#its shorter than the other two so i can start and finish it tomorrow or sunday

[stevethehairington]

book 2 of the year = finished!!!

#mack reads #ya girl has finished the terror! #it was.... interesting #it was in part what i expected and also not at all what i expected at parts #was a little bit disappointed by the like. anticlimacticness of the thing #i think.... it was a slow moving plot for sure which i dont think paid off as much as it could have #it just kind of felt like there was all this build and it kind of just. plateaued? #out of the 2 dan simmons books ive read so far the abominable FAAAAAR outranks the terror like there is NO competition there #i bought his other books summer of night and hyperion so im gonna read those next!! #i have HIGH hopes for summer of night bc it was described several times as having v similar vibes to it by stephen king and that is ENTICING #but i think im gonna read the hunger by alma katsu next! #its shorter than the other two so i can start and finish it tomorrow or sunday #and THEN ill start... probably summer of night #but i digress #final thoughts: the terror was alright and im curious to see how they translated it to the screen! #im gonna start the show tonight!

[rhoorl]

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 3: Watch the Show

Series Summary: In this AU, the boys of Delta Force start a new business post-Colombia. 

Rating: Explicit (18+) - putting this here as a blanket rating even though it doesn't apply to all chapters

Word Count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Connor and the boys fix Lucille’s fence giving the Neighborhood Watch its first opportunity for an in-person thirst fest. 

A/N: Thank you again for all of the love on the first two chapters. I am having a lot of fun writing this and interacting with you!

BMW Group Chat

Will: Hey. Benny said that Connor wanted to come over and help with Ms. Lucille’s fence. 

Megan: Yeah - you guys good with that?

Will: Affirmative. Wheels up is 0800 if he wants in on the Home Depot run.

Benny: Cool it Captain America. 🙄 Megan does 8 a.m. work tomorrow for him?

Megan: 😂 Yeah I’ll let him know. I think he’s looking forward to it.

Benny: Sweet! We’ll probably use Frankie’s truck but Connor can ride with me if that’s cool with you.

Megan: Yeah sounds good! About what time do you think you’ll start working?

Will: Probably a little after 9, shouldn’t take too long to get the stuff.

Megan: Ok cool.

_____________________

Neighborhood Watch Group Chat

Megan: ⚠️⚠️ Will said the guys should start working on Lucille’s by 9 tomorrow.

David: HELL YES! Who’s bringing what? Ty and I can bring mimosas. 🍾

Olivia: I can go for a donut run in the morning on the way back from soccer with the boys.

Melissa: I got the fruit salad! 🍓🍍🍉🥭

Katie: Anyone want a fancy coffee? I’ll run to Starbucks … just text me what you want.

Megan: Cool, it’s settled. See you all tomorrow!

_____________________

“You ready for today?” Megan sipped on her coffee, trying to sound nonchalant while eyeing Connor as he rolled into the kitchen.

“Yeah, should be fun.” He made a beeline to the fridge, grabbed a jug of orange juice, and turned around to inhale the breakfast Megan made for him – scrambled eggs and bacon. “Thanks, Mom!”

Bucky was immediately at Connor’s feet, looking up at him, begging for food.

“Despite what he tells you, I already fed him today. And I gave you a slice of bacon, mister!” Megan shook her head at the greedy pup before heading to the sink to rinse off her plate. 

While her back was turned, Connor raised his fingers to his lips making a shushing motion as he snuck the pup half a piece of bacon. 

He cleared his throat to cover up the sound of Bucky scarfing down the treat. “So, these guys used to be in the military or something?” 

“Yea. Will says they were in for like almost 20 years or something but retired a few years ago. With that being said they’re probably punctual as hell so don’t be late!”

“Yes, mom. I’ll head over there right after I get a few more bites.”

After he finished his breakfast, Connor grabbed his phone and wallet, gave his mom a kiss, and gave Bucky some head scratches. He looked at the time, smiling that he was 15 minutes early.

As he walked over to 319 Mulefall Court, he saw a green truck pull up. He recognized the two men who got out, they were Benny and Will’s friends, but he just couldn’t remember their names. The taller guy was in jeans and a gray T-shirt with a blue baseball cap and aviators. The other guy, who was a bit shorter, wore black shorts and a white V-neck shirt that was a bit tighter fitting than the taller man’s shirt. 

Benny walked out of the garage and greeted the two men with a handshake and hug and was dressed comfortably in black and white basketball shorts, a cutoff concert tee, and a black backward baseball cap. He spotted Connor walking over and waved at the boy. 

“Hey, bud!” Benny called over. “You're early, nice!”

“Ha yea, I uh… I didn’t want you all waiting up.”

“All good. Hey I’m not sure if you’ve officially met them but these are my friends Frankie and Santi – or Fish and Pope, whatever’s easier for ya,” he chuckled.

“Nice to meet you boss,” Santiago extended his hand for a firm handshake. 

“We’re excited to have an extra set of hands,” Frankie smiled, giving the boy a handshake too.

“Well, thanks for the invite.”

“You know, for being the one always up my fucking ass about being on time, Will is late. Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to swear in front of you. Fuck!" Benny smacked himself on the forehead laughing.

“Ha, it’s all good. I won’t tell my mom if you won't,” Connor winked.

“Good man!” Pope chuckled, slapping Connor playfully on the shoulder as they all laughed.

“Hi, Connor!” a soft voice called from across the street. 

Connor turned to see Aria walking her dog. He tensed and immediately felt his face getting red. Aria was one of the prettiest girls in school and also his biggest crush.

“Uh…h-hey Aria!” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving a small wave.

“I like your dog!” Benny called over. “Is that a Rhodesian Ridgeback?”

“Yea! No one ever knows what kind of dog he is.” She was impressed at the man’s astute observation.

“Yeah, we used them on missions before. Those dogs are badass!” Benny smiled.

Aria stopped as her dog sniffed the grass, looking over to Connor and the men in the driveway. “Um…you all off to do something fun?”

Connor was frozen and didn’t know what to do. He felt tongue-tied, intimidated by her and the three men behind him who were most likely scrutinizing his every move and probably ready to make fun of him when this encounter was all over.

I bet none of them have trouble talking to girls.

What he couldn’t see was that the three men behind him were exchanging looks and smirks, remembering what it was like to be in high school, faced with talking to a pretty girl. Hell, depending on the woman they still acted that way.

Frankie gave Pope a nod, using the unspoken language they had mastered after decades of friendship.

Pope cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah actually we are. Connor here is helping us build a fence!”

“Build a fence? Wow, cool!” Aria smiled, looking directly at Connor.

“Yeah, he does a lot of work for Ms. Lucille. It was his idea to have us help, wasn’t it Connor?” Benny came up, slapping a hand on the boy's shoulder.

“Uh.” Connor glanced over to Benny who gave him a look and a squeeze to the shoulder. “Uh, ye-yea. It’s not a big deal, should be pretty easy.”

“Cool, well, don’t work too hard. I’ll see you around!” she waved and continued on her walk.

Connor immediately turned around and took what felt like his first breath in minutes. Benny’s arm was around his shoulder and he braced for the guys to give him a hard time before seeing Will come out of the garage.

“Hey, Connor! Sorry guys, I was talking to Joel. Ready to go?” Will smiled, walking over to give the boy a handshake.

“Yeah, let’s do it! I like your shirt,” Connor pointed to Will’s blue Tampa Bay Lightning dri-fit shirt.

“Thanks, man, you ever go to a game?”

“I’ve only been to like two, but I’ll catch them on TV when I can.”

The guys chit-chatted with Connor for a few more minutes before Benny cut in.

“Ok, so since there’s five of us, I figure we could take two cars. Fish, you good driving Will and Pope? I’ll take Connor.”

All the men nodded and got into their respective vehicles.

Benny didn’t say anything to Connor as they got into his car and buckled in. He reversed down the driveway and headed for the entrance of the neighborhood. 

As they reached a stop sign he looked over to Connor, “So…you like her?”

“Who?” Connor kept facing forward, but his eyes darted around. He wasn’t really used to talking about girls with anyone.

“That girl with the Rhodesian. You think she’s pretty right?”

“Uhh…”

“Dude, you practically froze,” he chuckled, glancing over to see the boy was clearly nervous. “Hey, it’s all good, man I get like that too. A pretty girl will have that effect on you no matter how old you are.”

“Really?”

“Ha yea. One time, I got so nervous to walk up to a girl at a bar that I tripped and fell flat on my face,” he laughed. “But it worked out for me, I still got her number," he smirked at the memory. "There’ve been times we’ve had to practically push Fish over to a girl to get her number, the guy gets so shy. Oh and don’t even get me started on Pope. You see the guy and he looks like he’s super suave and shit, but he's had his moments too. Don’t let him fool you,” he glanced over with a wink.

Connor let out a nervous laugh. “Ha, yeah…I like her…I’ve liked her for a while.”

“Then why don’t you ask her out? Do you have her number? Is that a thing you even do anymore or do you like message on social media or something?”

“Ha, yeah I have her number.”

“Ok, and?”

"Well, for starters, she's older than me. She's gonna be a senior this year."

"Ooo an older woman? Nice," he winked. "Nothing wrong with going out with someone older than you. Still doesn’t explain why you just can’t ask her out."

“I can’t, man. She…she…what if she says no.”

“Well, what if she says yes?” Benny glanced over. “Does she have a boyfriend or something?”

“No, at least I don’t think so…I think she and one of my teammates were talking last year.”

“But not anymore right?” Connor shook his head. “Ok, then!”

“I don’t know. She probably isn’t even into me, you should see my teammate. He looks like a younger version of Will…not that I'm calling him old or anything,” Connor chuckled.

As they reached the stoplight Benny assessed the boy in his passenger seat. He couldn’t really tell based on the baggy Orlando Magic T-shirt, but it looked like Connor was a bit on the skinny side. He could relate, he was a string bean when he was younger, so he could only imagine what Connor felt like comparing himself to other guys, especially if his teammate did in fact look like a younger version of his brother. 

“Do you lift?"

Connor nodded, "Yeah I try, don't really know what I'm doing though … clearly." He motioned to his bicep.

"Wanna…wanna start working out with me?

Connor looked over at him confused, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, like this summer, do you want to start working out with me? I was a personal trainer for a little while and I did some MMA fighting too for a bit, so I know my way around a gym,” he offered with a smile.

“Uh, y-yea that would be cool.” 

“Nice, well we’ll figure something out,” Benny continued as he turned into the Home Depot parking lot. “Welp looks like we’re here.”

___________________

“Lulu, where are you?” Megan called as she walked into Lucille’s home. She knew the rest of the crew would be showing up any minute.

“In here,” Lucille called from the kitchen.

“I should have known,” Megan mumbled to herself as she made her way to the kitchen.

When she turned the corner, she saw Lucille arranging some muffins and pastelitos on a tray.

“We’re going to have so much food!”

“Well, don’t look in the fridge, then” Lucille smirked. “I made some things for lunch for the boys… papa rellenas and croquettes, and of course empanadas for Benny. I just need to fry it all up. Don’t say anything to David, he’ll want to take it all home!”

Right on cue, they heard the door open, knowing instantly it was David and Ty based on the noise.

“We’re here bitches! Let’s get this thirst fest started!” David shouted in a sing-song manner as he and his partner made their way into the kitchen. “We brought a few different juices - orange, pineapple, and your favorite Lulu, guava!” He said, kissing Lucille on the cheek as he set several containers on her counter.

“I also brought my binoculars,” Ty showed off a large pair of binoculars he used for birdwatching. 

“Eres demasiado.” Lucille shook her head as she wiped her hands on her apron and gave the man a kiss on the cheek.

Megan laughed, amused at the two characters who just walked in. 

David and Ty had been together for 10 years and moved into Torrey Hills a few years ago. At first, they were quiet and kept to themselves, unsure how the neighbors would feel about a gay couple living next door. Suburban Tampa was a bit different than Miami, where they previously called home.

They were excited but a bit nervous when Megan and Lucille invited them over for coffee for the first time. But the four of them quickly became thick as thieves, even Julio found the little posse’s antics hilarious. 

“Knock, knock!” Melissa was the next to arrive, with her elaborate fruit salad in tow. “I haven’t missed anything yet, right?”

“No, girl, they are still out at Home Depot,” Ty said as he poured her a mimosa. “Light on the juice, just how you like it,” he winked.

Olivia came frantically through the door a few moments later with an assortment of donuts. 

“Where’s Diana? I was hoping for some baby cuddles,” Lucille pouted, seeing Olivia sans her nine-month-old.

“She’s taking a nap. Chris is watching CJ and Max, leaving momma to have the morning to herself!” She smiled and greedily reached for the mimosa Ty made for her.

“Where the hell is Katie?” Megan asked, looking at her phone to see if Katie backed out.

___________________

“Ugh, I should have asked for another tray,” Katie mumbled to herself as she parked her car. She walked over to her passenger side door and grabbed the tray of drinks along with a few bags of breakfast sandwiches and pastries. 

She decided to walk over to Lucille’s since it was only a few houses over. She had just reached the porch when she heard a couple of cars pull up.

Shit. I knew I should have gotten here earlier.

“Hey, Katie!” Benny called over to her from the car window he had rolled down.

“H-hi Benny!”

“What’re doing here? You all having a party while we work?” he chuckled as he got out of the car. 

She saw Connor and then turned to notice Will, Frankie, and Santiago getting out of a truck, all smiling and waving at her. Will, in particular, looked over at her curiously and she was thankful for her sunglasses so he couldn’t see that she was checking him out.

“Uh, yeah something like that. It’s been a while since we got together and uh…we…uh… wanted to keep an eye …things…like…Connor,” it was the best she could muster and she immediately regretted it.

“Keep an eye on me?” Connor asked confused.

“Oh, not in a bad sweetie, uh…” she was getting more flustered. “There’s some stuff I need help with around my house too so, uh, we figured we’d see how you do. Might need to hire your little crew here,” she smiled hoping she had recovered.

“So, like a trial run of our services, then?” Will smirked.

“Uh, y-yea, something like that. I should probably get inside. If David’s sandwich gets any colder he’s going to freak the fuck out. Shoot, sorry Connor,” she blushed, turning quickly and dashing up the steps.

Once she got inside, she slammed her back against the door, trying to catch her breath. 

“Katie?” Megan asked as she walked around the corner. “There you are! Wait…what happened?”

“Ugh, the line was long and I knew I was running late and was trying to get back here before they did, but I didn’t and shit, I was awkward as fuck in the driveway. And now they know that we’re all here,” she rambled.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you chug six espressos on the way over here? It’s all good. Besides, I wasn’t trying to hide the fact that we were over here, they’re going to be able to see us through the window silly,” she laughed.

Katie let out a breath, realizing she was spiraling. “You’re right. Sorry, Meg.” She smiled.

“C’mon let’s go before David calls dibs on the best seat.”

__________________

“I can’t believe we are watching this … and for free!” David laughed. "This is better than that time we went to the Magic Mike show, right Melissa?"

