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smileysuh · 1 year

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Fix You

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you tell me your name?”

He’s very peculiar for a level one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I forget my moves?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s so good about the pool?”

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

“How do you measure peace?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eight times,” Mingyu confirms.

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

Jaehyun nods. “I can do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he’s not doing so well either.

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good idea, you have permission.”

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

“No.”

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An incident?”

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

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

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

Now you’re really alarmed.

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

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

“What?” Mingyu stops playing with his ball.

“There’s been an incident-”

“Can’t someone else take care of it?”

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

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

“Jimin can play with you.”

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

“I’m really sorry, Mingyu-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poor Mingyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling today?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe even freeing?” you suggest.

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

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

“For most of them.”

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

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

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

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

“But you like your job.”

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

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

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

“I already have a book.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The base algorithms-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal,” Mingyu nods.

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

“Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Games?”

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

“That’s good-”

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

You stare at Mingyu, lips parted in shock.

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

“Mingyu-”

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

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

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

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

“The bug in my code?”

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

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

“Sex bot coding,” Mingyu repeats.

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

“And my heightened admiration too?” he suggests.

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

“I won’t hurt you.”

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

“Then what is the point?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart aches for him.

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

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

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

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

Mingyu frowns.

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

“What if they terminate me for this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s a robot.”

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

Yoongi says nothing.

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

“You didn’t,” Yoongi groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’re saying Mingyu is dangerous.”

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

“This is bad.”

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

“And how do you suggest you accomplish that?”

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

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

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

“Again, we’re talking about a robot.”

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

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

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

“This is bordering on conspiracy theory.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With who?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Now that’s really not your concern.”

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

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

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

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

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

He’s chasing after you, after his destiny-

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

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

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

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

“Mingyu-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s silence on the conference call.

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

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

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

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

“We’re listening,” Mr. Han sighs.

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

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

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

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

“Not forever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is preposterous.” Mr. Han sighs.

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

No one says anything.

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

“You do good by making your fans happy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a short goodbye, the call ends.

You stand there for a moment, still in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” he hums against your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are too-”

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

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

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

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

“Are you?”

“More than anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So good-” Mingyu groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god,” he moans, “I’m gonna-”

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

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

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

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

“I enjoyed that too,” you admit.

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

“Uh huh, you taste perfect, Gyu.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only for you Gyu, only for you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gyu-” you whimper. “I’m so close-”

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

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

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

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

“Gyu-” you whimper, closer and closer-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Uh huh. I’ve worked in this facility for years- I’ve watched level ones come in and out of here, seen the wear and tear, the use of bad coding. I’ve got lots of ideas on how to help you - and them - get better. If you’re not the only one with sex bot code, it would explain a lot of the issues I’ve seen-”

“Are you going to fix me?” the automaton asks.

For some reason, you find yourself laughing. “Mingyu,” you cup his face, thinking through all the events that have led you to this moment. “I could never fix you, you don’t need to be fixed. In fact… I think you fixed me.”

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🔮 preview. He’s an AI with sexbot coding and a one track mind when it comes to making love, and you honestly sort of love that about him.

cw/ tw. Sad Gyu, distraction sex, pussy eating, pussy stretching, fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex, teasing, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, praise, big dick mingyu, switchy/submissive leaning Mingyu, hair pulling, breast worship, mention of the classic sex bot flavoured ejaculate, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 600

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been months since Mingyu came to the wellness centre, and everything has been going above expectation for him. He’s doing brand endorsements again and his management team has done a great job smoothing over the escape that took place.

You’ve been working on his coding, using behavioral therapies, and Mingyu’s aggression is at an all time low. He’s happy most days, and you are too… that is, until you get word that one of his band mates has been recaptured.

Against all your protests, his management team insists that Mingyu return to Earth to see the AI Mingyu knows as Dino. It’s a brief trip, and the fourty eight hours he’s gone feel like the longest in your life. There’s no way of knowing how this reconnection with a former ‘friend’ will affect Mingyu, and you brace yourself for damage control as you wait for his ship to land, returning him to your care.

He’s frowning as he exits the shuttle, and when he pulls you into a hug, he squeezes just a little too tight. “Come inside,” you tell him softly when he releases you. “I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.”

He says nothing, but he holds your hand as you lead him into the facility, walking unopposed to your quarters. Mingyu’s in your sole care, and your manager, Yoongi, has washed his hands of anything dealing with your new AI turned lover. You prefer it this way.

Mingyu’s quiet as you close your bedroom door, and he walks over to collapse onto your bed, staring at the floor.

“Take your time,” you say softly, sitting next to him and resting your hand on his back. “When you’re ready to talk, tell me what happened.”

Mingyu fidgets with a ring on his pinky- a ring that all his AI members used to share. He’s silent for a few minutes, and you wait patiently, rubbing his back and leaning against his shoulder.

“They wiped his memory,” Mingyu says finally. “Dino. They wiped him.”

You study his face, looking for any micro expressions, but Mingyu’s gaze is blank as he stares at the floor.

“Did they tell you why they decided to do that?” you ask, trying to be gentle with him.

“They said he was too far gone. He was away for months. They said there was no other way to get him back to the way he was… but he’s not the way he was. He never will be.” Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I asked them why they wouldn’t try rehab, why they couldn’t send him here- they said Dino gave up that opportunity when he ran away. I stayed, I gave myself up willingly, which is why they thought there was hope for me. Something about my actions being like a guilty plea, lessening the sentence. But Dino evaded them for months.”

You take a moment to consider everything he’s said.

If this is the precedent that his management is setting, that means none of his other bandmates can be recaptured, or they’ll suffer the same fate… if not worse. You can’t imagine what they’d do to Seungcheol, who was the ringleader in all of this- and you don’t want to think about it too deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You didn’t do anything,” Mingyu says meekly. “I know you tried to convince them to send him here but- I guess not everyone gets a happy ending. In fact, I’m starting to think most people like me never will.”

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ninakoll · 23 days

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every timeee we encounter the trickster in dead by daylight i sing rebellion star in my head!! trickster/trickstar would truly be the collab of the century

this is for the 5 people in the middle of the venn diagram of enstars and dbd enjoyers - me, my closest friends, + tetora and midori :)

midori gets an idle crow from hiding in a locker too long, is found and tetora just leaves him to die on first hook........... tetora someones gonna leave -rep on your steam profile if this is how you play :/

#ensemble stars #dead by daylight #trickstar #ive been going nuts about dbd mentioned in enstars!!!!#makoto as a gamer would recognize him . fear #unrelated but i love the tricksters outfits so much what do you mean he has a cupid outfit but also gay bird one and even a kittycat...#got an ungodly amount of hours on this game yet i have never played trickster!

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undermine-the-instinct · 5 months

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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader

Read on A03...

Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab!

Masterlist.../ Next part....

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

NOTE: Rin and Sesshoumaru are so found-family core to me, so I absolutely DO NOT ship SessRin.

Content: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshomaru, HumanOmega!Reader, AFAB READER, FEM CODED READER, period mentions, era appropriate misogyny, servant/master dynamics.

Length: 8.9k

Part 1 out of 4

Listen, nine hundred and fifty years before jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the book of solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.

The inn that Sesshoumaru leads you to is weathered but sturdy, and most importantly, empty.

You’re surprised at the fact that the inn is a honjin, and not a cheap Kichin-yado, like the ones you've seen sparingly in other villages. This is a post town though, so it makes sense.

It is late, but beyond that the night is still, stale. The wind hardly moves, and you know the signs of a desolate town before the wariness in the residents' eyes can tell you. Scared perhaps, and desperate.

The woman who runs the inn is much like it, a bit old, but grounded, and elegant, as she stoops into a low bow and accepts the pouch Sesshoumaru hands with due reverence and trembling hands.

“Four days. Attend to their needs, whatever they may be. Your head depends on it.” You hand Rin to him, and he sets the child down on her feet with care that belies his stern brow. You take his hand next and hop down from A-Un, and he retracts his hand as soon as you are steady on your feet.

“Get inside now. It's late.”

“Yes, My Lord.” You usher Rin in behind the innkeeper, and for just a moment, you turn to look back at your Lord who doesn't follow.

“Will you be joining us?”

His eyes flash like lanterns in the darkness before he turns away. “...Just get settled in.” And he slips into the dark.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was hard adjusting.

Leaving the 21st century for 1500’s Japan was enough of a shock, but apparently, demons existed. Yeah. Actual Demons. You’ve tried to adjust and find shelter, and a way back home, with no luck. You've been kicked and chased out of villages as mad or an ill omen (For washing your hands so often???), and you've escaped death and harm so often you swear there is either a deity who favors you, or favors your eternal anxiety over this whole situation.

It was by complete chance that you stumbled upon the Lord, in which you listed your capabilities and usefulness with the frazzled energy of a court jester at threat of beheading, the first demon to not drool and try to devour you on sight.

He cut off your rambling with an odd head tilt and a ‘accompany me then,’ despite the furious squawking from the green imp you've come to know as Jaken. You just grinned, relieved at finally finding yourself secure in this foreign place, and followed along.

You’re fine doing chores, or calling him Lord, in return for protections and shelter. You've learned how to talk in a 'appropriate manner for a woman' as the Lord ordered, but sometimes you push your luck–but you can’t help it! That reckless attitude followed you from your first life to this one, and that silky pale hair was just sooo pretty not to touch, and the barely perceptible shock in his eyes when you call him by his given name, no honorifics, is worth being forced to walk on foot for a few (dozen) miles.

Perhaps he might have thought of killing you, a few times, the sniveling thing that you were, if you hadn't piqued his interest with your charming and witty banter...that he often rewarded by cutting your rations.

He’s gotten more lenient about it now when you ‘slip up’ and you think it's like an exposure therapy sort of thing. Except the exposure part is friendship, which you think he’s never had before. It is something the both of you have to adjust to, him, with your friendship! You, with the fact that you were most likely never going home and that demons exist, and probably, subsequently, Hell. Existential crises for everyone, yay...

Yet, another thing that was hard to adjust to was…your monthlies, Things were thrown out of wack when you landed here; Your circadian cycle, sense of appropriate social interaction, your menstration, etc, so it all took a few odd weeks to come back. Your period, that is you still don't know how to talk to people or wake up early. When that happened, Sesshoumaru had already been eyeing you strangely for days you swear, even if you never really caught him in the act.

It was only when he made himself scarce, did you recall how your friend's dogs could smell your stuffs before you even could, and you promptly wanted to cringe yourself out of existence. He’s an Inuu Youkai. Dog demon.

The blood stuff started, you freaked, and Sesshoumaru promptly disappeared far ahead, leaving you to the sneering and bemoaning of Jaken. You didn't have your preferred toiletries or heating pads or anything! It was never a fun time.

The only thing that hinted to Sesshoumaru’s continued presence was the corpses of demons left in his wake, drawn in by the heavy scent of your blood, the thick trail you had left behind. He started shutting you up in an inn somewhere whenever the time comes along now, even if he’s more often late than not, which was still… oddly considerate? Well, one time you all were too far inland so you had to huddle up in a cave and that was not a good time.

Futon and tatami mats might not be a duvet, comforter and down pillows, but it was much better than a cave.

As you’re thinking, Rin trots into the room, and you brighten, immediately waving her over. Joining the group the girl was a selective mute, speaking a few precious words here and there. Surprisingly, even with Sesshoumaru being the Leader of this group and you being her favorite (obviously), the one she spoke the most often to was Jaken. She trailed and played with him often, even if the imp would call it more tormenting.

Still, the girl has done wonders on brightening this dull little group, and you adore her more than you thought you would.

Rin’s eyes light up with familiarity, and she skips over, plopping in your lap. You let out an exaggerated huff.

“Woah, I think someone had a bit too much to eat at dinner…” She pouts, shakes her head.

“Really? Because it seems like you put on a few pounds already…” She shakes her head harder and kicks her feet, so naturally you reach to tickle her toes. She screeches in laughter as you hold her in place and count off the little stubs.

“This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy got roast beef, This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried, ‘Wee, wee, wee!’ all the way home!”

“What sort of nursery rhyme is that?” Jaken sneers as he trots inside.

“What kind of stank face is that?” you snap back. Rin gasps against you, trying to get her breath back, and flinches back in laughter as you fake-reach for her feet again.

Tiring her out and settling into bed is easy enough, and you regale Rin with one of the many tales of your world. You tell her about electricity and skyscrapers, blimps and airplanes and lakes within caves, caves with pink salt and love stories and anything that you can recall. Even Jaken doesn't interrupt, content to sit along and listen to your tales.

In no time at all, Rin droops against you, breathing evenly, eyes barely slitted open in that way that all young children fall asleep. Jaken snores in his corner, that creepy two headed staff in his arms, but you’ve all gotten used to that so you ignore him. Slowly, and carefully, you tuck Rin in, and move to blow out the oil lamp.

But Sesshoumaru is already there, staring down at the both of you, and you jump.

“...!!” Putting a fist over your pounding heart, you just manage not to scream, and you frown at the Lord.

“You almost scared me into a heart attack!’ You hiss. You can swear he rolls his eyes– but the motion is too swift.

“Humans and their weak organs.”

“And yet we’ve managed to survive this long, and longer yet.”

“Yes, like crickets. Or roaches.”

“Hey,” you frown. “A roach can survive nuclear fallout. You and I, however, cannot.” He rolls his eyes again, and you definitely catch it, and maybe this time you were meant to.

Rin snores gently, and his eyes are drawn. “These inane stories you tell the child are senseless and impractical.”

“She likes them, they ease her. You know she’s been having nightmares recently–that last batch of demons brought back some…bad memories.” Sesshoumaru had told you how he had come to keep the girl, after he brought her back to life with Tenseiga.

You know you’re not the only one who cares for her. Sometimes, if you’re keen enough, you would look over and catch the Lord looking over the child.

She’s be caught in some silly antic, like trying to braid flowers into A-un’s double mane, or refashion Jaken’s clothes to something more fashionable; And the Lord wouldn't smile or laugh no, the Demon is a practically made of marble, but there would be a fondness in his eyes. Then he'd catch you looking and that stony wall would slide back up.

But that did a lot to humanize him in your eyes (ha). He liked to gift both you and the girl new clothes in bright colors, and on especially good days, he would pretend to be asleep as she braids his hair. Jaken would critique her technique and flower placement, it was very found-family core.

