case…” He grabbed Chan’s collar, pulled him close, and planted an obnoxious, cartoon-level, lip-smacking kiss right on the alpha’s lips.

Chan sputtered and his ears burned as he pulled away. “I meant- why did- you didn’t have to kiss me now!”

“Nope.” Jisung wiped his mouth with the back of his hand theatrically. “But I enjoyed it.”

…

Once everyone had reapplied their scent blockers and straightened themselves up, you followed Hyunjin out of the recording room.

Instead of going to the small meeting room like you did with Chan and Felix, Hyunjin led you in the opposite direction you had come from.

He fidgeted with his hands as he walked you rode down the elevator. First, they fiddled with his jacket buttons, then his rings, then tapped against his thighs.

It was obvious he was nervous, but you didn’t want to make him even more so by pointing it out.

The two of you made your way into a room and you realized that it was the same small dance studio you had met Hyunjin in.

He stopped in the middle of the room and frowned at the wooden crates you had all sat on last time. “I guess we could move them so we sit across from each other, that seems the most professional,” he murmured while rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your mind blanked for a second before you refocused. “Well, this doesn’t have to be super professional. No one is grading you,” you joked. “Here, we can even chill on the floor if you want.” You brought some cushions from a stack in the corner of the room and brought them to the middle of the crates.

Hyunjin smiled at you and adjusted one of the cushions before sitting down on it.

You placed your own cushion on the ground across from him and pulled one of the crates over so you could use it as a back rest.

You sank down and Hyunjin smiled at you politely. “Where should we start, noona?”

You pulled your bag over and pulled out the file on him and his bandmates. Handing it over, you told him, “What Felix and I started with was going over the information the company gave me so that you know what I know and you can tell me if there’s anything wrong or anything big that the company doesn’t know or didn’t share with me. I don’t want to be overly nosy or creepy or anything, but as a caretaker, it’s important that I know things that relate to both your physical and mental health. Also, client confidentiality applies in my job, so I couldn’t tell your company anything even if I wanted to, unless it involves you hurting yourself or others.”

Hyunjin blinked at you wide-eyed, the file bending slightly in his tight grip. Then, his eyes narrowed and his lips pouted slightly.

You felt your own fists clenching around the straps of your bag at the sight, but you collected yourself when he started to speak.

“I thought you were hired by the company. Doesn’t that make them your client?”

Your smile widened at him. “What a smart question!” At this, you could see the corners of his mouth flicker up. “The company is my employer, but they hired me to be a caretaker for you, not for the company. If I had to be a caretaker for everyone in this entire company, I would scream.” You raised your eyebrows playfully. “Could you imagine if I went up to JYP and asked him to tell me about his sex life?” You shuddered theatrically.

Hyunjin let out a startled exhale which quickly morphed into full-on cackling. He threw his head back and clapped, leaning backwards and almost falling over which only caused him to laugh harder. You giggled along with him, relieved that the slight tension was dissolving.

Once you two managed to mostly calm down, he looked at you with his hand hovering in front of his mouth. “Oh my god. “‘“Oh my god”’”. Eugh!” He scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out in disgust, which just set off another round of laughter for both of you.

You took some deep breaths and noticed Hyunjin doing the same. You both smiled at each other and he ducked his head as he went to pick up the file he had dropped when he started clapping.

He flipped through it and got to the page with his information. As his eyes scanned the page, his smile slowly faded.

“Not particularly possessive of my nests? The only reason I’m not possessive is because they’re my pack! My m- my band! They’re always welcome in my nests! I may not be as protective as Felix but it’s not like I would let just anyone in!”

Noticing his distress, but most notably, the lack of a distressed scent, you realized that you both still had your scent blockers on. You took yours off and allowed your calming scent to sweep the room. It wouldn’t be as potent to Hyunjin while he had his own scent blockers on, but you hoped he could sense it nonetheless.

You didn’t want to touch him without his consent, so you gently pushed the file down, away from where it covered his face, gaining his attention and making it easier for him to see you.

You smiled at him. “Hey, Hyunjin. You want to take a deep breath for me?”

He blinked at you twice before nodding and inhaling. He held it for a second before his cheeks puffed out as he exhaled.

“Good job! Now, I know that you’re probably upset since the company is making these assumptions about you based on limited information. I would be, too. But, since you aren’t exactly inviting your managers into your nests, does it really matter what they think about you?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he considered it. After a minute, he shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t matter. And the ones whose opinions you do care about know that you keep the nest open to them because you trust them and love them. I promise you, they don’t think any lesser of you because of the way you keep your nests.”

Hyunjin’s tense eyes softened around the edges. “I guess… that makes sense.”

Your voice took on a more teasing tone. “Do you not believe me? I could call Chan right now, and I’m certain that he would march on down from his studio just to tell you how wonderful your nests are. And I’m certain that your other packmates would be right behind him.”

Hyunjin smiled shyly as he traced a shape on the ground that vaguely resembled a heart. “Yeah, they would.”

You tapped on the file still in his other hand. “Now that that’s settled, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Hyunjin put the file down on the floor and rested his hands on top of it, like he was trying to press it into the ground. He turned his head to look at the wall of mirrors next to you and you could see him swallow. His eyes flickered back to meet yours and you could see the pure vulnerability in them. “Since you’ve been so upfront and honest with all of us, I figure I should return the favor. I… In Korea, male omegas- or, just, omegas in general, I guess, are sort of taught to hide their heats? Or, not hide them exactly, but it’s not something you really talk about? Not even with other omegas. We’re pretty much taught that heats are signs of weakness or that they’re gross to talk about, so you sort of pretend that they don’t exist, even when we would get a week off of school or work.”

He paused to look down at his hands and you waited while he took a second.

“When Felix first came over, obviously there were a lot of cultural differences between Australia and Korea. He would casually mention how he was nervous about spending his heats here. Channie-hyung and Minho-hyung helped him the most, not just because they’re the oldest, but because Chan could sympathize with the change in culture and Minho… had a lot of omegan friends back in Gimpo when he was growing up. Even when Felix got used to spending his heats here, he still never really stopped talking about them. Of course he didn’t say anything when we went out in public or anything like that, but he never tried to hide it around us.” Hyunjin’s mouth curled up at the corners. “There was this one time when we were in the dressing room and he was complaining about his pre-heat cramps loud enough for all of the staff to hear. Changbinnie-hyung’s face was so red,” he snickered.

Suddenly, his face sobered up. “I really wish I had been there for him more. As the other omega in our pack, it should have been me, but at that moment, I just felt… all I felt was shame. Shame for him, for letting other people know that he had heats, shame for me, for being the other omega and being afraid that people would think that I would talk about my heat in the same way, shame for the poor staff members who had to listen to that,” Hyunjin took a deep breath. “But then, one of the coordi-noonas came up and recommended a good painkiller brand, and one of our managers told Felix that they could buy some ice cream on the way home, and I… I was so amazed. Talking about anything related to heats was supposed to be this horrible, embarrassing thing, but instead, Felix just got sympathy and support.”

Hyunjin looked back up at you and stared deep into your eyes. “I know that I don’t like to talk about my heats, even after seeing that and being with Felix all this time, but I know that you’re here to help me and my pack, so I’m going to do my best to not be ashamed anymore.”

You took Hyunjin’s hands in yours. “Thank you so much for telling me. I really-”

You were suddenly interrupted by his stomach doing its best impression of a whale song. His eyes widened before he hid his face in his hands. “Talk about embarrassing and shameful. I guess we forgot to eat lunch.”

You cackled and stroked his shoulder in what you hoped was a soothing way. “Well,” you giggled, “should we get some now? I’m pretty hungry, too, now that you mention it.”

Hyunjin’s hands slid from his face as he looked back up at you. “Hmm. I’m kind of craving something sweet.” He turned until he was lying on the floor with his face turned towards the ceiling.

As you scooted over to lay down beside him, he sat up and stared at you with his eyes lit up. “I have a genius idea! Have you tried any good Korean snacks since you moved here, noona?”

You thought back to everything that happened since you got off the plane. “Uh… not really? There were some chips or something in the hotel room but I didn’t want to spend the company money on ridiculous stuff like that.”

Hyunjin waved his hand dismissively. “Even if you did eat them, it wouldn’t really count. Expensive places always overcharge for mediocre things.” He set his hand back on the floor and turned back to you. “Do you know what this means?”

“That I need to order more of my own snacks from home before I run out?”

“No!” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but you could see a hint of mirth in them. “Well, yes, noona, you should definitely do that. And order some for us to try. But we should raid the vending machine and have a taste testing! I even stole Binnie-hyung’s credit card this morning, so we can use that!”

You giggled at his enthusiasm for both having a taste testing and using his member’s money to pay for it. “I’m up for it if you are, but if Changbin finds out, I’m pinning everything on you. He’ll probably go easy on you, anyway.”

Hyunjin shrugged, his expression somewhere between fond and smug. “Yeah, he’ll definitely go easy on me. Especially when I tell him our pretty noona coerced me into it. He’ll understand. How am I supposed to say no to that? Anyway, we could also get some snacks to drop off at the dance studio after we’re done with our taste test, I’m sure that Changbin-hyung and Innie would be glad for a snack break.”

“I- okay.” You stuttered, trying not to fixate on the phrase “our pretty noona”. “Let’s do a taste testing. Lead the way to the vending machines.”

After reapplying your scent blocker, you both made your way down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway before you came to the vending machine. Hyunjin explained that there was one closer to the room you were in, but that this one had better snacks.

You stopped in front of the vending machine, a little surprised at how high tech it looked. You were more used to ones with sticky buttons that refused to take your dollars more often than not and that you would occasionally have to shake to free your snack. This one had a whole mini snack elevator.

“Let’s see, Innie likes these cheesy crackers, Changbin-hyung will cry if he finds out we used his credit card and didn’t get him anything, so let’s get him the barbecue chips, and this is Lino-hyung’s favorite pudding…”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you watched Hyunjin mutter to himself about his bandmates’ snack preferences. “You’re so considerate of your packmates,” you told him.

He blinked at you in surprise, like he had forgotten you were standing there with him. “Ah, well, it’s really more of a survival tactic. I have had one too many pudding lectures from hyung, so if I show up with the wrong one, who knows what he’ll do to me?”

Back in the studio, you spread your bounty around the two of you, like you were preparing for hibernation. The three snacks for the boys in the other dance studio were carefully set off to the side, so that neither of you would mistakenly eat them.

“So,” you started, “I know the nest thing sort of threw you off, but is there anything else you think I should know before your heat? It can be anything, things you like to avoid, your favorite things to nest with, things you like to eat,” you asked, shaking the bag of chips you were currently eating from. They were a bit different than what you were used to, but still pretty good.

Hyunjin hummed around a ring-shaped gummy. “Well, I like to do laundry before my heats and then get my members to scent my stuff. I just feel a bit icky when I’m not sure when the last time I washed something was. Felix likes to bake during his preheat, which is sort of perfect because I eat more than usual during my preheat, so I can just eat whatever he made and put in the fridge. But I don’t like eating during my actual heat. As for the stuff in my nest… I have this scarf that Seungminnie bought for me once when we visited Paris. And Lino-hyung gave me a scrunchie that he drew a bunch of Jureumis on that I like to wear on my wrist. Also, Jisungie got me a dumpling plushie that also has a hot water bag inside. I have some other things from the members, too, but those are the first things that come to mind. Most of the other stuff is pillows and blankets. Felix likes fluffier blankets in his nest, but I like the smoother, silkier ones. And I love having my members in my nests with me. Also, I have at least three fans going on at the same time because I hate how hot I get. I do react a bit… dramatically when my members accidentally move something in my nest, which sort of confuses me a bit because that really only happens during my heats.”

You quickly brought out your notebook and pen and scribbled down all the information Hyunjin had given you. As you wrote semi-legibly, you did your best to talk to him at the same time.

“Well, that’s definitely a heat-brain thing. Do you only feel anger or annoyance at your pack when they move your nest around or is it something else, too?”

Hyunjin stopped chewing and set down the bag of candy. “I guess… it does hurt a bit. At first. And then I growl or nip them or something like that.” He shrugged dismissively.

“And that hurt, could it be that your anger is sort of a way to get around it or cover it up?”

He looked up to meet your gaze and squeezed the plastic package so it crinkled. “That… it could definitely be that, I suppose. I think… my brain is sort of telling me that my packmates are changing my nest because they don’t like the way I arranged it.”

You nodded and set down your notebook. “Well, I know that no matter what I say, during your heat, your omega is still likely going to react like that because you don’t have the same level of brain processing power as you do when you aren’t in heat, but maybe, hopefully, you’ll feel less guilty about it afterwards. Hyunjin, you know that your members love your nests. They don’t want to move it or change it, and from what they’ve told me, they always try to move carefully so that they don’t offend you. They also understand that you’re protective of your nests and that you react, as you put it, dramatically. They know that that can be a risk to stepping into your nest, but I am sure that it’s worth it to them. Even if they get nipped or growled at, they made the choice to enter your nest and they obviously think that it was worth it if they come back again and again.”

Hyunjin watched you with wide eyes before his face broke out into a soft smile. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Plus, Lino-hyung bites the others enough that they should be able to deal with me if I bite them once or twice during my heat, even if I bite them a bit harder than he does.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and leaned backwards until he was lying down. “I can’t believe I’m in a relationship with those losers.”

You smiled at him, glad that he could go from serious topics to more light-hearted ones. You grabbed another candy bag and a question formed in your brain.

“What exactly does the company know about your relationship?” You asked, tearing open the packet, this one with cartoon purple lizards advertising how “de-liz-cious” the gummies were.

Hyunjin hummed, popping a chocolate-covered cracker into his mouth. Once he chewed and swallowed it, he passed the bag to you.

“The company knows that we help each other through our heats and ruts, that’s why they had you sign a bunch of NDAs,” he told you, “but they don’t exactly know about the actual relationship between us. They know Hannie and Lino-hyung go out together, but they don’t know they’re actually going out together. They know Binnie-hyung flirts with me, but they don’t know that I flirt back when the cameras are off. They know that Chan-hyung and Felix sleep together a lot but they don’t know that they sleep together a lot.” He paused. “And I mean a lot. Honestly, most of the time, sleeping seems to be the last thing on their minds. Horny losers.” He shook his head fondly before refocusing. “The company tells us to play things up for the camera a bit for fan service, but what they don’t know is that we’re actually toning it down.” He finished with a smirk.

You grinned. “Wow. So they don’t know you’re in a relationship at all?”

“Nope. Just our families and some of our friends know. And now you, noona.” Hyunjin rolled over and stretched his arms out. “I guess we are pretty affectionate towards each other around our staff, but I think the whole 8-members thing actually throws them off. Poly packs aren’t as common as they used to be, so it probably hasn’t even occurred to them. They likely assume that some of us are together, just in couples, but they’ve never asked us outright, I think they’re fine with acting ignorant as long as we don’t let them or the public know anything.”

You had collected all of the empty snack bags and were about to throw them away while Hyunjin stretched his arms above his head. “So, is there anything else you want to tell me? I feel like we covered a lot, but just let me know if there’s something else.”

Hyunjin had moved on to stretching his back but paused to smile at you and shake his head. “No, I think we talked about everything we needed to, noona.”

“Okay.” You collected your notebook and bag before shoving the extra snacks in there as well. “Do you think now is a good time to interrupt the dance practice?”

Hyunjin stood up gracefully and sighed. “It’s always a good time to interrupt dance practice. I think Changbin-hyung and Innie will be eternally grateful to you.”

“Not you?” You questioned. “You picked out the snacks and it was your idea.”

He waved his hand dismissively as you made your way out of the dance studio and into the elevator. “They’ll be grateful for about five minutes until they conveniently forget it. Or they’ll ask me why I didn’t come and save them earlier.”

The elevator ride was silent, but much more comfortable than when the two of you had been in the same elevator earlier. You stepped out into the hallway, following Hyunjin until he came to a door on the right.

He peeked in through the window and smiled before gently opening the door.

The song and dance they were doing weren’t as intense as some of their other tracks and routines, it was a B-side they recorded earlier that day, and were still dancing to the guide version, but you could see that they were putting in the exact same amount of effort, no matter what the tempo or sound quality was. Their moves were soft, almost floaty, but they were still very deliberate and precise.

You saw Minho’s eyes glance at you and Hyunjin in the mirror from where he was at the front of the formation, but he gave no other acknowledgment of your presence.

I.N and Changbin also noticed you, but they were less smooth about it. Changbin faltered in his movements and Innie fell behind rhythm.

“Yah, finish up the song, brats. Then we can take a break.”

At Lee Know’s words, the other two seemed to come alive, dancing with more energy than before. The song wasn’t much longer, and their positioning for the ending pose almost made you laugh out loud. Of course, the dance was meant to be for eight members, and there were quite a few missing, so there was Minho and Innie posed together on one side of the studio and Changbin all alone on the other side. Evidently Hyunjin shared the same thoughts as you, but didn’t keep quiet about laughing, even as you two clapped politely.

“Oh, my Binnie-hyung, are you lonely over there?” Hyunjin teased.

Changbin unfroze from his pose to flop down on the wood floor, all splayed out and breathing heavily, but focused on Hyunjin. In a high-pitched voice, he called out, “Yah, Hyunjin, I’m always lonely when I’m away from you!” He wriggled on the floor in a way that you guessed was supposed to be cute, but his obvious lack of energy made it seem more like a fish flopping around on land.

Hyunjin giggled and walked over to Changbin, squatting and grabbing the alpha’s outstretched hand as he murmured something you couldn’t hear.

Innie had flopped down as well, almost mirroring Changbin as he took deep breaths. Minho had walked over to turn the music off, and then sat on the couch with a water bottle.

Seeing that he was mostly okay, you turned back to I.N. “Hey, little alpha. Do you want me to bring you your water bottle?”

Jeongin let out a loud groan that echoed around the studio. “Oh my gosh, noona, you are seriously my new favorite person. Yes, please. It’s the green one.”

You walked over to the wooden counter and retrieved the green water bottle. You spotted a blue and pink water bottle next to it and, deducing that it was Changbin’s, you handed it to Hyunjin to give it to Changbin before you headed back over to I.N.

You squatted next to him just as a loud groan pierced the air. “Y/N! You are welcome to stay with our group for the rest of our lives! I’m going to produce a song about you and sing it at every single concert and award show!”

You smirked at Changbin’s words as Innie thanked you for his water. “Just for brining you your water bottle? At least wait until you see what Hyunjin and I brought in my bag for you.”

Changbin sat up like he was possessed. “What do you have?”

You walked over to your bag and unzipped it, pulling out the barbecue chips Hyunjin had picked out. You tossed them over to Changbin, whose eyes widened as he caught them and read the label. “Yah, Y/N, how did you know I liked these?”

You shrugged as you made your way over to Minho, pudding in hand. “A certain omega packmate of yours might have told me. It was actually his idea, so make sure to thank him.”

Hyunjin had fully sat down next to Changbin, but now, Changbin tackled him onto his back and wriggled the two of them around like happy earthworms.

Minho smiled and thanked you as you handed him the pudding before peeling it open and lying down on the couch. You weren’t entirely sure how safe it was to eat the pudding like that, but he seemed confident in his abilities, like he had done this before, so you left him to it and walked over to Jeongin with the cheese crackers in hand.

Innie had been staring at the other two members, his expression one of disgust, but you could see the fondness sparkling in his eyes. “Gross,” he stated, as Changbin started kissing all over Hyunjin’s face.

“Hopefully, you’ll find this a little less gross,” you told him as you handed him the crackers.

His eyes lit up as he took the packet from you. “Thanks, noona.”

You zipped up your bag and threw it to the other side of the room. “You should be thanking Hyunjin, he picked them out for you.”

Jeongin frowned as he ripped open the snack package. “I don’t need to thank him. If anything, this is what I deserve as compensation for dealing with him.” His eyes wrinkled with his smile as he stuffed a cracker in his mouth. “Oh, thank you, noona! I’ve been extra hungry all day for some reason.”

You smiled and were about to respond when you were interrupted by Hyunjin flopping down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “Yes, thank you, noona. I’m really glad that you’re our caretaker. We haven’t known you for long, but I can tell that we’re going to love you.”

…

Sorry for any mistakes, I edited this and posted it in my college’s parking lot😭

Taglist:

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lieswetell · 3 months

Text

IFHY (Jordan Li x Alt!Reader) PT 1

Tags~ roommate au, enemies to lovers, alt reader, tattooed reader, slow burn, supe!reader, afab!fem!reader

Warnings~ angry sex, jordan might be a lil mean, porn w plot bc im freaky like that, drugs, alcohol, gay shit

Monday, August 7th

“It’s only one semester. This will be over before you know it,” Mia said.