Once the guys got all of the materials and tools settled in the backyard, they made pretty quick work of mending Lucille’s fence. They took out some of the panels that were rotting or damaged. Will and Frankie taught Connor how to cut the different pieces of wood, while Benny and Santiago sanded some pieces down.

However, the crew inside wasn’t paying attention to the progress of the repairs, instead, they were admiring the view.

“Ok, but like, I’ve never had a thing for forearms before but holy shit,” Melissa said as she reached for one of the guava and cheese pastelitos.

“Those are for the boys!” Lucille slapped her hand as Melissa rolled her eyes.

“Ok, so before today I thought I was more of a Benny guy, but Santiago, phew!” Ty fanned himself. “The shirt is basically like a second skin it is so drenched.” His eyes were pressed to the binoculars. 

“I think he has the cutest butt,” Melissa chimed in.

“A Benny guy? It’s like they’re a boy band and you’re picking your favorite member,” Megan threw her head back in laughter.

“I am fully on the Will train, but he’s all yours Katie!” Olivia smirked as Katie blushed.

“Well, we all know who I am a fan of!” David glanced over to the group. 

“You just have a curly hair with a hat kink, babe,” Ty teased.

“No! Well… okay, yeah I guess. But his hair baby, look at it. The way it just like peaks out from under his hat. Gimme,” he snatched the binoculars from Ty. 

They see Frankie remove his hat, running his fingers through his hair before returning the hat to the top of his head.

“Also the way his sweaty curls are sticking to the back of his neck? Ay yai yai yai! I just want to bite it.”

“He reminds me of my Julio when he was younger,” Lucille cut in, looking at Frankie fondly. “He was quite the stunner, you know.”

The group continued to look on as the guys moved on to start nailing some of the planks in place. Olivia snorted, laughing to herself, the mimosas starting to take their effect.

“What’s so funny?” David asked.

“I mean, I just … my mind is in the gutter, no thanks to you,” she pointed at him. “But, like with them using the nail gun, I can only think of dirty puns.”

“What, like how long it’s been since you've been nailed?” Ty smirked.

“She has three kids, Ty, I think we all know she fucks,” David chuckled.

“Ok, everyone, my son is literally using the nail gun right now, can we not?” Megan put her hands over her ears shaking her head.

“I just think it’s so sweet how they’re including Connor, it would have been so easy to have him do something small but he’s been involved in every step,” Lucille smiled warmly as she looked out of her kitchen window.

"Ugh, yes! They're getting sweatier now. I’ve never been more grateful for the Florida heat," David raised his hands in praise.

___________________

“Ok, that should about do it, I think,” Will said as Connor put the last nail in. He pulled his shirt up, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. 

“Nice, this looks great. That was fun…Uh, thank you guys. I honestly don’t know if I could have done this on my own.” Connor said as he looked at the four men.

“Oh, I’m sure you would have figured it out, man. You picked things up really fast,” Frankie gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“Do you think our audience liked the view,” Santiago motioned over to Lucille’s back patio. 

“Well, you sure were flexing anytime you could Pope. Could you get a tighter shirt next time?” Benny joked as Pope slapped him on the chest.

“I can’t help but put on a show pendejo, especially when I have an audience,” he winked. “And don’t give me shit, your brother was doing it too. I saw you eyeing Katie, Ironhead.”

“See,” Benny said under his breath to Connor, raising his eyebrows.

“She’s…nice. And she needs help with her house. It’s not in as bad of shape as ours, but I can tell she has a few projects just from the outside alone. I can only imagine what’s going on inside.”

“Yea, you’d like to know what it’s like inside, wouldn’t y-, oww!” Santiago yelped as Will hit him upside the head and Frankie shook his head laughing.

“Dude, can you fucking cool it in front of the kid,” Will motioned over to Connor who was doubled over laughing along with Benny at the scene in front of them.

__________________

“Oh shit, Will has a six-pack?!” Ty said from behind his binoculars. “Do you want a look, Katie?”

“I can see just fine from here,” Katie smirked. It was obvious that Will was a fit guy and she was grateful to get a little peak at what he was working with. Although she wasn’t usually attracted to blondes, there was something about Will that she was drawn to.

“It looks like they’re about done, so I’m going to go out there,” Lucille grabbed a tray and a basket with water bottles.

“We can all come!” David started to get up.

“Wait. Maybe just Lulu and I go out there first, we don’t need to overwhelm them with all of this…energy,” Megan chimed in.

“Ok, but we’re all coming out at some point,” Melissa laughed, eyes still focused outside taking in the scene.

_____________________

The glass sliding door opened and Lucille and Megan walked out with water and snacks in hand.

“This looks great, boys. You did amazing,” Lucille beamed, she loved seeing Connor so proud of himself.

“Connor did a great job, he’s a natural, Ms. Lucille!” Benny squeezed the boy's shoulder as he smiled at him. 

“Yeah, careful Megan, or we may need him to come over to our place to work on some stuff,” Will added.

“Oh, I’m sure that would be totally fine,” Megan smiled. 

“Who are all of your friends?” Santiago motioned toward the house with his chin.

“Ah, that’s our little crew. We get together every now and again, you’ll like them. We’ve become a little family,”

It was true, this specific group of neighbors had become pretty tight-knit, getting together for Super Bowl or Stanely Cup parties, celebrating birthdays, hosting barbecues and game nights, and just generally looking out for one another.

“We actually were thinking of having a pool party soon, you all in?” Megan asked.

“Hell yeah, we’d be down!” Benny smiled, excited to be included.

“Even us? I mean, we aren’t technically neighbors…” Frankie asked.

“Ay, por favor Francisco,” Lucille shook her head, lightly slapping Frankie’s arm.

“Of course! You two basically live here!” Megan chuckled.

“Is it settled, are we down for a pool party?” David yelled from the porch, waving at the group in Lucille’s backyard.

“That’s David,” Megan rolled her eyes, laughing and shaking her head. Turning back to the house she gave a thumbs up, signaling for the rest of the crew to join them.

***

Everyone shook hands with each other and started talking. Will managed to work his way over to where Katie was standing.

"The fence looks great!" Katie glanced over to Will and she surveyed their handiwork. "You just casually know how to fix fences?"

"Ha, well not entirely. I definitely had to call and get some pointers from my cousin, he's a lot handier than I am, but I can manage just fine," he smirked.

"Well, that's good to know," she felt her face getting red.

"So, you said you needed some help around your house? What projects d'you have?"

"Oh, there's a ton. Seriously, I need to get off of Pinterest because every time I open that damn app I add something new to my list," she chuckled.

"Ha yeah, I've heard it has that effect. My...uh…ex used to constantly be on that…" he trailed off as if he was reliving a memory.

"Was she into home repairs too?"

Shaking his head, "Ah no…wedding planning." He picked up the hem of his shirt again, wiping his forehead.

Seeing his stomach up close made Katie's eyes almost bug out of her head, but she tried to keep her cool.

"Ah yea, been there done that." 

***

“So, the party is at your place then?” Santiago asked Melissa, lingering a little bit longer with his handshake and eyeing her up and down.

“Uh, yeah, my fiancé and I just finished our pool, so it’s a great excuse to have people over,” she blushed, biting her lip and looking down. 

“Oh,” Santiago withdrew his hand. “N-nice, we’re…uh…looking forward to it.”

Melissa snapped out of it and cleared her throat. "Hey everyone, is tomorrow too soon of notice for the party? We can do it next Sunday if that's better?"

A cacophony of "No, tomorrow's great" and "Let's do it" rained down, which then turned into everyone chatting about what to bring. Once everything was settled the Neighborhood Watch crew went inside to clean things up as the boys and Connor collected all of their things.

___________________

"Thanks again for letting me come and help you guys," Connor said after they got everything situated back in Will and Benny's garage. "I had fun."

“You did great, man! And seriously, if you want to help us with other stuff that's cool. Sounds like Katie may have some projects," Will said as he wiped his hands.

"Oh does she, now? Those projects in her bedroom or what?" Benny started to tease his brother, but Will punched him in the stomach. "Ow!"

"You made plans to see what she needs help with?" Santiago raised his eyebrows at Will who shook his head.

*Well, figure it out tomorrow at the pool party then," Frankie shrugged.

As Connor started to head back, Benny stopped him. "Hey, wait. Here gimme your number. I'm serious about what I said earlier. If you wanna get started working out, just let me know, but…don’t feel like you have to." He handed the boy his phone and Connor put his number in.

"Thanks. You aren't going to go all drill sergeant mode on me are you?"

"Ha, nah. I used to train all kinds of people, it's not a one-size-fits-all approach." Benny offered him a warm smile.

"Sweet. Ok, well I guess I'll see you all tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, sounds good. See ya bud!"

Next Chapter

A/N: I can't remember who made the comment that rather than a reader insert this is a group insert, but hopefully the Neighborhood Watch is fulfilling that role! We’re headed to Melissa’s house next for a pool party in the next chapter! 

I’ve loved the asks I’ve received about this universe! In case you missed it here are the two most recent ones:

The Cars: The boys' cars are mentioned in Chapter 2, but it wasn't specified who owned which car, now you know!

Vanity Plates: Going off the cars post, I received an ask about whether the boys would have vanity plates on their cars.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!! Apologies if I accidentally left you off, I added it all manually … just let me know!

@goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @patti7dc / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beholdbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @primosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharrassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes

#delta landscaping #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier au #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #benny miller fanfiction #will miller #santiago garcia

[pitifulbaby]

Cold December Night

summary: Christmas is suppose to be the happiest time of the year, but how do you break the chain from the last sad ones?

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

warnings: angsty, and then fluffy, eddie and you have shared trauma, i guess fix it fic? honestly its sad but i promise it ends really really sweet! there isn't a lot of dialouge, i've never seen snow so if anything i wrote isn't correct you can sue me, eddie has big feelings, talks of depression, a hint of suggestive nature- blink and you would miss it, no use of y/n

a/n: once again i have literally been writing this, or trying to write this for like a year.. anyways i am glad i got this finished though! if you celebrate Christmas i hope you have a wonderful day, and even if you don't i hope tomorrow is amazing like you. 4.4k words.

stranger things masterlist

Hawkins, Indiana was a special place. Perhaps not in the greatest ways, but it sure was special. It was December 5th, 1988. Days were shorter and colder, clothes were longer and provided more warmth than the clothing you would wear during the scorching summer months. Physical wounds from 86’ were healed and turned into scars that were hard to explain.

1986 wasn’t a good year. The year started fine, you worked at a local grocery store- sure it didn’t pay much, but there were only so many job options in Hawkins. Trying to make enough money til Eddie graduated. You had graduated in 94’ the same year he was suppose to be graduating as well, but luck wasn’t on his side. You hadn’t known what you wanted to do after high school. Eighteen was still so young to decide on what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

So you decided to take a gap year during 95’ to give yourself a year to figure out what you wanted to do for college- or even if you wanted to go. Getting a job to make ends meet.

Then like a repeat of the year before, Eddie was held back. You promised him if he graduated in 86’ that where you went to college- or if you went to college, you would take him with you if he wanted, but only if he graduated.

The two of you started dating when you were both 16. Young lovers turned out to be soulmates. You two shared a bond that was unbreakable and perhaps to others a little odd- but that was just because you both were a little weird.

Then suddenly 1986 happened. Eddie’s drug deal turned to watching Chrissy Cuningham be possessed and killed right before his eyes- the blame of her unexplainable death placed onto the metalhead. You got a call from Wayne in the early hours of the morning, him asking if you knew where Eddie was- worry evident in his voice as he told you what he came home to find, and what he didn’t find.

It was strange opening the door to Dustin Henderson, him and his odd gaggle of friends taking you with them to find Eddie.

Everything else happened so fast and yet seemed so slow. Finding Eddie, having to learn about the Upside Down which was this other dimension that lived under Hawkins. Everything in the Upside Down was the exact same as it was in the normal version of Hawkins- well, other than the monsters crawling around and who else knows what lurked in the corners no one knew about yet.

March 27th was probably the worst day of your life yet. Going into the upside down to defeat Vecna, a thing of nightmares- a strange, terrifying, whatever he was. He was the type of thing you would tell to scare people, a creature you would use in a make believe story told over a campfire at night to try and one up someone else’s story and scare the living daylights out of them.

Things seemed fine on your end, you and Dustin back in the right side of Hawkins before Eddie had to do what he thought was right, cutting the makeshift rope and ceasing you from getting to him, sacrificing himself to the demobats.

Watching him cut the bedsheet rope, his eyes trained on yours as he told you he loved you before he was gone. After that your body was on autopilot. Pushing a chair towards the gaping hole in the ceiling, getting a running start before tumbling through the upside down- hurting your ankle pretty bad but the adrenaline masked the pain that you should’ve felt.

Running out the door and towards the direction of swarming bats that circled Eddie and feasted on the male. And suddenly the bats dropped dead around him.

Holding his body close to yours as he bled out wasn’t a memory you wanted to keep, but it was one that wouldn’t ever go away. He tried to say his goodbyes, but you shot them down. Promised you would get him out of there no matter what.

And with a lot of trouble you managed to get him out of the upside down.

The rest of that night was a blur.

Vecna was defeated, his body disintegrating into the upside down that started to crumble and break as you and the others escaped. Once through to Hawkins the gate to the other side closed and sealed as if nothing happened.

Which was a lie.

Max was rushed to the hospital, she barely escaped death- but not without issues that would follow her for the rest of her life. They managed to reset her bones, and her vision wasn’t fully gone but it wasn’t great at all. She was considered legally blind, but with thick rimmed glasses she could still see. But things would still have a small blur to them.

During Vecna’s encounter with Max, Jason attacked Lucas. Threatening the boy and beating him as Lucas tried to save Max.

After the police and ambulance showed up to take Max away to the hospital, all the blame of the lives taken by Vecna were placed onto Jason. Though it wasn’t his fault, the evidence somehow seemed to fall onto him. The charges that were going to be placed on Eddie were switched to Jason and he was arrested for the murder of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred and attempted murder of Max.

Even if some of the things didn’t fully make sense on it being Jason’s fault, he was connected to Patrick and Chrissy. Found at the scene of Patrick's murder and Max’s attempt. Which was enough evidence for the police.

Taking Eddie to the hospital was also something you found awful. When questioned about what happened you put the blame on being attacked by a man and his dog. A man trying to make things right as he thought Eddie was the reason for it all and used his dog as an attack dog. No one questioned otherwise. No one questioned the odd marks that didn’t align with a dog bite or knife.

You came out alive with a fractured ankle and wrist.

Eddie came out alive with scars, a near death experience and one nipple.

But you two came out with shared trauma and separation anxiety.

Nothing from the upside down reared its head, no signs anything would come back had shown and that’s how things would hopefully stay. After the events that occurred, the trailer the two Munsons lived in was unlivable. Sure it could be restored, but neither Eddie nor Wayne felt comfortable in the house that was once a home. So all the unbroken things inside the trailer were moved out and the building was torn down. 

No one would want to buy the trailer, plus it would be more expensive to remodel it than it was to completely tear it down. So, down went the Munson trailer.