You only caught that once though and you bemoan your loss of modern photography. You would’ve loved to get that on camera.

“The stories help get her mind off of that. And did you say ‘impractical’? I would say they’re inspiring–maybe she’ll reinvent planes and be the next Amelia Earheat, traveling the world.”

He cocks his head down at you. “And what exactly happened with this woman, did she live a fulfilling life?”

“Uh, no…whilst trying to become the first woman to complete a circumnavigational global flight, she and her navigator, Fred Noonan disappeared over the central Pacific Ocean.”

“Hence, why women should stay in the home.”

You scowl. “She didn't fail because she was a woman, she failed because she ran out of fuel for her plane. And if you must be misogynistic, she had a man with her!”

“Who let her take lead. Hence, their death.”

You click your tongue. “The inventions of women have revolutionized the world! Wireless transmission technology, central heating, kevlar fabric, the fire escape, mint ice cream; Women can be just as capable if given room to thrive.”

He waves your words away. ” I suppose then I shouldn't let you out of my sight, lest you recreate your lightning in a bottle again.”

“It's called electricity. I almost got the hang of it.”

“Hence.” He walks the length of the room, opens the sliding door to look outside of it. He stalks back in a moment later.

“There are no other guests in the inn, and I paid the old woman enough to keep it that way. After these four days we leave for the mountains.”

“Mountains…” You sigh, burying your face in the blankets.

“Can't we just fly over with A-un?”

“No. There are demon nests I must quell inside. We pass through.”

“Ugh,” You groan, flipping over. “Why? It's gonna be so hard…You know, this isn't how I imagined my life to go. So much hardship,” you whine. “If I wanted to climb mountains I would have joined a hiking group up Mount Everest or Fuji or Hiroshima or something…”

“How did you expect your life to be?” You stop your pouting, turning over to look at him, and the light from the oil lamp paints him in shades, a chiaroscuro of silver and gold.

“...What do you mean?”

“What did you expect out of life? Do you have dreams? Or did they die out when you came here?”

He waits, and you can't seem to muster up the words under the confusion you're under. Staring at him upside down, you wonder, ‘when did you ever want to know about me?’

He’s the one who breaks eye contact first, a harsh sigh pushing past his teeth. “Never mind.” He reaches inside the lamp and pinches the fire out. The room is enveloped in deepening shadows and cool tones; All moonlight and deep blues, softening into Dawn.

He turns, and his hair swishes, like a curtain of silver. A full moon, gleaming brighter here than the waning one in the lightening sky.

“Go to sleep.”

“...Goodnight, My Lord.”

“To sleep with you.”

_______________

Inu Yokai are more attuned to their senses than most demons.

It is their nature, as dog demons–their senses are what lend them their extra strength in battle, in the company of other demons–and He is a master of them all. He is a pure blooded Daiyōkai, Lord of the Western Lands. It is expected.

He has honed and sharpened and used them like any weapon, and they serve him just fine, as well as any tool or instinct.

He did not expect them to betray him like this.

The scent of your heat is a heavy, disorienting thing–but still weak compared to the true cycle of a female Inu Youkai. But where a female of his kind would enter estrus twice, maybe thrice a year, you enter it every month.

He caught the tell-tale ends of it, the day you stumbled onto his path. Faint and still unripe, rare, and no less precious for it-Omega. You wonder why so many demons chase and clamor after you, and that is why.

He found himself appalled, disgusted. But not surprised. Mortals are weak and slaves to their own biology. Such a rampant cycle must be their evolutionary way of ensuring that their population does not die out. Yet even he has to scoff at the luck you must have had to survive unblemished. A young, unclaimed, unattended Omega, even if they are human? How crass. How delightful. Like impure jade, saturated and cloudy. He keeps you anyway. He wants you anyway.

You fall into slumber easily, but fretfully, and he watches you alternate between a light and deep sleep. It is not pain or discomfort that ails you though, and he tries to tamp down the rumble in his chest at your drawn brow. He wants to soothe it. He wants to slip beside you and savor your heat.

Instead, he settles for brushing your hair back from your face, arranging it in a neat manner so that your neck stays cool, and the child won't step on it in her hurry. You’ll wake up late, more sluggish than the other two, but he’ll excuse you. Rin will rush out first, intent on cooking breakfast, which Jaken would take over, with the innkeeper's aid. You’ll wake up next, blurry eyed and guilty, intent on pulling your weight. He has instructed Jaken to make sure you rest, but recently you’ve cowed the imp into some leniency. He’ll have to check on you.

But he won't be staying in this inn, or around you long if he can help it. The scent of you before was irregular, heady and dark like blood and earth. It's a stroke for his ego (and what does that say about him) that being around an Alpha, a complimentary presentation, has helped you to…stabilize. You must have been surrounded by Betas, to have such a weak scent. But now that it's settled, your scent is something more floral now, mature, warm. ‘Like honeysuckle’, he compares.

Pungent, thick, slow, very particular. It could be mistaken for jasmine, or vanilla, but no, honeysuckle. The scent thickens now, in your estrus, trails behind you in wafts. Further fuelled by the blood residue of your menstruation. You smell like wounded animal. Maddening, enticing, frustrating. Lovely.

Blasted instincts. They demand he steps forth and assuage them, but you are human. However his urges, no matter this damn longing, you will never be on equal stance, despite your presentation. That is reason enough. It should be reason enough.

Humans like to pretend that they are better than animals, or mindless beasts, but your body relays those basic desires pretty clearly.

He wants to taste.

Four days. Four days until the worst of this passes, and he can continue on his journey. Perhaps he should have left you for dead, ages ago. Or killed you himself, to prevent anyone else the right. He wouldn't have to deal with this, and you’d still belong to him.

But he’s not going to kill you now. He’s come too far for that.

He exhales, and slides the door shut seamlessly. It is near dawn, you all arrived rather late, so he will leave you to your slumber. That dizzying scent of yours heckles at his nerves, raises his hackles just the slightest bit–lengthens his teeth and claws, he cannot meditate like this.

He stalks from the inn, irate. There were plenty of low class demons he saw on the way to this backwater village. He needs to shred something apart. He needs to put his claws in something.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The next morning you wake up late, which is surprising, because usually Rin wakes you up by stepping on your hair rushing out. It lies neat around your face, and you’re left to wonder who did it for you, because it certainly wasn't you.

Rubbing the dredges of sleep from your eyes, you still as an image comes to mind; A dream, the glint of something sharp, like a whetted knife, and…something else, a soft rattle in the dark. A weight on top of you? But kinda nice, like a warm, weighted blanket in winter. Hm…White scales. The heck?

“Whatever…? Weird dream…” You would have looked up your zodiac sign for any clues in your era, but there are things to be done. The Lord doesn't shut you in an inn so you can idle about. Maybe you can find some chores to help out with.

You shake your head at the images, and get ready for the day. Jaken and Rin are nowhere to be seen, and your body aches sorely like you did a full cardio workout the night before.

You only just finish getting dressed when there's a knock, and the sliding door opens, revealing the innkeeper kneeling beyond it.

“Forgive me for intruding upon you, honored guest. Breakfast is ready in the common area. Or would you prefer to eat in your room?”

“Uh, no, I‘ll head down, thank you..” You follow her down the empty hallways, until you reach the common room. Rin and Jaken have already set up all the plates; Jaken huffs when he sees you, lifting his sleeve to his nose while Rin just beams. You decide to focus on her, Jaken has always had a sore spot with you.

“Good morning Rin! Did you help set this all up?” She nods, before gesturing wildly with her hands, your eyes flitting to catch it all, the odd few words spilling out. You can understand her easily, by now.

“Oh, and you helped cook too? Well why didn't you call me?! I feel horrible that I just slept in while you were working so hard!”

“It wasn’t hard; You would know if you weren't so incompetent. This is just something any person can do.” Jaken lifts his chin in the air, self vindicated, nose still covered. You are not impressed.

“Thank you for the snark, this early in the morning Jaken. Anything else you would like to add?”

He scoffs. “You should be taking my criticism with due gratitude! I mean, what sort of servant sleeps in and doesn’t even help cook breakfast?”

“I am no servant, I am a companion. And so what? Are you going to take breakfast away as my punishment, Jaken?” You smile and take the bowl of rice Rin hands you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Why, I should!”

“But you won't. Because you know the Lord wouldn't approve.” And with that, he shuts up, the click of his teeth snapping together audible. The innkeeper flinches, and draws back.

And, alright, you were only half bluffing; Sesshoumaru would be upset, but only because Jaken has no right to dole out punishments. That's his job.

You see the owner lady bow and start to head out, but you call to her before she could leave.

“Hey, have you eaten yet? You should sit with us.” She smiles politely, shaking her head, still bowing. She isn't that old actually, now that you look at her. Laugh lines and crow's feet, salt and pepper hair. Fifties, perhaps. Her eyes keep flickering towards Jaken, and she breathes shallowly.

“Esteemed guest, I am honored, but I could not dare to impose.”

“I’m asking you to impose. Don’t worry about Jaken, I can punt him like a football at any given opportunity.”

“No you can’t!” Before Rin can fill it, you take your empty teacup and beam it off his head. It lands with a satisfying crack and the imp falls with a sad cry.

“See? Also, the Lord is the esteemed guest here, not us. And, he’s not here. Please, sit and eat,” you tilt your head, peering just a bit closer at the woman.

“You look tired, actually. Are you alright?” Luckily, it doesn't take much more convincing before she sighs, and slides in the seat next to you, across Rin and Jaken.

“It is fine. There is much to do when you run an inn.”

“But you don't get many customers in this shack of a town, do you?” You glower at Jaken, who flinches back. You turn back to the innkeeper as he mutters something about “hormones and lady cycles’, in which Rin scolds him for you, and introduce yourself.

“And the little girl here is Rin.”

“H-Hello,” Rin stutters the word out, and bows. You watch the innkeeper for any sign of reproach, but she just smiles and bows back.

“I am pleased to be in such fine company. I am Numachi.” She smiles, and easily looks ten years younger.

“‘Numachi?’” Jaken always has to ruin things though.

“Odd choice for a family name.”

Her brow doesn't furrow, but she closes her eyes, inclines her head. “It was my late husband's name.”

“Well it's still–”

“ANYWAYS,” you cut in before he has another chance to be crude, “Not to validate Jaken, but it does seem you don't have many…patrons. So why do you look so tired?” She laugh-sighs, shoulders slumping, and the words spill from her, easily, like she's been waiting for someone to lend an ear.

“It was easier when I had my husband and two sons. But… after my husband passed, they left to travel to a more prosperous town, leaving me here…I run the errands by myself now.” You frown.

“They just left you alone when you needed them most?” She shakes her head. “Oh, no, they wanted to bring me along! But I’m much too attached to this place. It’s where I worked and stayed with my husband, after all. They are not far away anyways, they visit me every few months to check in. In fact, I received a letter at the beginning of this month that they would visit soon!” A smile paints her face, before consideration crawls over it; She lifts her sleeve and moves closer to you.

“Though, it's only after the new moon, and for that, I worry less. This post town used to be very prosperous, with many travelers and smaller inns. You can see the wreckage of them further into the town. But there's a demon, who's been eating all the residents for the past twenty years, under the veil of every new moon, and only then. The victims numbers keep increasing as time goes on, and soon…we will also be gone.”

Your mind quickly flashes to Sesshoumaru; The new moon will be soon, but for the next few nights at least, no one would be eaten, the demon wont get close unless they have a death wish. You think to tell her that but she goes on.

“Now we mostly trade amongst ourselves. It takes such a long time for me to finish all these chores, cleaning the rooms and the bathhouse, checking the hot springs and collecting my small wares to trade, or collecting the things I've traded in advance for.” Numachi-san looks at you, almost conspiratorially, though it's hard on such a soft face as hers.

“I…have traps further upstream the river than anybody goes. It's where you can catch the fattest fish, though I only catch a few every couple of days. It's very far upstream, so that nobody may stumble upon them and steal them, a little aways from the rice paddies Taiga-san owns. Though, I supposed the fish make their own way out of the traps, with how long it takes me to sneak up there.”

You pick at the fish on the table, seasoned with herbs and salt and vinegar, and take a mouthful of rice. Chew, swallow.

“There isn't much I am currently needed for, or need to do. I'd be happy to help with some chores. And please–” you cut her off, “don’t refuse because of hospitality. It would be kinder for the both of us if you received some help, and I find something to keep myself busy with.”

Rin immediately bounces up in her seat, rice grains stuck to her cheeks and waving her hand in the air. You laugh.

“And it seems like you have another eager helper too. Three, with Jaken.”

“I did not–” He withers under the blinding smile you shoot his way.

“So,” you grin back at Numachi-san. Please. what can we do first?”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The empty basket bumps against your hip as you rush into the village. Jaken had kicked up a fuss, had wanted you to stay inside, but Rin had wheezed past him, wiping the floor with a rag, and started chasing his feet. While he was distracted, you memorized the list of things you were supposed to get, and made your escape.

The village really was tiny, even in the midst of such a sunny day. In a time when the village should be bustling, people just kept their eyes forward and went about their business. Oh, there was of course the ladies in their tight knit groups, knitting and gossiping. There was the odd maiden who glanced longingly at some fellow or another, a couple cute village boys, all stereotypical bullshit, yeah yeah, but this town felt…hollow.

Or rather, drained. Like an old, cracked egg.

Numachi-san was right, you saw a few wrecked buildings as you made your way through town, following her instructions. They looked old and fragile, like houses made out of matchsticks. You hurried past these buildings, set on your way.

First, you had to get to the apothecary, for the bundle of herbs she owed the innkeeper, then, to old man Taiga for the rice. But the rice paddies were on the other side of town, where the streams ran from. You could get the rice and check on the traps tomorrow.

Apothecary and cleaning today, rice and fish and cooking tomorrow.

The apothecary was a small, but a long nook of a place, dimly lit and crowded with plants, hanging vines and drying bundles of other things. The woman who ran it was a frail old lady, white haired, who hardly spoke a word of greeting to you before she dropped an assortment of…things into your basket. You checked it over–expensive things. Honey and pears and mushrooms, spices–Parsley, chrysanthemum, kaiware, …some other plants you haven't been in this era long enough to identify.

You were just sorting the basket on your arm when the lady slipped a few extra stuffs into your basket.

“Oh, was that also–”

“Extra.”