You want to hear her out and try to be optimistic about the situation, but it’s complicated. Having your own dorm was rare in Godolkin. Students who did usually paid an ungodly amount for the extra privacy or were gifted one because of their current sponsors. For you, in your previous two years, it had been a mixture of both.

“This is bullshit.” You complain and have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at your phone.

Mia hadn’t done anything wrong. She was doing everything she could to get you what you wanted. However, it wasn’t playing out in your favor this time. You were still in your dorm, trying to cling on to that last bit of single dorm life you could, even though you were moments away from the move.

“Look. I love you, but there isn't anything else I can do. Some of these kids will probably be out in a few months.” Mia tried to help you look on the bright side of the situation.

You have yet to respond to what your assistant was telling you. Instead, you just kept looking around the now-empty dorm with a mournful gaze.

“Shetty says it’s a large roo-” Mia added.

“My room was plenty big enough,” You complained again. This time, the words came out in a sort of whine that would remind anyone else of a toddler.

You got up from the floor and wiped your hands on your pants. After taking a deep breath, you closed the last bin in your room.

“One semester.” You sighed.

“One semester,” Mia said, her voice a lot more positive than yours.

“When are you recording that video for-”

“Alright, look at the time the moving team is here. Can’t be late.” You cut her off and blew her a kiss before hanging up on her.

The moving team wasn’t anywhere near your room, and you knew that. If you focused, you could hear everyone in the building. There wasn’t a trace of dickheads with whistles anywhere near you.

The Godolkin University moving team usually consisted of sophomore students with too much strength to know where to put it. Many were from various clubs or programs that forced them to help incoming students.

You started to stack your bins and luggage outside of your room on your own. Typically, the moving team would assist the students. Still, it was effortless for you to carry the items, and you thought if you looked around your dorm for any longer, you might burst into tears. That wasn’t very productive or good for your image if anyone were to see it. So you popped in your earbuds and started to lift the bins. When finished you put the label on your crate 465.

With the headphones in your ears, you didn’t notice just how much more lively it was. Most of your floormates were in other single dorms with other upper-level students. So you would only really run into a few people if any, daily. With the influx of incoming students moving in, you would easily have trouble avoiding anyone. According to your assistant Mia, every dorm room was filled(yayyyy godolkin for not allowing students to live off campus).

After skipping an array of songs, Spotify somehow thought would suit your style, someone poked you on the shoulder.

“You’re 17#, right? Big fan, honest.”The boy said. Something you noticed everyone said after they wanted to snap a quick picture with someone. You couldn’t complain, though you had no proof this person was lying to you.

“Nice to meet you.” You said and copied the same amount of excitement. The perfect amount to seem genuine but still cool enough to feel above them in that weird way you can only get from social media. You extended your hand, and he shook it eagerly.

You didn't feel that way, of course. That’s just the game and how you needed to perform. All to get where you needed to be. Being a hero was a machine full of moving parts, and Mia has been training you since you were fourteen.

“Can I get a picture?” He asked, and you nodded before he could get the sentence out.

Always…

“Always always…” you answered happily. You quickly adjusted your hair and gave the boy a side hug.

The selfie came out nice. Cute and wholesome. You made sure he tagged you on the picture and used a few of your hashtags. You gazed around, wondering who was assisting him with the move. He just looked around at your bins before looking back up at you.

“Is there anything fragile in there?” He asked awkwardly. It seems he hadn't shaken off the nerves from meeting you. It was so silly to you. You weren’t Homelander or Queen Maeve.

“Yeah, the fragile stuff is in that box right there. Marked fragile in bold red tape…”

The boy then looked back at you with a look you couldn’t place. Before you could even realize what was about to happen, his arms stretched out to unnatural lengths as if he were made of rubber. He lifted all of your bins simultaneously. He wrapped and stacked them into the carts and secured them as if his arms were bungee cords. It was astonishing. You had never seen that power before, and although it was slightly disgusting, it was cool.

Just as you went to pat him on the back, a box on top crashed to the floor. You heard the glass shatter and knew instantly it was the fragile box he so kindly placed on top of everything to avoid it getting crushed. Just my luck. That was definitely the bong in there that you’ve had for a few years.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I've been stretched out all day. Things are starting to fall out.” he apologized genuinely.

“Lemme guess you are usually super tight?”

Your roommate was finished moving all of her things to the other side of the room. It definitely started as a struggle, but after a bit of time, Jordan started to get the hang of it. Early in the process, he was just bitching to himself about having to do this in the first place. He didn't really have anyone to complain about it to. His friends were rooming with each other, and he was the only one stuck rooming with a new person.

His parents didn't understand his frustrations, and instead, they were just happy he would be rooming with a girl. Jordan tried explaining his irritation to Brink, but that was also a no-go. All Brink did was reframe the situation by saying it could somehow make Jordan a better hero.

“Are there seriously no fucking quads in this place?” Jordan complained to no one.

He sat on his loveseat on his couch and scrolled on his phone. He debated not being in the room when his new roommate arrived. Jordan heard that people had done that, but he was too nervous to do it himself. What if you stole something? What if you wanted to put your stuff on his side? Maybe you were a weird freshman? Or worse, a fan of him?

He sat back on the couch. His feet were planted firmly in front of him, and he scrolled on his phone. It was a position he often found himself in. In this form, his feet were actually able to reach the floor when he sat all the way back on the couch comfortably. In the other one, her feet dangled and gave off a less intimidating look than the one he was currently in.

There was a soft knock on the door. Jordan rolled his eyes and stayed in his position. Why would he open the door? If they were supposed to be moving in, they surely would have a key, right? He looked at his door open. Jordan wasn’t really sure what to expect to be standing in the doorway.

When the ugly beast finally reared its head, Jordan finally exhaled. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until you waved at him.

“Hi” You said

It’s all you can offer him at the moment. The little helper you had assisting you barged in soon after you greeted Jordan. Jordan didn't even say anything to you. He just looked at you from his spot on the loveseat then his eyes trailed over to the freshman who couldn’t maintain eye contact with you.

“Looks like! Holy shit Jordan”

“Yeah.” He just nodded, confirming that he was indeed Jordan Li

The freshman stood awkwardly with your things and stared at Jordan. The interaction was just already a lot weirder than it needed to be. So you stood at the door and tried to think of a way to intervene in the impromptu staring contest.

“Thanks. You can just leave it right here. I can do the rest.” You thanked him with a big smile

With another resounding crash, he let go of the bins, and you winced. Jordan even was taken aback by the sound and rolled his eyes

“Are you sure, ma’am?” he asked

He sounded genuine even though he treated your belongings like they were indestructible. You buffered for a moment and realized what he said

“Ma’am? How old do you think- never mind, just leave thanks.” You shooed him away and exhaled softly

“Bye”

He watched you. You unpacked your things, and he stayed put and just watched you. He was cycling through so many things in his head. Being so last minute, this situation didn't give him any time to prepare. The only thing he did was clean and move his shit to one side of the room. He was grateful that he could at least recognize you from the ranking. The unknown was scary like that. Jordan knows you have been slowly climbing your way to the top. Your reputation was squeaky clean. Your brand was sweet, innocent, and confident.

Your brand didn't mean he trusted you, though. Anyone with more than two fucking brain cells at this school knew that your ‘brand’ or ‘online presence’ meant absolutely nothing. Just because you waltz in here with your big smile and wave doesn't mean he will let his guard down. Roommate or not, you still had the potential to be a big fucking dick.

“Yeah, just don’t touch any of my shit, and we should be fine.” Jordan said without looking up from his phone.

He sat comfortably slumped on the sofa. The uninterested appearance he’s in pissed you off. Oh, so he’s just like this? You could do this, though. You wouldn’t let him see that you were frustrated. People like him lived off of that shit, and you wouldn’t give him what he wanted. You just nodded and gave him another smile, one real enough to be convincing.

“I understand. You do have some nice things. Probably wouldn’t want anyone getting into it either.” You said in that cheerful voice that you had been trained to perfect.

That time, Jordan did look at you. He was now thoroughly annoyed and over the roommate situation. In his eyes, he tried. In the twenty minutes you had been in the room, Jordan considered everything he had done ‘trying’. This situation wouldn’t work, though. He just wasn’t built to share rooms with a random person.

Wednesday, September 27th

“Jesus Christ, do you ever fucking fucking knock?!” Jordan shouted

You did knock. You dented the door to your room because you were banging on the door for about ten minutes. You even shot Jordan a few texts saying when you would return to the dorm. Of course, she hadn’t responded to any of them; she never did.

So you said fuck it and broke the lock on your door and walked into the room. Jordan was riding some junior in her bed. The sight wasn’t new to you, so you were unfazed. Seemingly to you, Jordan never really cared about you seeing her naked. It was more of the fact you were interrupting her that was the problem. In the two months you have been rooming with Jordan, you have walked in on her having sex four times.

The first time, it came as a shocker. You squealed and covered your eyes, immediately leaving the room and shooting her a few apology texts. When you left, Jordan just continued on like it was nothing. Like you were just a temporary pause. This time wasn’t like that. You walked in and closed the door behind you.

So you waved at the man who was underneath Jordan on the bed. He looked at you with a confused look, then turned to look back at Jordan, who was bewildered.

“You're not usually my type, but I think I could be down for both of you,” The man said, then looked back up at Jordan curiously.

You just walked toward your desk, sat down, and started up your laptop.

She climbed off him and huffed, “Get out”.

Then the man shuffled awkwardly around the room and tried to pick up his clothes. He slipped the condom off and didn't know what to do with it, so he tried to hand it to Jordan. She pointed towards the door, so he just nodded and held it as he left the room. His clothes were still crumpled in his other hand, covering his dick. You shook your head slightly, knowing that type of thing was far too normalized in this school.

“Do you purposely do that?” Jordan asked you sharply. It was more of an accusation. He barely spoke to you, and when he did, it was always intending to fight.

“Do what?” You asked and logged into the Godolkin portal.

“Wait until I’m using the room to appear out of thin air” She complained and stepped closer to you.

Whenever Jordan spoke to you, it was like they were a nagging little voice that you had to physically restrain yourself from losing your cool with. You didn’t want to risk an argument with Jordan, no matter how much of a bitch she was. It just wasn’t worth it. It would be optimistic to think that Jordan wouldn’t somehow get you lousy press from the situation. It was also optimistic of you to think that one day, Jordan would just stop trying to fight the fact that they would have to live with someone.

Every day you felt like you were seconds from Jordan finally saying fuck it and starting beef with you publicly just to fuck up your rank. Being ranked seventeen wasn’t the best you could be, but to most people, being in the top one hundred was quite an accomplishment. Job security was a hard thing for supes to find, and you weren’t going to fuck up your brand just because Jordan was having a bad day.

“Oh, please. I texted you, Jordan. Multiple times,” It came out with a little more emotion than you intended. Patience wasn’t your strength today.

“You didn’t,” She said flatly.

You huffed and pulled your phone out of your bag. When you pulled up the text chain to show her. You looked away awkwardly when she turned around to grab her phone. For some reason seeing her ass suddenly felt invasive, although she was so chill about it. Once again, she was more pissed about the fact she didn't cum.

“That’s not even my number.” She showed you her Apple ID and rolled your eyes.

“Who’s fault is that?” You asked her this time; your tone couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but annoyed.

Jordan realized what she did and grabbed your phone out of your hand. You scoffed at the action and tried to snatch it back, but she was faster than you. Probably in both forms, unfortunately. Jordan just updated the contact info and handed you back your phone(which you snatched out of her hands immediately).

“You could’ve knocked,” Jordan said, and you did a sharp inhale.

You looked up at her, then back down at your phone at the updated info. It was hard not for you to be pissed about the fact he lied to you. So many arguments could’ve been avoided, but of course, she couldn’t even give you her number.

“I did. For about ten minutes. Maybeyouweretoobusycreamingondicktohearaboutit”

The words came out as a rushed whisper. The struggle of trying to hold your anger was starting to become not only a mental challenge but a physical one.

“What did you say?”Jordan asked. This time, he almost seemed kind of excited, which didn't help you calm your nerves in the slightest.

“The locks broken, by the way. You locked me out, so I had to break it open. I’ll schedule a maintenance worker to check it out around five,” You told him. The facade was back up. You were no longer spewing attitude at him.

The maintenance request was sent, and Jordan was left confused at the sudden change in demeanor. He was excited for a second that it seemed you finally had a moment of real fucking emotion with him. Jordan would much rather be alone in his dorm, but your unwavering positivity threw him off more than he intended.

Jordan could recall a few times he would complain and rant about you to his friends during smoke seshes. It had only been two months, but he felt like he wasn’t even rooming with a natural person. Something about you was too perfect, too clean, just all around, too bland. He was excited to talk to a person for that quick moment there. It's not the brand you posted for everyone to see.

He went back to the other side of the room in defeat. He sat on top of his bed. Jordan never stopped looking at you. You slipped up, and maybe that gave him hope(he would never admit it).

“I need the room at five,” Jordan said.

You furrowed your brows and looked over at the calendar on the wall. Each day that passed, scribbled out with a blue Sharpie. You shook your head and looked over at him.

“You have class. It’s Wednesday,” You said matter of factly.

Jordan rolled his eyes and mumbled

.“No, I don’t.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. He could be so petty sometimes for no reason, and this was one of those moments.

“Did you just disagree with me just because?” You asked him.

Jordan couldn’t think of a comeback or words to say. You talked to him in that weirdly positive tone despite clearly being irritated with him again. Maybe his dick twitched a little, but he ignored that.

“Jordan, put some clothes on, okay?”

“Fuck you”

“Your dick is out”

“Have a great day”

Maintenance fixed the door problem by 5:13 pm. It was a simple fix. A new doorknob was installed, but a couple of dents from your early frustration remained a reminder. Afterward, you were alone in your dorm, struggling to wait forty minutes to join a lecture.

It was a struggle not to nod off in front of your computer. Online classes always felt like a good idea when you signed up for them, but you soon realized they were a trap. It is a carefully crafted trap for you to waste your time on the course because you couldn't keep your eyes open long enough to listen to your professor drone on about the importance of… You fell asleep.

You needed the relief anyway. It was a struggle to keep holding up the illusions you were. The influx of incoming students fucked you over. Having a roommate who hated you meant you were always using your powers. You couldn’t trust him not to try and ruin your brand. The only times you would have a break from having to cast an illusion was when Jordan was out doing whatever the fuck he did besides training and sulking.

Illusions fell around you—your side of the room that was once pale blue and pink warped into black and purple. Your hair, which once seemed to be tied tightly in a bun, fell around your shoulders. The pink sweater you wore was replaced with a black hoodie you had for years. The illusions you had concealing your tattoos shattered. The ink from your arm sleeve peaked out from the wrist of your hoodie.

“Who are you texting?”Andre asked

It was late. Jordan sat on the couch in his friends' dorm and tried not to be bitter that there were only three bedrooms. He typed in his phone, angry you weren’t responding. Why does he have to deal with this? He’s pretty sure when he leaves that, all three of them just crash in the living room in a pile like cavepeople anyways. Andre’s room was always too fucking clean for anyone to actually stay in there.

He leaned over on the couch to try and take a peak at Jrdan’s phone. Jordan leaned away, mildly irritated with his friend. Andre just shrugged and made a face at Cate. Cate rolled her eyes, already knowing where this conversation was going to go. It was the only thing Jordan talked about the past couple of weeks.

“My hell of a roommate,” Jordan complained and rolled his eyes.

You hadn’t responded to the last ten texts he sent. He was trying to be better to you. He might've felt a bit guilty about giving you the wrong number for that long. So now he was trying to do what you would have done for him. He planned on bringing the same guy from earlier back over, but you wouldn’t respond to him.

“Oh, she cant be that bad?” Cate said, trying to be positive about the situation.

“Cute, you guys are texting,” Andre whispered.

Jordan heard him, however, and switched. Before Andre had a chance to react, Jordan slapped him in the back of the head. The touch was light but quick. Andre chuckled softly and then raised both of his hands.

“Well, I’m trying to tell her I'm on my way back to the dorm. Might need it in a few,” Jordan explained and put his phone away.

“Why do you look so stressed?” Luke asked.

To be honest, he was the only one not caught up on the whole Jordan hating her roommate thing. He thought she would get over it in a week, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. Jordan still hated you basically for existing at this point. Luke tried to lock in on the situation, but he was still pretty high from the session that just ended.

“She isn’t fucking responding,” Jordan whined.

“It’s fine. It’s only been like ten minutes,” Luke stated.

Luke’s eyes looked around the room for whatever the fuck he was missing. Cate just laughed beside him.

“Since the last text I sent. I texted her five hours ago,” Jordan added, her arms crossed in front of her.

“It’s probably nothing,” Luke assured her, although he didn't understand why the situation was that.

Serious. Cate understood it, though. Even if, at the time, Jordan didn’t understand, she could have seen it already. Cate had a weird way of just knowing.

“Yeah, what are you so worried about?”Andre asked, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Jordan looked away and flipped him off. Cate and Andre shared another look, and Jordan wanted to flip the couch over. She didn’t though

“Fuck off, Dre.”

“Who is she again? Freshman?” Cate asked

“No, junior.” Jordan answered.

“Who is it?”Luke asked, hoping that maybe that would explain Jordan’s frustration.

When Jordan answered, none of them had much of a reaction, which wasn’t very satisfying for Jordan. Andre didn’t even know who you were talking about(he didn't pay attention to the rankings much). Cate just nodded, taking in the info. It was always funny to her how the most liked people could be some of the worst. Luke didn't run with Jordan’s opinion of her roommate. He knew how dramatic Jordan could sometimes be, and he was pretty sure she would've hated any roommate she was assigned to just because they were an inconvenience to Jordan.

Jordan didn't like the feeling of being interrogated, so the hangout was cut shorter than normal. Once she answered one question, it was like he opened Pandora’s box of bullshit, and everyone wouldn’t get the spotlight off of her. So, she gave up on reaching out to the guy from earlier and instead was banging on the door of her dorm room like a mad woman.

“Dude, open the fucking door!”Jordan shouted.

He didn't want to break the door again, but the longer he stood outside, the more appealing of an idea it became. Inside the dorm, you were still fast asleep at your desk. The exhaustion from overusing your powers took a severe toll on your body. You had been out cold the entire time. All illusions previously placed on you and your things were deactivated.

“C’mon, this is really petty. Just open up.” Jordan said again, but you couldn’t hear him.

A hard alarm sounded in your ear. You shook your head awkwardly, then scrambled to check your laptop.

Take your pill

You nodded and stood up to take your birth control. You made it three steps before you fell because of the loud bang at your door. Shit. Jordan’s voice yelled something behind the door that you couldn’t quite make out at the moment. All you knew was that you needed to hurry and get all the illusions back up. You waved your hands a bit, trying to tap into Jordan’s psyche once you were confident enough that the illusions were back up, and you dry-swallowed your birth control and made your way to the door.

Act normal

“Hey, sorry I got caught up in studying?” You answered the door with a smile.

“Fine, whatever. I texted you, though.” Jordan looked at you, partially confused

It didn't make sense to him. You went hours without answering him, and your excuse was that you got caught up studying. What the fuck? You didn’t even look tired? Jordan hated you. You closed the door behind him and sat on your bed.

#jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #jordan li

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pupcuck · 4 months

Text

tw - sa mention, noncon mention, dark content discussed briefly but not explicitly

hi okay sorry for the unfathomable amount of bullshit clogging the tags the past few days. i keep seeing it labelled as gilfhub drama which is pissing me off as i haven’t said anything at all, i’ve stayed quiet throughout unless you follow me and read my posts. while i haven’t outwardly inserted myself into the situation im the one being witch hunted ig, i’m making one last statement which sounds way too serious for this corny and unserious situation.

anyway, i'm mostly making this for my own benefit, because i would feel more at peace after posting this lmfao. first of all, I’m being called a pedophile which is a fucking insanely serious claim to make with no concrete evidence! i’ve never written underage characters. if you’ve mistaken my ddlg content as pedophillia i beg you to get your brain checked! your skull must be so thick it couldn’t be caved in with a baseball bat. other than that i mainly write about LEGAL age gaps bc I am 19 and leon is fucking 47 as of now he is the creep actually.

i’m being called a rapist and a paedophile and all sorts of shit. im a victim of sa, it’s happened both at the hands of someone i trusted and at the hands of those i didn’t know well. some of my writing is to cope with this, none of my fics have ever romanticised rape and made it seem like something flowery and cute and fun? i don’t know who pulled that out of their ass but my fics that involve this sort of content are usually about toxic codependent relationships, it’s quite literally about trauma bonding.

this moves me onto my next point - people say this content belongs on ao3 and ao3 only. i don’t know if you’re 11 and new to the internet, to re fandom in fact, as dead dove has been a consistent theme within re fics since forever. since i was a kid i saw fics like that and even as a fucking 10 year old i managed to scroll and mind my business. tumblr has always had dead dove, when it rebranded and the guidelines changed they messed up their tagging system. this means that even if you tag tw incest it’ll remove your fic from the TAGS not from tumblr itself but from the tags as a whole. however, if you tag tw noncon your fic will stay up, it’s glitchy and dumb and shouldn’t be seen as a reliable source on why dead dove isn’t allowed on tumblr. that’s never been the case ever.

people who write dead dove don’t have to be victims and they don’t have to be mentally ill, they are also normal people with jobs who pay taxes and have normal fucking lives. because it’s simply fiction. people who read/watch american psycho are not murderers or rapists. people who watch any form slasher horror are not murderers. people who enjoy resident fucking evil and like wesker don’t fucking believe in eugenics. i could go on and on and on and on about so many different examples in extremely popular franchises.

as aforementioned, tumblr’s tagging system fucking sucks, so to combat this i give a warning even AFTER i explicitly tag my fics correctly that says ‘tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.’ for some reason I didn’t specify remove from the TAGS not from TUMBLR because tumblr doesn’t care 😭 that was totally my mistake for not checking if that disclaimer made sense but i guess i hoped the following sentence (‘as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags’) made it clear that i was simply speaking about tags. not tumblr removing my content.

if you are genuinely adults on this app, you should know that on the internet sometimes you will see things you don’t like! because it’s the internet and everyone is on here with their own opinions and their own tastes. it is YOUR responsibility to cater to your own needs by blocking content you don’t enjoy. so what another dark content blog pops up? as soon as you see a content warning you don’t like, BLOCK THE AUTHOR? or ignore it! scrolling is very simple. it’s insanely easy to mind your fucking business.

i'm kind of tired of the endless harassment both in the tags and in my inbox! if you are genuinely doing this in the name of victims and in their best interest just know you’re harming other victims in the process 😭 i am not easily triggered but the shit in my inbox is really gross and i got called a racial slur like… is fictional content that’s easy to block so deep to the point where you have to stoop that low? everyone copes how they cope, it’s not wrong and it never will be, psychologists recommend dark content as an outlet, you can literally google this. therapy is not a fix, it can’t fix mental illness. sometimes it doesn’t help. in my case counselling made everything worse. the ‘get help, get therapy’ comment comes from a place of privilege, not all of us have the money, the support system it takes to get therapy. some of us have had experiences where therapists discriminate against us. in my case that has happened, im a woc in britain they don’t care about us not about our psychical or mental health LMFAO.

im sure im missing a lot of what i originally wanted to say here, but overall i honestly wanted to clear my name of the pedo allegations lmfao because i’ve never written anything like that about underage characters or readers. anyway if any of you have a brain you can block dark content creators in a few easy steps! sorry again for yapping in such a formless, inarticulate way but i'm kind of exhausted by all the stupidity 😭

overall, dark content creators shouldn’t be allocated a little hovel in the corner of the internet in which they should privately discuss matters. we’re allowed to post it freely because CONTENT WARNINGS EXIST. dead dove will always be a thing and always has been. just because i post my content doesn’t mean it’s open for harassment and death threats and rape threats or anything? you can be an adult and get on with your day! and if you really need an outlet go talk to friends with the same opinions as you! i see ooc leon fluff all the time everyday and i don’t give a shit, i move on because leon isn’t real.

i pride myself on characterisation and if you have so obsessively read my fics to point out and circle random words in red that don’t correlate like we’re in a fucking crime show, then you would know that half the time i actually flesh out his character, i hate posting smut alone. i simply like exploring topics that are dark both to cope with my own problems and because i think they’re interesting to write about. however, as soon as something is mildly dark and sexual you guys cry mischaracterisation. leon also isn’t lighting candles and throwing rose petals but I don’t fucking judge what people write because if I don’t like I don’t read!

i promise, posting screenshots of my fics untagged with no warning is more harmful as you’re showing it to people who didn’t ask to fucking see it. i promise that harassing me will do nothing for you, you’re literally just sending vile shit to a real person who has struggled with the things she writes about LMFAO sorry again for yapping. i genuinely want to move on and post my regular shit but this has consumed the entire leon tag and i feel like im partly responsible. if you did get through this thank you! it’s mainly just ramblings and not read over so excuse me once again

#leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #tw sa mention #tw discourse

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islandofsages · 3 months

Note

hello~ I'd like to request malleus, idia, and azul reacting to gn!reader either kicking rollo in the balls, punching him, setting him on fire (or any form of violence, your choice!!) when noble bell college does a visit to nrc <3

characters: azul, idia and malleus x gender neutral yuu

tags: relationship not specified, crack (?), imagines format

warnings: rollo gets pranked (gone right)

author's notes: i. got carried away again and made this yuu SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME also i made it more mild bc i dont wanna get hashtag cancelled by the rollo enjoyers ... i am of neutral standing ok dont come for me

It took you by surprise - when the headmage announced some students from Noble Bell College will be coming over for a foreign exchange program and that you’ll have to act as a representative of your dorm, all you could think about was the events from the last time you and a few friends visited Noble Bell College. It was disastrous, it was exhausting, and you definitely don’t want another repeat of them. But most importantly, you feel like Rollo didn't quite learn his lesson.

You understand Malleus is as benevolent as they come but… you certainly aren't. Thinking about Rollo again makes your blood boil. What right does he have to strip people of their magic, simply because he lost his brother to it? It's a blatant misplacement of his own emotions and they had to suffer the consequences of someone whose denial is stronger than Malleus himself. You try not to grit your teeth at the announcement.

Though when they finally step into Night Raven’s grounds, it’s a different story entirely.

A pack of them make their way to the entrance where you await them, Rollo at the lead. You and the other housewardens stand patiently in a neat little line. Being right next to Malleus grants you a preview of his reaction up close and so you take your chances - he’s grinning. Of course he is. Ever since that day, it feels as if Malleus sees Rollo as some kind of toy. But you couldn’t blame him, considering the way Rollo played everyone first.

After what feels like eternity, the Noble Bell College boys finally begin greeting you all. They exchange handshakes and pleasantries with you while you put on your best practiced smile. You can’t see their faces but you assume Azul and Idia are a bit tense, being face-to-face with Rollo again. You have no energy to spare for anxiety.

So when Rollo comes to shake hands with you, his face unreadable, your rehearsed smile grows as you take his hand in yours. He walks away with the same amount of emotion he put into that forced handshake and your eyes trail after him. You go back to waiting, your hands clasped in front of you.

In the blink of an eye, Rollo starts shaking uncontrollably, as if being electrocuted. You fight back the urge to laugh at the sight. Though you were a bit concerned about the prank going wrong and severely injuring him instead, the fact that he’s still standing with a perplexed look on his face tells you that nothing went wrong.

Azul Ashengrotto

He jumps slightly at the sight of Rollo’s body contorting in a strange way but once he realizes it occurs a few seconds after he shook hands with you, he hides a twisted smile beneath his hand

He would praise you after the theatrics are over. You shrug it off, mentioning that you just searched up simple pranks online to get back at Rollo

He laughs at your casual admittance to wanting to trick someone who attempted to drain all the magic from Twisted Wonderland. It’s no wonder Rook calls you the Trickster

“Still, even a simple prank like that caught him off guard. That’ll teach him that not every form of revenge has to be grand and catastrophic.”

You dismiss it, admitting to originally intending to resort to kicking Rollo in the balls but you’re afraid of getting caught and being under the headmage’s scrutiny is the last thing you need right now

After that confession, he watches himself, knowing the kinds of tricks you’re willing to pull

You’re certainly a different kind of twisted.

Idia Shroud

He lets out a small “eep!” at the sight of Rollo suddenly acting so weirdly, thinking that he’s glitching out or something along those nerdy lines

After the whole ordeal, he’d think over the event again and come to the conclusion that you somehow manage to tase him from afar

You approach him and confirm his suspicions, to which he responds with his signature creepy giggle (affectionate). He asks you how you pulled it off

“A magician never reveals their secrets, I’m afraid.”

He pouts at your answer but he respects your commitment to the bit plus he bets you got them off the ‘Net, literally everything is there

He would randomly bring it up with Azul in Board Game Club meetings and the two of them would laugh over it

…Little does Azul know that’s just Idia’s tactic of distracting him from the game.

Malleus Draconia

His eyes widen at the sudden movement but then he sneaks a glance at you. You don’t reciprocate but he smirks either way. He knows

After the meet-and-greet, he commends you on the trick and that he was very much amused by it

“Well played, child of man. It’s simple enough that he wouldn’t be able to notice.”

You grin proudly, satisfied that you got your revenge and that your trick was worthy of his attention

He then asks you if you’re gonna pull off any more such tricks. Huh. You didn’t think that far honestly

Because he plans on joining in on your pranks if you would have him

You don’t tell him that you actually just planned that one trick but hey, you’re not going to say no to exacting more vengeance on Rollo.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x yuu #twisted wonderland x yuu #platonic twst x reader #platonic twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #rollo flamme #twst x mc

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n0tangeliccc · 1 year

Note

I have an idea! NSFW Jealous possesive top creek x reader, the asian girls start drawing reader with other ppl and the ships became very famous around town, tweek n craig have no other option than fuck reader until she can't think straight bc they're jealous as hell and they need to prove that reader belongs to them 💏💏💏💏

You’re ours

Craig x Fem!Reader x Tweek

(EVERYONE IS 18+)

Warning: Smut, unprotected sex, oral (m! + f! receiving), cum swallowing (it’s implied), threesome, fingering, degradation (the tiniest bit of praise), slight edging (?), semi-public sex (idk other people can hear you), uh i think that’s everything i don’t know how to tag these things😵‍💫(some parts might sound ooc im sorry!!)

A/N: I didn’t expect y’all to love the Creek stuff but here you go my loves🤭 (also this was not proofread please tell me of any misspellings!!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

There stood your two lovers, Tweek and Craig, their hands shaking in rage as they looked at the huge mural of you and their close friend Clyde together. Ever since you started hanging out those same girls who once got them together have been shipping you and Clyde together and this made Tweek and Craig absolutely furious. “AcK- Craig can you believe this?” Tweek’s mind was racing with panicked thoughts of you leaving him and Craig “W-what if she leaves us for him aHh! This is too much!!” “Calm down honey” Craig rubs Tweek’s back trying to calm him down before sighing “I knew we should’ve just been open and told everyone we’re in a poly relationship now look at this shit!” He face palmed mentally. Craig knew you were well known around South Park it would have been only a matter of time before you started getting shipped with someone he just wished it was with him and Tweek, I mean they were your boyfriends for fucks sake! “T-That was too much pressure!!” Tweek was practically about to pull his hair out. “Don’t worry I’ve been thinking of a way to make it know” Craig smirks and Tweek gives him a confused look “Don’t worry honey I’ll tell you all about my plan on the way, now come on I’m sure Y/N’s waiting for us at the coffee shop”

As they walk to the shop they couldn’t help but notice something that only fueled their anger and jealousy even more, Clyde. Craig’s whole body tensed up and his grip on Tweek’s hand tightened causing the blonde to turn and look at what was happening.

You had been cleaning a bit while waiting for your lovers to arrive when Clyde had walked in and struck up a conversation. You’re body leaned against the counter as you and Clyde spoke when suddenly you heard the cafe door slam open. “So then I- What the hell??” Clyde jumped as Craig and Tweek walked in “Oh hey guys what’s up?” His smile fading quickly as his friends glared at him “Okay?..Anyways Y/N-“ “AH!-Actually WE need to t-talk to her right now” Tweek cut him off ‘Weird’ you thought, you’d never seen them act like this before “Well we can go into the back office, I’ll be right back Clyde!” You waved as the guys dragged you away from him.

You could feel the tension in the air as you walked in turning to look at your boyfriends. “So…What’s going on guys?” You asked awkwardly “What’s going on?? Seriously Y/N don’t you see what’s being spread around??” Craig answered back angrily “All these people are convinced you’re with Clyde!!” The jealousy pumping through his veins as he pulled you towards him and Tweek “You’re ours and I think it’s time we let people know” he growled in you ear. “I-In here?” You questioned as he grabbed you and sat you on the desk “People will hear guys” Craig smirked “I’m sure you’d like that considering how much of a whore you’ve been lately, don’t you think Tweek?” Tweek chuckled and nodded in agreement “B-better they hear and know”

He kissed down your neck as Craig untied your apron and unbuttoned your work shirt. Both men began leaving trails of hickies down your neck and breast switching sides so Tweek was now in front of you he continued to kiss down your torso, Craig removed your bra and began teasing your tits making you whimper. Tweek unzipped your pants and pulled them down to around your ankles before beginning to kiss your inner thighs running his hands painfully close to your aching core “Tweek..” you whimpered again making both men laugh. “What’s w-wrong baby? Feeling needy?” Tweek looked up at you with a sly grin, you rarely got to see this overly dominant side of him but when you did god did it make you wet. “Please Tweek” “I don’t know Tweek I think she’s been to much of a slut to deserve it” Craig smirked giving your breast a soft squeeze making you groan “So fucking slutty, bet you’re soaked just from us teasing aren’t you?” You hear Tweek chuckle as he pulled down your panties “Oh s-she is Craig” his fingers hovered over your clit teasingly making you shiver in anticipation “F-fucking whore” Tweek growled before sticking two of his fingers into your wet folds. You gasped loudly as he began sliding them in and out of you rapidly “F-Fuck Tweek!!” You moaned loudly “So loud, though you didn’t want anyone to hear this you slut” Craig grinned smugly as he undid his pants “Time to get that pretty mouth of yours to work” he said as he pulled cock out from his pants “Come on bitch you know you want it” You laid back on the desk as Tweek continued to ravish your pussy and Craig tapped his cock on your cheek “Go on, suck it whore” You wasted no time getting to work giving his tip kitten licks as you stoked the rest of his length. “Fuck…good whore” Craig groaned as you began to slowly began to sick your head down his shaft. Tweek smirked and flattered his tongue against your clit teasingly before harshly sucking on it making you moan around Craig cock “Yeah j-just like that baby” he removed his fingers from inside you switching to his tongue, he lapped your juices rapidly making moan even louder as you felt yourself getting closer to cumming. “A-Are you close?” Tweek asked as he pulled away, his thumb circling your clit as you pulled away from Craig and nodded desperately. “Switch?” He asked Craig “Switch” he grinned mischievously as they exchanged spots with Craig between your legs and Tweek in front of you face now. You quickly began to stroke Tweek’s dick before bringing it to your mouth as Craig teased your entrance with his cock making you whimper around Tweek. “G-gah!” Tweek moaned as your mouth did wonders on his cock. Craig slid into your wet folds a low groan escaping his lips as he began slowly began to thrust into you “That’s it take it like a good slut” he cooed in your ear as his thrust began to speed up. You’re moans we’re sending chills up Tweek’s spine as you sucked him off, he grabbed onto your hair pushing himself deeper into your throat “F-fuck- close!!” You continued even faster as you hear his breath quicken “Ngh! Y/N!!” He let out one last high pitched groan before he came in your mouth holding your head down on his cock. Craig chuckled and began thrusting even faster and harder that before as he felt your walls clenching around him “That’s it whore, cum for us” His animalistic thrust sent you over the edge and you came hard screaming out in pleasure “F-fuck” Craig grunted as his thrust became sloppier and he pushed himself into you on last time before he came.

By the next day everyone knew of your relationship with Tweek and Craig. Not because you guys announced it out loud but because poor Clyde heard the whole thing from outside the office and told everyone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

Longest oneshot I’ve written (why it took me so damn long😭) also the dirtiest oml😮‍💨

#south park x reader #south park fanfiction #south park x y/n #south park x you #south park smut #craig tucker x reader #craig tucker x you #craig tucker x y/n #tweek tweak x reader #tweek tweak x you #tweek tweak x y/n #creek x reader

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lovelyhan · 7 months

Text

— daylight ⟢

when hoshi first opened his eyes, the singular impulse hard-wired into his circuitry is to dance. a performer in every sense of the word, he simply finds another stage to set foot on in the planet of salax after the escape. people never overstay their welcome here, but he unexpectedly meets you—a mechanic born and raised in a place where no one deigns to linger for too long.

★ FEATURING; soonyoung x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 9k words

★ TAGS; automaton!hoshi, mechanic!reader, a bunch of stray kids members make appearances bc HA!, mentions of sex work, mutual pining? angst, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ WARNINGS; implied dubious consent (with hoshi and a character that isn't the mc), mentions of terminal illnesses and surgeries

★ NOTES; fun fact! this collab was 9 months in the making and i am cramming this on the very last day of my extension :D very unprofessional of me, but here it is! p.s. little side note that the chan that's constantly mentioned in the fic is bang chan, not lee chan!

this is part of @idyllic-ghost's svt sci-fi collab!

★ SMUT TAGS; robot sex, unprotected sex, first time together, they're just so desperate for each other yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz - @dkswife

★ SOONYOUNG TAGLIST; @ak6ko - @nikkell - @yoonzinoooo

100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed.

The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight.

However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system.

Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automatons, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t.

Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be.

At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities—

“That’s enough telly for one day, don’tcha think?”

A frown tugs at your lips when you hear the familiar voice of your next-door neighbor who also makes a living out of trading tech junk in exchange for money. Han Jisung is a bit of an oddball—even by your planet’s standards, and everyone knows how strange the dwellers of Salax could be. If he was on Earth, he would’ve been ostracized as a complete loon, but unfortunately the stack of television monitors right outside his shop is your only source of entertainment these days.

(Which might sound preposterous to some, since Salax is often dubbed as the planet of entertainment. Just not the kind you’re looking for.)

“Why are you even watching a documentary that’s nearly a decade old?” you huff, clutching a bag of tools you bought from the other side of town closer to your chest. “I thought you didn’t give a shit about Automaton celebrities—that Chan’s dancer trinity could outperform any machine?”

“Now, Giz, no need to be so stingy,” Jisung chuckles and your eye twitches at the condescending nickname. “You know that's not why I’m watching this old thing.”

As if on cue, the only working screen in the sea of television static before you flickers from a scene of breathtaking idol performances to a closeup on a familiar Automaton who’s been burning up the stage since he first opened his eyes.

“Hoshi looked so sparkly when he debuted,” Jisung comments as the documentary continues to play. “Actually, they all did. Makes me wonder why those idols thought it’d be a good idea to break out of their facilities. Weren’t they treated like royalty back on Earth? What’s he doing in a dump like this?”

“Jisung,” you sigh. “Why’d you ask me to come here again?”

“Oh. Right. I'll bring him into your lab, Giz.”

He calls you Giz because you’re known around these parts as someone who can fix any gadget and gizmo; every robot and Automaton that’s dropped into your care. It just so happens that, with the nature of his business, Jisung is the one who typically directs potential customers your way.

Which is what he’s doing right now.

“Didn’t he already come in here last week? And the week before that?” Your neighbor grumbles as he helps your mutual friend Minho heft a powered down Automaton on the table in your lab. “It was Hyunjin who brought him the first time. Then Felix. Now you?”

“He’s a bot, what’d you expect?” Minho huffs. “They break down every now and again.”

“You break down every now and again too, but you don’t visit the doctor every week, no?” Jisung quips. “Idol bots really have no business wanderin’ into the galaxy’s red light district when they can’t handle the heat.”

“Jisung, shut up,” you apprehend him sharply, all while getting to work on the Automaton lying on your work table. “I can’t fix anything when you’re running your mouth too close to my ear.”

Your neighbor simply chuckles before patting Minho on the back. “Oh, yeah. You’ve gotta be in your handywoman element and everything. Well, Minho and I are gonna pop open some cold ones from your fridge—”

“No.

“—from my fridge while you work on that dying star over there,” Jisung makes it a point to cast the same robot he’d just been watching a documentary of a pitiful glance. “Seriously though, won’t Chan-hyung just consider selling him to me? Bet this guy’s parts would make a great fortune in the black market.”

“And how are you going to explain that you managed to turn up Hoshi of 53V3NT33N’s body parts without getting arrested?” Minho barks before yanking Jisung by the ear to the entrance of your lab. “Sorry about him, Y/N. He must be a pain in the ass to have as a neighbor.”

"You're a pain in the ass for constantly getting me to fix this guy, too,” you mumble as you start to unbutton Hoshi’s shirt to access the panel concealing the circuitry panel underneath his chest. “I’m all for saving what can still be saved, but maybe Jisung is onto something. Why aren’t you guys just chopping up his parts if he breaks down this often?”