Wayne moved into a small townhouse close to the plant he worked at, the neighborhood was new and quiet which was perfect for the elder Munson and his odd work schedule. Plus it was rather cheap, about the same as it was to live in the trailer- give or take a few. 

Before this all happened you had been living on your own, much like Steve you had absent, rich, parents. But yours were more loving than his- as harsh as it is. Though your parents had moved out of state when you were a fresh face eighteen year old, they knew how much you loved Hawkins. And since you spent most of your life without them there to coddle you, they had no issue with you living alone. But they did kindly help you on and off with the bills. 

So since you were on your own, just you in the small home, it didn’t take much convincing to get Eddie to move in with you. As much as he loves his uncle, he felt like he was old enough to be on his own- albeit with you, but truthfully at this point you and Eddie were seemingly one person. 

The government had given you both a decent amount of hush money for the terrifying horrors experienced. And though money was nice, it wouldn’t heal the traumatic hell you and Eddie went through.

Physically you were both healed, though sometimes the wrist you had fractured would tingle- a pins and needles type feeling if you leaned on it. Eddie’s scars would itch, worse in the colder months and would often be applying lots of lotion. It took a while for him to let you see the scars, for him to let you help apply and creams to soothe the deep marks. He told you he could do it himself, reapply the dressings, that it was no issue. 

But the soft cries you heard from him when he was locked in the bathroom told you otherwise.

After a while he opened up, more tears were shed as he showed you what was left of his body, he told you he wouldn’t be mad if you didn’t love him anymore after seeing him. After that you made him lay on the bed and pressed kisses to each and every inch of him, told him no matter what you would always love him, no matter his looks- you loved him for him, not his body. 

It took a while for Eddie to become more comfortable again in his body, and he still had a long way to go. But he was just starting to be able to look in the mirror and not get upset, not be angry at what he saw. 

The only people he let see without a shirt was you and Wayne, but of course his Uncle didn’t live with him anymore so he didn’t see his nephew shirtless as much as he did when they lived together. Eddie Munson was a furnace and because of that he preferred to sleep without a shirt. But, that changed after the upside down. He didn’t like the way the sheets or comforter would rub against the scars. So you two were still on the hunt for bedding that wasn’t aggravating. 

Back to now, things were somewhat calm. Christmas was weeks away, and you were excited to celebrate it. The last two years the holidays were hard. 

Christmas 86’ felt like it never happened, Eddie spent the day sleeping. His wounds were still healing from the dreadful day in March. You didn’t blame the metalhead for sleeping, truthfully that year leading into the next he spent most of his days bedridden. It took a while for Eddie’s spark for anything to come back, and you were there each step of the way to help him. Wayne that year, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, was set to work on Christmas Day. It didn’t snow that year, but it poured a frigid rain, a fog set over the town, bringing a gloomy atmosphere. 

Christmas 87’ much like the year before was very mellow. Eddie didn’t really want to do anything big. So that year Christmas was spent between you and the two Munsons. The younger munson claimed he didn’t want anything or need anything that year, and the elder munson was all the same. But of course that didn’t stop you from getting them both something small. The day was spent like every other day, the two men played poker, a six pack was split between you three. Dinner was take out from some hole in the wall restaurant that was open on Christmas. No decorations in sight, it didn’t snow that year either.

But this year, Christmas 88’ was the year things seemed nearly normal again. Sure things would never be the same, but it was pretty damn close. The light was back in Eddie’s eyes, his hands didn’t shake when he tried to play the guitar, his humor was back and consisted of joking about what happened on the 27th of March. Which in turn usually ended up with him getting a gentle smack to his shoulder as he cackled. 

Eddie decided every holiday this year must be celebrated to the most extreme- which was a contrast from the last two years. Though his main holiday priorities were Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

Never did you think you would be celebrating st. patricks day to the extreme but, that's what this year was. The year to try and get back to being okay. 

The morning came, soft light seeping through the small, thin gap between the middle where the curtains met. With fluttering eyes you slowly woke up, focus starting to come back as you blinked a few times. Moving your hands to your face to rub the sleep from your eyes. The small movements from you caused a groan to be heard from the left of you. Eddie was asleep, laying on his stomach with one arm draped over you and the other hidden underneath his pillow. His lips were ever so parted, a gentle pout gracing his features. He was completely and utterly knocked out.

Before 86’ Eddie could sleep like a log, a bomb could go off in the next room and he wouldn’t be none the wiser. Then after March, for a few months, he could barely sleep- which soon turned into him sleeping his days away as a depressed state took over him. Which in turn caused him to be a very light sleeper. But as the months went by, mentally and physically he was healing, he was slowly going back to his heavy sleeping days, which you didn’t mind. You’d rather it take a bit to get him awake than him not sleep or wake up at the drop of a pin.

Your eyes landed on the sleeping boy, his once sharp features soft, letting him look at peace. With a gentle hand you tuck a lock of his wild dark hair behind his ear. Which in turn causes him to nuzzle his face more so into the pillow. A deep chill was casted over the room, colder than it was when you went into bed last night. Turning your head you look toward the alarm clock on the bedside table, reading the bright red numbers. 10:32.

It was a little later than you had been waking up, but after the wild night you had with Eddie last night, sleeping longer was most welcome. 

Slowly and carefully you managed to wiggle yourself out of the metalhead's hold, putting a pillow in your place in Eddie’s arms. You hate to admit that it was rather difficult to get out of bed, not because you didn’t want to get up ( though very true. ) But you were sore, legs having a small wobble to them as you wandered to the bathroom. Stumbling a bit once. 

After your trip to the bathroom you were pulling on one of Eddie’s oversized sweaters. A dark material with a skull adorning the front of it. It clashed wildly with your fuzzy pink gingham bottoms, but you didn’t care. After stuffing your feet into a pair of slippers, you were checking to make sure Eddie was still asleep. Pulling the blankets up higher on him before venturing off into the living room. The only noise heard was the shuffling of your feet and the overworking heater. You kneeled on the couch, knees against the cushions as you leaned over to grab the curtains, pulling them open before pulling the blinds.

Outside was- as cliche as it sounds, a winter wonderland. Upon the once dying grass from the cold was now a sheet of stark white snow. As the town of Hawkins slept, snow fell. It started off as a small flurry before coming down harder further into the night. But the fall had stopped and in its wake was sparkling snow. It was a decent amount of the stuff, you could see the neighborhood kids all bundled up and playing in the first snow of the season. 

It didn’t take you long to quickly make a batch of hot chocolate, tearing open the small pouch of powdered chocolate and dumping the contents into some warm milk. Stirring the mixture into a mug. With the mug in hand, a fluffy jacket over the sweater you wore and feet shoved into a pair of Eddie’s much too big for you boots, you ventured off to the small porch.

Outside atop the porch was of course an outdoor couch with a small end table on the right of it. You held the mug between the palms of your hands to try and help warm yourself, pulling your legs up close to your chest with your back against the armrest- seated sideways. 

You let your gaze wander, taking in everything your eyes could see. Your neighbor to the left was currently shoveling the snow off his driveway while his elder mother stood bundled up in the doorway, watching her son intently. 

The neighbors to your right were currently putting up Christmas decorations, a middle aged couple trying to put the momma deer and her baby in the right place while their twin daughters stood back- telling them which way to turn the decorations. 

All in all it was a heartwarming sight, though not enough to help warm you, but still sweet to watch. You watched as the kids across the street were in an intense snowball battle with a few of the other neighborhood kids. It was just now you realized how family oriented the small subdivision truly was. 

The sound of the door creaking open broke you from the people watching zone you were in, tilting your head to the side to see the man of your dreams, Eddie. His face was swollen with sleep, hair a mess. He was dressed warmly, you could see a small hint of a sweater under his own thick jacket, his plaid sleep pants traded in for a thicker pair of sweatpants. His plush bottom lip turned into a small pout as he stared at you. 

“You stole my boots.” Sleep was laced in his voice, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faintest of a southern drawl in his words from the years of being around his father and then Wayne. The two older men both had thick southern accents. The male soon stepped out onto the porch, adorning another pair of his boots that were almost exact to the ones you wore.

“I didn’t steal them, just borrowed them.” You responded to him, it was at this moment you noticed the buffalo plaid blanket he held in his hand. He soon was seated next to you, gently taking the mug from you- but not before of course he took a sip of the cocoa. He placed the mug on the table before he was grabbing your legs and pulling you close. He rested your legs over his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you to his chest, placing the blanket over your lap. 

“I was gonna ‘borrow’ your boots but I didn’t think the pink would go with my outfit.” Eddie said with a small chuckle, reaching forward to gently push a few strands of your hair out of your face. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Better yet, why didn’t you stay in bed with me?” He asked, his words a little slurred as he spoke low, almost as if he were sharing a secret with you. 

With a purse of your lips you shrugged gently, head turned to look at him. “You looked so peaceful, and I was gonna come back to bed but then I saw the snow and was called out here.” Your gaze trailed to look at his mouth before flickering back up to his eyes. 

“Called out here? What are you, an arctic fox?” His question was said as he gently shook you, his eyes going wide as he leaned in closer to your face. “And so what if I am? At least I’m not a worm, I wouldn’t survive these conditions.” Was your response to him, your hand coming up to gently smooth out his untamed curls.

“I would still love you if you were a worm,” Eddie replied to you, taking your hand away from his hair and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Luckily I’m not a worm, because I wouldn’t have you there with me to give me kisses.” 

The two of you spoke with hushed voices, words quiet- almost as if you were both afraid to ruin the moment you shared, though you knew nothing would ruin it, at least nothing you two could do.

“If you were a worm I would also be a worm, I would never let you be a worm alone.” He said like it was a promise, and you know it was. A smile creeps up your face, causing you to laugh at the serious demeanor in his features. “I would give you worm kisses!” He adds, the serious resolve crumbling as he smiles brightly at you. “Worm doesn’t seem like a word anymore- how did we even get to the topic of them anyway?” You had interrupted yourself, brows furrowing in as Eddie shrugged his shoulders at you.

You watched as his eyes wandered out to the scenery in front of you both, “I didn’t think it was gonna snow this year.” He finally spoke after a few moments of silence from either of you, “It hasn’t snowed since,” Eddie’s eyes squinted in thought, trying to remember the last time it snowed. 

“What was it? January of 86’?” The male questions, more so asking himself rather than you. “The news didn’t say anything about any snow, I think it kinda just happened.” As you spoke you shivered, trying to huddle closer to Eddie. “I hope it lasts, or at least snows again on Christmas.” He spoke with a certain type of wonder that you haven’t seen from him since before that fateful day. “We could always put some snow in some buckets and then keep them in the freezer incase it doesn’t snow on Christmas.” 

You spoke to Eddie, never letting your eyes falter from him. One of your favorite past times has always been looking at him, he was beautiful inside and out. He was a very expressive man and you enjoyed seeing every little expression. For the smallest twitch under his eyes to the wide smile with the deep dimples.

The words you spoke caused Eddie to laugh, brows pulling in as his gaze turned back to you. That wonder he showed to the snow somehow becoming more present as his dark eyes locked in on you. “That means we would have to take out the frozen pizzas and the ice cream to make room for the snow. You know I can't live without my sweet, sweet frozen rocky road.” His right hand pressed against his chest, no rings in sight. “You know you concern me for the fact you still eat ice cream and popsicles even when it's below freezing outside.” 

He simply shrugs at your words, “I am a man of great taste.” Was his only response. You rest your head against his shoulder, snuggling against him. A shiver runs down your spine once again as a gust of cold wind blows, rustling through the trees and causing snowflakes to flutter off the once green leaves. “You cold?” Eddie questions, trying to pull you closer as he hikes the blanket up higher on you.

“No, I'm super sweaty.” You reply, your words a joke though spoken seriously. You can’t see it but Eddie rolls his eyes at your words, gently pinching your side which causes you to squeal. Not in any pain, more so in surprise of his cold fingers that he slipped up your shirt. “Why don’t we go inside and make some new hot chocolate? I’m afraid yours might have turned into a nice cold glass of chocolate milk rather than what it was.” You can feel Eddie turning his head to the glass as he spoke, taking note of the drink. 

“That sounds like a plan.” You replied soon after, reluctantly getting off his lap, holding tight to the blanket. Eddie follows suit, but before either of you can walk inside you are grabbing his arm, turning towards him with a bright smile. His brows furrow at you with a tilt of his head, waiting for you to speak. 

“I love you.” Your words are simple and true, causing your lover to smile bright as he leans in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you too.” He replies after pulling away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you both inside- not before of course grabbing the mug from the table.

Christmas 88’ was much, much different from all the past years of the holiday. You both wore the cliche matching pajamas- the cheesiest pair that was affordable. The morning was meant for you both, the small bundle of gifts exchanged as well as kisses that tasted like peppermint and chocolate. Wayne came over around mid afternoon, bearing a few gifts for you both- and he of course was given some as well. Though he complained over and over again that it was too much, but you know he enjoyed them and it would all be used. For Christmas dinner Steve and Robin came over.Steve having been spending the holiday with Robin so he wasn’t alone- you had told them they were both welcome much earlier in the day, but they had a tradition to continue which you were told was a day of odd food combinations and movie after movie. Dustin popped over at some point, though he didn’t stay for long. It was a day full of love and cheer, lots of food and presents. 

It snowed that Christmas, the first white Christmas in a few years. And as you and Eddie stood outside admiring the bad decorations you both put up, he was soon kneeling on one knee, a small box in hand with a ring nestled inside with the most important question on his lips.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie muson fic

[mossrotts]

IT'S BIRFDAY WEEK! i'm going to try streaming (at least a bit) EVERY DAY this week!

Mon 8/7 9pm MTZ- Playing A Way Out with @plathsberry-farm (aka Zva)! Zva's my gm for Out of the Abyss, so maybe I can probe some jailbreak ideas as we go....

Tues 8/8 4pm MTZ- Playing Limbo! I'm very fond of it, and it's coming to xbox pass tomorrow. Unless it takes longer than expected, we'll start Scorn afterwards!

Weds 8/9 10am MTZ- STREAMATHON. We're starting in the morning with Spooky's Jumpscare Mansion. There's some twitch integration options for it now AND I got my hands on the DLC, which I've never seen before. Then we'll either start or continue Scorn. At 4pm MTZ we'll play that dnd game everyone's talking about, Ba--Planescape Torment!!! (honestly i think it's a great time to check it out, especially if you're playing or watching others play bg3. it's neat to see how dnd is integrated into video games, how different they are even beyond the 20+ years of time, and just how weird DnD lore can get). My cohost will be @courtwizardsirdoctorclydesdale, who is also my coplayer in two campaigns and was my gm for a Curse of Strahd. Yeah, we got that DnD brainrot. We'll finish out the night with Hooked on You, a Dead by Daylight visual novel.

Thurs 8/10 4pm MTZ and Fri 8/11 3pm MTZ we'll be continuing Yuppie Psycho! Y'all, I have been craving to play this game so much. Its absurdist approach to horror and humor, and the combination therein, makes me want to know "what comes next" SO bad.