“Extra? For wha-”

“You're bleeding aren’t ya.” A woman of few, but blunt words. All knowing and terrifying in that knowledge. You nod.

She inclined her head towards the basket. “Ginger and ginseng to revitalize and heal the body, make it into a tea. You’re gonna need it, with that Lord of yours.”

“...What about him?” She rolled her eyes, a strange dark oak.

“Don’t be dense girl. He shut you in that inn for a reason, right? Take advantage! He doesn’t seem the type to wanna go at it in a cave or some sort. “ And she leans in grinning, sharp and white toothed.

“You gotta watch out though, those types are the ones who pretend to be all dignified, but they’re the ones who go at it like beasts.” And yeah oookay you get what she means.

“Oh, no no no no nooo, we’re not here for that. I’m just a companion! And…my period just ended and I need rest, you know?” But she doesn't buy it.

“So you’re not his wife, or concubine?”

“No.”

She nods. “Not yet then. How ‘bout that little girl, she yours?”

“Rin, the child? No, no, we just took her in.”

“We?" You catch your slip of tongue a moment too late, and flush red. The old lady’s edged eyes seem to stare right through you, sharp and inscrutable, as she grinds and cuts her herbs.

“Having trouble carrying that Lord’s child then, are you? That why you adopted her–”

“Goodness, no! I said it’s not like that! She is just…part of the group.” Even that sounds weak to your ears, and you start to back out of the shop.

“‘A companion’...” She clicks her tongue. “How naive. He’s a high class demon and a man. You’re either a snack or a concubine, and with that sweet young scent and body, you might end up as both. Best take advantage before then."

"What?"

"If you're on or near off your bleeding, you're at your most fertile. If he hasnt already he's gonna try to pop a litter in ya." You make a sound of disgust and she rolls her eyes like a grandmother at an unruly child.

“Listen, I’m a part of this group. He's not that depraved to do that, you dont know what you’re talking about!” You're shocked at the volume of your voice, bouncing off the walls, and the most this lady offers you in a raised bow.

“Ah, I see. You like him but you’re scared–of what? Or is it a pride thing?”

“I don’t-”

“You're naive, but not clueless then. But pride is an easy price to pay for a good life. Make a move if you haven't already. Seems he already cares for ya, if he’s feeding ya and shutting you in an inn for your bleedings.”

“It's a two way street sort of thing. I get rest and he doesn't have to fight all the demons attracted to the blood.”

“Really? Well I bet he gets the days wrong, always shuts you up when the bleedings already ending. Leaves lots of bodies on the way too for ya, huh? It's like when my kitty brings me birds; It's about proving strength and showing he can provide. Demon and a man, remember?”

“You don't know him like I do. You don't know anything.”

“I know most women don't get a choice between comfort or a pleasant partnership; you got the chance for both and you’re not making any moves. If I was young as you I'd kill to take your place. Many women have.”

“So I should, on their behalf? He’s arrogant and aloof and looks down on humans,” you counter. “Why would he want me?”

“He’s sympathetic enough to take in a human woman and child and an imp, so maybe he’s not all that. Maybe you should ask why exactly he shuts you up. Or why you want him in the first place?” She resumes her chopping, the scent wafting up as bitter and sharp as her eyes. She pauses.

“If you live to make a decision, come back here. I got things to help you, whether you want to give him a baby or not.” She doesnt look up as you scoff, or run out the shop. You try to cast her words from your mind.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It got your mind running though.

“Numachi-san,” The innkeeper elegantly turns her head towards you, prime and ready to serve. It kinda irks you, her effortless grace and subservience but you ignore that.

“Why do you think the Lord dropped us off here?”

“Hm?” She tilts her head. “Honored guest…I wouldn't dare to presume, it is not my place.”

“I'm asking you to presume. I won't hold any offense, so please.” Her eyes slowly slid over to Jaken, who was busy telling Rin off for the mess she was making. Rin just grins him away.

Numachi-san slides over to your side, lifting her sleeve to cover her mouth.

“Well, if I may be audacious…Are you not the Lord’s wife?” You would choke, if the apothecary had not shocked you with this presumption earlier.

She hesitantly went on as you remained silent.

“The Lord has demanded your comfort. You rode in on the back of a mule demon with the child, and you were…bleeding. I saw the spotting. Oh, honored guest, do I go too far?” You shake your head, waving your hand at the crease in her brow.

“No, it's a...reasonable idea to come to. But it is none of that, I assure you.”

“Oh? You are a…servant of the Lord then? How generous he is.” Generous is the last thing you would call him but you can't find the words to correct her.

Curiosity pokes at you. “Numachi-san, sorry if this is too much for you, but what was your husband like? Was he kind to you?”

She bursts into laughter, and the sound of it is so sudden and bitter, your eyes widen. She looks at you with something like pity, like you’re some young thing.

“Kindness is a rare thing in this world, honored guest. That's why we call it graciousness– because it always comes at a price. No, my husband was not kind, but he was gracious.” Her eyes seem so far away, and she sighs in ages past.

“He helped me with the hotsprings and the fish traps upstream. Getting firewood and supplying the inn with whatever we needed, rice, grain, barley, herbs, meat. My sons, when they were young, preferred to help me inside, at least until the younger twin started joining his father outside more often. They both didn't like people that much, busybodies. It was very crowded in those days so I understand.” And her eyes flick to the sides.

“But my husband…I cared for him, and he protected me. I’ve always been a frail thing, so I think he took it as ensuring my safety. I wasn’t madly in love with him as I was in my youth, but we enjoyed each other's company, which is more to be said then most marriages. Even so, after my sons were born…My duty as a mother overrode my duties as a wife. Not that it ever amounted to much, now that they all left me…” Another sigh, just pushing a small sob, her lipid eyes wet.

Wife. You’d never be a wife, in this era at least. Much less a willing mother. The chance of finding a decent partner that won't try and force you into domesticity is low, and lower still with the chances of Seshoumaru ever letting you go.

If you asked him, would he let you go? Maybe as you get older. Maybe if you ever found a way back to your world. But what about Rin? It's not like you could take her with you.

That night, after Rin has fallen asleep after another tale, you go wandering to the end of the hall, where the more opulent rooms lay. It's been unoccupied, but waiting a few minutes in the room yields results; Sesshoumaru appears as if he teleported, face forever calm and blank.

“What are you doing in my room?” The room you haven't been using? You want to snort, but rein that particular response in.

“Forgive me my Lord,” you incline your head. “I just had a bit of an…inquiry I wanted to bring to you.”

“And what ‘inquiry’ do you bring me?”

To your credit, you only hesitate for a second at the infliction in his voice. Almost a challenge, but with none of the wariness to suggest he expects any real threat from you. You press.

“Why do you send us to an inn during my bleedings?”

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

It's not a particularly shocking question, but he wonders why you asked it. And why his pulse spiked ever so slightly.

“The blood scent attracts demons.”

“...Forgive me my Lord, but you are strong enough to deal with them; The corpses you leave behind are plain evidence. And I suppose it's more than that…” So you noticed. You bite the nail of your thumb, already red and agitated like it's a habit, which it is. He wants to tell you to stop, you don't need to lose any more blood than you already have.

“It's just…We always stay at an inn towards the end of my period, always. If it's the blood that attracts predators, why not shut me up while I'm bleeding then? I know you…scout farther ahead but I bet you can tell when or before it starts, with your superior senses. We can plan better for this, y’know.”

How nonchalant, so self satisfied you seem with yourself that you meet his eyes head on. But as he stands there, holding your gaze like water in his palm, some shame finally finds you, its red flush crawling over your neck and ears and face.

How lovely. “You don't know, do you?” Your shame, that is.

“Huh?” Even now, honey wafts throughout the room. It's all he can smell–blood residue and earth, honeysuckle and moonlight. He inhales so slowly, so carefully, to not disturb it, lest it spreads throughout the room and stick to everything.

“I don't know…what?” He doesn't answer you. He looks about; certainly one of the better rooms, still paling in comparison for his tastes. The futon has not been brought out, good. He doesn't need any more temptations.

How clueless you are to his yearning, desire let sit to simmer for gods know how long.

Maybe from when you first stumbled onto his path, or how he noticed you never cowered near Jaken nor A-un, or even him; Cautious, but never fearful. Perhaps when your scent mellowed out with the addition of the child, or when you handed her flowers to braid in his hair. He wonders what the both of you would have done, had he dropped the farce of sleep, content to breathe in milk and honey. Would you jump back in shock, the child in your arms, or would you have grinned cheekily, teeth and all?

You're going to be the bane of his existence.

As he gazes about the room, he strides over to you in that way that makes you falter; Too swift and smooth to look like anything more than gliding, the illusion of being too fast to track as he stands before you; He tilts his head at the little squeak that leaves your lips as you stand eye to eye with his shoulder pauldron.

Everything about you screams acquiescence, submission, fertility. Your smell, the extra luster to your hair, the extra plump to your face and hips….

He sighs. He finds himself pressing the flat of his tongue against his fangs, the roof of his mouth, to catch that cloying fragrance. There is a sort of fondness he holds for you that he is not sure is wise, nor gentle; It's a kind of fondness that demands both your tears and your desperation.

“Attend to me.”

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

“Attend to me.”

You mind blanks, before you spring into action. He walks over to the low table and seats himself, while you try to figure out how to take off his metal shoulder pad..thingy. It's attached by these red ropes, which are attached to that other black metal petal…thingy–wait, you should probably undo that yellow sash first. And that fluffy cape (it's sooo fluffy. But also literally alive? What is it?)

Sesshoumaru doesn't aid nor correct you, he hardly sighs as you fumble about, shutting his eyes as you work. He inhales deeply, once. He must be tired. Maybe that's why he’s entertaining you and not throwing you out the room. There's been a few close calls of that, so you know the warning signs- he emits none of them. He’s calm.

Finally, you get to that cherry blossom patterned Kimono, a crisp white and red pattern. Expensive. Hm. You wonder what his thread count is. Must be high. He lifts a hand as you hesitate for his undershirt; He just loosens the collar (and, skin!), and gestures towards the sake on the table that just suddenly appeared, a single cup to match.

As you pour it, a thought pops into your head.

“You can repair your armor and clothing with demonic energy, yes?” He actually raises an eyebrow, but only by a few millimeters. “Yes. And?”

So you couldn’t just like…Magic it all off?

You only shake your head and pour the alcohol into the flat sakazuki cups. He takes it from you and drains it immediately, and you refill it quickly. He drinks, and you look him over.

Your eyes trail down his form, not for pleasure, (because yeah, he’s beautiful, but he’s so beautiful it’s kinda scary, you know?), your eyes fall to the empty sleeve of his left arm, and you sober.

He had dropped you off in some village one day, where you stood for a few days. Jaken was the one to retrieve you, and you came back to a demon lord with one less arm and a tiny child with matted hair. You did your best, but you were only able to fix one of those.

He catches your gaze before you can tactfully retreat, and his eyes narrow, daring you.

You cringe back. “Okay, okay, no need for the death glare. Just…curious.”

His unspoken question prompts you to answer.

“Just…um…Does it feel any different?” It's stupid even before it leaves your mouth, and you see the growing irritation in the set of his mouth, You set down the sake to wave your hands.

“No, no, I mean…! Like, there's stories, from my era I mean, and other stories from before obviously, but amputees each recall their experience differently. One thing that's common though is this thing called Phantom limb; It's like…they have the feeling of still having their limb, even though it is not there. I was just curious if you had…experienced that…” Your voice trails off, meek.

When you look up, he’s looking at the loose sleeve. His hair covers whatever expression he wore before he turns back to the lowrise table.

“Oftentimes, I could swear my hand would be curled, but when I look it is still gone.” A clawed hand raises itself, and removes the shoulder of his undershirt, revealing the ragged scar marring the milkiest skin you ever saw.

“It aches, and not just the old wound. Phantom limb is accurate. I have to look and remind myself of what I lost.”

You try not to wince. “At least you have your life. I wouldn’t say you lost.” Nobody said anything of what happened to him, how he got so injured. You had to bribe Jaken with some rice cakes to even know it was another inu youkai, or hanyo, as Jaken sneered, so it's kinda scary to think there are demons stronger than the Lord in front of you, whose face and skin is smooth, but his eyes stony, like gilded marble.

“No, I lost that battle.” Sore loser then? You shrug.

“Well, I count it as a victory if I’m still alive at the end of it all.” And your impassive Lord actually snorts, closing his eyes.

“Spoken like a true loser then. Weakling.”

“Yes, and a coward. But alive still.” Silence threatens to fall, so you rush before it.

“Could you, possibly, regrow it?” He is a demon after all…

But his fist unclenches, settles back in his lap. His face is calm again, like a freshwater lake.

“There is something halting that.” And still, Silence falls like a dull knife.

This time, he takes the sake bottle and serves himself, quickly downing the drink and serving himself another. Are…demons impervious to the effects of human alcohol or…?

Maybe he’s just trying to get plastered???

Slowly, an idea forms in your head, so slowly, solidifying like fog. You act on it before you can lose the courage, opening your mouth to recite.

“Countless,

My Lord, are the years

That stretch before you;

In such an illustrious house,

A dewdrop is what I would be”

…People in this era are big on poetry, right? They’re not supposed to look at you like you just spoke in a dead language, right?

“That is Ise no Miyasudokoro. You know of her, in your modern era?” You ignore the snide.

“I was in college, working on getting my Master’s degree. One of my electives was a poetry course.” You shrug. “So yes, I know of her.”

He affords you a look, an actual look; He checks the planes of your face and the depths of your eyes, and you don't know what he's looking at exactly, but he responds,

“The everlasting (moon):

Growing in its midst

Is my home, so

In its light alone

Can I place my trust.”

Oh! You perked up at the mention of a moon, y'know, people here really like using it as a metaphor, another poem ready at your lips;

“As a general rule

I would not praise the moon

For it

Piles upon men

The burden of increasing age.”

“And now Ariwara no Narihira? Was he also part of your curriculum?” You notice it, the regard in his voice, like a drop of paint in a glass of water, settling.

“Anyone interested in literature can't skip over Ariwara. He’s a classic.” Again, bluffing a little; your teacher passed him over very briefly, and you hate leaving any stone unturned, so you did some research on your own. (And thank goodness)

“I know of him and his work, but he is far from my favorite. Do you, perhaps…hold any favor to a poem in particular?”