Jisung nods with a huff. “Can’t be good for business even if he used to be a famous idol, that’s for sure.”

The lab is silent apart from the whir of the machines mounted on your walls, and it’s this sullen atmosphere that makes Minho’s reply have all the more weight to it.

“You guys aren’t dancers. You wouldn’t be able to understand.”

The first time you met rogue idol Automaton Hoshi in his titanium-clad glory was during a rare night when Jisung coaxed you out of your lab to "have real fun for once". Your neighbor is easily one of the most overbearing people you know, so you simply tagged along for the sake of getting him to shut up more than anything else.

But when he droned on and on about this new recruit Minho managed to scour off the streets, you never expected that Jisung would be talking about a bot and not some fledgling dancer with little to his name.

Well, in retrospect, Hoshi is a dancer—a performer, even. Despite his group's intergalactic status as outlaws because of the simultaneous escape stunt they pulled several months ago, not a single soul in Salax wished to report his whereabouts to the concerned authorities.

Where the other bots from 53V3NT33N are, you haven't the slightest clue, but if your planet's natives have widely accepted Hoshi's presence even if he's been here for a month at most, who are you to dictate otherwise?

Passionate. That's the best word you can use to describe the way he dances. All the movements that his body makes are calculated, purposeful. Each roll of his hips, each snap of his limbs, every memorable expression that colors his face—the intensity of Hoshi's performance all bleeds into his passion for the art of dance.

In your many years of tending and tinkering with machines, this is probably the first time you wondered if a bot's creator infused part of his soul into the code. You know of a few Automatons that are being used as entertainers and even escorts for the lecherous visitors of Salax, yet none of them come as close to being human as Hoshi is in your book.

But on that same night, you managed to witness the polar end of the spectrum. The one where Hoshi's fiery passion crumbled into crippling anxiety.

Automaton malfunctions aren't an uncommon occurrence here. The reason why not many Level 1 bots ever set foot on Salax is because the planet's electromagnetic fields mess with their delicate circuitry and sometimes even tamper with their code.

These Automatons are celebrities—meaning their parts are made out of sleek material to allow ease of movement and rid them of the rigid and bulky framework of infernal bots. But because of the flimsy hardware coupled with the harsh environment, you're not surprised to see an Automaton as intricately crafted as Hoshi break down in the middle of a performance.

He's a mess. The practiced choreography was seemingly wiped out of his programming as he convulsed on-stage, sparks flitting from the seams of his joints. The bar’s manager, Chan, was quick to bark out orders to bring Hoshi off the platform and just let the other dancers cover the rest of the routine.

You thought the immediate recall of an obviously defected Automaton would mean he was done for. But then again, Salax is a place with little resources to burn. As long as a bot can still do its job, the owner will have it fixed time and time again until its artificial nervous system shuts down for good.

That’s how Hoshi ended up in your lab the first time.

There’s a childlike curiosity in his gaze when he wakes up after you check if all his wires are in place and if his code remains uncorrupted. It almost feels like seeing a baby open its eyes for the first time, but you know better than to associate human traits with something that’s anything but.

“Horanghae,” Hoshi says without any real context as he bares his fingers at you, while Hyunjin, the dancer who brought him here alongside Jisung, groans in contempt.

“That’s the first thing he said when Chan-hyung booted him up too,” he sighs. “Is it like some starting screen sound effect or something? What does that even mean?”

As things stand, you don’t know either. But seeing that Hoshi isn’t glitching anymore makes a wave of relief wash over you in a rather unexpected way. While it isn’t the first time you’ve had to fix a humanoid robot, you don’t work much on machines that grin at you so wide, their eyes disappear.

Then again, there’s always room for firsts.

“Why’d you choose to go here after you escaped?”

You chose to ask Hoshi the question that’s been weighing on your mind despite having little to no reassurance of the ingenuity of his answer. You’re aware that though Automatons—especially Level 1’s—are sentient, you have zero background on their psychological makeup, the thought process behind their decisions, everything but the baseline components of their hardware.

Hoshi hums for a moment, wincing when you accidentally nick one of the wires directly connected to the nerves on his thigh. “I dunno. I just wanted to dance.”

“Hm. And you thought you’d be able to do that here?”

He nods as if it was a practiced response. Maybe it is. “Yeah. My old mechanic told me Salax is a place where all sorts of dancers flock together. I kinda wanted to go with Wonwoo when we all escaped, but…I wanted to dance even more.”

Whoever that mechanic was, they must’ve left out the part where your home planet is quite literally a den for one’s deepest, darkest desires. Dancers at clubs are just merely scratching the tip of the iceberg. The depravity of Salax’s denizens and visitors alike goes even further than that, but you suppose it’s not the right time to disillusion such an innocent bot so early in his new career.

After all, Chan’s club might be like any other salacious establishment out there, but from what you know about him through Minho and Jisung, he isn’t the type to just throw a clueless Automaton into becoming a nightly escort. You’ll let Hoshi live out his dream to keep dancing on whatever stage he sets his eyes on—even if that means he’ll start frequenting your lab for regular maintenance checkups.

“Where’s Jisung?”

The question surprises you a little when Hoshi articulates it while you’re in the middle of tidying up your work table. Normally, he’d be out of the lab once you were done and whichever human dancer is chaperoning him for the day would pay for the services you rendered and they’d be on their merry way back to the main district.

It’s completely out of character for him to ask questions. You weren’t even aware that he knew Jisung’s name, which makes you wonder…

Does he know yours? You’ve never really introduced yourself to the machines you end up tinkering with on your work table.

Choosing not to dwell on it, you instead respond with, “Jisung is…at the hospital. He goes there every weekend.”

“Hospital,” Hoshi repeats the word as if it was something he’s only hearing about the first time. “My mechanic had to go to the hospital because she was sick one time. I didn’t see her for a while. Will Jisung be okay? Why is he in the hospital?”

You didn’t think sentient robots would have such a complex sense of self that they’re actually capable of empathy. It makes you stare at Hoshi, who’s staring back at you with a look asking for confirmation, and the unreadable expression on your face melts into soft laughter.

Your reaction, however, confuses the Automaton a little. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just amusing for me that you care that much about someone who’s constantly threatening to disassemble your parts and sell them in the intergalactic black market.”

“Well, if he needs them, I don’t mind.”

“If you let Jisung do that, you wouldn’t be able to dance anymore,” you point out before locking your toolbox, casting him a pointed look. “Will you really be alright with that? Not being able to do the thing that brought you here in the first place?”

Hoshi’s face scrunches up for a moment—as if he’s taking his time to actually think about his answer. Another speck of amusement prickles your chest. He has such human mannerisms that if you didn’t constantly see what’s underneath the clothes the bar provides him with, you never would’ve thought he was a bot.

“It would suck, but… Automatons were made to serve the humans around us, weren’t we?” he wonders out loud. “If my purpose is to get chopped up for parts, then I don’t really have any qualms with that.”

“Your purpose was to entertain millions of people across the galaxy as an idol group,” you deadpan. “But here you are in Salax, light years away from the rest of your members. You can cut the moral bullshit, Hoshi. We’re all selfish degenerates here anyway.”

For the first time, his expression twists into a frown. “I’m afraid I don’t understand…?”

“You don’t have to. It’s not that much of a big deal.” You shake your head and at the same time, you hear the sound of someone rapping their knuckles on the door to your lab. “Oh, Felix is already here. Good luck with tonight’s show.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

You can almost hear the pout in Hoshi’s voice, prompting you to cast him a sidelong glance. “Answer what?”

“Why is Jisung in the hospital?”

You let out your umpteenth sigh of the evening, opening the door to your lab to reveal a dressed-to-kill Felix that smiles and waves at the two of you.

“His older brother is sick and Jisung always goes to the hospital to take care of him on weekends,” you explain as simply as you could. “Does that finally sate your curiosity?”

It takes him a few moments to process the information he’d just been told, but Hoshi eventually breaks into that familiar, eye-crinkling grin—clearly satisfied with your answer.

“It did. Thank you, Giz.”

Well, that’s not quite your name, but you suppose it’ll do.

For Hoshi’s next checkup, you immediately sense that something’s amiss.

Typically, the Automaton waltzes into your lab and hefts himself on your work table before you can even get a chance to say hello to both him and his assigned chaperone. Today, it’s Minho but unlike last week’s visit, Jisung is here to lighten up the atmosphere in his usual Jisung fashion.

Though it’s not enough to conceal the obvious discombobulation your patient is currently experiencing.

“You two,” you call out, referring to the only other humans inside the lab. “Can you step out for a while? I’m gonna talk to Hoshi.”

Jisung, of course, is quick to initiate his rapid-fire questions. “What? Why would you need some alone time with a sexy bot, Giz? You’re not becoming one of those deranged mechanics who gets off with their Automatons, right?”

“Quit yapping and just let her do her job,” Minho scolds before dragging Jisung out of the lab by the wrist. But he doesn’t leave before yelling over his shoulder. “Just call us when you’re done!”

When Minho pulls the door shut and the automatic locks come into place, you turn to Hoshi with an inquisitive look.

“What happened?”

The question is met with a wince—as if you took out a cigarette and burned his silicone skin with the smoldering edge. Hoshi makes it a point to avoid your eyes, which only further confirms your theory that something is most definitely up.

“I…had my first client the other day.”

Ah.

While you haven’t personally dabbled in the services being offered by the red light district, you’ve been friends with Minho long enough to pick up on the basics. With how much attention Hoshi has been garnering for himself, it was only a matter of time before Chan would let him entertain their club’s regulars in a way that he was probably never taught as an idol.

After all, Level 1s are considered the purest of all the Automaton classes. You’ve always wondered what would happen if they were exposed to activities of the sexual kind, but from the uneasy look on Hoshi’s face, you’re afraid it might not have been a great first time.

“Do you…want to talk about it?”

It feels a little silly, playing therapist for a literal machine. But the longer you serve as Hoshi’s regular mechanic here on Salax, the more you realize that things would be less stressful if you treated him just like you would treat any other human being out there.

He’s an Automaton—a robot—but because of the groundbreaking discovery of their ability to become sentient several decades ago, you’re more than inclined to hear him out.

“The other dancers helped me prepare. Chan told me time and time again that I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to but…” He starts, voice coming out softer than you’re used to—more reserved. “I wanted to. I wanted to be of use to them. I knew that lots of our customers wished for me to become their escort, so I just repaid Chan’s kindness by doing my job.”

Your lips tug into a grimace. “You don’t look very pleased with the outcome though.”

Hoshi purses his lips and that alone is already an answer.

You don’t pester him any further than that. Instead, you quietly instruct him to take off his shirt and lie on the table like he always does. Hoshi complies surprisingly quickly—following your orders with clockwork precision. He’s in position merely ten seconds after you gave the word.

When you perform your regular examination beneath his chest plate, nothing seems out of turn. Part of you wants to check the circuitry inside his head just to make sure he’s doing alright up there. It’s been a while since Hoshi has been brought here because of a breakdown, so you haven’t bothered inspecting the wires beneath his artificial skull. You wonder if he even wants to—

“It felt good,” your patient tells you all of a sudden, nearly making you drop the tools you’re using to poke around inside his chest cavity. “I didn’t think it was possible for me to even feel that way, but I did.”

Composing yourself, you manage a small nod. “Okay. Did you enjoy it at least?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you want to do it again?”

“...With her? Not really.”

Hoshi falls silent for the next few minutes once more, which affords you all the silence you need to concentrate on what you’re doing. After closing his chest panel and lubricating the screws on his external joints, he was more or less in the clear. But from the way his uncharacteristic silence still persists, you know that he still has a couple more things on his mind.

“I didn’t like the way she said my name.”

You glance at Hoshi with a quizzical look, implicitly asking him to elaborate, which he thankfully does in a heartbeat.

“When I was still with the rest of 53V3NT33N, the fans would call out my name and it always felt good. It felt euphoric, even,” he reminisces as he sits up on the table, dark eyes trained on the tiled floor. “But with my client…it was the first time I felt unnerved hearing it come from another person’s mouth. It’s like—like she only saw me as a thing to enjoy. Not someone she loves, like our fans love me.”

The honesty in his words makes your heart sink.

Turns out, ridding an Automaton of its figurative innocence isn’t so different from that of a real person. The glittering curiosity that’s always been present in Hoshi’s eyes is nowhere to be found and you feel a deep-seated anger pooling in the pit of your stomach at the knowledge.

“Can you give me a new one?”

Blinking the irritation out of your eyes, you stare at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“A new name,” Hoshi says softly. “I never really liked the name Hoshi. Our management just thought it would make for good business to base my image around tigers. What’s more is that this city has already tainted it for me.”

The bitter laugh that follows his words has your chest aching with an emotion you can’t name. When was the last time you became this sad on a machine’s behalf, you wonder…

“Are you sure?” you murmur. “I’m not your boss or anything. If there’s anyone who has the right to give you a name, wouldn’t it be Chan?”

Hoshi shakes his head. “No. I want it to be you.”

Humans are already hard to figure out, but with each session you share with Hoshi, you learn that Automatons are even more so. He stares at you with such intense desperation in his eyes that you find it difficult to deny him. So, with a deep breath, you say the first name that pops into your head.

“How about...Soonyoung,” you breathe. “You are powerful because of your innocence and glory combined. It’s obvious in how you haven’t tapped out because of that less-than-stellar time with your first client.”

“Soonyoung…” he whispers under his breath, as if testing how the syllables would taste in his mouth. When the corners of his lips twitch into a smile, you know you’ve struck gold. “Did you just invent what the name means or…?”

“That’s for me to keep and for you to find out.” You shrug. “Well? Do you like your new name?”

“It’s not just my name. It’s yours, too.”

“...That doesn’t really make a lot of sense.”

Soonyoung laughs. “You’re the one who gave it to me. So it belongs to you, too.”

I belong to you too, you can almost hear him say, but erase the idea from your brain before you can get any more silly thoughts.

“Well, I think we should go. My sensors tell me that someone is very pissed off on the other side and I’m guessing that Jisung must’ve said something that annoyed Minho again.”

“For a robot, you’re pretty adept at picking up on human emotions,” you point out teasingly.

“Of course I am. I always want to appeal to the emotions of those around me, Y/N. Why do you think I dance my heart out every time I’m in the club?”

Oh.

He does know your name after all.

That evening, you decided to tag along with the boys to the club—grabbing a table for Jisung and yourself as you watched tonight’s lineup of performers. Soonyoung, with his newfound confidence thanks to the name you bestowed upon him, looks just as breathtaking as he was in the prime of his idol years. You wouldn’t have thought he’d just had an unsavory encounter with a client with how brightly he grins at the audience.

He reminds you a little of daylight breaking through the horizon minutes after dawn—almost blinding in his brilliance, but too precious for you to miss out on.

“What’re you doing?”

Soonyoung sounds a little annoyed when he glances over his shoulder. Your most loyal patient came in alone for the first time in months for his weekly maintenance check-up, but for some reason, his trusted mechanic is much more interested in something else.

You’re still tinkering with a portable hologram projector that wandered into Jisung’s weekly junk stash—one that your neighbor gave to you as a little plaything that’s been taking up most of your morning trying to figure out.

“Give me a second,” you grumble as you attempt to salvage the inner workings of the worn out thing with a soldering iron. “I’ve only read about these things in books, and my old mentor said they usually contain the final messages of a ship captain whose spacecraft is about to get destroyed.”

“That’s weirdly specific of you, don’t you think?” Soonyoung huffs. “Come on. I’ve got a client to meet in two hours and Hyunjin’s being really annoying with this new routine he came up with. I need to go back and practice as soon as I’m done here.”

You let out a quiet laugh before giving up on the hologram projector. “Oh? Time sure flies, doesn’t it? I could’ve sworn you hated taking up clients just yesterday.”

He whines. “It’s been half a year since I started doing that!”

“Like I said—time flies!”

Your sessions have grown shorter and shorter with each passing week. Every time you fine-tune Soonyoung’s circuitry, you observe that he’s become less prone to internal malfunctions. You didn’t think it was possible for a Level 1 Automaton to fully adapt to the frequency of the electromagnetic waves in Salax, but Soonyoung has surprised you time and time again.

Now, he can go on for weeks without powering down to regain his energy. He’s as good as any dancer—both human and robot—can be, and you honestly consider telling him that he doesn’t really have to come in for his weekly check-ups anymore.

Soonyoung, however, doesn’t seem thrilled with the news.

“What do you mean I don’t have to come here anymore?” He pouts.

“There’s nothing left for me to check, big guy,” you sigh as you seal his chest panel back up. “You’ve been stable for months now. I don’t even charge Chan for your check-ups anymore since everything is relatively normal.”

“But if I don’t get any check-ups, can I still come here?”

You make a face at him. “What for?”

“To hang out! Minho and Jisung do it all the time. Although Jisung always barges into the club uninvited and we have to stop Minho from beating him up…”

His invite perplexes you more than it flatters you because… You’ve never encountered any cases where an Automaton would willingly go out of its way to spend time with a human that doesn’t hold any sort of authority over it.

They’re sentient, yes, but at the end of the day, those emotions that others trick themselves into believing that bots can feel are just a clever arrangement of ones and zeros. It’s easy to lose oneself into one’s own delusions when in need of a little company, but you know that you aren’t that desperate for companionship.

It’s always just been you and the bots and other machines you fix for a living. Well, maybe Minho and Jisung when they’re not busy trying to piss each other off. You don’t need to hang out with Soonyoung.

And yet…

“Fine,” you relent with little resistance, feigning nonchalance by fluttering back to the projector you’ve been trying to salvage. “Just don’t make too much of a racket or I’ll kick you out.”

Soonyoung beams at your agreement, tugging his shirt back on before shuffling towards you and embracing you from behind. The suddenness of the gesture obviously catches you by surprise. You nearly drop the portable holo projector, but Soonyoung’s reaction time is quite phenomenal.

“Hey, don’t drop it. It’s already been through a lot.”

Still unnerved by the feel of his beefy, synthetic arms wrapped around your frame, you glance at him warily. “You talk like it’s some sentient creature.”

“It is! Well, by some degree, I guess,” Soonyoung chuckles before flipping the thing over in his hand. “Machines are just like people too. If you listen close enough, you can hear what they want to tell you.”

“Uh-huh,” you drawl before disentangling yourself from his embrace before you could implode from embarrassment. If he notices just how flustered you are, he doesn’t show it. “What’s this thing trying to tell you then?”

“Its creator hid the switch inside the motherboard, but you’re damaging it with a soldering iron. You just need to look for it harder.” Soonyoung hands the gadget back to you with a warm smile. “Well, I’ve gotta go now. Hopefully, when I go hang out with you, that thing will already be fixed.”

Soonyoung prances out of the lab with a skip to his step before you can even give your own input. When you hear the front door of your house click shut, you grab your toolbox with a withering sigh before trying a different approach to your current predicament.

To your chagrin, it’s just as Soonyoung said—the switch was hidden somewhere beneath the motherboard and you were able to witness a space cadet’s last five minutes of life.

He talked about how much he missed home, how he wished he just died on Earth instead of being launched into space after the implosion of the sun of the first solar system. Then, he left a message for a woman that used to be his childhood sweetheart—saying that it was only a matter of time before they were reunited. Before you can glean any more information about the cadet, the feed was cut off and hologram flickered out.

The entire experience leaves you dumbfounded for about five minutes. A hologram from over a hundred years ago just wound up in Jisung’s junk stash. What are the odds?

“Giz? Are you in here?”

Speaking of Jisung, the devil himself weasels his way into your lab just when you’re done tidying up your little experiment for today. You’re just about to tell him what you saw in the holo projector, but the look on his face makes you pause.

The cheerful, pain-in-the-ass neighbor of yours seems a little…exhausted. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his cheeks look a bit thinner than you remember. Jisung is the kind of person that rarely lets the things that bother him show on his face, so you’re a little concerned to see him in such a state right now.

“Jisung, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “It’s Jieun… He’s—He needs a heart transplant. If he doesn’t get a replacement in eight weeks, he’ll die. I can’t handle that, Y/N. I can’t lose him. He’s the only family I’ve got left…”

You panic internally somewhat when Jisung starts rambling in front of you, tears streaking his face as the man who you thought was always a step ahead of everybody starts to crumble before you. You’re not expert in consoling people who direly need it, but you’re at least rational enough to lead him out of your stuffy lab and back to the comfort of your living room.

There, you give Jisung a glass of water and several minutes to catch his breath.

Once he calms down, he speaks.

“I’ve already outsourced a compatible donor,” he murmurs. “It should all be in the clear now, but the problem right now is money. The shitty healthcare system on this planet won’t greenlight any transplants unless everything is paid in full. I-I can’t come up with the money they want from me in less than two months.”