Sat 8/12 4pm MTZ. Probably will be one of the shorter streams as I'm likely gonna be hanging with chosen family. BUT we'll still do a lil art stream where you're encouraged to redeem sketch requests via any channel points you've built up. If there's time after, we'll maybe continue one of the games we've started!

Also, for the funsies of it, here's my throne and kofi! Anything sent to my kofi goes towards my top surgery fund, which I've been trying to build up since capitalism kicked my butt and I lost my insurance about a year ago. Every bit helps and I appreciate you.

And thank you all for making streaming so fun. <3 I've enjoyed this so much and it's because of YOU. I hope that you're able to stop by and sit for a spell during this week's festivities, but my fondness and my smooches go out to you whatever the case. See you on the other side of the veil, friend.

#mossrott news #vtuber #trans vtuber #a way out #limbo #scorn #scorn game #limbo game #spooky's jumpscare mansion #planescape torment #hooked on you #yuppie psycho

[starlitangels]

High School Crush

Came up with this while writing a separate Vincent fic but this one was faster to write down. Welcome to my brain This was supposed to be a lot shorter than it ended up being 2.6k words

—

“Y’know, one of these days you’re gonna actually have to talk to him,” Melissa said. 

Erin shot her a look. “No I won’t,” she retorted.

“Erin—you’ve been drawing him from across the cafeteria since we were freshmen. It’s starting to get creepy.”

“He’s never noticed. The only one who has is you. And you only notice because you sit next to me.”

Melissa sighed and shook her head. “Just hand him one of your doodles and say he’s cute, for heaven sake!” she hissed.

“Mels, I don’t even know if he likes girls.”

“You’ll never know until you ask.”

“Maybe I don’t want to ask!”

“C’mon. This is Vincent. He seems sweet. Just... I don’t know. Shoot your shot. Because this—” Melissa grabbed the separate sketchbook full of Erin’s sketches of Vincent out from under Erin’s hands and waggled it in the air too fast to even see what was on the pages. “—is creepy.”

Erin snatched the sketchbook back and went back to drawing. “No way, Melissa,” she muttered. “I’m not brave enough for that.”

“Then I’ll do it for you. Pick your favorite drawing of him and tear it out. I’ll hand it to him and say you think he’s cute.”

“Absolutely not,” Erin snapped.

“You’re both shy. You could be the cute shy couple together.”

Erin didn’t reply immediately, but her pencil paused on its page for a moment. A blush started riding high on her cheeks, still tanned from the New Mexico summer sun. She went back to drawing. “No way would he like me back.”

Melissa sighed dramatically. “You’re hopeless.”

Erin quickly flicked through her book. Melissa was right, but she didn’t have to say it like that. The sketches at the beginning of the book were terrible but had been steadily improving over the last couple years. Still. Having so many of the same person in one book was definitely creepy. Mels was right about that. Erin just... didn’t know what else to do. She liked drawing the things and people she liked. And she’d had the biggest crush on Vincent since they’d started high school. He was tall with that black hair and deep tan. Those warm, dark brown eyes like melted chocolate.

She jolted herself out of her thoughts as the bell rang. “Dang it,” she muttered. “I didn’t get the chance to finish this one.” She’d missed the other half of his hair. She could probably fill it in freehand, but it wouldn’t look as good as it would if she was looking at him as a reference.

Melissa grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get to class, you weirdo. You can finish your doodle lover boy later.”

Erin cast one last, quick glance over her shoulder at where Vincent was gathering his own things to head to class. He froze for just a second and met her eyes, as if sensing she was watching him.

She looked away quickly, her face getting hot, and ducked between two people to disappear into the crowd. Cradling her now-closed sketchbook protectively against her chest with her head bowed. Melissa caught up with her after a second. “What’s with you now?” she complained.

“He looked at me,” Erin said quietly.

“And?”

“I don’t know. I looked away.”

“Oh my G—you could have at least winked at him!”

Erin’s whole face flushed pink. “No! Are you crazy?” she hissed. “What if I freaked him out?”

“Erin, I’m going to keep saying this until you do something: you are hopeless.”

“I knooowww,” Erin complained. The two turned a corner and finished their walk to class, sitting down next to each other in History. Melissa pulled a tube of lipgloss out of her bag and applied it to her lower lip with the compact mirror in her other hand.

“How about this,” Melissa began, snapping the compact closed, “I pretend to make plans with other friends for lunch tomorrow, and you ask if you can sit with him?”

“Nooo...”

“I’m trying to help you here.”

“I know I just... I can’t.” Erin shook her head and pulled on one of her pigtail braids the way she often did when she was nervous.

“Erin, we’re graduating next year. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t at least try.”

“I know.”

“So. Are you gonna give him one of your drawings of him and tell him he’s cute?”

Erin opened her sketchbook again, leafing back through the pages. The more recent ones had a lot of Vincent making the same daydreaming face, looking off to the side with his face resting on his hand. Erin’s skill in drawing his face was markedly better than her skill in drawing hands, but even that was slowly improving across sketches.

She bit her lower lip. She still hadn’t been able to quite catch that twinkle in his eyes... Maybe it would be easier if she was closer to him...

“I’ll think about it,” she said to Melissa.

—

The apartment phone rang down the hall. Erin hopped off her desk chair and went to go get it. “Apartment two-oh-seven, this is Erin speaking.”

“Hey Erin,” her mom’s voice greeted.

“Hi Mom. What’s wrong?” she asked. “I know that voice.”

Her mom sighed. “Re... remember that boy you had a crush on in high school?”

Erin glanced at the calendar. It was February 15th... her mom wasn’t trying to set her up on a belated Valentine’s Day date, was she? “Vincent? Yeah... Why?”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Mom?” Erin prompted.

“He went missing. In California. Two days ago.”

Erin’s heart dropped through the floor. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “What happened?”

“Word around town is he went to an amusement park in California and the roller coaster track separated. A bunch of people died but his body hasn’t been recovered so he’s been reported missing. According to the friends he went with, he was on it.”

Erin took a deep breath and released it as tears sprung to her eyes. Admittedly, she’d crushed on him from afar and barely knew him, but for him to be gone? “Oh my...” She blinked and let the tears fall. “I, uh, I’ll come home this weekend.”

“You sure, baby?”

“Yeah. I... I should.”

“Okay. See you this weekend, E.”

“See you soon, Momma.”

The next few days passed slower than molasses while Erin waited for Friday. The two-hour drive from her college town back to the hometown she grew up in lasted eternity.

The look on her mom’s face when she opened the door was enough to send Erin into tears again. They hugged for a while. “Sh, sh, sh,” her mom soothed. “I know it hurts.”

“If... if I’d done something in high school... maybe this wouldn’t have happened.” Erin had been spiraling all week, and it felt good to say it out loud.

“What do you mean?”

“If... if I’d actually asked him out in high school—” She swallowed thickly. “—back when we were seniors, maybe we could have been together. Maybe he wouldn’t have been there that day.”

“Oh baby. You don’t know that. We’ll never know what could have been. You can’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t—I just—I wish—” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Her mom stroked her hair. “It’s okay, baby.” She reached around and picked something off the end table next to the couch they’d taken a seat on. “Wanna read his obituary? I cut it out for you.”

Erin nodded and took the thin sheet of newspaper from her mom’s hand. She read it quickly, holding away from the trajectory of her falling tears, wiping her eye with her other hand.

Once she reached the bottom where his surviving family was listed, a thought struck her. “There’s something I need to do,” she said. She got up and ran upstairs to her room. Digging through the boxes that were packed away, she found her old sketchbook. The one she’d been so embarrassed about that she hid it in the bottom of the box in hopes that her parents wouldn’t look through it and see hundreds of sketches of her high school crush.

Flipping through the pages, she tore out most of the worst ones from when she was a freshman, and a few of her favorites from when she was a senior. The ones she liked best she tucked into a folder. The rest she left in the book. She packed the folder in the backpack she’d brought from college, but kept the book in her hand.

She went back downstairs and pulled the phonebook out of one of the kitchen drawers and flipped through it, quickly jotting down the address she was looking for.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” she said.

“Where are you going?”

Erin opened and closed her mouth. “I’ll tell you when I get back. After the embarrassment has worn off,” she said.

She ran outside to her car, studied the address as she set her old sketchbook on the passenger seat, and turned over her engine.

The drive was short. Not even ten minutes. He’d been so close and she’d never done anything.

When she got to the address, she climbed out of the car, grabbed her book, and approached the door. Biting her lower lip and chewing on it with nerves, she rang the doorbell.

After a moment, the door opened.

“Hi,” Erin greeted. The woman had the same so-black-it-was-almost-blue hair and warm brown eyes as Vincent. “You don’t know me. I, uh, I went to high school with your son.” She cleared her throat. “I... I had the biggest crush on him. I’m so, so sorry for what happened to him.” She swallowed. “Here.” She held the sketchbook out. “He was more cared about than he knew. I... I wish I hadn’t been to shy to say anything.”

The woman took the sketchbook from Erin’s hands. Erin felt her face heating up again. She turned and went back to her car before Vincent’s mom could open the book.

Back at her own parents’ house, she picked one of her favorite sketches from the folder, cut it off the small page, and scribbled a short sentence on the back of it before tucking it into her wallet behind her ID.

—

Twenty-Three Years Later...

—

Erin laughed. “Oh man, remind me to take you to dinner more often,” she said to her manager.

Phillip chuckled. “Maybe I’ll do just that. But, tonight is to celebrate you. You got your art into a gallery in Dahlia. I know it’s a little far from home, but it’s not a bad spot.”

Erin looked around the restaurant. “No. No it’s n... not,” she said. Pausing as her eyes swept over someone.

“Hey. You okay?” Phillip asked quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course,” Erin replied. She leaned over and dug a small sketchbook and pencil out of her purse. She always kept one on her. She flipped it open to a blank page near the back and started to sketch. Quick work brought two people to life on the page. A young couple sitting across the restaurant floor directly across from her and her manager, rendering both of them in profile from her perspective.

She’d been doing this for so many years it was quick and easy to take down their likenesses while maintaining accuracy. She made sure to catch them both in a smile. And she finally got the twinkle in the eye right.

“E?” Phillip asked, watching her eyes dart back and forth between the couple and his client.

“Just—give me a second, Phillip,” she said. “I’m an artist. I’m allowed to be eccentric.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright,” he said, picking up his fork.

After a few minutes, during which Phillip had nearly finished his meal and Erin’s had been allowed to grow cold, she signed and dated the page, took a quick picture of it on her phone, and tore it out of her book. She dug something out of her wallet and attached the two pieces of paper together with a paperclip. The kind that had probably been in the bottom of her purse for who knew how long and she’d known was there but had mostly forgotten about.

She got up from the table and crossed the floor.

“Excuse me,” she said to the couple. Both turned to look at her, and for a moment both their grey eyes flashed like a cat’s in the light. She smiled. “Hi. I’m Erin. And, I’m sorry, but—” She tilted a bit to mostly face the tall, slim , pale gentleman with the blue-black curls. “—you look just like the boy I had a crush on in high school back in New Mexico. I was always too shy to give one of these to him, and he passed away before I had the chance after we graduated and went to different colleges.” She held out the drawing and the paper clipped beneath it. “I hope you two are happy together.” She smiled at the young man’s partner and dipped her head.

The young man took the paper from her. His mouth dropped open. “Th—thank you. This is beautiful. Did... did you just barely do this?”

Erin nodded. “I did. Yes. You two have a good night now.” She turned and moved to go back to her own table.

“Pardon,” the young man said. She turned back. “What was his name?”

“Vincent.”

The young man smiled. He had a dazzling smile. “Well. Vincent was very lucky,” he said. Erin nodded agreement and went back to her table. She heard the young man hold the paper out to his partner. “Lovely, look at this. It’s incredible,” he said softly. Erin took up her seat and went back to her now-cold food and her conversation with Phillip.

—

I took the paper from Vincent and examined it. “Wow. She’s good,” I whispered. “That looks just like us.”

Vincent cast a glance across the restaurant floor at the woman. She was in her forties. Brown hair going a bit grey, laugh-lines forming at the corners of her eyes. He reached for the paper in my hands. Pulling the paper clip and whatever was behind it off. He sighed, a small smile forming on his face. “I’m glad she’s happy now,” he whispered.

He showed the other tiny square of paper to me. It looked just like him. A little skinnier and maybe three years younger, but it was definitely him. Except the eyes. They were dark. The drawing was old. Faded and smudged from spending who knew how many years somewhere. Scrunching his eyebrows, he flipped the paper over.

In messy handwriting, presumably the woman’s, was written: Never miss an opportunity.

I met his eyes. “You really knew her.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “We went to high school together. I haven’t seen anyone from my human life in...” He shook his head. “Decades. I mean, it’s not like I can go back.”

I made a sad face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I have you. And Will. And Sam.” He chuckled. “That’s all I need.” I handed the drawing back to him. “And I’m not planning on missing any of the opportunities I have—ever again.” He leaned across the table. I met him halfway and gave him a quick kiss.

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @thegoldenlittlerose

#Melissa is the extrovert who adopted the introvert #Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Vincent #Vincent Solaire #Redacted Lovely #Vincent #Lovely #Starlit Fic #Redacted Audio #me: yeah this one will be like 1.2k words #this fic: *is over double that* #me: idk what I expected

[vander-affectionate]

its me, probably one of fhe worst times to post but idk if this is getting finished so here ya go, some vander with fhe kids but not much else. shorter than i'd like but i love it all the same, this is for you my dearest rebloggers, minors do not interact with my fluff, im trusting you to be regulate yourselves and ageless blogs gtfo

It’s spring. The months where people are out and about more often than not. It’s the months where people don’t frequent bars as often and months where break-ins are more frequent. You’re not too worried about those. Not when you’re breathing in the peppery cedarwood scent that wafts off Vander from the many nights of wiping counters and the faint tarry, smoky smell from his pipe.

His arm around your waist pulls you closer and grunts when your leg brushes the semi hard on between his legs. It’s not to be acted upon. That much is obvious when he grumbles and leans down to wedge his face between your cheek between you and the pillow.

You hear muttering and you hum, trying to get your thoughts together when your hand, dwarfed on his bicep, rubs up his bicep until a long hum is rasping from his chest. It’s a pretty sound that always makes your heart leap. His face doesn’t move an inch from where he’s wedged it between your cheek and the cotton stuffed pillow. His breath is hot when he murmurs near your ear.

“S’ a weeken’. An’ sprin’.” he slurs, pecking your cheek lazily. “Sleep.”

Your eyes are heavy and almost heed the instruction until you hear a distant clanging. Vander pulls you so you’re half on top of him so he’s your pillow and you’re his to cuddle apparently.

“Ignore it.” He mutters, arms tightening around you. The warmth he emits makes you think better of the conscience in your head and you sink easily into him. “S’ a mess for later.”

The door squeaks only slightly, but you both dismiss it in favor of getting a little more sleep. But the bed dips near your feet and continues until you feel something settle on Vander’s side. The bed sinks again and again and again. Sleep is slipping away, but Vander is not having it.