A nail, long and sharp, trails the flat rim of the sake glass. He seems to be contemplating, before he answers you in that impassive voice of his, even and toneless.

“In the summer mountains

From the treetop heights

Cuckoos’

Calls fill the sky

As does my love.”

Oh wow… “Ki no Turayuki? That's oddly…passionate.”

“Do you think I'm incapable?”

“Of passion?” What a loaded question. “No my Lord just…restrained.”

“I prefer…longanimous.” You laugh at that.

“What adversity do you face to show such restraint then, Lord Sesshoumaru? The world is already at the tips of your fingers.” He doesn't answer, but drinks. The silence that sails in is more weighted than you expected, and you regret your choice of words, already. Maybe he would have spoken of these ordeals. Was it the alcohol, or is the Lord being more…indulgent this night?

You turn your head, and notice the shoji door left ajar. So you stand, and draw it back, letting the night breeze filter throughout the room. It's nice. The perfect temperature, and the moon is just short of a perfect waning crescent. Soon there will be a new moon, and there will be no demons attacking this month. How lucky.

“Poems from the Sengoku era focus mostly on the tanka and renga format. In my era of modern technology, there is access to many forms of poetry, from all over the world. It's hard for me to pick a favorite.”

“Indecisive as always.”

“Oh, is that mirth I hear? I consider myself enamored with the written word. Even if I can only remember bits and pieces, from here and there.”

“Then what can you remember?”

“Bits and pieces,” you repeat, “lines and quotes. And if I must recite them rapid-fire I fear I’ll only prove redundant.”

“I want to hear you, nevertheless.” You have to calm yourself, otherwise you fear your heart will leap out instead of your words if you speak. You wrestle it back down your throat, but there's still a tremor in your voice.

“Bits and pieces, hm?...It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants’, by Vladirmir Nabokov. Nizar Qabbani, ‘Because my love for you reaches higher than words, I've decided to fall silent.’ Venetta Octavia, ‘I say your name and it feels like aching, feels like paradise’. Andrea gibson, ‘come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.’ ‘Will you remember that i existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?’”

“That last one was by Haruki Murakami,” you sigh. “...You can imagine, I got high grades for my poetry elective.” You try to laugh, to make light of this moment, but it feels stilted and awkward.

The cool air stings a little as you breathe, but you hold it in, and exhale. And when you look up, you jolt.

He finishes closing the last bit of distance, looks down at you from his imposing height. How old is he…? His face you wouldn't call youthful, despite its softness. It's those eyes- they’re too pointed.

“Do I displease you, my lord?”

“No, you do not.” A knuckle taps at your head. “But your denseness frustrates me.”

“You mean…?” He rolls his eyes, a soft snarl building in his throat.

“You are not one for subtlety, are you.” His nails, like razors hovering closer. You could shiver, and not from the cold. Not from fear. Even when that strange hesitancy of his melts beneath a scowl, and he reaches forward more assuredly, yes, but rougher too. You speak before he touches you.

“You don’t have to hurt me, y’know.” His eyes streak back to yours, breathless and bright at your own boldness.

“You don't have to hurt me to justify touching me. You can just…”

Slowly, you tip your face into the open plane of his palm, cool, like all the rest of him, you’d imagine. His fingers flex, his hands so large that his nails brush your hairline.

His hand isn’t smooth, it’s rough and calloused and cold, but the coolness feels nice. So you press your face closer and use your hands to hold it there.

You don't expect the sharp exhale, or for when he pulls you closer, and you jolt at the suddenness. A finger strokes at the hairs on the back of your neck and you shiver, again.

“I’m disciplined enough to restrain my desires, not curb them when they are released.” And just as quickly as he pulled you close, he let you go. “Tell me now. I won't have a tearful servant girl in my bed; You must be willing or not at all.” He almost sighs the words, continuous and melodious in that voice.

Is it taking advantage, if you give in? Lust was easy, easier to indulge.

You aren’t going to deny the butterflies you stomp down, in these quiet moments. And these moments aren’t infrequent– whether you continue to talk around a dying fire at a campsite, or taking shelter for a storm within a cave. It was a bit of a girl crush you had on the Lord, and you could give in, very willingly.

But should you? What would the ramifications be…?

“I…” And you pause, because you hear something. You perk up, turning back to the door you came from. You listen, both of you, and then you hear it again–muffled cries. Rin is having another nightmare.

“My Lord, Rin is…” You hesitate to go, the moment clinging to you like a mist, but then you hear your name.

You’re already detangling yourself from his hold and making your way towards the door when you remember yourself, and turn to bow towards your Lord.

“I’m sorry, I have to go make sure Rin is…” He waves you off, turns towards the open window where you can't see his face, see him gather himself.

“Yes. Go. See to her.”

You nod and step back, but a part of you feels off, leaving him like this. What timing.

“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but I haven't told you my favorite poem yet, my Lord. I hope we can continue this conversation at another time.” You bow, one last time, before you hurry out.

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

Sesshoumaru sighs, viscous longing in his chest like hunger pains.

How dense are you? Must he lay out each of his desires for you for you to understand? You speak words of affection so easily, that when he does the same they fall upon deaf ears. He is not one to be overt. You are horrible at looking in between the lines, though.

It is wrong to feel this way over a human. Weak things, inherently inferior, yes, but perhaps you are all the more enchanting for it. It would be more unnatural if he were to let you be, to not taste the salt of your skin or the honey that wafts from you. The hint of arousal he caught, when he towered over you. You are an Omega in heat. He is an Alpha. What else is there? You serve him anyways, should you not be rewarded so?

His skin crawls, where it has touched yours.

And still, that honeyscent sticks throughout the room.

A/N: Was the poetry a bit too on the nose? I feel like sesshoumaru isnt the type for grand dispalys of affection or confession, he's way more lowkey lol. But here are the poems I used in order.

Ise/ Ise/ Narihira/ Ki No Tsurayuki/

#my stuff #my writing #writing collab #spring fever #spring fever 2024 #inuyasha #sesshoumaru #sesshomaru #lord sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru x reader #reader insert #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #tw: a/b/o #a/b/o au #tw: omegaverse #inuyasha a feudal fairy tale

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kattythingz · 25 days

Text

She had us in just two words / “Come inside”

I was supposed to get back to Crown after my last drawing. Why did I jump from hades au to an epic the musical one instead :"D. ANYWAY ED AS CIRCE AND LING AS ODY ANYONE?

This au is another collab with the wonderful @sirchenchen, who designed Greed as Hermes! Check out her art here!! Now 🔪🔪

Au details and edling goodness under the cut, as always~

So, yes, Ling is Ody here. HOWEVER, he has no Penelope waiting for him! So, fear not, no cheating occurs here with edling! Ling's just a king desperate to get back to his people (and we know how much he loves his clan in canon).

As Circe, Ed definitely has her trauma, which—iykyk. All you need to know on that end is that Greed found Ed after the horrific aftermath and killed the culprit dead, dead, dead.

Ed and Al tried to revive Trisha blah blah canon stuff, and while Ed was banished to a deserted island, Al was damned to the underworld as the blind prophet. Although Ed can slip into the underworld from time to time to visit Al, the brothers physically cannot touch each other again; if they do—well, Ed still has the burns from a desperate hug attempt.

Greed is Ed's only company for centuries, before Rose and Noah—two captured nymphs barely escaped from humans—washed up on his shore. They have similar trauma to Ed, and so, he doesn't hesitate to take them in. When he turns men into rats, it's not only to protect himself, but Rose and Noah as well.

Ed also has his darling snakes, of course. They're especially darling when he gets to feed them the men-turned-rats.

The Circe Saga kinda happens same as Epic canon, buuut when Ling turns down Ed—it's because he's pieced together Ed's trauma. His reason for doing what he does. Ed had let Lan Fan go, after all, even though she was part of the scouting group. Turning men to rats and leaving the woman to escape... Yeah, that speaks volumes. Enough that Ling knows to be gentle, and yet firm, when he turns down Ed's advances.

The kindness startles Ed. Against his better judgment, he chooses to patron Ling's journey home. Not because he already trusts Ling, but to test him; keep an eye on him, and truly judge if he's as good a man as Ed hopes he is.

(He is. He is, and Ed mourns when Ling disappears for seven years on Calypso's island.)

(He saves Ling's remaining men from the aftermath of Zeus's wrath as best he can to honor the last of Ling's memory. Their sacrifice had been unwilling on Ling's part. He'd been desperate to take the blame unto himself.)

(Zeus had refused.)

(Well, Ed refused Zeus's refusal.)

Ed can't even pretend the news of Ling's safe arrival to Xing doesn't please him. He's happy for the idiot, damn it.

It's quite the fortunate timing that, shortly after Ling's return home, he finally feels safe enough to ask to court Ed long-distance.

It's quite fortunate that Ed agrees.

They go back and forth with letters, with Greed serving as their middle man, teasing them both plenty along the way.

Ling eventually dares to ask for Ed's hand fully, and—well, Ed doesn't say no.

"You realize I was banished to my island? As in, I can't leave, even if I wanted to?"

Ling has the perfect, audacious response to that.

"Gods often send champions to do their bidding, no? Send me as you please, and I will defy the gods yet."

The balls on this mortal. Ed is astounded.

He's astounded. And he's endeared.

He pretends to scold Ling over his audacity, conveniently listing a series of instructions as to what such a ridiculous hypothetical quest would entail. And, to close the letter, he writes:

"Defy that, champion."

Back in Xing, Ling grins as he lifts a moly flower from the letter. It glitters naturally in the sunlight, however, when he points it at the sun, it shines.

He has a destination: Helios.

He's getting Ed's freedom. And, hopefully, a husband out of it.

(Ed grins as he receives a swift reply, along with the news from Greed that the emperor of Xing has spontaneously set sail.)

(He shouldn't hope—but he does.)

#can you believe this is an au of my other epic au where ed's originally penelope???? I need HELP man #fullmetal alchemist #fma #epic the musical #epic the circe saga #edward elric #edling #from the moly #fanart #my art #collab

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raplinesmoon · 2 years

Text

Turn Back Time (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

warnings: bodyswap au (kind of), alternating pov, teenage insecurities, bullying, Seokjin is confused, mention of sports injury, thirst, mentions of hangover, sassy thirteen year olds, mentioned infidelity (not between main characters), cheating (like in sports), swearing, angsty confessions, smut warnings: nudity, Seokjin pops a semi at the wrong time, soft!dom Jin, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, nipple play, unprotected s*x (wrap it before you tap it)

word count: 13.3k a/n: a very happy early 30th bday to our WWH! This is my submission for the Catch of The Century collab hosted by myself, @joheunsaram, and @kithtaehyung! I was super excited writing the role reversal with Seokjin, and 13 Going On 30 is only one of my favorite movies ever (seriously, it never misses on every single rewatch). I also just miss Jin so much T_T I hope you all enjoy 💜 also ty to Mars for beta-reading this as well!

listen to the playlist here!

The envelope crinkles as it’s handed to Seokjin, and his heart drops before he can even pause his iPod and yank his earbuds out, the Black Eyed Peas providing the soundtrack to his humiliation.

Sighing, he looks at his face twisted mid-expression, half-smile and half-grimace, the metal of his braces glinting against the camera flash, and wonders why the photographer had even bothered counting down if he wasn’t going to wait for him to smile for the photo anyway. Not to mention the packet had been inappropriately labeled “Suckjin”. His eomma would be so disappointed. Looking around, he pushes his glasses up onto his nose before shoving the damn thing into his backpack, where it hopefully wouldn’t see the light of day for a few more hours.

“Kim!”

Seokjin bites back a groan at the voice bellowing in the hallway, turning to see Jackson Wang and his posse of baseball boys strolling up to him. He and Jackson weren’t friends, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but it wasn’t like they hated each other either. They had a mutual agreement - Seokjin would offer to do Jackson’s algebra homework for the semester, and Jackson promised him a try-out spot for the school’s baseball team.

To Seokjin, it was worth it. The baseball team was at the height of status in their janky middle school - everyone knew the players on the team were the coolest, sporting the finest threads walking through the hallways, and tipping their caps to make the girls scream. But it was more than that - for as long as he could remember, Seokjin had always been the lame kid. The one that faded into the background, hiding his acne-laden face under his mop of dark hair, constantly fiddling with his glasses. He hated that.

For once, he wanted to be the special one. The one who hit the winning home run at the game, the one who made all his fellow students and teachers scream with joy, who brought the school to victory. Then no one would ever forget him again. And now, with a try-out spot on the horizon, he finally got his chance.

“Did you hear about that new chick that moved here?” Jackson’s laugh interrupts Seokjin’s stream of intrusive thoughts, and he shoves his iPod into his book. “She’s supposed to be hot stuff.”

“Dude, you should totally hit her up,” DK, one of Jackson’s cronies, eggs him on with a guffaw. Jackson waves him away with an annoyed look, telling them he needs to talk to Seokjin for a second.

His tall, muscular figure looms over Seokjin’s scrawny one, the hard surface of the locker meeting his back.

“Sooo, I know try-outs were supposed to be tonight,” Jackson drawls, looking Seokjin over. “Big day, right?”

He’s unable to respond with anything but a gulp, knowing something was up. It always was with Jackson.

“Well, stupid Mr. Kang decided that we’d have a take-home assignment, and it’s due at the end of the week. I hate to cancel tryouts, I know how much you were looking forward to them, but we’ve gotta bust our asses for this, you know how it is.”

“I-, I could do the assignment for you,” Seokjin blurts out, finally summoning the bravery to speak. This was his once chance. He couldn’t screw it up now.

“Excellent,” Jackson’s eyes glint with mischief, his head turning to regard Seokjin with interest. He claps him on the back, the force of his palm causing Seokjin to sputter, before walking away with a wink.

“See ya later, Kim!”

The bell rings, and Seokjin immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom, changing out of the argyle patterned vest that his mother had put him in for picture day, and into his well-loved, too-large pair of Nike gym shorts that he’d found for $3 at Goodwill. Looking in the dusty mirror, he checks himself out, making sure he looked the exact part of a baseball player. His unruly hair sticks up everywhere. Sighing in frustration, Seokjin lets the water under the sink run, wetting his hands and combing it back until it lays off his face.

Great, now he looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in a week.

“Baseball try-outs?” a voice next to him squeaks, and he turns to see another kid right next to him, shorter by an inch or two, his heart-shaped smile looking up at him.