Fuck. He’s in a tight spot then. “Oh, Jisung…”

“But I’ve thought of a way that might work if you help me.”

You flash him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Jisung’s throat bobs before letting out a shuddering breath. You only notice how bloodshot his eyes are when he leans closer to tell you about his so-called plan.

“Some intergalactic guards have been spotted around the main district lately. Word from the street is that they’re still searching for the other members of that idol group that escaped Earth and that a generous reward would be given to everyone who’ll cooperate,” he whispers conspiratorially, and from those few sentences alone, you’re already dreading what he’s planning. “If I lead them to Hoshi, I should be able to raise enough money for Jieun’s surgery. Enough that I can even split the reward between the two of us!”

“No,” you tell him sharply. “You’re not going to sell out Soo—Hoshi like that. He practically lives here already.”

“He’s just a fucking bot, Giz,” Jisung snaps. “The worst they’ll do if they catch him is give him time out for a few days until he’s back to being the idol that everyone knows and loves. If I don’t get the money I need for my brother’s transplant, he’s going to die.”

You hold Jisung’s intense stare despite not having a good enough comeback. He’s right. Soonyoung isn’t even supposed to be here at all. And if surrendering him to the cops meant Jisung would have the means to help his brother survive, the only logical thing to do is give him a hand.

But then you remember the way Soonyoung’s eyes disappear behind the widest of grins whenever he’s enjoying himself. How he trusted you enough to confide in his troubles during his first client booking, the way his eyes sparkled when you first called him Soonyoung—

It’s not just my name. It’s yours, too.

“I can’t help you, Jisung,” you murmur. “If you’re going to go about the situation like this, I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

Your neighbor and long-time friend nods once, twice before getting up from your couch. Guilt bites into your chest as Jisung leads himself to the front door, and you could’ve sworn your heart sank into your stomach when he closes it behind him.

In the ear-splitting silence, you wonder if there’s any way to save someone without sacrificing anybody else.

While it’s true that you’ve never taken up the type of entertainment that Salax is famous for, that doesn’t mean you’re completely unaware of what goes on during those sorts of transactions.

Despite himself, Minho can be a bit of a chatterbox especially when he’s had one drink too many. There was a time when he told you about how he was booked for the night by a married couple and they edged him until he was in tears on the mattress. Then, he proceeded to share that he was quite literally incapacitated for days because the wife had exceptional skill with her strap-ons.

You don’t really hear these kinds of stories from Soonyoung. The possible reasons are 1.) Automatons don’t have a sense of gossip and see no benefit in sharing the gritty details of their sex lives, and 2.) He just doesn’t see you as someone worth telling said gritty details about.

The second possibility gnaws at you more than it should. You don’t really care about Soonyoung’s nightly escapades. You’re just his mechanic. As long as he doesn’t fuck himself up like he used to when he first started working at the club, you’ll have no complaints.

But after a late-night grocery store run, you unknowingly run into Soonyoung and someone who you presume to be one of his clients. They’re right outside the building of Chan’s club, and Soonyoung is obviously romancing the woman who paid for his company that night by caging her against the wall, whispering something in her ear with a sordid smirk.

You’ve never seen him like this. Whenever he’s with you, Soonyoung’s all too-wide smiles and unprovoked hugs. The more he hangs out with you during his free time, the more difficult it is for you to picture him as that seductive dancer that has charmed everyone who’s anyone on Salax.

Part of you—an irrational part of you—wants to hide him away from the rest of the world. But then you remember you’re just his mechanic and that it would be weird to be feeling this way about an Automaton, of all things.

You manage to brush off the scene you witnessed for a few weeks. Soonyoung still shows up at your house to watch a few movies or help you fix some other bots that come into the shop. He’s excellent company because his robot-to-robot communication skills make your job easier than it used to be.

Until one night, he snuggles up to you on the couch a little too closely—your heart beating a little too fast at the close proximity.

“I don’t get why she has to give up her tail for a man,” he murmurs from where his chin is propped on top of your shoulder, pulling you closer to him whether he knows it or not. “Aren’t there any other mermen that Ariel could just get with?”

“That’s what makes the story interesting, Soonie,” you chuckle, trying not to melt in his embrace despite knowing that the heat of his body is all artificial. “She’s sacrificing everything for love. It’s all part of the human experience.”

Soonyoung scoffs at that. “But Ariel’s a mermaid.”

“Just shut up and watch the movie.”

Ever the obedient bot, your current company does as he’s told until the credits start rolling and you have to get up to rid yourself of a crick in your neck. You’ve been in the same position for over two hours, having forgotten that Automatons don’t need to move around to get comfortable in their seats. Oversight on your part, really.

But before you can even attempt to crawl out of Soonyoung’s secure embrace, he tugs you back down—forcing you to face him with a puzzled expression.

“I’m gonna get some water,” you tell him. “Let me go, clingy robot.”

He doesn’t budge. Soonyoung simply pins you in place with his firm grip and the heat of his stare, and it takes you a few moments to realize that he’s looking at you the same way he looked at that woman outside of Chan’s club a few nights ago.

“You saw me while I was working, didn’t you?” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

You swallow thickly. “W-Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I accidentally introduced myself with the name you gave me,” Soonyoung sighs, lower lip swelling into a pout. “I always go by Hoshi at work, but we’d just finished watching Pocahontas together before I timed in that night.”

“Soonyoung,” you address him warily, unsure of where you should place yourself in this situation. “What are you going on about? That name is yours.”

“And I told you that it’s yours as well, didn’t I?” His laughter is a soft noise that tickles the back of your neck, making gooseflesh prickle the skin of your arms.

“I’m yours.”

His words make a steady buzz resound in your head, making you second guess if any of this is even real. Did you drink too many pints of beer and are currently hallucinating a Soonyoung that might feel the same way you do about him? That’s not right. Jisung already emptied your fridge of alcoholic beverages months ago and you haven’t bought any new packs since.

But if you’re not intoxicated, why in the world is an Automaton speaking to you as if he’s confessing feelings he doesn’t even have?

“You’re just hung up on the movie, you bucket of bolts,” you grumble, trying to push him off of you to no avail. Fuck. This is all very much real then. “Soonyoung, I’m not playing around.”

“Neither am I,” he whispers. When he leans closer, you don’t feel his breath on your face, don’t hear his heart thundering in his chest because he isn’t human.

He isn’t human, yet why doesn’t that stop you from wanting him anyway?

“Tell me to get up and leave if you want me to stop,” Soonyoung proposes with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave you alone for good.”

You want him—you want him so fucking bad, it feels like a disease.

“Why’re you only coming for me with this now?” you whisper. “What prompted it?”

The handsome Automaton laughs quietly, caressing your face so delicately, you wonder if he learned to practice it from the countless clients he’s entertained. “I think I’ve always been a little attached to you since I first woke up after breaking down. You’re the one who cured my anxiety, Y/N. It’s only natural for me to feel drawn to you.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Heh. Fine. Maybe it’s because Ariel inspired me to be a little more like her—to sacrifice everything love.”

…Love?

Soonyoung loves you?

It doesn’t make sense. He isn’t supposed to love. Automatons are sentient, but they aren’t capable of a full spectrum of emotions. The mere prospect of it goes against everything you’ve been taught ever since you decided that you wanted to become a mechanic.

But from the way Soonyoung is looking at you alone, you remind yourself that every now and again, there are outliers to all the facts printed on every Automaton textbook you’ve buried your nose in.

Rationality is your enemy at this point, and you toss all of it to the wind when you yank the front of Soonyoung’s shirt—mending your lips into a kiss that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. His mouth is soft on top of yours, and he moves to the cadence you’ve set so languidly, it almost feels fluid. You gasp into his mouth when Soonyoung curls an arm around your waist, pressing you as close to him as humanly possible.

“Soonyoung,” you whisper. “Want you.”

He pulls away for a second—not even looking a fraction of how disheveled you are from a single kiss. “Are you sure?”

The concern in his tone sends a rush straight through your skull. What kind of algorithm allows for an Automaton to express that kind of emotion on its own accord? Are the other idols that escaped with him the same way? You find out that you don’t really know the answers to these questions right now—nor do you want to know.

What you want is for him to be so deep inside you, you’ll feel him for days.

You yank him down for another kiss all while you desperately rid yourself of your once-comfortable and now-stifling clothes. They come off one by one until they’re but a heap on the floor and Soonyoung has the gall to chuckle at your impatience.

“If you wanted me this much, you should’ve just told me sooner,” he whispers, peppering your face with featherlight kisses. “I think I’ve had enough practice to be a good enough lover for you.”

“Mention that so-called practice again and I’ll deactivate your nervous system,” you growl and Soonyoung responds by trailing his mouth across your neck—suckling at the skin above your pulse with a conniving grin.

Just like any other humanoid Level 1, Soonyoung is soft in all places humans should be. His lips, his skin—everything. While the physics that surrounded an Automaton’s male genitalia are out of your scope of expertise, it’s infinitesimally interesting to know that their cocks work the exact same way as a human’s. Even if there’s no blood coursing through his non-existent veins, Soonyoung still gets hard with just the right stimulus.

That stimulus being the swell of your breasts because he hasn’t parted from them since he started suckling on the sensitive flesh five minutes ago.

“Soonie,” you whimper, grinding your sopping core against his thigh. “More. Give me more.”

He laughs—a breathless little sound before his gaze flickers up to you so lovingly, it almost hurts. “I thought I was the impatient one between the two of us.”

“Just shut up and fuck me, please.”

The raw desire in your plea makes the smile disappear from his face. When Soonyoung presses his forehead against yours, his gaze sears into your own so intensely, you’ll still be able to see him with your eyes closed.

“I never thought I’d ever get to hear you beg for me,” he admits, adjusting himself on the couch for your comfort. “I want to hear it again.”

Your Automaton lover doesn’t give you any forewarning that he’ll be pushing the head of his cock inside you. You’re simply greeted by the welcome intrusion of him parting your slick walls—little to no preparation needed because of how much you’re dripping onto the cushions. Soonyoung hisses between his teeth, a ravenous look that you’ve never seen sitting on his face, which has you clamping down deliciously against his length.

“Do you feel it?” he murmurs, sinking inch by fucking inch into you. “Do you feel me inside you?”

You feel him everywhere. All of your senses are overloaded with him, him, him. Right now, he isn’t Hoshi from 53V3NT33N or Hoshi, the rising star of the red light district.

He’s Soonyoung. Your precious, irreplaceable Soonyoung.

“Yes,” you moan out loud, fucking your hips back onto his to generate the friction you so direly needed. “Deeper, Soonyoung. Want you deeper.”

And he gives you just that.

Soonyoung pistons his hips with practiced ease, not a single pant to be heard from him as his cock plunges in and out of your wet heat. You pull him into your embrace like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you don’t hold onto him tightly enough and your lover quickly picks up on the message—wrapping his strong arms around you as he mercilessly pounds you into the sofa.

Every word you know eludes you as the mind-numbing pleasure frazzles your brain. You can’t even articulate how good it feels to have him ram into you like he wants to leave his mark inside your body forever. You’ve never had sex this toe-curling, and it’s a little pitiful to make that discovery when the one who’s fucking you to an inch of your life isn’t even human.

But that’s what makes it feel right in the midst of its wrongness.

When you come apart on his cock the first time, it makes you wonder if that’s what it feels like to fall from grace. The creeping high leading up to your release as you free-fall into oblivion should’ve been daunting, but all that sings in your veins is pure ecstasy as Soonyoung fucks you through your orgasm.

He leans down to capture your lips, devouring your mouth in a way that only means he’s staking his claim. It’s a kiss that bruises—a kiss that persists. And you barely hear yourself scream his name into his mouth when you finally come down from bliss.

Just when you thought you could finally let yourself breathe, Soonyoung gently turns you around on the couch—forcing your back into an arch as he props you up by the knees. Still disoriented from your last orgasm, you don’t immediately process what he’s trying to do until you feel the hardness of his cock nudging against the ridge of your ass.

That’s when you remember that Automatons do not get tired.

Fuck.

“You better be ready for me,” Soonyoung chuckles into your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“If you want me, you’re getting all of me.”

In the aftermath, you let yourself look at Soonyoung even with your eyes streaked with tears. He’s smiling at you like you’re the most precious thing in all the galaxies combined and you’re too fucked out to not melt into his embrace when he engulfs you in the heat of his arms.

You love him, you think.

Loving a machine that shouldn’t be capable of love is contradictory in every sense of the word. He’s a complete softie whenever he hangs out with you, but would pass as a predator when he’s with his clients. He’s a bot that loves to dance, but would give that up in a heartbeat if others needed him for another purpose.

Then again the lines have started to blur considerably since Soonyoung started fucking you into incoherence. Pain and pleasure, human and not human, love and lust—

“I love you,” you murmur, only half conscious as Soonyoung carries you to your bed. “Soonyoung, I love you…”

A soft laugh rumbles deep in his chest as he tucks you in—replacing the warmth of his body with the comfort of your blanket. You frown at the sudden change, but he’s tired you out too much for you to hold up any sort of protest.

As he stands before the doorway, you manage to wrench your eyes open just a tad—enough to see the ray of sunshine standing before you with a loving look on his face. He even does that little pose with his fingers clenched like a tiger’s claws—the one he did when he opened his eyes after you managed to fix him the first time.

Horanghae… That’s what he called it, right?

You’re too exhausted to notice the pained undertones that lurk beneath Soonyoung’s smile, but perhaps it’s something that you can deal with once morning comes.

If he’s still there at all.

“That took you a while.”

Jisung’s voice is clipped when Soonyoung emerges from your house with an indifferent look on his face. Standing right behind him are a bunch of familiar faces—namely 53V3NT33N’s main manager along with a handful of guards that used to keep them tightly locked up back in their main facility on Earth.

He never thought he’d have to see them again.

“If I’m leaving this place for good, I’m not going to go without giving her something to remember me by,” Soonyoung grumbles, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats as he rejoins his former colleagues. “Is it true? You’ll give Jisung enough money for his brother’s transplant if I come back?”

His manager nods once. “Positive. The reward money will be doubled since you returned without resistance. But I cannot guarantee the degree of the punishment you’ll be facing because of your escape.”

Right. Of course there’ll be consequences for his own actions. But Soonyoung is just glad that he got to have you at least once in his robotic life before he has to turn himself back in.

“Jisung,” Soonyoung—no, Hoshi calls out. “Can you promise to take care of her? If you don’t, I’ll personally fly back here to kill you with my own two hands.”

“Hoshi,” one of the guards grunts behind him, shoving his back with a warning glare. “No violence. Even minor threats like that will make your sentence even heavier.”

He doesn’t care. Not really.

“Just give the man his money and let’s go,” he grumbles, forcing himself to turn away from the direction of your house before his code malfunctions and he ends up bolting back inside.

His manager nods before one of the assistants presents Jisung with a suitcase full of enough wads of cash to fund his brother’s surgery and more. There’s a look on your neighbor’s face that Hoshi can only identify as regret, but there’s really no use for that now.

Even if Jisung didn’t need the money from turning over a rogue Automaton, Hoshi still would’ve surrendered eventually. When word got around that his hunters had finally tracked him down to Salax, he already knew his days were numbered.

But despite knowing all that, it doesn't stop him from wishing he had more time.

When daylight comes and the sun lights up the darkness of your room, you squint at how bright it shines even through the curtains. You’re sore all over and it only takes a single glance at your body to realize that maybe having multiple rounds of sex with a tireless Automaton wasn’t one of the best choices you’ve made in your life.

That, and you’re going to have to give Soonyoung a very long lecture about the physiological differences between his body and yours. And that leaving without waking you up is a major foul when it comes to sleeping with someone you care about.

Right after freshening up and soothing every bit of tender flesh, you go about your day like usual—doing chores, checking if Jisung is home (he’s not), and holing yourself up in your lab to work on a few projects you’ve been procrastinating long enough.

But just when you’re about to bust open your toolbox, you notice a familiar gadget sitting on top of your work table. The same work table that you could’ve sworn you made sure to clear out the previous evening.

It’s another portable hologram projector—one that looks exactly like the old artifact you managed to revive thanks to Soonyoung’s intervention. This one looks less shabby than the one Jisung gave you back then, and you realize that there’s a note stuck to the bottom.

The switch is right beneath the motherboard. Don’t forget! - S

Huh. That guy had the time to put together a hologram for you, but he couldn’t be bothered to wake you up before he left? The nerve of some Automatons, really…

None the wiser about your newfound lover’s actual whereabouts, you followed the instructions Soonyoung whispered into your ear several months ago before letting it play.

⟢ end notes: yay you're at the end of it! thank you so much for reading <3 thank you so so much to bee for being big-brained enough to put this collab together. i've always wanted to 1.) write a sci-fi fic and 2.) write more for soonyoung so this opportunity was a good avenue for both <3 i'm just bummed bc i procrastinated this for too long and kind of ended up with a subpar fic, but !! i still kinda enjoyed building the world around soonyoung and yn and their friends :') in another life, i would've fleshed this out properly, but for now, i'll leave you all with this! do check out the other fics in the collab bc it will definitely expand on this massive universe that we all worked hard to put together <3

this is part of @idyllic-ghost's svt sci-fi collab!

#seventeen smut #svthub #soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #seventeen x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #lovelyhan #📖 collabs #full length fic 📚

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anystalker707 · 1 year

Text

Little secrets

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x [gender neutral] Reader Words: ~ 3 800 Summary: Zoro always insists a little too much that they stop by a specific island then disappears until they need to leave again. What's going on? Tags: Sub! zoro, dom! reader, embarrassed zoro, pet names, very fluffy Somewhat inspired by @sinsterdarling 's fanfic Not proofread Probably ooc characters, bc im also very dumb MASTERLIST

Zoro's eyes narrowed a little as he finally saw the island in the distance and, as much as he could feel certain relief, something also twisted inside his chest because the ship just couldn’t meet the shore soon enough. His grip around his swords was almost too tight, hurting his palm a little until he was forced to let go and find something to do until they reached the island, but it still felt like an eternity until it was finally time to toss the anchor down in the water.

It felt good to finally be on land for once in a while, to have firm ground under your feet. A quiet sigh of relief escaped Zoro's nose as he looked around, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Zoro yawned, watching the others stretch, and check their surroundings. It wasn't much different than the last time they'd been there. The stands near the shore sold fresh seafood, the reason of the incessant shouting of prices and products to attract the high volume of people that walked by. The island wasn't just the Strawhat's usual destination. A few other ships had docked there, being loaded or already leaving to the open sea without the worry of being stopped by the marine. Truly a paradise if it weren't so offhand because of their new routes. Zoro almost had to insist a suspicious amount for them to make a stop there.

The weather was quite nice. It was hot enough to take a bath in the warm sea water, but not too hot that you'd feel like in hell after standing under the sun for longer than five minutes, with a heat that was soothed by the soft breeze. Soft white clouds adorned the blue sky, once in a while blocking the sunlight for a few minutes. It felt perfect. Almost like a home.

"Hey." Zoro attracted their attention. "We are leaving just tomorrow, right?"

"Most likely." Robin hummed and nodded along with Luffy after the two shared a look.

"Right," Zoro exhaled. "I'll meet you tomorrow. Don't bother looking for me or anything, I know my way around."

“Are you sure? You don’t even know left from right.” Sanji clicked his tongue as he shook his head.

“And you don’t even know your own name the moment you see a woman!” Zoto shouted, his hands balling into fists by his sides.

Sanji groaned, eye twitching, and sucked in a breath just to interrupt himself the moment Luffy steps in between the two. “Ohh, look at that! Sanji, do you think you can prepare me something with that?” Everyone followed the direction he pointed at to see a proud man selling octopus that looked better than most of what they saw around.

“Tch.” Sanji sighed. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Zoro turned on his heels to start his own little journey, but stopped when he heard his name being called. Nami stood there with some papers in hands, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you’ll be fine, Zoro? Where are you even going?”

He rolled his eyes with a soft sigh, though all he bothered doing was to glance back at her. “I will be fine. Let me go, I don’t want to lose any more time.”

“Ohh, Zoro is full of secrets!” Usopp told Chopper, who giggled along with him. As much as these comments had Zoro’s muscles twitching for him to hit their heads so they’d shut up already, he didn’t want to waste more of his precious time on the island. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath so he could focus again.

Right. He was supposed to walk to the right until he saw a sorta alligator–shaped rock, then turn left and follow up to the woods. There was a red ribbon attached to the tree next to the way he should follow—a red ribbon along with some carvings, which sight already almost had him blushing. Swallowing thickly, he glanced around to make sure no one had followed him. There truly wasn’t anyone, but he still held his breath as making his way further down the trail into the woods.