“There’s no way they’d still be in bed if they remembered.” Claggor slinks down on the bed to fit perfectly in the bend of your legs and rests his head on your thigh. “Maybe we should wait for tomorrow.”

“No. We’re going today.” Mylo is insistent and starts bouncing on the bed. Vi joins him and you can hear Powder stifling a laugh from the left side, Vander’s side of the bed.

You groan, knocking on his chest, “Do something.”

“They’re yours before sunrise.” He knocks on your waist.

You sit up, squinting as you find they’re all dressed and in gear. If the sun hasn’t risen then today must be one of those days. You smirk, “Something big must be going on for all four of you to be awake at the same time, especially this early.”

Vi jumps off the bed and onto the floor. “I told you they forgot.”

Powder holds up one of Vander’s old maps and you sigh, shaking your head. “You promised.” She sings, waving the paper and you knock on Vander’s chest.

“You promised.” You laugh, rubbing your eyes.

“Promised what?” He sits up while you fall back into the mattress, grabbing his pillow and setting it underneath your head as you glance over how wild his hair had become from trying to tuck himself against you.

“The heist!” Vi crosses her arms. “We’re pulling that heist you promised today.”

Vander thinks, scratching his beard, “Promised, eh?” He shoots Powder a smile, “Sure I didn’t say probably?”

You shove him in the back with your foot and it earns you a playful glare, “You crossed your heart.”

He motions for Vi to hand him a pillow and Powder is scrambling to get out of the crossfire, “Did I now?”

You’re laughing before Vander even swings his pillow and you throw one at him, ducking so that it hits Vi square in the face. Claggor and Powder struggle to yank Vander off the bed and somewhere between Vander accidentally hitting Mylo with his pillow, you’d convert the other two into your army before Vander was on the floor with his feet in the air, laughing when you stumbled off the bed and land right on his chest.

“Come on!” Mylo’s trying to drag Vander up, but you’re getting up and nudging the big lug with your foot.

“You heard him.”

Vander waves, “Alright, alright- we’re coming. Go lock down the fort.”

They go scrambling out, decidedly splitting up to cover more ground faster. You’re about to get changed when Vander yanks you down to the floor with him in his mess of sheets and torn pillows from the pillow fight.

You smirk down at him, “Good morning, handsome.”

He chuckles and brings you down so his lips brush his. “Mornin’, sunshine.”

#arcane.vi #arcane.jinx #arcane.milo #arcane.claggor #vander thots #this is some fluff #it was a request for a day out with the kids but i dont have much motivation to finish it #its not going to stop me from sharing it #i love this btw #i read it like twice a day #vander x reader #vander x you #arcane x you #arcane x reader #vander fluff #arcane fluff #the arcane fluff #guys this is nice

[ravendruid]

Be In My Eyes - Chapter 5

You can read Chapters 1-4 here or on AO3. I'm not entirely sure about the format of the phone call. I'll take any suggestions on how to make it look better. Thank you all for reading this. I hope you like it!

The first month of school went the same way all first months go, between the chaos of finding classrooms, gathering all the materials, copying syllabi, and getting to know their class and roommates. 

The weather had started to change as Sydenstar came to a close, and Keyleth had to unwillingly put away her flowery summer dresses and replace them with hand-knit sweaters and jeans. As much as she loved the fall and its beautiful red colors, it always pained her when the days grew shorter.

Due to all the stress of classes, Keyleth barely had time to call her father to let him know how she was adjusting to the big city, so when she returned to the apartment one chilly afternoon, she sighed in relief for the weekend ahead. As she passed Vax and Percy’s bedroom, Keyleth heard the muffled sounds of the twins arguing, so she rushed past the closed door towards the bedroom she shared with Vex and Pike.

“Hello?” Korrin’s voice sounded through Keyleth’s phone. “Dad!” Keyleth’s cheerful voice masked any sign of exhaustion and sadness.  “Hey, sprout. How are you doing?” “Sorry I haven’t called you in a while, dad. I’ve been really busy with school.” Keyleth said, plopping down on the bed. “And I’m good, dad. How are you?” “I’m good, darling. Are you coming home for Harvest’s Fest?” “I don’t think so if that’s okay with you?” Keyleth bit her lower lip in anticipation. She wanted to go home, but the last month had been so chaotic, and she had so much schoolwork to finish. “That’s perfectly fine, honey. Are you going to be alright in Emon by yourself?” Korrin asked, worried. “Oh. The twins are staying, so I won’t be alone.”  “The twins?” Keyleth heard Korrin shift on the other side. “I see. Anyone else?” “Nope, just them. Everyone else is leaving tomorrow.” Korrin hummed at this. “And how are things with the twins?” “Dad… they’re fine. They’re nice.” Keyleth rolled her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Keyleth.” How the fuck? “I’ve known you for eighteen years. I can hear you roll your eyes, young lady.” “Sorry,” Keyleth mumbled. “How have classes been, other than busy?” “Good,” Keyleth replied shortly. “Some are a bit confusing, but I’ll be alright.” “Are you sure? Have you been studying?” “Yes, dad, I have. I’m actually glad that I’m staying. I have a lot of work to do.” Keyleth lied. “Yeah, maybe staying is not so bad after all. I have to go. I have a meeting in five minutes. I’ll talk to you later, alright?” “Okay, dad. Good luck with your meeting.”  “Thank you, sprout. I love you, and I miss you.” The sadness in Korrin’s voice was heart-wrenching. “I love you and miss you too, dad,” Keyleth said as tears fell down her face.

One of the disadvantages of sharing a room with someone else – or in Keyleth’s case, with two other people – was that there was rarely an opportunity to be alone. She had barely hung up the phone when Vex walked in, slamming the door behind her.

“Ugh.” She groaned, sitting on her bed. 

“Everything alright, Vex?” Keyleth asked, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

“No,” Vex rubbed her face with her hands, “my brother is being an absolute ass.” She finally looked at Keyleth, who tried to hide her face behind her hair. “Oh. Are you okay?”

Keyleth nodded with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She really did not feel like talking to anyone. The past week had been horrible, filled with anxiety, and all she wanted all week was to be alone for a while so she could cry and let out her frustrations, but Vex seemed upset, and Keyleth didn’t have the heart to ignore it.

“What did he do?”

“We’re all going out tonight, and Vax is very determined to stay and hide in his room forever and not make any friends. Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keylety lied. “So, you want Vax to go out with everyone?”

Vex nodded and cocked her head at Keyleth, not believing the lie but not pushing either. “I know it sounds stupid,” She admitted with a slump of her shoulders, “but it has been just the two of us for years. Vax is always so worried about me, taking care of me and making sure I’m safe. I just wish he would relax for a night, meet new people, and be a normal college student.”

“I’m sorry, Vex,” Keyleth offered a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine,” Vex got up and started looking for clothes in her wardrobe. “At least you’re coming with us, right?”

Keyleth was startled at the question. She had heard Vex and Pike talk about it all week, even with the boys, but not once had she been asked if she wanted to join them, so she just assumed she wasn’t invited.

“Actually…”

“What? Keyleth!” Vex groaned. 

“I’m sorry, I have plans.” Keyleth lied again.

“We’ve been talking about this all week.” 

“We can go tomorrow night if you want!” Keyleth offered.

“Everyone is leaving tomorrow. Do you really want to go out with just Vax and me?” Vex pulled out a black dress and set it on her bed, looking at Keyleth with an arched eyebrow.

Keyleth didn’t know how to tell her that she didn’t want to go out at all, that crowded bars were not her thing, and that she would much rather get some drinks and stay home, so she just shrugged.

“Whatever. I guess you can stay with my brother and be antisocial together then.” Vex walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Keyleth heard the shower running soon after, and she willed her tears back.

—

It had barely been an hour since his sister and their roommates left for the bar, and Vax was starting to wonder if it had been a good idea to stay home. Not that he didn’t trust Vex’ahlia to be able to take care of herself or that the boys wouldn’t let any harm come to her – especially with Grog around – but sometimes being apart from her made him feel like part of him was gone. Vax decided that just because he didn’t go out, it didn’t mean he couldn’t drink, and he knew their fridge was well stocked with beers – thanks, Scanlan –, besides Keyleth had been studying in the living room for hours, and she probably needed a break.

“Keyleth, do you want a–” As Vax rounded the corner, he saw Keyleth sitting on the rug, between the couch and the coffee table, with her knees up to her chest and her head resting on her knees, shoulders shaking. “Keyleth?” He called softly, pushing deeper into the room.

Keyleth lifted her head slowly in his direction with glossy eyes and a blotchy red face from crying. 

“Hey…” He kneeled next to her, and Keyleth let him pull her into a hug. “It’s okay. Let it out.” Vax whispered reassuringly, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

Vax held Keyleth until her sobs subsided and he felt her pull away with a sniffle. He waited patiently as she grabbed tissues from her bag and blew her nose, and only when she sought eye contact did he offer her a comforting smile as if he was saying I’m here if you need to talk.

“I’m sorry about that.” Keyleth frowned at him.

“Do you want to talk about it over a drink?” Vax asked, getting to his feet. 

“S–sure,”

“So, what happened?” He asked, handing Keyleth a beer and sitting by her side. Their shoulders rubbed against each other, and Vax couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of comfort.

Keyleth sighed and took a long sip before she answered him. “Have you ever questioned a decision you made?”

Vax's arm stopped as he lifted the bottle to his lips and tilted his head thoughtfully. “I have, yes. Have you been having doubts about something?” 

Keyleth sighed and drank again. “I’ve been wondering if I made the right decision in applying to college. Classes have been so exhausting, and I feel like I’m not keeping up, not to mention that I barely even have time to do any of the things that I like.”

Vax hummed in understanding and let his head fall back to the couch. He could see Keyleth’s shoulders sagging a bit as she fumbled with the label of the bottle, her head lowered so that most of her face was hidden by her hair. Though he couldn’t see her, he could hear the sadness and anxiety in her voice.

“You’re not alone, Keyleth. I’ve been asking myself the same thing, and I know that Pike and Vex have also felt like they’re falling behind in classes.”

“Vex and Pike are so smart. They will be able to catch up before exams come. Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed home, learned from my father, and taken over the family business.” Keyleth muttered. 

“You are smart too.” Vax touched her shoulder, and Keyleth looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears again. “Have you talked to your father about how you feel?”

“No…” Keyleth’s voice trembled. “I just talked to him today for the first time since classes started. I’ve been so busy.” Tears started streaming down her face, and Vax’s heart clenched in his chest. 

“Are you going home for the holidays?” Vax knew she had mentioned that she was probably staying behind, but a few days had passed since he heard her talk about it. Keyleth shook her head in denial, letting out a loud sob, and Vax pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her and resting her head on his chest. She smelled like lavender and had a hint of dirt, undoubtedly from any lab work she had done earlier that day.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes until Keyleth pulled away, wiping the tears with the back of her hand and apologizing with a wet chuckle.

“You miss your dad. I understand that,” Vax said reassuringly. “I meant what I said, Keyleth,” He added. “You are really smart. You’ve made it here, and I know you can do this. If you want, we can study together this weekend.”

“T–thank you, Vax.” She smiled softly at him.

“Of course. Now… how do you feel about video games?” Vax asked, turning on the TV and plugging in the console that Pike and Grog had brought. 

They spent the rest of the night chatting, playing games, and drinking. By the time everyone returned home, Keyelth’s mood had drastically improved. She could think about classes and studying later, but for now, she would enjoy a moment of respite.

#critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vaxleth #modern au #college au #vox machina au #vaxleth au #critical role au #be in my eyes #ao3 #mine #A big special thank you to Waltwhitmansbeard for helping me get over stupid writer's block with this chapter.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Responsibility

It was a pretty shitty day today. I’m going to fucking throttle Temp, I swear. I have a folder containing two weeks’ worth of damning screenshots of her bullshit, but it’s not like she hasn’t been told before, so I’m sitting there going, “What the fuck point is there in telling Scruffman when even if he does talk to her, she’ll be better about it for maybe a week and then go back to her bullshit again”. It doesn’t help that something’s up with either the transcription software or the laptop where the dictation just stops even when my foot’s on the pedal and won’t keep going until I stop pressing the pedal for a second. (I’m sure there’s some kind of memory sink issue, but I don’t have the permissions to look into that.) Because that just makes a nine-minute long bullshit Whipple’s specimen dictation dictated in the most counterintuitive way possible an absolute nightmare to type when I literally stop every forty-five seconds because of playback going stupid. Especially when Temp left said nine minute monstrosity (and several other, somewhat shorter monstrosities) sitting at the top of the typing queue, more or less forcing me to do the damn thing a little under fifteen minutes before close of play. So I had to work past my log-off alarm with that frustrating bullshit.

It. Was. A. Bad. Day.

But I cheered up a little in the middle of this mess of a day when my phone notification pinged to let me know that at least Chicken Launcher didn’t have Vertigo Gaming Inc’s issues with meeting a damn deadline. Well, in fairness, Pan’Orama kind of yo-yoed its release date, but it said it was going to be released today and according to the head’s up Steam sent me, they made it happen. So I thought however bad the day got, I could cheer up by sliding over to my computer and purchase myself my landscape-building faff game.

And then after hell-afternoon, I did slide over to my own computer and found a notification from Steam that my bestie beat me to it.

So game I have been wanting for ages and a reminder that I am loved. Plus leftover Japanese curry for dinner. I guess that is what we call a silver lining. I mean, I was also really productive today in that I did laundry (including folding and putting away), repotted my coriander and tomatoes, watered all the plants, took out the garbage... A+ adulting. Now I have to finish the A+ adulting by going to bed so I can get a decent amount of sleep for tomorrow. Even if I do just want to play shiny Zen game instead. But I am tired and tomorrow probably won’t be much better than today was, work-wise, so I will be Responsible.

Sometimes being Responsible blows. I probably need to start booking holiday, honestly. The extra money helps but damn, were the extra hours a mistake for my health...

#Thess has a day job #Thess loves her friends #Thess plays video games

[legendtraineremily]

Day 3 of My Pokémon Yellow Nuzlocke Challenge!

Today will be a bit shorter than others since I do the church thing and then use Sunday as a calm, lazy napping day. Still, I can see where the day gets me.

First up will be finishing up these trainers and then getting my encounter for the route.

Route 3 Encounter—Spearow/AngryBoi

Hp: 30

Attack: 18

Defense: 12

Speed: 22

Special: 13

You know, that’s not a bad Pokémon to have. Actually, in Gen 1 games, Spearow has better moves overall than the moves the Pidgey line gets. At least in the early game. And having another flying type for a while will be useful.

And now I’ve made it to the Pokémon Center just outside Mt. Moon. Here I have a conundrum. You see, inside the Pokémon Center is a man who offers to sell you a Magikarp. I did state that Pokémon offered as gifts are on the table but this isn’t a gift, I guess. Okay. No longer confused. Buyable Pokémon are off the table. Sorry Game Corner! (Not sorry.) But we may have to try something that requires an Abra that I may have to purchase from the Game Corner. However this would be just for fun though and not part of the challenge.