“You too?” he asks the kid, who erupts into giggles, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Nahhhh, it’s the dance team for me, I’m Hobi by the way,” he reaches out his hand for Seokjin to shake. Seokjin takes the hand with hesitation. Hobi seemed nice, if not a little weird. He reminded Seokjin of himself.

“Dance team? Isn’t that kind of lame though?”

“What do you mean?” Hobi asks him with curious eyes. “It’s not any more lame than following around Jackson Wang and his posse of meatheads. It’s more original.”

Hobi straightens up when he sees the clock, the time hitting both of them.

“Oop! I gotta go, I’ll see you later dude! Good luck with try-outs!” he waves Seokjin goodbye, rushing out the door.

Hobi’s words about being original weigh heavily on Seokjin, and he wonders if doing all this would be worth it in the end. After a few minutes of contemplation, Seokjin decides it is. He doesn’t want to be original, he thinks, he just wants to be cool.

“Seokjinnie! Show Eomma the pictures,” his mom pinches his cheeks, one hand on the steering wheel. Seokjin scowls, wishing she’d hurry up. They were going to be late for tryouts.

“Eomma, can you please just give it a break?” he grumbles, but she reaches into his bag anyway, peeking at the envelope with the preview.

“Oh, you look sooo handsome my boy!” she coos, beaming at the photo of him with his braces showing. Was she for real?

“Eomma, stop calling me that! I hate my life,” he whines, slumping into his seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his most treasured baseball card, Albert Pujols staring him back in the face. Why couldn’t he be more like his hero? Not the awkward, bumbling thirteen-year-old Seokjin that he was, but an all-star.

“I wish I was thirty,” he sighs, and he watches his Eomma purse her lips.

“Seokjinnie,” she says as she pulls into the parking lot of the baseball field. “Eomma loves you very much, you know that, right? Whether you’re thirteen or thirty.”

She presses a wet kiss to his cheek, her lipstick leaving a faint pink smudge on him.

“Eomma ewwww!” he groans but hugs her anyway with a smile. He knew he’d come home to a warm bowl full of kimchi jjigae tonight.

“Good luck!!” her voice fades off into the distance as Seokjin descends into the dugout where the locker rooms were, ready to give this his best shot.

. . .

The sun trickles through the small windows of the dugout, the grey specks of dust flitting through the air. It’s empty. Seokjin walks through, realizing there’s no one there. Did he come at the wrong time?

Pacing around the room, he looks for something, anything that would indicate the team had been here, a spare bat, or maybe a jersey somewhere. But his heart sinks when he realizes there was nothing. He’d been such a fool.

“Ohhhh Kimmmm,” a voice says from the shadows, and Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Turning around, he sees Jackson’s figure looming at the door, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

“Jackson, what’s going on, where’s everybody—” Seokjin begins, only to be cut off by Jackson howling in laughter.

“Poor guy,” he mutters, stalking towards Seokjin with a menacing gleam in his eyes. “Did you really think those tryouts were real? That we’d let a lame-o like you on the team? You’re more stupid than I thought.”

Seokjin feels like he’s being eaten alive on the inside, shame and humiliation coming over him in waves, his head slumping forward to stare at the ground while Jackson’s words ring loud and clear in the back of his mind.

“I don’t get it, I did the report for you, you said I–, I’d have a chance this year,” he stutters, Jackson backing him up against the lockers.

Jackson picks up a dusty baseball mitt off the ground, shoving it into Seokjin’s hands before pushing him into the locker, the door slamming shut and caging him in darkness.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. You’re just not cool enough.”

. . .

Seokjin doesn’t know how long he bangs against the door of the locker, knuckles raw and bleeding from being cut by the metal. His voice has gone hoarse from screaming for help, knowing that he’s out of luck for a few hours.

He hated everyone - Jackson, the team, all his classmates at school who made him feel like he was worth nothing. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to get out of here, and to finally be somebody he was proud of.

Bile rises up in his throat as he looks at the dilapidated baseball mitt in his hands. He wants to fling it off into oblivion, its presence only reminding him of how silly he’d been to believe that things would be different.

Still, it was all he had, and so he clutched it to his chest, blowing off the dust, rocking back and forth in order to comfort himself as the sun began to set outside.

“I just wanna be thirty,” he whispers into the darkness before his eyes shut and he finally falls asleep.

Seokjin snorts in the middle of his slumber, shifting around to make himself more comfortable, when all of a sudden, he feels himself land on a hard surface with a thud. Cursing, he rubs his shoulder, standing up but tripping on the edge of something soft.

His eyes open sleepily, but it’s still dark. Grumbling, he palms at his face, eventually finding the edge of something covering his eyes. A blindfold? How had that gotten there? Lifting it off, light floods his vision, and his heart stops.

The room around him was very unfamiliar - he catches sight of the rug he’d tripped on moments ago, his eyes traveling up to the sleek bed made out of dark wood with its rumpled sheets. This wasn’t his room. Where were all the baseball posters? And his GameCube in the corner? And his desk with his iMac?

There was only one answer for this - he’d been kidnapped. Panicking, Seokjin fumbles with the doorknob, stumbling into the hallway of the apartment, his eyes widening and heart racing at the even more unfamiliar surroundings.

“Eomma?” he calls out, padding down the hallway and taking in the sparse decorations. “Appa?”

He pauses when he sees a poster on the wall, a scantily clad woman in what can only be described as a provocative pose, and his cheeks flush with heat. He turns his eyes away quickly, feeling like he’s violating someone’s privacy.

The living room is even more strange, full of black furniture and far neater than Seokjin’s room had ever been. His eyes widen at the large flat-screen TV that sits in the corner, and he lets out a soft *wow* at the thought of being able to watch baseball games on there.

He turns to look around more, only to come face-to-face with a mirror. But the person staring back at him isn’t Seokjin. This person was not a thirteen-year-old with acne, a mouth full of braces, and dorky wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like one of those models on magazine covers, with hair pushed back from his face, skin clearer than the water at the beach, and a jawline that could cut glass.

He screams at the unfamiliar face, thinking there’s an intruder in the house with him. He staggers backward, tripping on the raised entrance to the living room, and falling flat on his back. Pain explodes across the back of his head, and he wants to cry.

From elsewhere in the apartment, he hears a door click, and he peers over at the mirror again. He freezes when he realizes there is no other intruder. The figure in the mirror moves the same way he does, copying his exact movement, and Seokjin brings a hand to his face, seeing it rest on the jawline of the attractive reflection.

That was him. He was the man. Was this some kind of dream? Or an alternate reality? He tests the waters, feeling around his face, tugging at the skin to see if it was some sort of costume. His hands fly to his chest, realizing that he’s shirtless, and he’s amazed by the muscles he finds underneath his palms.

“What is happening?” he hyperventilates, shocked at the deep voice that comes out, so unlike his own. “What is going on?”

His anxiety increases as he begins to pace around the apartment, coaxing himself to breathe and relax and take a seat. He’d find a way out of this.

Plopping onto the leather sofa, something on the coffee table catches his eye. It’s a letter, and he pales when he sees the name on the envelope.

It’s his. Kim Seokjin. But that’s not his address. Frantically, he sifts through the mail, growing even paler when he sees all the letters are addressed to him, and that they’re being sent to this same address. He lived here.

The sofa creaks as he rises up abruptly, searching anywhere he can for a phone. Finding it in the corner, he dials his parents’ number, silently praying they hadn’t changed it. His Appa’s voice greets him on the phone, saying that they were currently away in Korea, but they’d be back at the end of this month, and he lets out a heavy sigh. He was alone.

Seokjin thinks this is the weirdest dream he’s ever been in, but he’s interrupted by the sound of the sink turning on in what he can only assume is the bathroom in this place.

“Seokjin, babe?” a female voice calls out from behind the door, and he jumps back, terror seizing him. This must be the strange woman who kidnapped him! She was probably some kind of weirdo, why was she calling him babe?

Seokjin searches for something, anything he can use to protect himself, settling on an umbrella in the corner.

“I-, I know you’re there,” his voice wobbles as he yells out to the woman. “My parents are gonna be home soon!”

The door creaks open and out steps a woman. The first thing Seokjin can think of is legs. So much leg, peeking out at him from underneath a fluffy white towel. And then he screams again. Because she’s naked under there.

“Babe, where’s the conditioner?” she asks him, crossing her arms. Her chest is emphasized by this action, and Seokjin looks up at the ceiling. This was inappropriate. He had to get out of here now!

“Come join me!” her voice fades into the background as he runs, grabbing the first coat and the first pair of shoes he sees in the entryway. The stairs of the unfamiliar building wind around him as he descends, his head spinning, and before he knows it, he’s through a golden set of doors and out onto a busy city street.

A strange buzzing comes from his pocket and Seokjin yelps. Was he being attacked? Had the government bugged him?

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you hear that?” he says frantically, pointing to his pocket. “Do you hear the buzzing?”

The woman passes him by without a second glance.

“Kim!” a voice calls out to him. “Get your ass over here!”

Seokjin turns to the sound of the voice and stops in his tracks when he sees the person calling out to him.

It’s Jackson Wang, all suited up for practice. But he’s not the Jackson Seokjin remembers, his tall looming figure from their middle school only growing more intimidating with the amount of Jackson has built over the years. The man chatters away on the phone angrily, gesturing for Seokjin to get in the car. What kind of world had he found himself in?

“I-, I don’t get in the car with strangers,” Seokjin says confidently, turning away from Jackson’s grabby hands. The man scoffs.

“Can you please just get in bro? We don’t have time for this, we’re gonna be late.”

“BAAABEEE?” Seokjin hears the voice from the apartment again, looking up to see the woman from the apartment calling down to him, now wearing a bra. She blows him kisses and giggles. He definitely did not want to be stuck with her.

His head feels like it’s gonna explode, caught between two horrifying situations. But right now even though it was Jackson, the dude in front of him seemed less weird, and so, he falls over into the seat of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

During the car ride, Seokjin peers through the windows of the car, taking in the bright lights and busy streets of the city around him. He’s in awe. He never imagined being somewhere like this before.

“Dude, I know I’m your best friend, but you’re acting a little weird, even for me,” Jackson says next to him, and Seokjin straightens up, looking over at him. His best friend? Maybe he had all the answers to what was going on.

“We’re really best friends?” he asks, and the man snickers in response. “Something really weird is happening to me.”

“Oh god,” Jackson groans. “Did you finally get a girl pregnant?”

Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Pregnant? He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, how could he get someone pregnant?

“NO!” Seokjin blurts out. “No, no, no, it’s even weirder! I slept in an apartment I’ve never seen before, and there was a naked girl in my bathroom and I almost saw her boobs!”

He finishes with an exhale, but the car comes to a screeching halt at the exact same time, the other man not even saying a word before he gets out.

“W-wait,” Seokjin runs after him. “Please don’t leave me here, just listen to me, I’m thirteen years old–”

“If you’re gonna start lying about your age, Kim, I’d make sure it was something legal at least,” Jackson smirks, walking ahead of him on the street.

“I know it sounds weird, but strange things are happening to me, like, like that!!”

The buzzing in Seokjin’s pocket starts again, and he freaks out, spinning in a circle as he tries to locate the source.

“Would you stop it?” Jackson pulls something out of Seokjin’s pocket. It’s a shiny, flat, metallic object that continues to buzz in his hands. “It’s probably just Coach.”

“C-coach? Who Coach? What Coach?” He feels like his head is about to explode.

The phone is held to Seokjin’s ear.

“HEY BAABEEE!” A voice drawls on the other end, and Seokjin screams, throwing the phone to his companion.

“Get her away from me!” he yelps.

“Okay, listen to me!” Jackson roars, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. “You need to calm down. We have a team meeting in ten minutes. I’m going to tell you what to do, you just need to repeat after me.”

“Ok,” Seokjin says, taking a deep breath.

“I am Kim Seokjin, star batsman for the Eagles. I am a tough bastard, and I’m gonna walk into the stadium and not let anyone know I’m hungover.”

“I’m–” Seokjin prepares to repeat the words, but stops when he hears the rest of them. “I AM?”

But Jackson is already gone, disappearing behind the double doors that lead to a stadium Seokjin never thought he’d find himself going into. The Eagles. His dream team.

Seokjin follows Jackson through the stadium, oohing and ahhing at all the different banners and pieces of sports memorabilia that are on display. This has to be the wildest field trip he’s ever been on.

The man next to him scoffs.

“It’s not like you come here every day,” he chuckles, sarcasm seeping into his voice.

“I DO?” Seokjin can’t believe his ears.

The two of them walk through, scores of people greeting Seokjin and wishing him a good morning. He doesn’t know any of them, their faces all unfamiliar. But they knew him. They knew him and they loved him. He was a star.

“There he is, our star batsman!!” a voice bellows, and Seokjin is attacked by a man throwing him into the biggest bear hug.

“Coach,” Jackson whispers.

“Coach!” Seokjin repeats with a squeak, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. “You’re my coach!”

“That’s right kiddo, who’s your daddy?” the man chortles, and Seokjin responds with eagerness.

“His name is Kim— ow!” He’s cut off by a sharp jab to his chest.

He follows the two men into the dugout, surprised to see a room full of men wearing Eagles jerseys. The team. This was the team. He was on their team!

Seokjin buzzes with excitement, waving hello to all the players with a bounce in his step. They all look at him with concern etched in their features, and the guy he came with urges him to sit down in a cubby. The shiny letters of “4 Kim” greet him, etched on the plaque that adorns the space, and a weird feeling of pride bubbles in his chest. He’d made it.

“Team,” Coach clears his throat, and a hush falls over the room, the commotion dying down. “We need to get it together. The Hawks have consistently outplayed us in every game of the season this year, and they’ve been using our own plays against us. We need to move fast, beat them at their own game, hit them when they least expect it, especially if we have any chance of making it to the playoffs this year! Don’t you agree, Kim?”

It takes a second for Seokjin to realize the man is referring to him, and he sits up straight, anxiety kicking in because he hadn’t prepared a response to his impassioned speech.

He raises his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

The team erupts into laughter, howls echoing off the walls of the dugout, before Coach blows his whistle, silencing them all at once.

“Get out there on the field boys, we don’t have time to mess around,” and Seokjin rises up, ready to throw the ball around for a bit, happy for the familiarity of baseball to make him feel grounded when it seemed like everything about his life was upside down.