Everything was fine until the way divided itself in two. Zoro didn’t remember whether he was told to go down the way with the tall tree or to avoid it. He stood there for a long moment, just staring at the tree while trying to remember what he had been told. First, alligator rock, then red ribbon, then... tall tree or not tall tree? Fuck off, why was it so difficult to remember? Well, it must’ve been tall tree, right? Or else he would’ve been told to follow the pebbles’ side.

With a shrug, Zoro took the right side and just kept walking, but... Something felt a little off. The ground was muddy, and he was sure it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

“Fuck...” Zoro clicked his tongue, turning around to follow the way back to that intersection. Maybe it really was about avoiding the tall tree direction. Who knew, huh. Now, he just needed to find that intersection and... No way he had walked that much away from it, so why did it never come?

Okay, it didn't seem good. Zoro stopped and scratched the back of his neck as he observed his surroundings. He couldn't see anything after a certain distance because of how the trees embraced the area, so returning to his starting point seemed a little out of question at the moment. The view was beautiful, either way, with the sun poking in through the leaves of the trees, but it was difficult to appreciate it with all the thoughts rushing through his head. Maybe he could set a direction and just walk because he would certainly reach somewhere at some point. Either way, he continued looking for something familiar on his way, walking a little slower than the last time, paying attention to every single sound and detail.

"Oh, what a good surprise!" The sudden voice had Zoro jumping, turning around abruptly, just for the tension to wear out at the moment he saw a familiar face there, giving place to a nice sensation as he felt his heart flutter. It was as if his body had its own mind, taking Zoro to them in swift steps. "Hi! How are you?"

No response came, instead only a warm hug that had both of them content. The world seemed to fall quieter once Zoro found them. His cheeks felt warm when he pulled away and looked at you, eyes flickering over each inch of your figure to take in the sight he had missed so much. His hands held onto your upper arms maybe a little tighter than needed, but he couldn’t risk letting any second near you go unused.

“How are you doing, pretty boy?” You repeated yourself with a soft smile as you gazed at Zoro—he always loved the way you looked at him, as if he was worth something. “I missed you.”

Zoro hummed almost inaudibly, finally nodding. “Doing well, yes. What about you?” As much as you knew it, he wanted to say that he missed you as well, to tell how much he had insisted for his friends to stop by at the island again, but the words just stopped at his throat and left him with an embarrassment and guilt that barely let Zoro look at you in the eyes.

“Fine, yes, but better now that my pretty boy is here with me.” You had a soft smile on your features. Your hand cupped Zoro's cheek softly so you could press a kiss to his face, which made him press his eyes shut for a moment as his cheeks burned hotter. "Come on, I will prepare you something to eat. You must be tired." Your hand fit just right around Zoro's, warm and protective.

Zoro hummed softly, ignoring the fact he had been walking in a completely different direction the whole time. His eyes fell to your other hand, seeing a large shopping bag. "Do you want help?"

"No, darling, it's fine." You smiled softly. "We're almost there, either way."

The place you lived in wasn't too modest nor too luxurious, with enough space for your whims and very well kept. It was almost a cottage, both for its aesthetic and also the way it was situated in a nice clearing with a lake near it, in the middle of the woods, a good distance away from anyone else. You also cultivated a few plants, so there was a beautiful flower garden by the front and a small vegetable one by the back. It was one of the most beautiful sightings for Zoro.

The house still smelled just like he remembered. Not much had changed either since the last time he'd been there, saving for a few of the furniture that changed place and the new decoration.

Inside that bag, you had food, which you carefully put away while Zoro made himself home. He couldn't help but to spot some ingredients for his favorite dish. It was almost as if you knew he was coming, and he wouldn't be surprised if you really did.

There, surprisingly, was a place where he could feel comfortable without his swords hanging from his waist. Not only did he know that you were strong enough to face any threat that attacked the island, but he was also sure he would be one of your priorities when it came to protection.

Zoro didn't really know what to do with his hands as he sat on the kitchen table, watching you assemble ingredients and stir pans until a few plates were set in front of him. There were pancakes, toasts, fruits, honey, hot chocolate, coffee, milk...

"Thank you." His voice was small and quiet, but still made it to your ears and snatched a soft smile from you that made something bubble up inside his chest. Zoro was quick to start eating, balancing it between eating it all at once because of how hungry he was and savoring each bit because he didn’t have the opportunity of eating your food everyday. Fingers touched the hair on the base of his neck, running through the short green strands in a soothing motion that had him closing his eyes for a moment whilst leaning into the touch. His eyes parted open to meet yours—you had a cup in hand while observing him quite adoringly. It somehow made him feel small, though not small as in when he met with an enemy who was resistant to his swords, but as in a way he could be held in someone’s palm knowing he wouldn’t be crushed.

“Is it good, honey?”

He swallowed. “Yes. Thank you so much.”

The constant rush Zoro’s life was in seemed to take an eventual pause when he was there, that small house in a little island making him feel so loved and protected as if it were a palace filled with gold and protected by a thousand gods; so being with you was something like finally allowing himself to rest and feel the weight on his back and chest without feeling guilty that he was somehow losing time.

A soft crack came from Zoro’s back as he groaned while throwing his intertwined hands above his head to stretch. The couch was way too comfortable, but he couldn’t sleep, not right now. He wanted to enjoy every little second with you, more and more, and just being pressed to you didn’t work. A whine almost escaped his throat with it. Almost. Instead, it was a soft him of appreciation because of how your lips met his.

The kiss was slow, but still very intense; the reason and the reward for escaping every adventure alive and in a whole piece, even if the times Zoro showed up to see you had more and more time between each other. He deepened the kiss at that thought, feeling a shiver run down his spine at how your hand met the side of his neck, letting your thumb run against his jaw soothingly.

“Tell me, honey,” you whispered against his lips before kissing your way down to his jaw. “Tell me where you’ve been and what you’ve done.”

A breath caught in his throat until he could finally get used to the soft touches. “I’ve been to somewhere called Skypiea and— And we met another god,” he told.

“I don’t know if you have ever noticed this...” Usopp attracted everyone’s attention, or at least had Nami, Robin, Sanji, and Chopper looking at him while Luffy wolfed down all the food they’d ordered from a local restaurant. “...but Zoro disappears every single time we come here. What do you think he is up to?”

Because Nami had insisted they ate some of the local cuisine, they ended up looking for a restaurant where they could take a break from their shopping and goods-hunting and sit down to eat, checking what they’d gotten already and what was still to be found. Sanji didn’t seem exactly pleased with it, but ended up going along with it.

“He is running away from working! He didn’t even take the list of stuff we need to find!” Nami slammed a fist against the table, having Chopper lean away a little with wide eyes, an opposite to how Robin just chuckled.

“Secret mission!” Chopper spoke up, raising an arm. “Or he just goes off somewhere to sleep!”

“Or maybe he sees someone. Or avoids someone.” Robin smiled. “He wouldn’t insist for us to come here just so he could sleep, don’t you think?”

Chopper gasped. “You’re smart, Robin!” He snatched another chuckle from her.

“Of course she is! Only she could think so reasonably!” Sanji nodded frantically.

“I suggest we confirm it,” Usopp chuckled as he rubbed his palms together. “We should follow him!”

“I’m in!” Chopper raised an arm again, almost jumping on the chair, whilst Sanji shrugged.

Nami stared at Usopp for a moment, lips pressed together as she contemplated whether she agreed with it or not. It wasn’t much of her interest what Zoro was doing since he always came back when it was time to leave, but now that Usopp had brought it up and they started making theories... She would be pleased to kick his ass once she found him sleeping somewhere to avoid the job all of them had to do. Or even annoy him for any embarrassing hobby.

“Okay...” Nami nodded.

They had to find Zoro first, that was the hard part. He didn’t come back to the ship at night, so maybe he would come back the following day to make sure they’d leave or stay for a little longer. They needed to keep their eyes wide open for any moss-head.

Luffy was intrigued, an arm over his chest and a finger under his chin while observing whatever food some random old man prepared in front of him, promising it was the best meal in the world. Maybe Sanji could do it if Luffy memorized all of the steps. There were tomatoes, a random fruit, some seasoning...

"Hey, Luffy."

"Hi, Zoro," he replied, voice distant.

"Are we returning today for real?" Usually, they never returned on the day they decided at first because there was always something missing, but Zoro better confirm if he didn't want Nami complaining the whole time and intereupting his precious naps.

"Hmmm... no," Luffy mumbled, "Usopp mentioned something about finding someone..."

Zoro raised an eyebrow, but settled down for not asking anything, only humming with a nod. Luffy barely paid attention to anything normally, so now it would be impossible—he gasped as the man finally handed him the food and started wolfing it down immediately, so Zoro just didn’t even try and started walking away. He wouldn't get lost his time, hopefully. You had given him a paper with the directions.

Luffy had finished eating when Nami approached him, sighing. "Hey, did you see anything?"

"Uh, yeah. Zoro was just here asking if we will really leave today, but I told him not yet," Luffy explained with his hands on his hips.

"Zoro?!!" Nami gasped as she threw her hands in the air, frantically waving for the rest of the group to come by. "And you didn't even call us?! How long has it been?!"

Luffy shrugged. "A couple of minutes."

"There's still time!"

The group left, ignoring the old man madly shouting at Luffy for not paying a thing, but they were already too far and too worried to care about it. The shouting mess tudned quiet at the moment they caught on Zoro's track, standing all together and following him in small steps to make sure he didn't notice he was being followed. Either way, it didn't seem like he would notice them that easily, no—he would eventually pause and rub the back of his neck, muttering to himself and the piece of paper that he held in hand.

"Why does he have that bag? Where did it even come from?" Nami narrowed her eyes, balancing on her toes with Chopper on her back. The six of them crouched behind a bush in a poor excuse of hiding.

A light brown bag hung from Zoro’s back, one that couldn't be theirs. They'd never bought that thing.

"He has a map in hand, I believe," Usopp hummed, rubbing his chin. "Do you think he is delivering something?"

"Looks like it," Chopper muttered, and looked at the others. Robin just gazed at each of them with a light entertained smile on her lips. Sanji, on the other hand, never let his gaze leave Zoro; Chopper could faintly hear him grumbling under his breath about how Zoro preferred to work for others rather than helping them and not even share the berries he earned.

Robin chuckled a little. “Well, let’s hope he really doesn’t lose himself, don’t you think?”

“He must be already lost!” Sanji clicked his tongue.

The way was a little agonizing. The destination never came and they almost had heart attacks whenever Zoro turned around to remake his way because he’d taken a wrong turn—it was hard to know if he even knew where he was going.

Now, Zoro had been stopped for over five minutes already and had no sign of going anywhere so soon. Nami broke the silence with a groan, “we should just confront him already! Z—”

“Zoro!” A voice called, having the six of them jumping and shutting up while they looked around for its source in the direction Zoro turned to. “Over here, honey! I knew you’d get lost!”

“Sorry!” Zoro clicked his tongue, folding the map to shove it in his pocket as he finally started walking again. “I did get everything, though! Check if it’s exactly what you wanted, or else I’ll go back!”

“I knew it!” Sanji shook his head, exhaling.

Once Zoro was a good distance away, they decided to follow him, stopping by the last bushes and trees around the clearing. Their chins fell simultaneously at the sight of the cottage—vines with light purple flowers crawled up the creamy walls, but the ones on the garden could almost be found in all colors, and Luffy already licked his lips at the sight of watermelons growing strong around the side of the cottage.

“Wait... who is that?” Usopp narrowed his eyes as he lowered his binocles, taking a closer look at you. He pressed his lips together, trying to figure out whether you were someone familiar or not.

All of them gasped in unison, however, at the sight of Zoro throwing his arms around your neck while you held onto his hips, pressing a kiss to his cheek before your lips met in a soft kiss. “Thank you,” you said softly. “Do you wish to prepare a cake with me? I would appreciate your help, it seems like we are going to need more food today.”

Zoro furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you, pulling away a little. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems like your friends have found their way after you.” You smiled, tilting your head so you could look past Zoro at the group poorly hidden there. Zoro’s eyes widened at the same moment he whipped his head around, cheeks burning crimson at the sight of his six followers, who sweatdropped, mumbling incoherent excuses.

“What the fuck are you doing here, you idiots?!” He shouted, making you laugh.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not bad to have visits once in a while!” You pressed a soothing kiss to Zoro’s cheek. “C’mon! Don’t be ashamed, come in!” Waving, you invited them to approach so you could make it into your place.

Weird was an understatement. Who could even imagine they would see Zoro stand there in an apron with you standing behind him, guiding his hands through kneading the dough. Whatever was going on among the others, was just white noise in the back of his mind since time with you was more worth it than whatever the six idiots would tease him for, he could deal with that later.

Everything was already in the oven when you served them more of the tea and biscuits to distract their hunger while the food was still being prepared. “Make yourself home,” you reminded them while serving Robin.

“Your tea tastes very good, (y/n), thank you for it!” Robin smiled before she took another sip of it.

“Why, thank you!”

“But who are you?” Chopper still seemed a little scared, feeling extra small as he sat between Sanji and Usopp for safety reasons. “Wh—Why haven’t we seen you before?”

You shrugged a little, humming. “I’m not sure, but I remember meeting my pretty boy when he got lost around here.” Your fingers ran through the short green strands, worsening the almost permanent blush Zoro already had.

“Pretty boy, hm?” Sanji smirked.

“You’re just jealous you have no one, you perverted cook!” Zoro shouted, standing up and leaning across the table in Sanji’s direction.

“Jealous? With Nami and Robin?” Sanji shouted with a scoff, mirroring Zoro’s position.

Nami rolled her eyes, not even trying to say anything because she wasn’t the one embarrassing herself in someone else’s house, either way.

“Well, it is nice to meet all of you!” You smiled, pouring more tea into the cup that Luffy extended to you. “I have heard a lot.”

“I hope he actually said something good!” Nami gave Zoro a side eye, though it was more of a glare that had him growling.

“Of course!” You chuckled with a nod.

“Hey, Zoro,” Luffy spoke up, “what’s that on your neck? Did a mosquito bite you or something?”

Zoro seemed confused until his eyes widened and converted his neck immediately, blushing profusely. “You idiot!!!”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #fan fic #fan fiction #monkey d luffy #sanji vinsmoke #nami #usopp #tony tony chopper #chopper #anime #writing #nico robin

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moralesmilesanhour · 5 months

Text

mad props! 04

summary: in the week leading up to the show, your grades begin to slip. whatever will you do... word count: 1820 a/n: hiii i rlly enjoyed writing this chapter bc some of the stuff in here has definitely happened to me lmao. if you feel up to it, reblog and tell me what your favorite song from any musical is in the tags! songs mentioned: 'Chip On My Shoulder' - Legally Blonde the Musical (Original Broadway Cast Recording) prev next

“Max, you’re a little flat, hun.”

The choir director pulled her shawl tightly around her as Max–the chosen casting for Emmett Forrest–ran through some of his sung lines for ‘Chip On My Shoulder’.

The brown-skinned, dark-haired boy was an excellent actor; he breathed life into the words on the script and delivered them with all the earnestness and humor required to play Emmett. Hell, he even improvised his own jokes.

But he couldn’t hold a note to save his life.

For some lines, Max could get away with half-singing, half-talking, but he was practically tone-deaf once the song got more involved. The choir director–Ms. Johnson–had to be called in to help get him somewhere that was at least within the ballpark of the correct pitch. His high notes remained painful to all present in the room, no matter what she did.

You huffed from your spot on the fake park bench, resisting the urge to scratch your scalp beneath the itchy wig. Everyone had heard the exact melody on the piano by now. Hear it, sing it. Like Spanish vocabulary, you couldn’t comprehend how people got that sort of thing wrong.

Harmonizing with Max went about as expected; you lost your place several times because of the distracting dissonance between your voice and his, like hearing a parrot and an eagle squawk at the same time.

Regardless, it was too late to recast Max now. He had a leading role with too many songs and lines to memorize.

“Alright, take five!” the director yelled with a clap of her hands.

A collective sigh could be heard as students dispersed for their well-earned water and bathroom breaks, the tension in the air dissipating. You stepped carefully off of the stage, when you heard a snicker in your direction.

Miles was in the middle of painting a cardboard sorority building in an obnoxious shade of hot pink, shaded with strokes of fuchsia and cyan that managed to work together somehow. You frowned at the fact that you couldn’t say anything bad about it.

The boy struggled to hold back a laugh, looking up as you stood over him with crossed arms.

“Something funny?”

Miles stood to meet your eyes, carelessly wiping bits of paint onto his pants.

“That frumpy-ass 613 wig you got on, for one,” he replied with a teasing grin. “Are you gonna wear that for the actual show?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, for your information, I’m not. This is a placeholder wig,” you ripped it off of your head for emphasis. “Why are you even here, anyway? Don’t you got posters to make?”

In actuality, you knew about the art club lending some of its members to paint sets for the show. But you wanted to make sure Miles knew he was unwelcome.

“Just doin’ what I do best,” he shrugged. “You should be grateful for my sacrifice.”

You snorted, “What ‘sacrifice’?”

Miles jabbed his thumb behind him towards the left side of the stage, where Max was going over his lines. “I gotta listen to that nigga sing for over an hour. I’m sacrificing my time and my ears.”

Despite yourself, you laughed brightly at the comment, causing a more genuine smile to spread across Miles’ face. You looked pretty when you laughed.

“Oh my god, he sucks, right? Spent the whole damn song looking for the note.”

“Too late to replace him now, though. Show’s in two weeks.”

You nodded.

There was a brief pause before Miles asked, “So what made you sign up for theater? I was kinda surprised to see you on a stage.”

You gave him a wary look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he raised both hands in defense, “You just seemed like more of the quiet type, that’s all.”

I signed up to avoid you, you thought, but didn’t say aloud; That would’ve given him the satisfaction of knowing that you thought about him that much.

Instead, you answered, “I used to do theater at my old school. Got the lead part most of the time, if you can believe it.”

There was an arrogance in your voice as you said that last bit that soured Miles’ expression.

“I believe you, no need to convince me,” he said flatly. “Legally Blonde’s an interesting choice, though.”

You shrugged, “The part really lets me show my voice off, so...”

“Showin’ off,” Miles muttered beneath his breath, “Sounds like you.”

“Excuse me?”

Before you could start to argue, his eyes went wide, like he’d just heard a noise that no one else could hear.

“It was really nice talking to you, Y/N, but I gotta go,” he said, spinning on his heel and bolting towards the auditorium door. “Watch my stuff for me!”

Your jaw dropped in offense. Was he allowed to just bail on a club activity like that? And with the gall to ask you to watch his things for him. You totally did, though.

Once you got home, your feet throbbed and your muscles ached from all of the choreography. You were just barely out of your school uniform when you decided to lie down for a quick nap. Or what you thought was a ‘quick nap’.

The blaring of your alarm made your heart jump as your eyes flew open, half of your face damp with drool. The early morning washed over your room in a pale blue shade, and the sight would’ve relaxed you if not for the sudden realization that you weren’t in your pajamas.

You shot up, wiping the side of your face with your sleeve. Your Spanish and AP Physics notebooks were still strewn across your bed, along with several worksheets that had remained blank. Unfinished.

…Oh no.

Your heart was practically in your throat when you explained to Mr. Sanchez why you didn’t have any homework for him to collect.

The man noticed your glassy eyes, and held up a reassuring hand in the middle of your frantic explanation.

“That’s fine, it happens,” he said gently, “Just bring in the missing work tomorrow, and it’ll only be ten points off. Don’t make it a habit.”

He adjusted his glasses, and returned to grading the pile of worksheets on his desk as you trudged back to your desk, a pit forming in your stomach over those precious ten points.

“You good?” Miles asked as you sat down, concern coloring his features. He ran a finger over a small band-aid on his right temple. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

You buried your face in your arms on the desk.

“Nunya.”

He sighed, “I dunno why I even asked.”

Unfortunately for both you and Mr. Sanchez, missing assignments did, in fact, become a habit.

You began to spend more time lingering in the auditorium after everyone had left, practicing your line delivery. Adding little details, like extra hair flips or twirls. The spirit of Elle Woods had practically taken over your body.

You got home later and later into the evening, sometimes flopping down onto your bed and falling asleep before your head could even hit the pillow. This new ‘habit’ had you scribbling down vocab words and formulas in a frenzy, balancing your notebook on your lap on the bumpy bus ride to school. The flashcards that you had made for Mr. Sanchez’s class were now sitting untouched at the bottom of your bag.

By Friday, it landed you in front of his desk for office hours after you received your very first ‘F’.