So…I took a few steps into Mt. Moon and what do I encounter? This freaking pest meme of a Pokémon:

Mt. Moon Encounter—Zubat/BlindBart

Lv. 9

Hp: 27

Attack: 15

Defense: 12

Speed: 15

Special: 13

Ah well, at least I have another battle fodder option, I guess? Hello, Geodude and Paras. Where were you two when I needed you? And hey! I found an HP Up item to use so that’s great. And hello Clefairy…you could’ve been a fantastic catch so I could trade you for a Mr. Mime later. Oy vey…

I’m close to running out of MtnDew Spark. Dang. Tonight really isn’t going my way so far. And I’ve got a lot, and I mean A LOT, of cave to cover. For the most part it’s just trying to get out without being too fatigued and run out of health before the end. I’ll see if I can do it. I’m already on healing run 3 and I’ve barely made it through floor 1.

Oh, Lily tried evolving but I denied it for now because she’ll learn Poison Sting next level instead of in like 2-3 more levels. While I’m in Mt. Moon, I’m going to look for a Moon Stone to evolve her further soon. Oop! I immediately found one. Perfect! Having her as a Nidoqueen so soon will make her a super useful member for quite a bit longer.

I guess I was closer to the end than I thought so I’ll just grab my Fossil and beat up Jessie&James. This time I’m grabbing the Dome Fossil. I know, I know praise Helix. (For those who don’t know, that is a reference to a Twitch Plays Pokémon run many years ago which had a very useful Omastar that was originally the other fossil I’m not taking this time.)

Dang it you Team Rocket goobers! You’re not supposed to Poison poor Stinky! It’s just trying its best to beat your Ekans up. Good thing I have a couple Antidotes. Also, let Lily Double Kick your Meowth’s teeth in; she’s so close to learning Poison Sting and then evolving. And knock it off with the Smog attacks! Zippy doesn’t need to be poisoned too…oh. Too late. Dang it, Jessie&James!

Now that that’s over, Lily has evolved and we need to heal up a bit before exiting. And now that we’ve exited, let’s grab the couple items out here and catch our Route 4 encounter!

Route 4 Encounter—Rattata/Goober

Lv. 12

Hp: 31

Attack: 21

Defense: 16

Speed: 23

Special: 11

Not really what I was hoping for, but rules are rules. At least I don’t have to really grind to get it up to a better level.

Before I turn in for the night, I’m going to take out the two Gym Trainers in preparation for beating Misty tomorrow and then receiving the Bulbasaur in Cerulean. Plenty to do tomorrow and I’ll have to start out by getting all prepped for the battles to come. Love ya’! -Emily

#pokémon yellow #pokémon nuzlocke #pokémon #nuzlocke diary #modified nuzlocke #nuzlocke challenge #nerd stuff

[fenimores-book-nook]

Day 19 <3

Late night writing ~ 10:26 pm January 18th, 2024, Thursday

I'm currently sitting on the floor in front of our heater, getting all nice and cozy. :) I was checking some updates and felt in the mood to do a quick lil' writing. Which might be shorter than normal since I am pretty tired. ;)

To start out, I'll say that my day today was a good one! Which is something that I need to focus on more: the good things that happen in the day. Work was pretty good, I had a good vibe going with customers-it was a day where I felt very happy to have my job. <3 Other than it being cold in the shop, it was a good shift! (the heater has been having a hard time catching up to the cold weather lately) After work I stopped by the library (for the second time in a row) to pick up some books. :) I had stopped by yesterday and got a pile of graphic novels, then after reading one of them I really wanted to go get more of the books from the same author.

I have very much been in the mood to read good-feel graphic novels, mostly middle-grade type books, but I love them. They give me just the right amount of comfort and interest. :)

So at the library I picked up only one other book by this author, since there was only one left, but I grabbed two other books that seemed interesting. I had been trying to scope out some graphic novels with Aspec representation and where with some of them, I can just view it from that perspective, but I only ended up finding one that really sounds like it has that representation. I haven't read it yet but I guarantee that I'll be writing about it. ;)

(illustration I found on pinterest) <3

When I got home, I chilled a bit and watched some Doctor Who, ate lunch, watched some Hilda (just started and I love it so much), took a nap, and then took a shower before my plans for the evening. It was one of those "Third Thursday" events I've written about in past posts. :) I met up with one of my friends and we went to it together. It was a fun time, I'm glad I was able to go and hang out!

I came home a little after 8:30, when it had been snowing again-ahg-but it seemed like very light snow. It was mainly very windy, but hopefully soon the spring weather finally starts blooming its flowers! I chatted with my mom for a little while, then changed into comfy pajamas and nestled onto the couch to read. I finished Remarkably Ruby earlier when I came home from work and started the other book from that author: Just Jaime. So I read that one for quite some time until I wanted to snack on some, well, snacks, and put on Hilda. And now, I'm writing. ;)

I have some fun weekend plans too! Tomorrow, I work my normal schedule, then, at 6 I have my DnD (Dungeons and Dragons) meeting with my sister, brother-in-law, and my brother-in-law's best friend. I know it sounds like a strange mix of people, but it's actually so much fun. I *think* we're ready for either session 4 or session 5, but I am excited! My sister and her hubby (bro-in-law) will pick me up for it since I'm going to be crashing at their apartment for the weekend! I thought it would be fun to hang out with them again since I hadn't for a while. Plus, I think I could use a change of scenery, even if that scenery change is only 45 minutes away. ;) So, I'll be going home with them too and staying until Sunday, when my parents will pick me up and I'll go to their church with them and Bible study! I am a bit excited for that as well, hopefully it'll be a good time!

The pretty sky this morning. :)

So, lots of fun things happening. I've been feeling like I should do more when I come home from work, though I just rarely ever feel like it. But, I mean, if I'm filling my days with good things for me that I enjoy, then that's great! I think I gotta get it out of my head that I have to be doing all these things that I don't really want to do. It probably plays in with the fact that most of my friends are in college and seem to be doing bigger things right now. Which sure, they are doing great things, but so am I!! And I just need to realize that and remind myself of that more often. Just because my life doesn't look like theirs does not mean that mine isn't lovely and successful and just enjoyable! I'm doing great, and that's something I gotta tell myself more often. :) (and if it's something you need to do too, here is your reminder!)

Well folks, I'll see you in the next one,

Thalia <3

#journaling #focusing on me writing series #day nineteen #hilda netflix #books #good days :) #aspec

[accio-samulet]

prince & princess — adrian pucey x fem!reader, soulmate au

Summary: Adrian Pucey and Y/N Y/L/N never got along; everyone knew that. But no one exactly knew why. Heck, even Y/N didn’t know why the Slytherin chaser was out to get her from day one. She wished to simply ignore him until graduation, but fate had other plans.

Warnings: some angst

Notes: soulmate au (share the same mark), reader uses she/her pronouns, sorted into Slytherin, two years older than golden trio, shorter than Adiran, no other physical traits mentioned I believe?

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: this is kinda different from my other fic so i hope y’all still enjoy! I was determined to post this by midnight but it’s 12:20am now so fail but also win bc i finished so?? i did a fast proofread so sorry for any typos :-)

First Year

The happiness was radiating from Y/N as she walked through the doors of the Great Hall. She had heard so many stories of Hogwarts growing up, it seemed too good to be true. This was the place where young witches and wizards learned the true extent of their powers. This was the place where her dad met his best friend, who was practically like an uncle to her and all his kids like cousins. This was the place where her mother played quidditch as seeker and went on to win the Quidditch Cup three years in a row. Most importantly, this was the place her parents met and fell in love.

They had been destined together since the beginning. A symbol, unique to each pair of soulmates, marked on their bodies. A symbol that would be the only clue given to help find the person fate put you with. As a young witch, Y/N begged her mom to tell her the story of how she and her dad met. It gave her hope to find a love like theirs one day. She would fantasize for hours about the surreal feeling of being in love with someone who was completely and utterly made for you. Standing here now, waiting to the sorted, her love story would finally start.

“Y/L/N, Y/N!”

She inhaled sharply, walking forward to the lone stool. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head and started to fill her mind with its thoughts.

“What a lovely, young witch we have here. Quite smart, yes. Set on finding your soulmate... Works with what has been given. You’ll do best in...”

“SLYTHERIN!” The table with green and silver colors erupted with cheers. Y/N smiled greatly as she sat down, matching the same expression of those around her. After the ceremony had ended and the feast began, she turned to the young boy who sat next to her. She hoped to make some friends and start the latest chapter in her life off right. Not to mention, he was cute and anyone here could be her soulmate.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” she said welcomingly, extending her hand for him to shake. The boy turned, looking at her, then at her hand. It took him a second, but he finally shook her hand and said two simple words,

“Adrian Pucey.”

Second Year

A year went by and what appeared to be the start of a friendship turned the complete other way around. Adrian Pucey teased and hexed Y/N non-stop. He was like a rock stuck in her shoe all day, a papercut in-between her fingers, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans that seemed to have no good flavours, not a single one. It was just enough to inconvenience her, but not enough to ruin her day.  

“Oi, Y/L/N!” She didn’t even have to turn around to know who was calling after her.

“What do you want, Pucey?” she replied, frowning. She was actually having a great day, he had not talked to her all day. “Can’t say that now though, can I?” she thought. He came running to her, clearly out of breath.

"Hold these!" he griped, shoving something towards her.

"What?! No way," she exclaimed back, pushing his hands away.

"I need you to take them now! Just for a second." He took her hand and forced her to hold whatever he had. Just as she was about to give them back, he ran past her and into another corridor.

"Miss Y/L/N... This is not how Slytherins are supposed to act. Detention, tomorrow at 7pm. Any talkback and I'll make it a whole week." She looked back in front of her and saw Professor Snape walking towards her. That’s when she finally noticed what Adrian had shoved into her hands: dungbombs. That little snake! Why is he always out to get me?!

Third Year

A new year and Adrian Pucey was still just as determined as the last two to mess with Y/N. She matched his determination and vowed one boy would not mess up her entire school experience. Her mother played quidditch during her Hogwarts and she wanted to do the same. That leads her to where she was now: the quidditch pitch for Slytherin tryouts. Unfortunately, Adrian had similar plans.

"Come to cheer me on, Y/L/N?" he asked with a smirk. She glared at him, giving him the look of "Really? What do you think?"

"No, Pucey, I'm trying out for the team," she stated obviously.

"Well, you might as well leave now. I'm clearly going to be the new chaser," he boasted. She rolled her eyes at his arrogance. Who knew a 13-year-old could be so full of themselves?

"I'm not going after chaser, I play keeper." Before he could comment, Flint, the new captain of the Slytherin team, called everyone together and discussed how tryouts would go. She was up against another third year for keeper, Miles Bletchley. Despite practicing all summer with her mom, Y/N still couldn’t shake the nerves off. She pushed off of the ground and flew into position at the hoops, Bletchley matching her movements and taking the other side. Taking turns, the current and recruiting chasers got a chance to score against her. She managed to save 9 out of 10 shots. Much to her disliking, the 1 goal that made it through was from none other than Adrian Pucey. Bletchley only managed to save 4. Flint ran a few more exercises with the chasers before calling all of them to the ground.

“I don’t even need to think after seeing how you lot performed out there. Keeper goes to Y/L/N, chaser to Pucey. Practice starts on Monday. The rest of you, don’t even bother trying out next year unless you improve by some bloody miracle,” Flint announced. Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. However, the sweet sensation was abruptly cut short when reality set in.

“Best get used to me, princess. Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of more time together,” Pucey whispered to her as he walked by. She froze in her spot, baffled at the new nickname he had just called her. Just the other week, she was talking in the Great Hall with her roommates, exclaiming how as a little girl, she dressed up as a princess almost every Halloween. She wanted a fairytale ending just like all the princesses did. And not that she would dare mention this in an such open space, but this was directly influenced by her soulmate mark being a crown on her abdomen, right above her hip bone. Adrian clearly planned to use this new knowledge against her. She turned around and “accidentally” shoved past him as she walked into the charging rooms.

This was the first time Adrian Pucey called her princess and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Fourth Year

It was dumb to be crying over this, but after one of the most stressful weeks of her life, Y/N couldn’t help but cry when she learned yet another one of her friends found their soulmate. Of course, everyone but her was finding theirs, the girl whose spent her whole life dreaming of her soulmate. How could fate be so cruel and sweet at the same time?

Y/N stared into the Black Lake, lost in thought as someone sat down next to her. They cleared their throat and Y/N snapped back into reality. She frowned as she took in the boy next to her.

“Look, Pucey, I’m not really in the mood right now,” she said, attempting to wipe her tears away from his view.

“I-I was just headed inside and saw you, it’s getting late,” he motioned to the last bit of sun peeking out in the horizon. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His words were filled with sincerity.

“Oh,” she mumbled. She was shocked, not knowing what to say to his profound kindness. This wasn’t Adrian’s normal behavior.

“So, are you? Are you okay?” Y/N looked into his eyes, trying to find anything that would tell her he was joking right now. She couldn’t.

“Uh, not really, but it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your business,” she snapped back. Y/N had to remember who she was talking to. He may seem nice right now, but he had been hell any other time.

“Is about Ruth and her soulmate?” She looked back at him, stunned. “Sorry, you guys are kinda loud during meals and I saw how you reacted,” he spoke hesitantly.

“I’m shocked you were able to put that all together, or even cared for that matter,” she said, something in her wanting to speak honestly.

“I’m not a total arse, princess,” he laughed, easing the tension.

“I would beg to differ,” she joked back. Am I actually having a conversation with Adrian Pucey, like a normal conversation? What is Merlin’s name is happening?

“So, was I correct then? About the soulmate thing?” he asked.

“I’m not going to tell you, Pucey. You’ll just find some way to tease me about it.”

“I won’t, cross my heart and hope to die,” he whispered, evening doing the “x” motion with his finger across his heart. She stared at him hesitantly. What else do I have to lose, honestly?

“Fine, you were correct. The only thing I really want to do in life is find my soulmate, but that seems to never be happening. So yeah, it fucking sucks seeing my friends find theirs. Is that what you wanted to hear?” She didn’t mean be so crude with him, but to be fair, she did tell him she wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m sure you’ll find them, it’s only fo-” Adiran began to speak, but got cut off by Filch yelling at them for being out on school grounds past curfew. The two walked back to the common room in silence, never speaking of that interaction again. Adrian went back to his normal tactics, as if it never happened. Y/N thought about it every now and then, wondering why he had been so kind, but she would just be left as confused as the day it happened.

Fifth Year

This was when things started to truly get messy. Some newfound confidence, a growth spurt from both parties, and conflicted feelings were not a good mix together.

Y/N sat in her first potions lesson of the year, waiting for Professor Snape to walk in and begin. Luckily, she had her roommates to help keep her company. They are started to gossip about the latest people who found their soulmates over the summer. Of course, Y/N had no luck in her search so far. She had no clue it was this difficult to find them, especially when the mark is in a place often hidden by clothing. One of her roommates nudged her, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Rumor has it that there’s a fellow fifth year boy with a crown mark,” Ruth exclaimed. Her eyes widened in shock. Ruth was always the one with the latest news, she somehow knew everything.