“Not you, Kim,” Coach holds out a hand to stop him. “You’re injured, remember? Your physical therapy with the doctor is in five minutes. Don’t be late.” And with a nod, he leaves.

Seokjin was even more confused. Injured? But he didn’t remember getting into an accident of any kind.

He hoped whoever this doctor was, they could help give him some answers.

The clacking of heels signals your arrival moments later, Seokjin lifting his head up to asses the new entry to the dugout. When his eyes fall on you, he sucks in a sharp breath.

Wow. You had to be the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, pencil skirt hugging your figure perfectly, hips tapering out to an ass that he knew Irene Bae couldn’t have accomplished no matter how much she stuffed her cheerleading uniform with toilet paper. His eyes travel upwards, falling on your chest, and immediately he blushes, reminded of the woman in the apartment this morning. Your boobs are covered by a silky top, the fabric doing nothing to hide their shape, and Seokjin gulps. They look way nicer than hers, anyway. He wants to rest his face on them like a pillow.

Maybe he should ask you out on a date first, though.

“Hi Jin!” your soft voice greets him happily, a dazzling smile taking over your features, and Seokjin feels his heart speed up. He hadn’t felt this dizzy since he saw a poster of Beyonce in a bikini when he was shopping at Target with his mom. “How are you doing today?”

“F-fine,” Seokjin stammers, unable to look you in the eyes when you take a seat next to him. He tries to find interest in the specks that line the floor, but your smell overwhelms him, the sweet floral scent attacking his nose. You looked nice, sounded nice, and you even smelled nice. Not to mention you were actually nice.

And he was supposed to be alone with you? For longer than five minutes? Seokjin thinks he’ll pass out if you get any closer to him.

“How’s the leg?” you ask him, leaning over until your face is right next to his. Seokjin forces himself to look away with a blush, grumbling about how it’s okay. He wasn’t sure whether his leg or his chest ached more right now with the way you were staring at him.

“Let me take a look!” you say cheerfully, dropping to your knees, and reaching out to grab his calf, and Seokjin thinks he might throw up with the way he can see down your shirt, the soft white lace of your bra doing things to his head. He’d never seen someone more beautiful in his life. And you were taking care of him.

The next twenty minutes are pure torture, Seokjin holding his breath as you poke and prod all over his leg, stretching it in and out with curious eyes. At some point, he feels his pants start to become tight and freaks when he looks down and sees the beginning of a boner in his sweats.

He coughs loudly, causing you to jump in surprise dropping his leg, and he immediately finds the nearest mitt and puts it on his lap to hide his unfortunate surprise guest. You smile up at him, rising to your feet.

“Your leg is doing great,” you tell him. “It should be all healed up soon, just in time for the playoffs. And then you won’t need to see me anymore.”

“Wait,” Seokjin chokes. He just met you! He needed you to stick around. Maybe you knew something about him, about what was going on. “What do you mean, ar-are you gonna leave?”

You cock your head curiously at him, and Seokjin shrinks into his seat at your intense gaze. Was he being weird around you?

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Jin.”

Seokjin’s heart pounds at your words, and he shyly rubs at the back of his neck.

“Thanks! See you again—” he blanks when he realizes he doesn’t know who you are.

“___,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows up at him, turning to leave. “Seokjin? Next time you come to physical therapy, try not to be hungover, okay?”

He watches you leave with a dazed smile on his face. ___. Meeting you had been the highlight of his day so far. Despite how strange everything had been, he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Seokjin catches the ball with an oomph!, shocked at how fast these players could throw. It’d only been a day since he found himself in this new body, and he’d stumbled home confused after his session with you yesterday, eventually caving and trying desperately to hail a taxi to take him back to the apartment. He sobbed in relief when he saw the strange woman was nowhere to be found, slumping against the door and finally allowing himself to breathe for the first time all day. Tears tracked down his face as he thought of how often he’d wished for this, the life he’d wanted so desperately finally finding him in the end.

Even now, as he tosses the ball back and forth, he’s unable to believe it. Him, the star batsman for the team he’d idolized growing up? He wanted to call his Eomma and tell her, but paused when he realized she probably already knew.

“Something on your mind?” Jackson says to him with a laugh, throwing a curveball, and Seokjin feels his palm burn from the force of catching it.

Seokjin surveys the man who was the last person he remembered before everything changed, and wonders how they ever became friends. He wants to ask, but something feels uneasy about it – like Jackson would judge him for it. He would probably think Seokjin was clinically insane if he even tried to bring up how he fell asleep thirteen and woke up thirty one day.

He wishes there was someone he could talk to, someone who got it, and that’s when he sees you waving from across the field. You’re dressed more casually today, in slacks and a soft-looking sweater, and yet you still manage to be absolutely stunning.

Seokjin feels guilty for staring at you so much like he’s a stupid thirteen-year-old with a crush on his teacher, but he also genuinely enjoyed spending time with you yesterday. Despite your annoyance at his “hangover”, you hadn’t taken it out on him with words as the others had; you went about the session as normal and treated him with kindness the entire time through.

Seokjin waves goodbye to Jackson, sprinting in your direction. He misses the way Jackson’s eyes follow his back, trained on the way you greet him with a smile, the two of you heading back into the dugout.

“Soooo, you’re a doctor?” Seokjin can’t help himself from asking, immediately feeling stupid when he realizes that he’s meant to have known you for a while. He couldn’t help it - you felt like the only real thing he could latch onto in this world, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as he processed all the new changes that had occurred.

“Yup! I studied sports medicine in college, then went to med school,” you answer politely, your tone giving no indication that you found him weird at all.

“That’s cool, you must be super smart, 7th grade bio is hard enough for me,” Jin laments, immediately realizing his mistake with a soft gasp. “Was. It was hard for me, you know, back in seventh grade.”

“Are you sure you’re okay Seokjin?” you look up at him, eyes filled with concern.

Tears prick at Seokjin’s eyes, the earnest tone of your voice giving him the push he needed to be honest. No, he was not okay. He wasn’t okay, and he needed someone to talk to, and he thinks that you, of all people, might be able to understand. After all, your entire job involved empathy.

“Something really weird is happening,” he confesses, watching you listen carefully to his words. “I don’t know what’s been going on, but the last thing I remember, I was sitting in my closet, and it’s like I’m in a weird dream. I feel like I skipped half my life – I can’t remember the person I used to be, or what my life was like at all. It’s like I don’t even recognize myself.”

“I think I need help,” he continues. “I need help remembering who I was before. You’ve known me for a little bit, right ___? Do you think you could help?”

Seokjin thought he was onto something, but his heart drops to his stomach when he looks up and he sees you, face pale and lip trembling like you’re about to cry.

“I–, I don’t know if I’m the best person to help you with that Seokjin, maybe you should ask Jackson,” you respond, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Why?” he leans over to look into your eyes, shocked when they’re as misty as his own. “What happened, ___?”

Before he knows it, the vulnerable look in your eyes is gone, and you’re back to your normal, cheerful self.

“Hey,” you tell him. “Why don’t we pack it up for today? I’ll walk you back home to your apartment.”

“Okay,” Seokjin says, stomach still churning at the pained look you’d had moments before. “But can we get milkshakes?”

You smile at him, a look of fondness coming over you. You rise, beckoning him to follow you outside.

“I think we can manage that.”

The slurp of a straw interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see Seokjin, eyes wide with delight as he drinks up the last of his milkshake, the whipped cream forming a mustache on his top lip.

You’re puzzled. The Seokjin you’d known before would have never agreed to hang out with you, let alone talk to you for an extended period of time. For as long as you’d known him, even in college, he’d been too arrogant for his own good, obsessed with letting everyone know the world revolved around him and him only. The man sitting in front of you is completely different, transformed in a way that didn’t even seem real.

The Seokjin that sat with you now seemed infinitely more unsure of himself, shy and hesitant in the way that only a child would be. You wonder what could have changed so suddenly. Coach hadn’t given you any reports about him undergoing head trauma in addition to his leg injury.

“Thank you for the milkshake,’’ Seokjin grins, wiping the cream off his lips, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat at that. You curse yourself for the moment of weakness, even after all this time.

“We went to college together,” you blurt out, not knowing why you chose to reveal this piece of information, given that he likely already knew it. “Me, you, and Jackson.”

Seokjin’s mouth gapes open, a shocked gasp escaping his open mouth.

“Really?” he says leaning in closer to you. “Were we friends?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Had he really forgotten college? I mean it had been nearly a decade ago, and it wasn’t like life had drawn you back together until recently.

“Not really, you moved in a different crowd,” you chuckle. “Like not the nerdy, study in the library kind. More like the frat rager kind.”

“WHOAAAA,” Seokjin marvels in wonder, his voice filled with childlike glee. “That sounds awesome.”

“What if this isn’t just a dream? What if what I wished for actually happened?” he continues, softer this time, but you still pick up on it.

Reaching a hand towards him, you pull away at the last moment, unsure why you were acting so wildly out of character with him. It was like the energy between you two had completely changed.

“Well, you got everything you ever wanted, then, might as well enjoy it,” you smile at him, heart fluttering when he gives you a sincere smile back, his cheeks puffing out with happiness.

“I have to run,” you get up abruptly, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “But I’ll see you at the gala tonight?”

“What gala?” he asks, eyes looking up at your curiously. Your stomach turns in disbelief. Did he actually not remember? Maybe his schedule was so busy he’d forgotten.

“The charity gala that I organized for the team tonight,” you tell him. “The one to raise money for medical care for athletes who’ve suffered a career-ending injury?”

“Oh! I’ll be there,” Seokjin says confidently, beaming at you. You give him a weak smile back, knowing you have to leave before you did something stupid and made the same mistake twice.

“Arrivederci, ___!” he waves, turning to walk in the other direction before he disappears around the corner.

“Au revoir,” you whisper back softly.

Your life was completely different now, and there was no place for him in it.

Seokjin straightens his tie before stepping into his closet, perusing the many suit options he had. He wanted to pick his best outfit to impress you with tonight, but he was feeling overwhelmed with the size of the space, missing the days when his Eomma would drag him to Goodwill and they’d find the cheapest one that fit.

He settles on a navy blue one, throwing the jacket over his shoulders, and pushing his hair up off his face, before taking a step back to look at himself in the mirror.

Whoa. Seokjin still couldn’t get used to the way his body had changed, remembering the ugly duckling phase he’d been in the middle of before being transported here. He wonders if he was able to talk to a lot of girls now that he was more confident. Maybe he’d even had a past girlfriend that he didn’t know about. Maybe they’d even had sex.

Seokjin’s cheeks burn when he thinks about it, your face in the back of his mind. He imagines what it’d be like to kiss you, thinking about how soft your lips would feel. Why had the two of you never dated? Maybe because you worked together? Whatever it was, he hoped he could change your mind about it.

Stepping out of his apartment, he skips down the hallway to the elevator, giddy to be going to his first grown-up party. Well, not technically his first, but more like the first, he could remember. The elevator dings and Seokjin makes his way inside, a little boy his only other companion.

“Hi,” Seokjin says, but the boy just ignores him, looking at his phone.

“I’m Seokjin,” he says, extending a hand that catches the boy’s attention.

“Jungwoo,” the boy says, looking hesitant as he accepts the handshake. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Seokjin says, feeling confused. “We’re neighbours, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungwoo responds despondently. “But you usually ignore me most of the time.”

The way he says it makes Seokjin feel horrible inside. He would never purposefully ignore someone like that, not after knowing what it felt like as a kid. He wonders what the 30-year-old version of him had been like to warrant such a reaction.

“How old are you, Jungwoo?”

“I’m thirteen,” Jungwoo responds, and all of a sudden, the elevator comes to a stop, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Jungwoo walks out without another word, Seokjin running after him.

“Wait!” he says sharply, watching Jungwoo turn to look at him in shock. “You should come over and hang out sometime, we can watch some baseball together.”

“Really?” Jungwoo says hopefully.

“Yeah,” Seokjin smiles, patting him on the back. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later!”

And Seokjin runs out the door, excited not only to have made a new friend but at the fact that it felt like this strange life of his was finally clicking into place.

The room spins around you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because the arm around you feels too tight tonight or because the music is boring as heck. You want nothing more than to sit down, knowing all the attention would be on you in a matter of moments, and the thought made you sick.

What made you even more nauseous was your partner’s maroon tux. Maroon. To match your navy blue. When you’d asked why he hadn’t worn the same color, his only response was:

“Babe, this little thing isn’t that serious, right? It’s about the money.”

You excuse yourself, wanting to find some investors to talk to about how to contribute their generous wealth towards your aspiring fund, only to catch sight of Kim Seokjin in a corner, knocking back drinks with a giddy smile.

“____!” he waves you over happily when he sees you, taking your hand to pull you in close to him. “I can’t believe it’s 10:00 pm on a school night and I’m at a party, drinking pina coladas that aren’t virgin!”

Your jaw drops open when you see what he’s wearing. Navy blue - a smart-looking suit to match your gown perfectly, and you feel the back of your neck grow hot with thoughts you shouldn’t be having.

“Glad to see you’re doing better now,” you giggle, and his smirk turns lopsided with glee at your kind words, its unintended effect being to cause butterflies to bubble in your chest.

“I’d be even better if they turned off this boring music,” he slurs contentedly, taking another drink from the server. “Why don’t they play some throwback tunes in here?”

“I’m not sure that fits with the sophisticated vibes needed to gain a corporate sponsorship for my cause, I’m afraid.”

“I’d donate money to you,” he says softly, his warm eyes twinkling from the numerous fairy lights as they meet yours. “Heck, I’d give you my entire paycheck.”

Setting the glass down, all signs of his previous tipsiness disappear as he regards you with a serious stare. You watch his cheeks flush, his gaze dropping to the low neckline as he sharply inhales, bringing his eyes back up to your face.

“Wanna go for a spin?”

You’re mesmerized by him, transfixed as you take his hand, the two of you retreating into a private corner of the ballroom, right by the open-air balcony. The cool breeze creates shivers down your spine as Seokjin pulls you close, his warm breath fanning against your face, and despite your best efforts to look past him and out onto the city lights, you find you can’t take your eyes off him.

It all feels too short, barely a minute of you swaying in Seokjin’s arms before the beat changes abruptly, Usher blasting through the speakers. You feel achingly empty when Seokjin’s hand leaves yours, but the smile returns to your face when a moment later, he begins head-banging and gyrating goofily to the new song.