“As you’ve probably noticed, Y/N, your grades have fallen a significant amount in a very short period of time, and I’m a little concerned,” Sanchez slid your weekly grade report towards you and placed his finger on your Spanish grade. “What’s going on? This is very unusual for a student like you.”

Your sweaty fingers clutched the sides of your seat as you stared down at the report. How did you let it get this bad? Elle Woods would never.

“I-I just…”

You shook your head. “I’ve just been busy with extracurriculars and stuff, so assignments slip my mind sometimes.”

“You’re having trouble balancing them with your schoolwork?”

“Yeah, basically,” you leaned forward, looking desperate. “Can I still re-take that quiz? I didn’t really get to study, and–”

“Oh! That’s actually what I called you in for, one second.”

Sanchez rose from his seat, and made his way over to the door.

“You know about our Study Buddy system, yes?”

You nodded slowly, skeptically. “Am I getting a ‘Study Buddy’?”

“Pre-cisely. Come in!”

He opened the door, and you almost groaned audibly at the lanky figure that appeared at the entrance.

Miles entered with a friendly smile on his face that dropped the second his eyes landed on you.

“Oh. You.”

The Spanish teacher sat back down and gestured towards him.

“Miles here is both a native speaker and beyond proficient in this class. He was so kind as to sign up for the program, so I thought it might be nice to pair him up with someone in the same period.”

Shocked into silence, you were unable to say anything other than a quiet “Okay” as you stared blankly in front of you.

Study buddies. With the guy who didn’t even study. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

“He’ll be giving up a bit of his lunch time to tutor you in my classroom. I’d also highly recommend you two study with each other after school as well, if you can make the time. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you both said in miserable unison.

“Well, that’s all,” Sanchez waved his hand. “You’re both dismissed. Have a lovely weekend!”

“You too!” you smiled tightly as you got up and made a beeline for the door, nearly bumping into Miles as you did so.

Your weekend would be anything but ‘lovely’.

You fixed Miles with a glare as soon as you got out into the hallway.

“I’m not giving up my lunch period for you,” you yell-whispered. “I hope you know that.”

He took a step towards you and fired back, “Neither of us have a choice, your highness. If we’re not both up here during lunch, I get in trouble, and you gotta take the L and fail this class.”

“I’d rather fail, then. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Oh?” he laughed mirthlessly. “You were in tears over a damn ‘89’. Makes no difference to me, but I think you do give a fuck.”

You opened your mouth to shoot back a rebuttal, then closed it. Miles raised an eyebrow.

“I’m lying?”

“...No.”

Miles leaned forward until he was only inches away from your face. “Then cooperate. Or we both lose.”

You sighed in defeat, “Fine.”

He nodded curtly, then left to go grab his things from his locker.

In a forced attempt at courtesy, you called out towards his back, “See you next week–”

“Whatever!”

taglist (comment to be added!): @vhstown @alaoraangelix @shuna-boin

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x fem!reader #atsv x reader #miles morales fic #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

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orchid3a · 2 years

Note

aria my bby my twin hear me out again !!!

in an au that shin didn't disband the black dragons and the gang became something like bonten, what if the big and powerful gang leader fell in love with a girl he took as payment for her boyfriend's debts? at first you hate shin because you deem him as the reason of your doom, but he's so attentive and treats you so much better than your ex boyfriend did, and you're so confused bc how can the hands of an assassin feel so soft caressing your skin?

INTOXICATION - S. SHINICHIRO

synopsis: Your ex-boyfriend sells you to his loan sharks... Something goes wrong

pairing: yandere!mob boss!Sano Shinichiro x f!reader

tw: yandere, death, implied manipulation, smut, breeding kink, swearing, implied past marathon sex, implied past toxic relationship dynamics (y/n and her ex-bf), mention of prostitution, violence (not toward y/n)

wc: 1378 words

tagging: @haitaniapologist @rnht @qiqi-tutu @momoewn

nsfw taglist click here to join!

note: put the whole ariussy for shinichiro 😼 i'm here to convert everyone to yandere!manipulative!shinichiro

no proofreading

english isn’t my native language

reblogs and comments are appreciated

MDNI 18+ CONTENT AGELESS BLOGS DON'T INTERACT

Homo homini lupus est. A man is a wolf to another man

There is no better phrase to describe your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, who just told you the mess he pulled you in. That dickhead, no other name can sum up his idiocy, had a huge debt with the wrong people, and since he didn’t have all the money to pay them back, he sold you to them. He sold you, his girlfriend, to the infamous Black Dragons, one of the most powerful and dangerous gangs in all Japan.

“How could you! I trusted you! I threw away everything, my whole family, my career and my friends for a fucking idiot like you!” You shout crying, the weight of the situation crushing your spirit. Your whole life was thrown away because he couldn’t pay them back.

He ignores your screams and cries while he hurries preparing a bag with his clothes, ready to flee and leave you to your unhappy fate. However a knock makes both of you stop in your tracks. You weren’t expecting guests today…The same couldn’t be said for that idiot.

You summon all your courage and you open the door, still not prepared for whatever Fate has for you.

Four men enter your home, they are all tall and not seem so friendly and open to dialogue. You gulp and one man, who you think is the leader, turns his attention to you. His dark hues show no sign of mercy, but on his face there is a gentle smile that gives you shivers. How can he smile when his eyes are so empty?

One of his companions, a man with a scar on his right eye, smirks darkly when he sees your boyfriend.

“Where do you think you are going? We just arrived, so drop that bag and hand over the money.”

(b/n) gulps trembling like a leaf as slowly he puts the bag down, before starting babbling some bullshits and you roll your eyes, that didn’t go unnoticed by the leader.

“I think the miss here doesn’t know the whole situation, it’s rude to exclude her. Waka can you explain everything to her? Benkei you hold our friend here, Takeomi, you start searching for the cash.”

A white-haired guy, who you assumed is Waka, comes closer and with bored eyes he starts explaining what happened. The tall buff guy, Benkei, holds your boyfriend who starts begging for his life, while the guy with the scar, Takeomi, trashes your house in search of money.

You nod at whatever he tells you, but your eyes are focused on the leader, who feels your gaze and comes closer to you.

“Shin, I told her everything…I’m gonna help Takeomi.” Wakasa says and leaves you with “Shin”.

But before he can talk, (b/n)’s screams and grunts grab your attention and you turn towards him. You freeze as you see Shin’s companions, Waka and Takeomi, kicking and punching him while Benkei holds him.

“Pretty girl” - Shin’s hand grabs your chin making you turn towards him - “Good girls don’t ignore their interlocutor when he is starting a conversation.” His honey voice is hypnotizing and you nod completely ignoring (b/n).

Shin smiles and tilts your head, his black hues bore into yours, you gulp unsure on what to do.

“Pretty girl, do you know where the money is? Your boyfriend borrowed too much money and now we need it back, ya know. He tried to sell you to us, but I’m a gentleman and I would never let a scumbag like him sell his girl for his mistakes.”

He is a charmer for sure, he knows how to use his words and what is your weakness and how to exploit it to make you do what he wants.

“In the wardrobe…there is a safe hidden by his clothes…the code is his birth date. It’s xx - xx - xxxx” You spill everything as if Shin casted a spell on you.

Your words make him smile, he pats your head and turns his attention to his companions.

“Kill him” The tone of his voice is cold as the ice makes you tremble, Shin gets in front of you and his big pale hands cover your ears to muffle the shot.

You couldn’t see or hear the pitiful cries of your boyfriend, you were too focused on the man in front of you, a man full of mysteries and secrets.

That night he took you with him, despite his friends’ complaints, and you let him take you. You had no one, no money, no house to return, now Shinichiro, or Shin, was your only home.

It has been a year since you met him, and he treated you better than your ex did. Never once he shouted at you, ignored your feelings or invalidated them.

At first Takeomi and Wakasa, his second-in-command, wanted to throw you in one of their brothels but Shinichiro didn't agree. For him you should be in a more suitable place, his arms. You know that he isn't good for you, he literally kidnapped you and killed your ex, yet there was something in him that made it impossible to run away from him.

Were his dark, indecipherable black eyes or his warm deep voice? The way he holds you, he is warm and feels home more than anybody else.

Shinichiro is warm, affectionate and gentle.

The headboard is slamming against the wall, yet Shin doesn't seem to slow down his speed. He has been fucking you for hours, or so it seems, you lost the count of how many times he made you cum. Your legs are over your ears, Shin is deep inside your pussy. Your eyes roll back as Shin hits a particular spot, this angle lets him hit you deeper than before.

" S-Shin 's to-o mu-much." You moan helplessly, your head feels light and your vision is turning white, feeling so close to your climax.

"Pretty girl one more, just one more. I need to make sure my pretty baby gets pregnant" he murmurs a gentle smile adorning his beautiful face.

You nod and Shin smiles, still thrusting into you, his hands caressing your sides while he drowns you with praises and gentle words.

“My pretty girl, you’re doing so well” - his dark eyes full of love and lust bore into your watery (e/c) ones - “I love you baby, make me a daddy. Come on pretty girl! Fuck!” he hisses before pressing a kiss on your quivering lips .

“ ‘m cl-close Shin! Please!” you moan, feeling closer and closer to cum.

“Fuck baby me too! Let’s cum together.” he groans and his hips are still thrusting into your abused pussy.

His rough thrusts, gentle coaxing and loving gaze made you cream all over his cock, your vision turns white and mewls leave your mouth. Shin follows you after, pumping his seed inside your womb and securing it, yet he doesn't slip out. He slowly lays your legs at his hips, then he flops on you nuzzling his cheek in your neck.

Too tired to do anything, you can just stroke his black hair, mumbling a small “I love you” before falling asleep, lulled by his heartbeat and his soft kisses over your skin.

Shinichiro always wins, there is no battle he can’t win. What he wants he gets, he will use any means to get it, even using people. It was a child’s play to persuade your ex to get that money, after he “accidentally” was fired from his work. Not that Shinichiro actually threatened the manager to fire him or he would have received a bullet between his eyes. No, he is a gentleman.

It was love at first sight when he first saw you, he still remembers how beautiful you were wearing a white dress and dancing in one of his clubs. You looked so pure and innocent. He couldn’t tear his eyes from you, and in that moment he knew you two were meant to be together. It was easy to obtain information about you and the rest is history. Now he has you and he will never let you go. You two will be together forever until death comes between you. Not that Shin would let it happen.

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igncrxntripley · 1 year

Text

their secret weapon pt. 5

synopsis: brooks is in the crowd to watch Y/N’s match, but The Judgement Day is not thrilled when they see him.

tags: violence, chair shots, good ole’ wrasslin’, angst. fem!reader, ex!brooks, poly!judgement day

A/N: i was gonna wait but i needed to put this out there bc i’m a sick individual...can i just say the love and support on not just this writing but others i’ve posted has been amazing and it makes my day when people message and send requests? literally ty all so much, i would kiss you all on the foreheads if i could

mentions: @babybatlover @ripleyswhore

Y/N spent the rest of her time backstage before her match trying to relax. Her conversation with Brooks and the reactions of her partners were doing little to nothing to ease her nerves, but she knew she just needed to go out and do what she did best. She spent some time to herself getting ready before the others came back, and she smiled up at them gently as she laced her boots. Rhea took an eyeliner pen and did her signature TJD underneath one of Y/N’s eyes and Finn stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders to help loosen her up. “So this Brooks character…” Finn began. “He’s going to be out there watching your match?”

As Rhea finished her makeup, Y/N nodded and rolled her shoulders as Finn loosened her up. “He’ll be out there somewhere. And I’m asking you guys not to cause trouble with him.” Dominik scoffed as he tied a purple bandana around his neck. “We can’t make any promises, but we’ll think about it.” He smirked. Y/N wasn’t about to let her partners make a fool of themselves at ringside, so she turned to look at Dom with a small frown. “I’m serious, Dominik. I understand why you guys want me to distance myself from things in my past but I just…h-he’s a good guy.” She said softly.

For being the largest of the group, Damian was also the biggest softy. He immediately took note of Y/N’s reaction and gave Dom a light slap to the arm. “She has a match soon and you really think this is the time to act like that?” He scolded Dom, who blushed and put his hands up in defense. Rhea rolled her eyes at the two of them and moved to finish getting herself ready. “We’ll behave as long as he behaves.” She said, deciding that would be the end of the conversation. “And you two need to quit fucking around in the corner, we have places to be.” Y/N closed her eyes as Rhea mothered everyone in the room, working to calm herself down and focus on her upcoming match against Candace LeRae.

Eventually, The fivesome began to make their way to gorilla for Y/N’s match. She was in the middle, Damian and Dominik to her left and Rhea and Finn to her right. Damian and Rhea were definitely the most protective of Y/N and always placed themselves right next to her when possible. She adjusted her pink denim jacket one more time, placed her cherry lollipop in her mouth, and hit the cues with her partners as their lights and music hit. There was something about coming out to the crowds in this new persona, something about the energy that shifted when they all walked in a room…it made Y/N feel incredible. She could barely put it into words how it all felt. But she needed to channel that energy, as this match was huge for her in claiming her spot in the Women’s Division on Raw while also giving Brooks a show in the audience.

When Brooks said he was going to be front and center, he wasn’t kidding. As The Judgement Day came down to the ring, she immediately took note of where he was and smiled at him; where Y/N thought she would be nervous seeing Brooks during this match, she now felt his presence comforting her. The other four also took note of him and where he was in the audience, but Y/N was able to distract them and have them stand elsewhere during the match. They all begrudgingly did what she asked, but still couldn’t promise they wouldn’t get into any mischief down the road.

Truth be told, Y/N was also going to cause some chaos and rile them up. They couldn’t control her every move and she was going to continue being the same character she always had been, even before The Judgement Day came into her life. Y/N took the lollipop from her mouth and walked to where Brooks was standing, smirking as she held it out for him and placed the candy into his mouth. The audience around them cheered, having been aware of the history between the two, and Y/N went into the ring like nothing happened. The faces on her partners were not the most thrilled they’d ever been, but she knew she could defend her decision backstage if they had words about it.

Once the match started, Y/N and Candace were both on a roll. Candace’s acrobatic, more athletic moves were a nice contrast to Y/N’s harsher striking and submission style. Rhea, Dominik, Damian, and Finn all kept to themselves at ringside and even stayed on the other side away from Brooks. But that didn’t erase the fact that every so often they would glare at him; at one point Rhea was even mockingly waving at him to get some kind of reaction. But Brooks wasn’t giving in, he stayed focused on the match and cheered Y/N on while he kept the lollipop in his mouth. Every so often, when she wasn’t looking at her partners, she would look for Brooks and he’d give her a reassuring nod and smile. This was exactly what she needed. At one point though when Y/N fell out of the ring after a pretty nasty hit, Brooks was front and center at the barricade making sure she was okay.

“Baby, you good?” He asked, concern lacing his voice as he held his hand out for you to get back up. Without a second thought Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, smiling like the giddy girl she was whenever he’d help her in the past. Fuck, I can’t let him go. She thought to herself. Y/N turned her head though, when her four partners saw was Brooks was doing and made her way to the other side of the ring. “Don’t even think about it.” She told them, shaking her head and letting go of Brooks’s hand. “It’s fine, just go back over there.” Of course, Rhea wasn’t listening. She continued to step closer to them until she was standing in front of Brooks, even though Y/N was trying to keep her away. “If I were you, I’d stay away from our girl.”

Brooks shook his head and laughed in Rhea’s face. “She may be your girl now, but she was mine when no one else gave a fuck about her.” Y/N wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore but was now focused on the three boys. “I’m serious, go!” She knew she couldn’t handle being distracted like this, so she got back in the ring to continue her match. But when she did, Candace was ready to end the entire match and swept under her feet to bring Y/N to the ground. She was going to take advantage of her opponent being distracted, and once Y/N was back on the ground Candace climbed the ropes for a moonsault. Somehow Y/N was able to kick out at the two count, and that brought the attention of The Judgement Day and Brooks back to the match. “I’m not finished with you.” Rhea pointed at Brooks before following the boys back to the other side of the ring. “Come on, Y/N! Get up!” Her partners started to cheer as she took her sweet old time getting to her feet again.

After everything that just occurred, Y/N was raging. Five people she loved and cared about almost made her lose one of the biggest matches of her career thus far, and she wasn’t about to let any of them live it down. Once she was on her feet again, Y/N started to pace and watch Candace’s every last move. “Get up!” She yelled at her opponent, standing in the corner of the ring to watch her. Once Candace was also up on her feet, Y/N came at her with a spear that practically flipped her inside out and positioned herself for a submission move Damian had been working on with her. Almost identical to a sharpshooter but with a slightly different leg position, Y/N locked Candace into the hold and put all of the pressure on her back. From there, it was only a matter of seconds before Candace tapped and Y/N was announced as the winner.

She dropped Candace back down onto the mat and smiled as she caught her breath; Y/N didn’t even realize that her partners had made their way back over to Brooks in the crowd and immediately began to attack him. Brooks didn’t even have enough time to defend himself, as Damian lifted him over the barricade and they started to kick him while he was on the ground. “What are you doing?” Y/N yelled from the ring, watching as Finn picked Brooks up and threw him into the ring for everyone to see what they were doing. “Step aside, Princess. He needs to be taught a lesson.” Rhea warned, stepping in front of Y/N as if to block her from getting to Brooks. But Y/N was small and quick, so she was able to get around Rhea and stand between Brooks and the other members of the group. “Don’t hurt him, okay? He didn’t do anything!” She begged, her hands up and Brooks gently reaching out to hold her ankle as a way of thanking her.

The four of them were fuming. Finn was the first to speak up as he watched what was going on. “Remember what we told you, Y/N.” He warned softly. Brooks began to slowly get himself back to his feet and stood behind Y/N, a gentle hand on her waist this time. “Think about what’s best for you. Think of all we’ve done for you.” Finn said again. Dominik was already cracking his knuckles at the sight of someone else touching their girl, and steam was coming from Damian’s ears. No one touched their girl, and she was only making them more upset the longer she went without making a decision.

Y/N looked back and forth between Brooks and The Judgement Day. Finn was right; the four of them had done so much for her and every day showed how much they truly cared about her even if some of their actions were flawed. They took her under their wing when barely anyone else in the company gave a shit about her. But on the other hand, Brooks had always served as the person she could confide in when she was struggling. He was the first person who made her feel beautiful in and outside of the ring. But where was he when she needed someone to stand up for her in NXT? Where was Brooks when Y/N doubted herself and debated leaving this company? She was stuck between two parts of her life, and they were all expecting her to make her decision.

As the crowd roared around them, telling Y/N what decision to make, she slowly turned her back to The Judgement Day and wrapped her arms around Brooks’s shoulders in a tight hug. Y/N buried her face in his neck as he picked her up, his body relaxing into hers and holding her as tight as he could. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” He said in her ear as they slowly stepped away from the four (clearly pissed) individuals in the ring. Brooks even put his hat back on her head like they always did when she won matches; he was just happy to see Y/N was picking the right side.

However, he had no clue what was coming his way.

Brooks gently placed Y/N back on her feet and kissed her forehead before glaring at The Judgement Day from over her shoulder. He didn’t even say another word to them, even though they were already hopping out of the ring and climbing underneath it to find whatever weapons they could. Brooks protectively put Y/N behind him, watching Damian and Finn who had stayed in the ring and started to slowly move closer to the two of them while Rhea and Dominik tossed a couple chairs into the ring. Y/N being behind Brooks was the perfect opportunity for her to make it clear which side she was on, because she quickly dropped to her knees and delivered a low blow to Brooks.

Y/N’s four partners immediately began to smile at her; Rhea was dying of laughter, pointing at Brooks as he fell to the canvas holding his manhood. Y/N looked down at him, his hat still on her head, and her own sadness and anger written all over her face at the decision she’d made. She had to prove herself to her partners, and that meant trusting them and their plan for her. Once Brooks was back on the ground the boys began to attack him again, and this time Dominik pulled Y/N into a hug as they watched. At one point when Brooks got up on his knees to hopefully defend himself, Rhea delivered a chair shot to his back.

The four of them turned to Y/N once they all had a turn giving Brooks a piece of their mind. Damian held out a chair to her and smiled. “Finish it off, princesa. End it.” He told her. And while Y/N didn’t immediately take the chair, she eventually did and walked in a circle around Brooks’s writhing body. “Where were you when I needed you?” Y/N asked Brooks as she looked down at him. “You didn’t care about me. You never did.” The look on Brooks’s face said otherwise, but Y/n knew she needed to end this. She looked at each of her partners before lifting the chair up and delivering the harshest chair shot she could manage to Brooks’s upper body.