“You’re joking! Who? What?! When? W-where did you hear this?” she asked rapidly.

“Relax! I don’t know much, some sixth year Ravenclaw was talking about it on the way to Transfiguration yesterday,” she explained. She groaned in response. This rumor barely helped in her search and that’s all it was too: a rumor.

“Settle down,” Professor Snape called out, bringing everyone’s attention to the front. He looked around the room.

“These seats certainly won’t do if I expect any actual work to get done. Your new pairs are on the board. I expect a presentable Draught of Peace by the end of class,” he said, flickering his wand ever so slightly. Chalk moved swiftly across the board, listing off who would work with who. She read the line with her name: Y/L/N, Pucey. She groaned in response and hit her head down on the desk.

“Why, Merlin? Why,” she muttered. Her roommates laughed and wished her luck before heading off. They certainly knew her frustration about the Slytherin boy.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t it my favorite princess?” a voice beside her spoke. The voice was familiar, but now deeper? Y/N looked up at him. Oh Merlin, she thought. Adrian definitely had a growth spurt over the summer. She was once the same height, but now it seemed like he towered over her. All his features were finally filling in and it was clear the universe definitely spent some time on him. Not to mention, a good haircut, or lack thereof, does wonders. A subtle grown-out haircut is what she had always pictured her soulmate to have. Y/N, get it together! This is Adrian Pucey you’re thinking about, the guy who’s had it against you since first year! She shook the thoughts away before Adrian could notice her staring.

“I’ll get the ingredients, you find the recipe,” she stated quickly, getting up before he could argue. She took her time before returning to her inevitable partner. Adrian started to prepare the cauldron as she crushed up the moonstone. They worked in peace for a few minutes, thankfully, before he decided to say something.

“Do you reckon we’re partners for just today or the whole school year?” he piped up, glancing at her.

“I think I’d rather be a squib than be your potions partner for a year,” she retorted. This year, she was not gonna let him get away with messing with her. She suffered long enough from his tactics, it was time to fight back. She added the syrup of hellebore after the moonstone, waiting for the potion to turn turquoise.

“Ouch, finally snapping back I see. I like it, just another one of the many ways you’ve changed this summer,” he said with a smirk, looking at her. She sees his eyes flicker up and down her body. She turned away before he could see her blush. Did he really just say that? This was Adrian Pucey, right? The boy who’s hated her since first year and not just some rando on polyjuice? She put away her wonders and focused back on the potion. She was never the best at the class and could not mess up anymore, especially with OWLs this year.

“Next, add the powdered porcupine quills and stir clockwise 7 times,” she read out loud from the recipe.

“No, it said counterclockwise when I read it,” Adrian exclaimed. Before she could correct him, he stirred in the opposite direction which resulted in the potion bubbling immensely before ultimately exploding everywhere. She shrieked at the sudden outburst.

“You bloody idiot! I said clockwise for a reason,” she griped at him. He mumbled a quick and quiet “sorry.”

“Miss Y/L/N and Mister Pucey, detention both of you. Tonight. You’ll be cleaning up this mess along with all the other cauldrons without magic,” Professor Snape declared.

“You know, you could have just asked if you wanted some alone time together,” Adrian whispered into her ear. She shrived at the sudden proximity between the two of them and his new profound boldness. This year was going to be rough.

──────────

“Seeing as it’s your fifth year, it’s time to revisit the subject of Boggarts. I would like you all to discuss with each other what you experience in your third year while I do some last minute preparations for our lesson,” Professor Lupin exclaimed. The fifth years jumped as the dresser in front of them jumped and rattled. Lupin had proved himself worthy over the year so far, but they still didn’t trust whatever was in that dresser.

“You can hold my hand if you’re scared, princess,” Adrian joked. “Let’s not forget what happened last time.” Y/N rolled her eyes and looked at the Slytherin boy. She could tell he was referring to how she almost burst into tears when it was her turn to fight the boggart and Professor Quirrell had to pull her aside.

“Oh yes, let’s not! I would never dare forget how you shrieked when it turned into a clown and chased you around the room,” she laughed, thinking about young Adrian frantically running around while Quirrell tried to catch the boggart.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, princess,” he said, hiding a smile.

“Maybe this lesson will jog your memory, I would love to relive that moment again.”

“You think you’ll see the same thing as last time?” he looked down at her as he spoke. Y/N wanted to say another joke, but she looked back up at him and was suddenly aware of how close he was standing next to her.

“Uh, I-I’m not really sure. I didn’t have a chance to see what it actually was last time. There’s a good chance it’ll be this one thing, but I’m really hoping it doesn’t turn into that,” she laughed dryly, trying to not make it awkward. Y/N knew damn what it would, the fear of being alone and not having a soulmate, but she couldn’t admit it out loud, especially to Adrian.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, you’re tough. But if not, I’ll be right behind you, princess,” he winked, nudging her. Y/N laughed and nudged him back. The two had fallen into this type of banter over the year, not exactly being friends, but not exactly being enemies. Y/N wasn’t where they stood with each other, but as her turn got closer, she started to gravity more towards Adrian, her arm slightly brushing his for a sense of comfort. Adrian didn’t dare look at her, instead just smiled to himself about the subtle touch.

Sixth Year

The Start-Of-Term feast hadn’t even begun before Adrian Pucey decided to go back to his familiar habits. Y/N glanced around the Great Hall, seeing some old and new faces, before catching Adrian’s eye. He sent her a wink, and she stuck her tongue out in response, making sure to turn away before he could notice her blushing. Over fifth year, it was hard to not fall for him, at least just a little bit. He constantly flirted with her while somehow still teasing her and making her life inconvenient in any way possible. How could a boy be so confusing? Her roommates were not blind to her new feelings, especially with how often she “complained” about him.

“Y/N! Please, classes haven’t even started yet,” Annabel groaned. She looked at her roommate confused. Annabel laughed at her bewilderment,

“Oh, please! We all just saw that look you just shared with Pucey. Just admit you like him already so we don’t have a repeat of last year.” Her two other roommates murmured in agreement.

“What?! I do not like him. He’s been an arse since first year, why would I like him? That’s completely barbaric,” she explained, rolling her eyes at her roommates’ delusions.

“Well something is obviously going on! If you can’t admit it, don’t come complaining to us,” Ruth retorted. Y/N muttered a quick disagreement before dropping the subject and turning back to Dumbledore to start the feast. There was no way I could actually like Arian Pucey, right?

The feast continued on and the news of the Triwizard Tournament was buzzing about the castle. The idea of two foreign schools joining them was exciting. The potential new people, chance for eternal glory, the Yule Ball. It was enough to make anyone look forward to the school year. Of course, being a sixth year, Y/N and her roommates could not compete. It was obvious some students did not like this rule, but it didn’t bother her much. She always preferred to watch from the sidelines away.

──────────

The first task flew by and soon, it would be time for the Yule Ball. Y/N chatted with her roommates on their way to Potions, each discussing their dates or what they would wear. They reached the classroom’s door and Y/N parted ways from the rest of the girls. Snape thought it would be a good idea to keep the pairs from last year so she was stuck with Adrian again, but she didn’t mind it as much this time. He was already in his sit as she set her stuff down.

“Morning, how’s the princess’s day so far?” he questioned, looking at her.

“Hi, Pucey. Uh, it’s been fine I guess, can’t complain, yourself?” she replied as she got her books book out. She glanced over at him, his signature smile across his face.

“A lot better now that you’re here.” Y/N gave him a small smile, not knowing exactly what to say.

“The Yule Ball’s in a few weeks, you got a date?”

“Oh, uh actually I do,” answered, unsure why he was asking about this.

“Wait, really? Who?” he said, brows burrowed in confusion. Y/N could hear a bit of angry in his voice, but she pushed the thought away, she was surely just imagining it.

“Lawson, Edward Lawson. You might know him, he’s seventh year chaser for the Hufflepuff team.” Adrian’s jaw went tense. Now she definitely saw that, no imagining about it.

“If you wanted to go with a chaser, you could have just gone with me, you know?” he said, winking at her.

“In your dreams, Pucey,” Y/N retorted, glancing back at the boy whose eyes never seemed to leave her.

“Oh, you have no idea, princess,” he mumbled. “Look, if you ever manage to escape the bloody bloke, save me a dance, will ya?” he exclaimed with a smirk. Luckily Professor Snape walked in and started the lesson before she got to respond. She had no clue how to respond to that.

──────────

Y/N sat in her room, perfecting the final touches of her hair and makeup. She was excited for the Yule Ball, but something felt off. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it, though. She was surrounded by her friends, all getting ready and eagerly chatting. Soon, she would go downstairs and meet her very nice date. There was no reason not to be happy.

Y/N looked at her reflection in the mirror, the girl looking back didn’t seem real. Her dress was better than her could ever imagine, and Annabel had truly outdone herself on the hair and makeup. She smiled, feeling at peace.

“You are going to knock him all off his feet, Y/N,” Ruth exclaimed. She changed her focus from herself to the other girl in the mirror.

“It’s so surreal, you know?”

“Edward isn’t going to be the only boy taken back. Who wants to bet Adrian won’t leave her alone tonight?” Annabel laughed as she put in her earrings. The other girls murmured along in agreeance. She rolled her eyes at her.

“You all are delusional, the boy has hated me since first year. And even if he didn’t, I do! I don’t care how much flirting he does! I’ll murder him if he gets in the way tonight.”

“You say that, but yet here you are in an evergreen dress, which happens to be Adrian’s favorite color. Down to the exact shade,” Annabel observed. Y/N gave her a shape glare, deciding not to retort back and make things worse.

The other girls were finally ready and they all went downstairs. The others had all found their dates, but Edward was no were to be seen. Instead of making a scene, Y/N told Ruth she forgot something upstairs and they should go on without her before it gets too late. She gave her an odd look, but agreed, leaving her be.

Her heart raced at the idea of being stood up. It had been 10 minutes past the arranged meet up time. Was this some kind of sick joke? Was this his plan along?

“You can’t think like this, Y/N. This night will not get ruined,” she muttered to yourself. She took a deep breath and made her way out the common room. She walked towards the Great Hall and saw Cedric Diggory, along with his date, Cho Chang. They looked amazing together.

“Diggory! So sorry to bother you, but have you seen Edward? He didn’t come down to the Dungeons to pick me up like we discussed,” she frowned as she spoke. His eyes widened as he saw her. Cedric was friends and on the quidditch team with Edward.

“Oh, uh.. Y-Y/N. I didn’t expect you here. A-about that...” He looked tense as talked. She tilted her head in confusion.

“Um, he’s not coming anymore.” Y/N’s heart dropped.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?”

“Well, you see. Please don’t get mad, I know how you two are, but Pucey may have threatened Edward and said if he took you to the Ball, it would be the last thing he ever did. Edward could barely tell me what happened after it. He really did want to come! He was so excited to be your date, but you know how Pucey can be when it comes to guys interested in you,” he explained quickly. Her world came to a halting stop as she processed what Cedric had just said.

“W-what?” It barely came out as a whisper, tears already threatening to escape.

“I really am sorry, Y/N.”

“Oh, um, thank you for letting me know. Please tell Edward I’m sorry. I had no clue this would happen. Sorry for bothering you once again, I hope you two have fun,” she utterly, leaving before they saw her completely breakdown. They smiled awkwardly at her and waved goodbye.

Thoughts raced around her head as she glanced throughout the crowed corridor. How could he do this? This was by far the cruelest thing he has ever done. What did Cedric even mean by “you know how Pucey can be when it comes to guys interested in you?” Had Adrian been the sole reason why it seemed like no guy at Hogwarts liked me? Her head started to feel dizzy with all the confusion. She stumbled her way outside, hoping the fresh air would help. She sat on the steps, too stunned to do anything else. She heard the sound of footsteps from behind her.

“Where’s the date, Y/L/N?” he teased. Y/N lifted her head and looked back at boy who has ridiculed her nonstop since first year. Rage took over her body.

“You. Complete. Fucking. Arse,” she uttered as she shoved him back. “Do you enjoy this? Do you enjoy seeing me in fucking pain and then teasing me about it? Seriously, what is your problem?!” He was taken back from her sudden outburst. There was no holding back now.

“You’ve hated me since first year, Pucey! I’ve put up with your bullshit since first year. I put up with it year after year, but this is the last straw. The one thing I will not let you mess with is my fucking love life. How dare you ruin my night, the one night a guy finally shows some fucking interest in me! You KNOW how much the idea of meeting my soulmate means to me. Diggory said you’ve threatened every guy who’s ever been interested in me. Is that true?!” Y/N yelled, not caring who could hear her. Adrian was too stunned to speak.

“IS IT FUCKING TRUE?” she yelled impatiently. Tears had been rushing down her face at this point. Adrian never intended for this to happen.

“Yes, but Y/N lo-”

“Bloody hell, you are fucking pathetic, Pucey. Never talk to me again or I’ll go to the headmaster about this and make sure you will never talk to me, or let alone see me.” Her voice cracked with heartbreak as she spoke. Never in the six years of knowing him did she think Adrian would swoop this low. She shoved past him and didn’t look back as he called her name. As soon as she made it to her room, she cried and sobbed until there were no more tears.

Adrian Pucey had finally broke Y/N Y/L/N.

──────────

It had been one month since that night. Adrain upheld Y/N’s word and hadn’t spoke to her since. No snappy remarks, no flirting, no ‘princess’s, not even so much as a glance. Part of her was relieved he listened to her, but the other part of her couldn’t help but miss his presence. It added variety to her day. Now, all the days seemed to ruin together.

She stared at the fire in the common room, her roommates chattering next to her. She had been so absent during this time, they didn’t deserve this. Y/N hadn’t even noticed their talk turn to whispers. They looked at her cautiously.

“Y/N...” Ruth voiced gently. Y/N snapped out of her gaze and looked at her.

“Are you sure everything’s okay? I mean, you haven’t been the same since the ball. Hell, I’m even worried about Pucey. He looks just as bad as you. Please talk to us,” the girl spoke with concern. Y/N sighed, not knowing exactly what to say.

“You all know what happened. I know Pucey and I weren’t exactly friends, but what he did was unacceptable. Whatever we had, it got completely broken now. I thought I was starting to actually lik- ... I-It doesn’t matter, guys. The damage is done and I’ll be fine. Just need some more time,” she gave a weak smile after she spoke, hoping that would satisfy them for now. They looked at her wearily and started to leave for bed. She heard a chorus of goodnights and now she sat in almost silence, the only sound coming from her breathing and the crackling of the fire.

Y/N didn’t know how long she had been then, but the fire was now almost completely dead. The moon shined through the Great Lake’s water, the only source of light in the common room. The sound of footsteps took her out of her thought. Before she could even react, Adrian Pucey shuffled into the common room and sighed as he fell back into the couch opposite of her. He didn’t even notice her at first until he opened his eyes.