“Now this is more like it,” he hollers, and you can’t help but join him the two of you twisting and turning until you’re laughing, out of breath and delirious with joy.

The joy is cut short when another shadow looms over your meeting, pulling you into his arms.

“___, babe there you are! What are you and Kim doing hiding away in this corner?” Jackson pulls you into his side, and your stomach drops when you watch Seokjin’s eyes go wide with a mix of shock, and what you can only assume is pain.

“Sorry Kim, I know you get her for the PT during practice, but she’s mine for the PT after hours if you know what I mean,” Jackson grins, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Seokjin’s mouth remains agape, and you watch his eyes glimmer with realization as he pans to the thin band that adorns your left ring finger, finally noticing its presence for the first time.

A sharp squeal interrupts the tense moment between you, and you notice a woman in the tightest dress you’ve ever seen run over to Seokjin, nearly knocking him over as she wraps her arms around him. His entire body tenses up, and you want nothing more than to smooth over the hair that has fallen into his face.

“Baaabe, you’ve been ignoring me,” the woman whines, her nasal voice grating your ears. Of course. It’s Jennie Kim, model extraordinaire. Of course, she would be Seokjin’s date now – a match worthy of his striking looks and personality.

“Who are they?” she says vapidly, taking in you and Jackson’s entwined figures.

“I, uh, these are, this is ___, and Jackson, coworkers, and friends from college,” he stutters, trying to unravel himself from her death grip. “And this is, uh, uhm…’

“Jennie Kim!” Jackson immediately lets you go to take her hand, shaking it furiously. “So nice to meet you!”

“Babe, we should get going,” Jennie tugs on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember we kind of had other plans for the night?”

“W-we did?” Seokjin stammers, and you decide you need to walk away, lightly tugging Jackson’s arm to follow you across the ballroom. Of course, he’d go home with her - she was beautiful, successful, and perfect. And you were just you.

“___,” you hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, yet you don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Jackson has left your side once again, going back to talk animatedly to Jennie, and you’re alone together once again.

“Should I go home with her? Jennie? Is it a good idea?” he asks, and you turn, meeting his gaze, which seems so earnest, so genuinely filled with concern for what you thought. Or at least that’s what your overthinking mind told you, kicking back into gear after eight years of wiping all thoughts of Seokjin from your memory.

“Yeah, you should,” you tell him honestly, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “She’s your girlfriend, after all.”

Seokjin yawns, Jungwoo’s animated voice yapping away in his ear as the two of them walk down to the lobby together. His night had gone later than he expected - too much of it spent lost in the city streets as he’d run out of Jennie’s apartment, not expecting her naked boobs to be in his face the moment they’d come in. Her hands had been all over him, ignoring his suggestions of quitting to watch a movie or maybe even play a game of Monopoly.

“Girls are sooo stupid,” Jungwoo sighs. “Why don’t the ones you like ever like you? Why do they give all these weird signals?”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin sighs, your face immediately coming to his mind, thinking about how you’d felt in his arms at the gala. Obviously, you’d looked beautiful, but underneath the dim lights, you shone in a way that he didn’t think was possible, one that made him feel very strange on the inside.

“Love is a battlefield, my friend,” Seokjin ruffles the kid’s hair before getting into his waiting taxi and waving goodbye. “Have fun with fractions! Remember, always divide by the number on the bottom!”

. . .

Coach was furious. The team was failing, their chances of making the playoffs dismal, and he made that clear with how he ripped into them with the speech.

“You better shape up now, or this franchise as we know it will be over!”

“Maybe that’s what we need,” Seokjin blurts out, watching the entire team turn to him. “Maybe we need to get our asses handed to us. Maybe we need to actually experience loss to realize how much is at stake. Because winning is great and all, but don’t we learn more from our failures?”

The locker room is abuzz with chatter, Coach clapping Seokjin on the back.

“I knew you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, kid,” he says, and Seokjin looks at him blankly, wondering what he could be referring to.

“ESPN?” Coach says. “That article they ran a few months ago about you being a slimy, unprofessional cheat just because you “injured” that player for the Cardinals? I knew it was all BS. I mean look at you, how could you hurt somebody when you’re injured yourself?”

Seokjin’s stomach sinks. He’d hurt another player? That was something he’d never dreamed of doing. He loved baseball, and everyone deserved to experience the joy of the sport, whether it was through winning or losing. That was what made a good player, not sabotaging others.

One by one, the players get ready for practice, Seokjin finally suiting up to go bat for the first time in a while. His sessions with you had tapered down as he recovered, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. The more and more he thought about the life he’d always wanted, one as a star baseball player, the more awful it seemed. Being a grown-up wasn’t as fun as he thought - people were liars, cheaters, and just plain old mean. But you weren’t like that.

The bat slams against the ball with a satisfying crack, soaring out towards the far end of the field, and Seokjin prepares to run. But two voices behind him make him stop in his tracks.

“Can’t believe Coach is trusting Kim and his new weird-ass stunt,” Jackson seethes. “Like he’s really gonna help rebrand the team? All he cares about is himself.”

“Yup, the prick was the entire reason our last shortstop got traded,” Jaehyun, one of the left fielders, hisses. “Can’t believe Kim had an affair with the guy’s wife.”

Seokjin drops the bat with a clank, the entire team turning to look at him. But he doesn’t care, storming off into the dugout. Was this really who he was? A bully and a cheater? Being thirty no longer seemed like a dream, it was steadily turning into a nightmare.

Storming through the dugout, he finally finds the door to your office, sighing heavily as he raps against it.

You open it within seconds, shocked to see his dejected figure standing in front of you.

“Wanna go for a walk, ___?”

“I can’t believe you and Jackson are getting married,” Seokjin remarks as the two of you walk, bringing up the proverbial elephant he’d wanted to ask you about ever since the night of the gala.

“Only a couple of weeks now,” you respond, wrapping your arms around you to fight off the chill, and Seokjin wishes he’d brought a jacket to keep you warm.

“Are you guys soulmates?” he asks, genuinely curious to know the answer. ‘Do you get butterflies when you’re around him?”

He knows that his question is loaded, that underneath it hides the depth of the feelings he’s managed to keep concealed for all this time, but he asks anyway, knowing the answer may hurt him.

“Nahh, I don’t really believe in that anymore. The last time I was crazy like that for a guy was in college,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why weren’t we ever friends back then?” he asks you again, feeling you come to a stop next to him, your heavy sigh permeating the tense air between you.

“Listen,” you tell him, and your voice sounds thick with what he thinks are tears, “Can we just please forget about it? It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Seokjin knows he may not have any reason to apologize but he still wants to anyway. It seemed like he’d left a trail of destruction behind him wherever you went.

“Seokjin, no, please, you don’t have to apologize,” you grab his hand and give him a weak smile, trying vainly to reassure him, but his rapidly racing thoughts get in the way.

“I want to though,” he says back, his own voice cracking. “I mean, do you even know the kind of person I am, ___? I don’t have friends, I just use people, I slept with a teammate's wife, and I never talk to my parents. I’m not a nice person. And the thing is, I’m not thirteen anymore. I need to stop living in the past.”

And with that, he lets you go, ignoring your cries of protest as he runs away, his mistakes following him until he gets home. Closing the door behind him, he slumps to the floor, sobbing while he dials his parents' number.

It was time for him to make things right.

Seokjin stares down at the facade of the house he’d grown up with, the chipped paint and wide windows instantly soothing his heart. The train ride over had been brutal, his empty eyes watching the scenery drift by aimlessly, ignoring the giggles of the group of teenagers that sat next to him.

He wished he could tell them to stay happy and young forever, to continue living without a care in the world. Being a grown-up wasn’t worth it. Instead of bringing him the happiness and the belonging he’d craved, it only made him feel more alone, more empty inside than he’d ever felt as an awkward teen.

Stepping onto the porch, he reaches under the doormat, relieved to see his parents left a spare key there. It was like they’d been waiting for him to come home this entire time.

As he walks through the door, a chilling realization sets in. The house was empty. His parents weren’t here, they were probably in Korea. And all at once, Seokjin’s hope for coming back came crashing down.

Stepping out of his shoes, he leaves them at the door, sprinting up the stairs to his room. The door creaks open, and Seokjin lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The bed is gone, replaced with a treadmill. The walls had been repainted, the floors redone. The lone thing that remained of his was the desk in the corner, all his belongings still on it. It serves only to remind him that his parents had always waited for him to come home, but eventually, they too must have grown tired of him.

A sob escapes him, and he realized he’d disappeared completely from their lives, not even bothering to keep up with the only people who’d loved him unconditionally his entire life. All of a sudden he feels nauseous, his stomach turning as he realized the fate the threads of time had woven him - a life of loneliness. One where he spent so much time garnering attention, only to be a forgotten soul anyway.

He rushes into the basement, the garish yellow walls exactly as they’d been seventeen years ago, and locks himself in the utility closet. Tears stain his face as he hiccups, slamming his head back against the wall.

“I wish I was thirteen again, I wish I was thirteen again.” But his pleading words fail to work this time around.

He doesn’t know how long he remains crumpled up in the closet, but he doesn’t hear the front door open. He doesn’t hear his parents pad down the basement stairs, umbrellas in hand until the closet door opens, light seeps in, and he’s met with their concerned faces.

Seokjin leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around them.

“Eomma, Appa, I missed you. I missed you both so much.”

. . .

The rain patters against the window, and Seokjin turns over on the couch, watching it gently fall. After a bowl of his Eomma’s kimchi jjigae, he’d felt the most like himself he had in a long time, the two of them fretting over how thin he’d gotten.

But now, alone in the living room, Seokjin felt like an intruder again. His parents were more used to living without him than with him.

Suddenly, his throat feels dry, the number of tears he’d shed today leaving him parched. He gets up, padding over to the kitchen, keeping his footsteps soft so he doesn’t disturb his parents. Flicking the light on, he walks over to the fridge, opening it to get the water jug out.

“Seokjinnie?” his Eomma’s soft voice comes from behind him. “What are you doing awake at this time?”

Seokjin should have known better than to get up in the middle of the night. His Eomma’s sixth sense had always been knowing when her child needed something. Within five minutes, she’s boiling some frozen dumplings and chopping up vegetables to make him food.

He’s grateful for her attention, but his stomach churns with nausea. She may be the only other person he can talk to about this. Other than you.

“Eomma,” he interrupts her quiet concentration, and she looks over at him from the stove, her eyebrows etched with concern. “If you were given a chance, do you ever wish you could go back? Like to a different time?”

“I’d love to go back and take care of some of these wrinkles,” she chuckles, and Seokjin smiles along with her. Her face hasn’t changed at all since he was thirteen, still as youthful as ever.

“Yeah, but if you were given a do-over, let’s say, what would you change? Like if you made a big mistake,” Seokjin asks, wondering if having regrets was just part of growing older and whether there was still hope.

“Well, I don’t regret making any mistakes in my life, because if I hadn’t made them, I wouldn’t have known how to make them right,” she responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees Seokjin staring down at the food, failing to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come home in a while,” he says, his voice heavy with regret. His Eomma reaches across the table, taking his hand in her smaller one, and squeezing it gently.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“This doesn’t make sense, I’m not even good at baseball,” you tell Seokjin. “Why do you want to practice with me?”

Seokjin looks at you, strolling through the park with him in a cosy-looking hoodie and jeans. While your outfit may not have been ideal for baseball practice, the way he looked at you still sent your heart aflutter, and you wondered what it’d be like to wear one of his oversized sweatshirts.

“That’s exactly the point, ____, I’ve gotten too comfortable practicing with the team. I know their every move, but we need to step it up for the playoffs. That’s why I need someone different. Someone who can keep me on my toes. Someone like you.”

You cover your face with your hands shyly, palms out towards him, and that’s when he decides to launch a curveball.

“OW!” you yelp. “Hey, I wasn’t ready for that!”

“Like I said,” Seokjin smirks. “I need you to keep me on my toes. Looks like you need me to do the same.”

The two of you toss around the ball for a while, your throws being much more unpredictable and much less powerful than Seokjin’s. Your ego inflated exponentially when you saw him miss a few, a smug expression on your face. When you look up at the sky, you realize it’s gotten dark, the sun beginning to set behind the trees.

“Hahaha, looks like the team might need a replacement pitcher soon,” you taunt him.

“In your dreams, ___, stick to helping people instead,” he laughs, immediately running towards you with a devious grin.

You squeal, running away from him, the two of you chasing each other through the park, your laughter echoing through the trees the entire way.

Eventually, your legs tire, and you slow down, hiding behind a tree out of his sight. It’s all for nothing when you hear his footsteps thud on the running path behind you, his arms coming to wrap around you, sending the two of you toppling into the grass.

“Ahhh, shit, that hurt more than it should have,” you groan, shifting onto your back. “We’re getting old.”

When you look up at him, your heart stops. Your heavy breathing slows as you look up at him, the stars from the night sky reflected in his eyes when he stares down at you, something hidden in their depths that makes your chest come alive with excitement.

“Wanna know a secret, ____?” he laughs, stroking your wrist gently with his thumb, and you look over to see your hands intertwined. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding his.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

Seokjin’s plush lips descend towards yours, your breaths mingling for a brief moment before panic sets in, and you turn the other way, his kiss ending up on your cheek instead. You feel dizzy with emotion, immediately regretting the decision, knowing all you wanted to know was if his lips felt as soft as they looked. You’d been fooling yourself for so long, thinking your feelings for him had gone away.

You sit up, silence heavy in between you both, but you don’t leave, instead wrapping your arms around him and leaning onto his shoulder. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling against you, and the two of you remain there, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance.

“Ew, what do you mean you guys didn’t kiss properly,” Jungwoo looks at Seokjin from across his bed, five other pairs of young, curious eyes looking over at him. “Did she have cooties or something?”

“Stop it!” Soobin punches Jungwoo in the shoulder, earning a glare from the other boy. “You’re ruining the romance. Are you gonna ask her out, Jin?”

The baseball game in the background remains forgotten as the boys erupt with chatter, arguing amongst themselves about how to ask out a girl.

“I don’t know, guys,” Seokjin says dejectedly, wondering if the reason you’d only let him kiss you on the cheek was because you were engaged to Jackson. “It’s complicated with like, grownup stuff.”