She dropped the chair before taking off Brooks’s hat and dropping it onto his body, wiping away the one singular tear that had rolled down her cheek. The Judgement Day rolled out of the ring five deep, Damian pulling Y/N to his chest as they walked up the ramp to go backstage and Rhea continuing to taunt Brooks from a distance. They were all proud of Y/N and she was proud of herself, but the next step of this process was grieving the relationships she had to let go of in order to follow the plan. While The Judgement Day was prepared for that to happen, Y/N had no clue what was about to happen.

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thebigsl33p · 3 months

Text

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it?

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant.

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories.

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk.

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos.

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool.

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned.

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker.

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way.

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way.

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over.

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes.

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement. He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly.

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet.

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly.

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit.

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself.

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come.

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold…

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here.

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic.

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax.

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?”

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.”

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?”

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.”

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.”

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?”

“Leonid.” He repeats.

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?”

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya?

He says it anyway.

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?”

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head.

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him.

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost.

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff.

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up.

He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking.

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain.

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful.

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly.

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her.

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt.

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake.

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment.

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve.

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows.

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies.

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use.

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it.

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food.

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire.

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him.

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand.

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a mouthful of cake.

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?”

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…” he gestures at her - at her glowing.

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?”

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms.

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little.

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl.

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.”

And again, they both laugh.

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things.

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers.

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction.

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did.

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.”

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword.

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer.

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs.

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining,

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes.

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees.

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm.

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly.

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot.

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away.

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp.

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake!

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun.

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead.

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-”

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.”

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath.

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said.

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say.

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.”

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features.

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.”

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even.

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.”

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right.

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently.

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.”

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.”

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.”

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’.

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha.

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times.

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow.

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.”

“Grisha?” The man interrogates.

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.”

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair.

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening.

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…”

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.”

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary.

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further.

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night.

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts.

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind.

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world…

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired.

His feet take him to her room.

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that.

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy.

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times.

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly.

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire.

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing.

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you.

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?”

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.”

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.”

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently.

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?”

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?”

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.”

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention.

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word.

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed.

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke.

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her.

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.”

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed.

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.”

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

#Last Words of A Shooting Star AU #Stardust AU #the darkling X reader #Shadow And bone X reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #stardust au #thebigsl33p

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slut4msby · 3 months

Text

i wish you were sober. miya atsumu x Reader

+ tags & warnings; alcohol use & not proofread

+ a/n; day 1/7 :p have some atsumu bc i will always write about this man <3

“Having fun, Y/N?” Atsumu yelled over the shitty pop music playing in the background. His breath smelt like the cheapest vodka, yet despite his fucked up state he was one of the most gorgeous people you have ever seen. It was almost as if he was glowing. His hair swept to the right and his brown eyes staring down at you.

“I dunno? You having fun, ‘Tsumu?” You smile in response, swishing around the store-brand soda in your cup.

“Of course I am, Y/N! That’s a dumb question.”

“Then I’m having fun, ‘Tsumu! Tonight’s about you.” Tonight you were celebrating Atsumu making into the MSBY Black Jackals team, pursuing his passion and his greatest dream. The party was filled with friends from the past and present. Everyone coming together for one more night before everyone's lives filled up with the duties of adulthood.

“You have always cared so much about me, Y/N-chan.” Atsumu chuckled.

“Hey ‘Tsumu? I’m gonna go get another drink.” You yell getting up walking into the sea of drunk adults. Your drink wasn’t empty but you couldn’t stand being around Miya Atsumu any longer.

As you made your way through the lively crowd, the thumping beat of the music only intensified the fluttering in your chest. Atsumu's voice echoed in her mind, and the scent of the cheap vodka lingered like a sweet torment. His intoxicating presence had a peculiar effect on her. In the midst of the celebration, it was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull you had on you.

Every word he spoke, every smile he flashed, seemed to wrap around you like a spell. As you stand in one of the corners scanning the room, your eyes can’t help but stop on Atsumu. A bottle of beer in his hand this time, ripped jeans hugging his legs and a shirt you were sure belonged to Osamu.

You couldn’t stand being here anymore, you finally gathered the confidence to walk over to Atsumu placing a hand on his shoulder. “‘Tsumu? I’m going to head out now.”

“Wait Y/N, let me walk ya out at least! It’s the least I could do.”

And he does just that. Follows you to your car door. You unlock the car before turning around to say your final goodbye. The cool night air embraced both of you as you stood by your car, the distant sounds of the party fading into the background. Atsumu leaned against the car, his brown eyes fixed on yours, a hint of seriousness replacing the playful demeanour he had maintained throughout the night.

“I love you, Y/N. Like LOVE. Like I LOVE ya a lot and I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you all night and you don’t understand the effect you have on me and stuff. I’m not good with my emotions or words but I LOVE you Y/N.”

The weight of Atsumu's confession hung in the air, his words blending with the cool night breeze. His sincerity was unmistakable, but the alcohol on his breath and the chaotic energy of the party left you torn between the intoxicating moment and the reality of the situation.

A mixture of emotions played on your face as you processed his words. Atsumu's drunken honesty tugged at your heartstrings, yet a part of you couldn't fully trust the authenticity of the moment. You cared for him deeply, but you knew the importance of clarity and understanding in matters of the heart.

“I- That’s real sweet, Atsumu. But I wish you were sober. I wish you were sober so I could believe those words.” You state, your voice soft.

With a final nod, you got into your car, the engine starting with a purr. Atsumu stepped back, watching as you drove away from the chaos of the party. You left a dumbfounded Atsumu standing there watching you drive away. His heartbroken.

The drive home was both a physical and emotional journey. The music playing on the radio became a distant backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. You couldn't deny the intensity of your feelings for Atsumu, but the timing and the influence of alcohol cast a shadow of doubt over the sincerity of the moment.

Back at the party, Atsumu was left standing alone, surrounded by the remnants of the celebration. His heartache was palpable, and the gravity of his words weighed heavily on him. “I wish you were sober.” The words that came out of your mouth that repeated in his head for the rest of the night. The words that encouraged him to keep drinking until he would forget.

I wish you were sober.

©slut4msby.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #lea's stories :3 #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu angst #hq fluff #hq #atsumu #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu miya #hq atsumu #miya twins

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ynscrazylife · 1 year

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Jessss can I pls request a sort of angst fic but like one of the ‘how the avengers would react to...” lists with it being R being like a young avenger but like they get affected by some kinda chemical or weapon or something on a mission and is really sick and no one knows how they can help them bc it’s like alien tech or something that did it? I just think it’d hit a spot in my heart rn and there’s never anyone better to ask than youuuuuu bc you literally know the character’s so well everything always hits lmao

Sick Days

Summary: The Avengers get worried after you get mysteriously sick from alien tech.

Author: You said a fic but you also said a “How the Avengers would react to” list so I wasn’t sure what to write, so I went with a fic. If this is not what you wanted, please let me know!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Being an Inhuman has never really been a problem for you before. It gave you some pretty cool powers and allowed you to join the Avengers team during the five year blip. S.W.O.R.D. had gotten word of when you accidentally activated your powers and, since they were still dealing with half of their agency being dusted, asked Natasha Romanoff if she could take the lead on this one and check it out. She found you, a young teenager at the time, frightened and confused. After realizing that you were an Inhuman, with Captain Marvel’s help, she explained to you what happened. It turned out - you had nowhere else to go, so Natasha ended up taking you in. She had a soft spot for you.

Long story short, once you got a little bit older, Natasha began training you in combat and allowed you to join the team. Once the blip was over and everyone returned, you met the others and were officially declared an Avenger. Despite being the only not-fully-human-person on the team (Thor had gone to the Guardians), you fit in perfectly. Everything was going smoothly.

That was . . . Until patrol one day. Where things took a turn.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You had been patrolling the streets of New York City for a little while now when the voice of Natasha chirped in your ear. Excited, you said, “Hey! Can I finish patrol early? There’s nothing really going on.” As much as you loved patrol, wintertime was nearing and you couldn’t exactly wear a coat with your suit, so you were getting rather cold.

Instead of a positive answer like you had hoped, Natasha chuckled. “Not just yet, kid. We actually just got a tip off from the NYPD. A break-in was reported at a nearby storage unit and none of their patrol cars are close. You’re actually the closest to the situation, it’s only two blocks away. Think you can check it out?” She asked.

Your desire for warmth was overshadowed by your curiosity and more-pressing desire to actually do something. “Who would break into a storage unit?” You asked, confused.

“That’s what you’re about to figure out. It’s two blocks to the east,” Natasha said.

“Alright. I’ll see you afterwards, then,” you replied.

With that, you turned to your right and began walking. Unfortunately, being Inhuman did not grant you super-speed powers. Instead, you had light powers.

You got there in no time. On the outside, everything looked fine. If you were just walking down the street and passing by (which a couple of people were), you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But you were no ordinary civilian. You managed to sneak inside and used your light powers to make yourself invisible. It was a large floor, with lots of storage units, but it was also quiet, so you took your time inspecting each and everyone.

Reaching the other side of the floor, you were about to report that it must have been a false alarm or something as you couldn’t find anything, when you rounded the corner only to spot a masked man lurking around an open storage unit. Spotting the broken lock on the floor, you knew that this had to be your guy.

Still invisible, you quietly sneaked up beside him, preparing yourself to show yourself and give the guy a chance to surrender, but wanting to stop him from being able to escape, too. Just as you inched close so you were right behind him, the man suddenly turned around and blasted you with the weapon he was holding.

This took you completely by surprise - there was no way for him to have known that you were there! You were flung into the air and hit the wall of another storage unit, before falling to the floor. “Hey!” You yelled as your invisibility disappeared and you struggled to sit up. The wind had been knocked out of you and your head was throbbing, but if there was anything to know about you, it was that you were relentless.

The guy broke off into a run, leaving the rest of the storage unit behind. You stumbled to your feet, trying to follow him, when a combined wave of dizziness and nausea pushed you against the wall. Your vision swarmed and your arms wrapped around your stomach, as you suddenly felt horrible. More sick than you had ever been in your life.

Whatever that guy had blasted you with - it had done something. Something bad.

As much as you tried to fight it, your body sank until you were curled up on the ground. Beads of sweat laced your forehead but you shivered at the same time. You had just the amount of strength to be able to press on your comms. “I need help,” you said, but it came out as a croak. “The guy surprised me. Blasted me with something. Please-”

You weren’t able to get anything else out as you fainted, your body succumbing to the attack of exhaustion, pain, and sickness.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Natasha heard your plea, the feeling of panic crashed into her. “Y/N?” She said when you stopped talking, already typing away at her computer to track your location. When she only heard static, she pursed her lips, frustrated. “Y/N, c’mon!”

“What’s going on?” Clint asked, poking his head into the living room as he had been walking by.

After finding your location and reading your stats provided by your suit, Natasha glanced up at Clint. Despite the hardened, blank look on her face, Clint could tell she was worried by the way she pinched her eyebrows and the frown tugging her lips down. He patiently waited for her to answer, his face growing solemn and more serious.

“Something happened to Y/N on patrol. You need to gather the team. I’m going to go get them,” Natasha said, rising from her seat and going to leave without another word.

As she passed him, Clint gently grabbed her arm. “I’m sure no matter what happened, the kid will be okay,” he said, wanting to provide some comfort. He shared her worry - heck, everyone would, they all adored you - but was able to be more calm about it. A skill he had developed as a dad to four children.

Natasha forced a smile. “I hope so,” she said, and gave her best friend’s hand a small squeeze before leaving to suit up. She couldn’t afford to waste any time.

When she left, Clint had F.R.I.D.A.Y call the team down to the living room. It took a couple minutes, as they were all in various parts of the building, but eventually everyone was gathered. Clint refused to tell anyone the purpose of this impromptu meeting until everyone was there, which was a little frustrating for people.

(People as in Tony)

“Will you just tell us already, Legolas?!” The billionaire exclaimed, as he and the others stood watching Clint pace back and forth, occasionally checking his phone in case Natasha had texted any update.

Finally, seeing Wanda and Vision walk in, who were the last to arrive, the archer explained. Shooting Tony a glare, he said, “Something happened to Y/N on patrol,” he repeated the words Natasha told him. “We’re not sure what, but Nat’s going to find out.”

Everyone’s faces softened. “Something happened? Like an injury?” Wanda inquired, frowning.

Clint glanced over at Natasha’s computer, which still displayed your stats. “Maybe . . .” he trailed off, his eyes catching something on the screen. “Wait - it looks like they’re sick or something. See? Y/N has a high fever.” The rest crowded around him.

As they all watched the screen, Bruce said, “I’ll go get the medical bay set up. Dr. Cho should still be here,” before briskly exiting the room.

“Y/N displayed no signs of illness this morning. In fact, they seemed to be quite well and excited for patrol,” Vision noted.

“They did say they were blasted with something,” Clint murmured, trying to connect the dots.

His phone’s ringtone interrupted the team and Clint scrambled to answer the call. Seeing that it was Natasha, he put it on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

“Y/N’s sick. It’s bad. They’ve already thrown up on our way back and I’m carrying them,” Natasha rushed out almost as soon as Clint accepted the call. They could all hear her controlled breaths as she was walking as quickly as she could.

“Bruce has gone to get med set up for when you arrive,” Steve said.

Remembering how you sounded on comms, Clint asked, “Is Y/N conscious?”

“They’ve been slipping in and out for now. They were passed out when I found them,” Natasha answered.

The team exchanged looks of worry. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” Tony tried to answer confidently, but his concern overshadowed his tone a bit.

Minutes later Natasha had burst into the tower, you still in her arms. She made a beeline for medical and the rest of the team were hot on her heels. As Natasha had said, you were definitely awake, but unaware of your surroundings nor the state you were in. You were still sweating and shivering profusely and would occasionally mumble something incomprehensible or let out small whines of pain. It broke everyone’s hearts to see you like this - if not for the pressing danger, they weren’t sure they could stand it.

Once at medical, Natasha gently laid you down on a bed where Dr. Cho quickly got to work. The Avengers were allowed to stay in the room (they surely would have put up a fit if not), but needed to stay back so Dr. Cho could work. They all watched as she hooked you up to monitors and assessed you.

“Y/N’s defiantly gotten very sick quite quickly,” Dr. Cho confirmed as she worked.

“It must be that damn blast,” Natasha muttered. “We need to figure out what that was.”

“I can get the storage unit’s company to send us the security cam footage,” Tony offered, but didn’t wait for a response before dashing out.

“Can someone get some cool compresses? We need to bring their temperature down, it’s dangerously high,” Dr. Cho requested as she set up an IV.

Sam and Wanda immediately complied, rushing to get the compresses. They returned and draped them on your forehead, neck, arms, anywhere they could. Up close, they could see how pale and fragile you really were, eyes half-closed. It was scary.

“I’ve given them an IV with fluids and medicine,” Dr. Cho said, letting out a huff. “That and cool compresses is all we can really do for now except to continue monitoring them.” With a gesture of her hand, the Avengers all flocked around you, drawing up chairs to sit. No one wanted to leave your side. “Let me know if their condition changes.” Dr. Cho smiled sweetly at them before leaving and letting them have some privacy.

No one said anything for a little while, stewing in their concern as they watched you. You had fallen asleep, but it didn’t seem restful, with your pinched eyebrows and scrunched up nose. Wanda continued to dab your forehead with the compass while Steve and Sam would occasionally go to get more.

After some time, you woke up a bit and let out a whine. “What is it, hon?” Wanda asked softly.

“It’s cold . . . Can I have a blanket?” you croaked, voice hoarse. You squirmed a bit, pouting.

“I’m sorry, darling, you can’t. We need to get your fever down,” Natasha explained.

Tears at how awful you felt came to your eyes. You curled up on the bed. “Please . . .” you said.

This shattered everyone. Natasha frowned, gently petting your hair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

You moaned before letting out a few coughs that shook your entire body. Clint went to grab you a glass of water while Steve glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t the IV and meds have kicked in by now?” He whispered.

Clint helped you drink some small sips of the water while Vision answered, “yes, it should’ve.”

Everyone looked around. “I’ll get Dr. Cho,” Sam decided, keeping his voice low so as to not disturb you.

A couple minutes later, he came back with the doctor in tow. You were still curled up, looking miserable. “Hi, Y/N,” Dr. Cho said. “How are you feeling?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but still wanted to ask.

“Hot and cold at the same time . . . My head, throat, and stomach hurts,” you said, voice so small that the others had to strain to understand you.

Dr. Cho nodded and looked over the monitors, frowning. “The meds should have kicked in by now,” she muttered.

Everyone felt defeated and even more worried. What the hell had you been blasted with?!

“Maybe a bath might help? My mom always had us take warm baths when Pietro or I got sick,” Wanda suggested.

The rest nodded. At least it was something. “You feeling up for that?” Natasha cooed, seeing how tired you were.

“I want to try,” you mumbled, trying to sit up.

Natasha and Wanda helped you. They wrapped wrapped one of your arms around them and one of their arms around you, half-carrying, half-leading you to the bathroom. Clint followed behind to be able to open the door.

You leaned against the wall, supported by Natasha, while Wanda started the bath and Clint returned to the rest. The redhead had to keep you from dozing off a few times which worried her a bit about leaving you alone. When the bath was ready, Natasha said, “We’ll check on you every ten minutes or so, okay?”

You nodded, although it was a small nod so as to not aggravate your headache. Wanda and Natasha then left you alone, walking back to the medical bay. When they returned, they saw that Tony had come back, too.

“Did you find anything?” Natasha asked anxiously as she and Wanda resumed their seats.

“There was nothing much the footage could tell us,” Tony admitted, standing in front of the team and Dr. Cho. “We saw Y/N using their powers to make themselves invisible, but it seemed like the guy who attacked them knew that or something because he turned around and blasted them while they were invisible. I’ve talked with S.H.I.E.L.D. about it - Fury says it might have something to do with Y/N being an inhuman.”

This got everyone’s attention. You being an Inhuman had never interfered with anything before, so what was the problem now? “Fury had some of his agents look at the rest of the tech and stuff from the storage unit the guy had been lurking in. Apparently - it’s all tech that belongs to the Kree. It would make sense why it’s effecting Y/N, since the Kree sorta invented the Inhumans. He’s contacting Carol now to see if she might know anything about it,” Tony continued, and then grabbed a chair and sat down while everyone processed this.

“Let’s hope she does,” Bruce said, receiving murmurs of agreement.

They sat around until the ten minute mark hit, when Natasha went to check on you. She returned a couple minutes later, her arm wrapped around you. You looked quite sleepy, and the Avengers would of aw’ed if you weren’t so sick. Your hair was still damp but you were wearing Avengers-themed pajamas.

“They fell asleep in the bath,” Natasha told the team, before helping you get situated back in bed.

Seeing as the sickness wouldn’t be contagious if it was indeed an Inhuman once, a couple of the Avengers gladly cuddled you, wanting to prove some comfort. Really, they all would’ve, if the bed had been big enough. Natasha and Wanda laid down on either side of you and Clint sat at the end of your bed.

Natasha pet your hair while Wanda simply had her arms wrapped around you. Sam was waiting with a glass in his hand in case you got thirsty. When you dozed off for a little bit, Tony couldn’t help but snap a picture. “Sorry, they’re adorable,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all and shrugged.

After waiting with you, Carol drew everyone out of their thoughts by walking in. She was wearing her usual suit, but held a vial in her hands.

Hearing her footsteps roused you and when you could make out the blonde, you smiled. “Carol!” You said, having missed her.

Carol smiled warmly at you. If there was anyone who could break the space captain’s tough exterior, it was you. “Hey, little one,” she greeted. “Long time, no see. I’ve got something for you that will help.” She handed Natasha the vial. “It’s the cure to your sickness. The sickness was invented by the Kree to infect the Inhumans. From what I can gather, the guy was a Kree man who had a device on him that could detect Inhumans - that’s how he knew you were there.”

“Interesting,” Steve mused, as Natasha handed you the vial.

Not caring about how bad it might taste and just wanting to feel better, you gladly drank the entirety of the vial in just a couple gulps.

“It’ll make you quite sleepy, but-” Carol cut herself off as your eyes quickly fluttered shut and you fell into a deep sleep, head falling against Natasha’s shoulders. “They’ll wake up in a few hours feeling better.”

She turned around to grab a chair. “You’re staying?” Sam asked, as they watched her.

“Of course,” Carol said, scoffing as she sat down. She looked at the Avengers. “What, is anyone planning on leaving?”

They all smiled at each other as a series of “no’s” went around. They were more than happy to sit with you and comfort you.

“That’s what I thought,” Carol said proudly, smiling.

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