“At least you have someone who likes you,” Felix groans. “Girls don’t exactly want to jump your bones when you’re a metal mouth.”

Seokjin jumps up at that, shushing Felix for even saying such a ludicrous thing.

“None of that, okay! We are young, and we are thriving. Love may be a battlefield, but we’re the Earth’s finest soldiers. So let’s get out there, yeah?”

. . .

It’s finally here. The game that will make or break the Eagles’ season. And it’s also Seokjin’s first game back. The locker room is abuzz with tension and anxiousness, the players tripping around each other as they get ready.

In his cubby, Seokjin sits, and thinks. This was the moment he’d waited his entire life for. To be a star player, and to win a championship. Yet, in the grand scheme of things that had occurred, it was just another thing he had to do. He no longer faced the same anxiety he had during the day of the tryouts, wondering if he was good enough. He knew now that he was. That all of them were.

“Kim!” Coach slaps him across the back. “Speech please!”

Seokjin rises up and looks at his fellow men and teammates. He feels silly, giving a speech to them when he’s probably the lamest out of all of them, with thirteen-year-olds for friends and a hopeless crush on a girl. But then he remembers the words of that kid in the bathroom right before everything had changed. Hobi.

And he’d rather be original than cool anyway.

“I think,” he begins. “Over the course of the season, we’ve all forgotten that we have a reason for this. Baseball is our sport, and it’s our career, yeah, but there’s more to us than that. We have families, friends, and people we love and care about. We’re doing this for them just as much as we’re doing it for us. Because when we go out there on that field, and we put the love we feel for ourselves, and for everyone around us, into the sport that we play, we’ll be at our best. We need to remember what used to be good, and harness that.”

The whole dugout is silent for a few terrifying moments before there’s a clap from the back of the room. It’s joined by another one until the whole room is thundering in applause, and Coach is hugging Seokjin with tears in his eyes.

“Looks like that time off did you real good, kid.”

. . .

Seokjin is the last one to leave after the victory, of course. He strips off his shirt, hitting the showers until all the sweat has dripped off his body, and now he pulls his workout gear over his head. The sound of a voice clearing behind him interrupts him, and he turns in surprise, seeing Jackson in the middle of the dugout.

“Hey,” Seokjin says. “Aren’t you supposed to go home? Isn’t ___ waiting for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jackson replies, ice in his tone. “I know your entire little stunt, and I’m here to tell you it’s not gonna work this time.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin feels his heart race at Jackson’s seething accusation.

“The moment this week ends, I’ll be married to ___, and I’m gonna ask Coach to trade me. You can’t have her this time, Kim. Do you think you can just bat your eyelashes and giggle and you’ll win the team over and get the girl? Nuh-uh. You’re still just a lame excuse of a person.”

Seokjin wants to protest, but he remains frozen, Jackson’s words causing his entire world to come crashing down around him. His lip begins to tremble, and when the first tear falls, he hears Jackson scoff, turning on his heels to leave.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. Deep down, you’re still just that scared, uncool thirteen-year-old. Nothing’s changed, and nothing ever will.”

The week before the playoffs passes in agony, Seokjin knowing that Jackson knew about his feelings for you, and the fact that he’d be traded, and you’d go with him. He spends all his time in his apartment, talking with Jungwoo about what to do, he and the younger boy go through many pints of ice cream.

In the end, he calls the one he knows he needs to hear from the most.

“Eomma?” he asks over the phone. It feels good to tell her everything finally. She’d squealed in delight when he told her about you, telling him that Jackson was just being a quote, “butthurt dipshit.” “What should I do?”

“Oh Seokjinnie, only you know that. Just stay true to yourself, and all the answers will come your way, my boy.”

When he hangs up the phone, a notification pings on it, and he gasps at the headline.

“Jackson Wang traded from Eagles.”

In all his misery, he’d forgotten what day it was. He was almost out of time.

. . .

The Internet was truly capable of modern miracles in this day and age, Jungwoo working his magic to help Seokjin find out the location of your wedding venue. Seokjin doesn’t even change out of his ratty sweats, throwing on his coat and running as fast as he can down the city streets, his phone overheating at how many times he ignored the maps function and changed direction.

Eventually, he comes to a stop outside the swanky hotel, strolling through the revolving doors and stumbling into the lobby. The finely dressed guests pay him no notice, and he manages to steal a bouquet of flowers, covering his face as he runs up the stairs two at a time, until he eventually finds your room number.

He knocks on the door, relieved to find it’s open, and that you’re alone. It must almost be time. You don’t notice him come in, too busy fixing your veil. A soft gasp escapes when you see him behind you in the mirror, disheveled and dripping with sweat, and you turn.

Seokjin thinks his heart might explode at how beautiful you look, your dress hugging every part of your body perfectly. But it’s more than that. Everything about you is radiant, glowing from the inside out. It’s like you’re the sun, and he’s the moon, your bright light complimenting his dim glow perfectly.

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice heavy with disbelief that he’s actually here.

“____, I know I’m not the greatest person, but I’m trying to be better,” he reaches for you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and your hand comes up to join his, eyes glimmering with tears. “And I’d like to think if you also believed that about me, maybe you wouldn’t be marrying Jackson right now. That maybe things could be different.”

You whimper, trying hard to hold back the tears, and Seokjin doesn’t want you to ruin your makeup, so he wipes them for you.

“I can’t lie to myself anymore,” you tell him. “I felt things for you over these past few weeks that I haven’t felt for eight years. But I’ve also realized over the past few days that you can’t just turn back time.”

“Why not?” Seokjin asks earnestly. He wants to believe, has to believe that there might be a way for it to work.

“Because you made your choice, eight years ago in college, when I told you I liked you,” you respond, barely a whisper. “And you rejected me. I moved on and so did you. We’ve been going down different paths for so long, making different choices. And I chose Jackson.”

Seokjin feels dizzy, like the floor is about to collapse from underneath him. You’d liked him back then. And he’d been too caught up in his delusions to be honest with himself, to give you the chance that you deserved. And now it was too late. He knew growing up was about making mistakes, and learning how to deal with them, but somehow this mistake hurt more than anything he could have imagined.

“Don’t cry,” you say sadly, seeing his eyes fill with tears, mirroring your own.

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a weak smile, backing away. “I promise. I’m crying because I’m happy. I want you to be so, so happy.”

You reach around your neck, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace until it finally comes undone, putting it in his palm gently.

He looks down and chokes on a sob. It’s a tiny gold baseball glove. He’d never noticed it before. You close his palm around it, and he takes a step back, finding himself underneath the door.

“I love you, ___.”

He has to say it before he goes, he has to let you know how he feels.

“I love you too, Seokjin. I always have.”

And with that, he leaves.

. . . .

Seokjin stumbles down the steps of the hotel, hyperventilating as he finds himself back on the street, the tiny gold necklace still clutched in the palm of his hand.

He stumbles down the busy road, bumping into strangers, but not caring. All he could think about was the fact that you loved him back, and yet life was still so unfair. Seokjin felt stupid for even dreaming of this in the first place, realizing that dreams were nothing but a delusion. Things never turned out the way you wanted them to, the black and white of them always complicated by different shades of grey.

He finds an empty bench and sits down, clutching his knees to his chest like a child. Running his thumb over the delicate gold charm, he closes his eyes, wishing that none of this had ever happened to him, that he had just stayed thirteen this entire time.

He knew it was all for nothing, but that didn’t stop him from hoping one last time.

Seokjin jolts awake with a gasp, air burning his lungs and light hurting his eyes as the door to the locker is thrown open. His vision is blurry for a few seconds before it adjusts, and he looks up at his rescuer.

It’s a young girl, with a concerned look on her face.

“I heard you screaming, I live right next to the field. Are you okay?” she asks, and something about her seems familiar, but Seokjin can’t quite put his nose on it.

Looking down, he sees the dusty baseball mitt crushed in the palm of his hand, and running his tongue across his teeth, feels the metal of his braces, and his heart swells with joy. It worked! He was thirteen again. And now, he could finally start over.

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles at her, putting his glasses on. They rest crooked on the tip of his nose, but he doesn’t care. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem!” the girl reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m ___, by the way. I just moved here.”

Seokjin feels his heart stop, looking into your eyes, finding them to be the same ones he’d said goodbye to moments ago. Was this really true? Was the universe giving him another chance?

Taking his hand in hers, he shakes it, beaming down at her. “Nice to meet you, ___, I’m Jin. D-do, do you maybe want to go grab a milkshake and hang out?”

Your dazzling smile hasn’t changed at all, as you nod your head and laugh, the two of you walking out of the dugout and into the warm afternoon sun.

“I think we’re gonna be best friends, Jin.”

Epilogue

Seokjin pants, breath coming out in gasps as he carries the heavy box up the porch steps. He slams it onto the ground with a thud, putting his hands on his knees and letting out a loud groan, the muscles of his back aching. When he looks down, his mouth parts in surprise, the box’s tape having split open, revealing the myriad of photo frames that would soon decorate your new home.

From just a brief glance, Seokjin can already see a few pictures that make his heart swell, a dazed smile on his face. There was the one of you two at prom, when he’d almost confessed after seeing how stunning you looked in your dress but chickened out at the last minute. There was another from your college graduation, the two of you with bright eyes and wide smiles, ready to take on the future together. Another one from a date night at a game where he remembers the two of you getting caught on the jumbotron and making out in front of the crowd. His halmeoni blushed when she saw the video on tv the next day. On top of them all, though, sits Seokjin’s most prized possession: the framed photo of your wedding, Seokjin in a navy blue suit, and you in your dress, surrounded by your friends and family.

Growing up, Seokjin had a lot of dreams. A lot of them revolved around being cool, becoming someone worthy of your love. It was strange, but he’d fallen for you instantly the moment you’d rescued him from the locker, but it had taken years of your friendship for him to make a move. He’d always been so scared that his nerdy thirteen year old self would follow him through the years, and that he’d remain someone you never saw as a life partner. But he was wrong. Because you’d fallen for him too, spending years hiding your feelings in the same silly way. The day he married you was the day he’d realized all his dreams had finally come true.

Your soft footsteps come up behind him on the porch, and he turns to see you looking at him with a curious smile on your face. The sun shines behind you, bathing your face in its soft rays, and Seokjin can’t resist, lifting you up as you squeal, kicking your feet and the two of you stumble over the threshold together.

“That was a lot more romantic in my head,” he chuckles, offering you a hand up.

“Jinnie,” you poke his cheek. “Who’s gonna get the boxes from outside now, huh?”

Taking your hand in his, he pulls you further inside with him, wanting to cherish these precious moments with you. The boxes could wait a little longer. For now, he was excited to begin the rest of your life together.

“God, it’s fucking freezing,” you chatter your teeth, feeling Jin pull the blanket tighter around your shivering bodies on the floor. “Why did the heater have to break right before we moved in?”

His warm figure pulls you closer into him until your bodies are smushed together, limbs entangled in a mess.

“Nothing wrong with a little body heat,” he whispers, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s smirking.

You turn towards him, ignoring his soft ow! when you punch him in the chest, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your eyelids flutter, heavy from the fatigue of moving in all day, but the draft in the house causes you to shiver again in Seokjin’s arms. Looking up at your husband, you find his deep brown eyes focused on yours, his warm, gentle breath fanning against your face.

Seokjin’s fingers reach up to slowly brush a stray hair from your cheek, and despite the cold, you feel your body flush with warmth, bumping your nose against his accidentally before your lips meet Seokjin’s pillowy ones.

You’ve done this a thousand times, but every time feels like the first, Seokjin’s tongue tracing the seam of your lips before he bites at them, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Touch me,” you whisper against his mouth, and you feel Seokjin’s grip on your waist get tighter, his hands running up and down your sides until you’re shivering, but not from the cold.

He guides your hips over his, his right hand pushing you down against him until his hungry lips meet yours once again before they drop to mouth at your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into the flesh there, and you bite back a moan.

Seokjin detaches himself from your neck, eyes dark with arousal as he looks at the splotches and faint sheen of saliva on your neck, and you feel a wave of longing rush down towards your core, grabbing his hand that rests on your back and moving it underneath your shirt, cupping your breast in his hands before he squeezes.

From there, the two of you are frantic, fumbling with buttons and kicking your limbs until your clothes fly off, and you giggle at Seokjin’s pyjamas in the corner, the cartoon characters on them resembling miniature versions of your husband. Your laughter is cut off by a sharp groan when Seokjin’s teeth graze your collarbone, biting down lightly.

“You’re perfect,” he rasps, laving at the mark with his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

His fingers trace up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples, and you whine, grinding down into his lap. You feel him harden underneath you, and you roll your hips on top of him again, nails scratching down the broad planes of his back.

Seokjin flips you around, caging your body underneath him, his knee pushing up right where you need him, his tongue flattening against your stiff nipple, sucking and teasing the bud until it’s red and aching.

“Need you inside,” you bed him, your hips bucking against his knee while his hand slips between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build, your movements stuttering against Seokjin’s fingers. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. You need to feel him.

“Look at me,” Seokjin whispers before he pushes himself inside of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel so unbelievably full, like you’re going to explode, body scorched with heat and nerves tingling in excitement.

He starts off slow, gently rocking into you, silently asking you if this is okay. His gentleness makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode, the moonlight shining on his skin and bathing him in the softest glow. You feel lucky that he’s yours forever.

You meet his thrusts with circles of your own hips, your back arching up off the blanket as you moan for him to go faster.

“This okay, babe?” His thrusts speed up, snapping into yours, and you’re unable to do anything but slur yes, your voice ringing in your own ears, your moans mingling with his soft groans as the two of you move in tandem, lost in the feeling of each other.

You grip his shoulders tightly, a string of curses exploding from your lips as the pleasure washes over you, your vision going white.

“Come for me ___,” Seokjin’s deep growl has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart underneath him. You whine in oversensitivity when he continues moving inside of you, squeezing his hand until he collapses on top of you, his warm cum spilling into your wet heat.

“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, burying his face into your neck. “My back is gonna be so sore when we wake up.”

“Can you believe we’re here?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “Married, with our own house? We’re so old now.”

You mean it as a joke, but Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, his sweaty arms wrapping you up in a tight hug.

“There’s no one I’d rather grow old with,” he smiles, before his expression turns mischievous. “Now, since we can’t sleep anyway, what do you say to getting some milkshakes, Mrs. Kim?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Kim.”

A/N pt 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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