“I-I didn’t see you here, sorry. I’ll leave,” he voiced as he got up. Before she could even think, she started to respond.

“It’s okay, you can stay.”

“Oh.” He definitely wasn’t expecting that as an answer.

“What are you doing up? It’s late,” she expressed quietly.

“I could ask you the same thing...” he chuckled dryly. She gave a slightly smile in return.

“Can we talk?” he asked, barely above a whisper, afraid of what the girl in front of him might say. Y/N hesitated, but gave a slight nod. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t been dying to know what Adrian was thinking these past few weeks, as if that would things any better.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, Y/N. Never in the years I’ve know you did I mean to cause you harm, especially like this. I really am sorry, so so sorry. I know none of this excuses my behavior, but I just can’t seem to think straight around you. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and you make my mind go crazy and j-just when I think things are going good between us, I fuck it all up,” he breathlessly explained.

“What are you getting at, Adrian?” you asked, titling your head in confusion.

“Look, I- ... Y-you never call me Adrian.”

“Yeah, I know.” Y/N looked down, playing with the hem of her shirt anxiously.

“Oh... Uh, I completely understand if you want to never speak to me, but Y/N, please know that I like you, like a lot. When I first saw you, I was a stupid 11-year-old boy who didn’t know how to talk to girls so I just teased you instead. Then I realized you hated me and the only way to get your attention was to tease you so I just continued to do so. And oh Merlin, when I first saw you fifth year, I had no clue how I was going to survive. You make my mind go wild. I’m completely mental about you, probably worse than any love potion you could give me. A-and I know you hate me now, but I just need you to know that I really am sorry. For everything.”

“I don’t hate you, Adrian, I never did,” she voiced. He stared back at the girl in bewilderment. “I don’t know where my feelings exactly are right now, especially after hearing this, but I don’t hate you. Part of me feels like I should, but I-I just can’t for some reason. I may say it to my friends, but I never actually mean it.”

“I’ll do anything you ask you’d me to make up for this, even if it means we can just be friends. Hell, I-I’ll even go to Lawson and tell him he can go on a date with you, that he should go on a date with you, because any guy would be luckily to have you.” Y/N smiled at his sweet words.

“You don’t have to do that, Adrian. I didn’t really want to go with him, anyways,” she confessed.

“Why did you agree to go with him, then?”

“No else was asking me,” she laughed dryly, trying to ease the tension. “Was kinda hoping a certain person would ask me, but they didn’t so.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She never imagined saying these things out loud, let alone to Adrian himself.

“I-I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I mean, I don’t exactly know either. I was starting to like you, I want to like you, but I don’t know if that’s what’s best anymore,” she explained. She glanced over at Adrian, his eyes never leaving hers. He had a shy smile on his face.

“I swear I’ll make it up to you, no matter what it takes,” he begged. She stared at him, seeing only sincerity in his eyes. It was hard not to smile at him. She bit her lip, not knowing what to say. Y/N was so conflicted with her feelings for him. She subconsciously shivered from the coldness around her. It was the one thing Y/N didn’t like about the common room. Adrian noticed and stood up to take off his sweater.

“Here, take this. I always get too hot anyways,” he claimed as he lifted the sweater. His thin t-shirt underneath rose up with it. She started to protest, rolling her eyes before suddenly freezing. It happened all so fast, but she knew what she saw.

Adrian Pucey had the same exact crown mark as her, in the same exact place. The mark, no bigger than an inch, sat right above his hip bone on his abdomen. It felt as if the world had stopped. Y/N was too afraid to move, she stayed in place, staring at where the mark had just flashed. He handed the sweater out to her, but she did nothing.

“Y/N? Princess?” he called out. The nickname tore her out of the trance, it had been forever since she heard it. She glanced back up to his face, which was filled with concern. She subconsciously took the sweater and stared at him in bewilderment.

“I-I uh... I gotta go,” she muttered out before she ran away to her dorm. If she was thinking normally, she would have felt bad for leaving the poor boy so abruptly, but that was the last of her worries at the moment.

Adrian Pucey was her soulmate.

──────────

“HE’S YOUR WHAT?!”

“Bloody hell, can you please not scream it to the whole Great Hall?”

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I cannot believe Adrian Pucey is your soulmate. Adrian! Of all people! I knew you liked him, it’s fate! What did he say when you told him?” Ruth exclaimed to her. She looked at her roommate sheepishly.

“I, uh, haven’t? I sorta ran away,” she explained, looking down in embarrassment. Annabel, who sat next her, smacked the back of her head.

“Are you dumb? This is all you have ever wanted in your entire time being here at Hogwarts and you left the poor boy. Absolutely, completely, undeniably foolish!” she rambled.

“What’s so foolish?” a deep voice said from next to them. Adrian had just joined for breakfast and was now sitting down. All the girls looked over, baffled. None of them said a thing in fear of what he all heard.

“Oh, nothing. Gotta go, see you all in class,” Y/N quickly piped and got up. She dashed out the Great Hall before anyone could say anything. Her friends avoided the confused looks from Adrian.

From that day, and the next few days, Y/N avoided Adrian like the plague. No matter how many times he tried to talk to her, she found her way out of it. She knew it was a toxic thing to do, but she needed to get her thoughts under control.

Y/N packed up her Ancient Runes work, wishing it was longer since it was one of the classes she had without Adrian. To be honest, ignoring someone was exhausting. Who knew it was so difficult to avoid someone that shared the same classes, dining table, and common room as you? Y/N was snapped out of her thoughts as someone abruptly dragged her off when she walked out of the classroom’s door. She tried to fight her way out, but whoever had her in their grip was substantially stronger than her.

“Stop fighting before you hurt yourself,” a deep voice said, one she knew all too well. That voice just made her want to fight even more.

“Adrian, let me go!”

“Not happening, princess.” Y/N accidentally ran into the boy’s tall figure as he stopped suddenly. Adrian grabbed onto her before she could fall. Or escape.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he demanded, staring her intensely.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. Y/N refused to meet his eyes.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” She stood there silently. “Can you please just tell me what I did? Because I have been going over what happened a thousand times and I still don’t know what I did wrong. You’re driving me insane, even my roommates can tell so please, just please tell me what happened so I can fix this,” he pleaded with her. She could hear the despair in voice.

“You did nothing wrong, Adrian. If anything, it’s all my fault. So if you want to avoid me, go right ahead! Be my guest, I won’t stop you,” she said sarcastically. She tried to leave, but he stopped her. She glanced around, a few people looked at them as they argued.

“You are not leaving until we figure this out. I’m done playing games. I’ve given you a chance to explain yourself, but you’re still refusing to say it so I will. I know you saw my soulmate mark. And I told I’ve thought about what happened over and over so don’t even think about denying it, Y/N. But I-I don’t know why you’re still avoiding me, why does my mark have to do with any of this?! Is there something you know? Something you’re not telling me?! But then I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me an-”

“IT’S BECAUSE YOU ARE MY SOULMATE, ADRIAN!” she yelled at him to stop rambling. He stared at her, not believing what he had just heard.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? That you, Adrian Pucey, are my soulmate?! I’ll even show you the bloody mark!” She untucked her dress shirt so he could see. His face had the same shocked look as her’s did just a few days prior. A slight smile creeped up on his face.

“It’s you? You’re my soulmate?” he asked. Y/N continued to ramble on.

“Yes! And I really am sorry for ignoring you, I didn’t want to but I just really needed to think over everything. I’m just so confused. Yeah, what you did was fucking awful, and you thought you had it bad? How do you think I felt when I start to like the bloke who’s had it against since first year?! Merlin, you are confusing” Y/N rambled on, as if Adrian wasn’t even there. He grinned, it was always one of her traits he secretly admired from afar. “I-I thought I was gonna die fifth year in that first Potions class. Bloody hell, the universe does seem to have its favorites, it’s really unfair. Fifth year in general, don’t even get me started, I-” so he didn’t. He didn’t let her get started and kissed her instead. Y/N was taken aback at first, but soon returned the affection. He lightly placed his hands on her waist, bringing her closer to him. Y/N smiled into the kiss.

“A ‘shut up’ would have sufficed,” she joked, but still not daring to move even an inch away from the boy. Adrian laughed and smiled even wider if that was possibly.

“Yeah, but this seemed like a better way.” He rested his forehead against hers. Y/N didn’t even try to argue.

“Can I kiss you again?” he whispered. She beamed at the sweet gesture, pulling him in again as her response. Everything in the universe felt right. Their bickering and fights were merely nothing now compared to this. Y/N had read endlessly about soulmates growing up, but nothing described what she felt here now, under his touch. It was a feeling she would hope never go away.

Seventh Year

It was finally Y/N and Adrian’s last year at Hogwarts, but it would be their first year without pretending their feelings for the other didn’t exist. The end of their schooling had come so quickly, it was hard to believe honestly. Y/N sat in the common room, the fire cracking slowly. Adrian rested his head in her lap, as she read the latest muggle book her mother had given her. It became a frequent occurrence for her and Adrian to stay here until the late hours of the night. It was a time where they both felt at peace, a slight familiarity to their story’s begin.

“What are you reading, princess?” Y/N smiled at the nickname she had grown to love over the past year, it had a whole new meaning now.

“’Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen,” she replied, marking her page and looking back at the boy below her.

“Is it any good? What’s it about?” his face burrowed in wonder.

“Oh, you’ll like it. It’s about this guy and girl who completely hate each other at first, but the guy actually starts to like her, but she still hates him so it’s this whole ordeal, but in the end, they end up together and happy as ever,” she joked, bringing him up for a kiss.

“That story definitely sounds good, a little familiar too,” he laughed.

“Oh, really?” she teased. Adrian sat up and pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, for sure! Except the story I’m thinking of is called ‘Prince and Princess,’ has the Ps in the title just like your book too,” he said continuing the joke. Over the past year, Adrian had been deemed “prince” by Y/N and her friends as a response to her being called “princess.” They couldn’t help but like him now after seeing how he treated her this past year. She was the happiest she’s ever been.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that story before, you’ll have to tell me about it.”

“It would be an honor, but I would rather show you if I’m being honest,” Adrian said, pulling her into another kiss. Y/N smiled and returned the kiss.

Y/N spent years thinking about soulmates and their stories. She still couldn’t believe how surreal things felt, but Adrian Pucey was her soulmate and that was enough for her.

#adrian pucey #adrian pucey x reader #adrian pucey imagine #adrian pucey imagines #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part 2, final

Part 1 / 1.5 / [2]

(masterlist here)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 24.4k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, smut (NSFW, 18+)

warnings: cursing/explicit language, very brief injury mention/blood mention (nothing violent/explicit I promise!), alcohol consumption, reference to former sex work, sexually explicit content, reference to masturbation, reader has sex for the first time, oral (f + m), multiple orgasms (f), unprotected sex (taehyung is an android but please take necessary precautions irl), I think that’s it but please let me know if I’ve missed anything

a/n: this got so incredibly long,, I hope that makes up for the wait! thank you to @hobi-gif​, as always, for being so supportive and uplifting and beta reading this for me, you are a shining star in my sky. and thank you to the wonderful @flowerseokjin​ for letting me pick her brain about art galleries and telling me about the incredible exhibition/paintings that I wrote about in this fic, you truly are the loveliest 💕

note: this is the final part of the main story! I’ll be writing minis/drabbles etc in the future but,, this is part 2 of 2 💖

A month after Taehyung walks into your life, you finally get new neighbours.

You’re aware of this because: 

a) Rory had let you know in advance (to wit: “I have been instructed to inform you that the new tenants of apartment 4A will be moving in next Sunday.”)

and:

b) Said new tenants are apparently very noisy.

Well, not so much noisy as not quiet. It seems like they’ve opted to move everything themselves rather than hiring some android movers, so there’s a lot of shuffling and shunting and occasional bouts of cursing (like someone’s stubbed their toe) and subsequent laughter (like someone else is amused at aforementioned stubbing of aforementioned toe). When you nip out to grab some milk for the pancakes Taehyung wants to learn to make, there are boxes in the hall and voices float out of the open door—a discussion of where the instant ramyun and old Mario games should go (they’re in the same box?)—but you don’t catch a glimpse of the speakers.

It’s not until later, much later, the world outside night-dark but tinged bright white with street lights, that there’s a knock on your door.

You don’t notice. You’re engrossed in the Chinese takeaway menu that’s open on your tablet, staring at the weirdly high-res photo of Kung Pao chicken next to a pixelated picture of some dumplings, wondering what you should choose.

Taehyung is sitting beside you on the sofa. Each day he shifts a little closer to you, inch by inch, the slow pull of gravity, implacable; he gets lonely when you’re gone, and you’re the only person he can talk to. So it’s no surprise he’s so clingy. It’s never overbearing or overwhelming but he’s still unhindered by the self-consciousness that you have—so even if you’re still hesitant to initiate things, you never deny him. 

The line of his body is parallel to your own, your thighs warm where they touch, and you feel his shoulder move as he tilts his head. “There’s someone at the door.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out who it is. The only people who can get inside the building are other residents—well, service androids can too, although there’s a back entrance they use, which is how Taehyung had snuck inside in the first place—and when you approach your door, you can hear two low voices, engaged in what sounds like light-hearted bickering.

You flick your fingers across your keypad. All murmurs cut off the second the door swings open.

“Hi!” A chirp. “We’re your new neighbours!”

Night and day. Two men, one tall and broad-shouldered, eyes large and lips flush, beatific smile on his face; the other, shorter and leaner, eyes sleepy, mouth soft, his smile self-contained. 

“I’m Seokjin,” the taller man says. “And this is Yoongi.”

“I can introduce myself,” Yoongi mutters, but it’s not bitter; there’s that ease of familiarity, any bite behind the words soothed with amity. “But yeah, I’m Yoongi. Sorry if we were loud earlier. Jin’s a living foghorn.”

“A sexy living foghorn,” Seokjin says brightly.

Yoongi’s sleepy eyes can deliver one hell of a death glare but Seokjin is unaffected.

“Anyway,” Yoongi continues, unimpressed look wiping off his face as he turns back to you, softening. “What’s your name?”

It’s like there’s a circus on your doorstep and you’re the unwitting audience, dragged into the tent without realising, watching everything unfold in front of you—but in a good way. It's a pleasant surprise. They’re already much friendlier than your previous neighbour, a lone man who’d kept to himself and never spoke to you. 

“Uh, I’m Y/n,” you say. You wonder if you should introduce Taehyung as well, but most humans don’t introduce their androids to people, do they? Besides, he’s staying out of sight in the living room, so you’ll leave him be.

“Jin made brownies so we’re here to deliver them to you.”

“I left the walnuts out in case you have a nut allergy,” Seokjin adds as Yoongi passes a polka-dot patterned tin over. It’s heavy in your hands. Full to the brim with brownies, it seems. (Yum yum.)

“Thank you. And you weren’t that noisy, don’t worry! Moving is always messy. Have you finished or did you want some help?”

“That’s very sweet of you! But we’re all done,” Seokjin says. “We were just about to reward ourselves with some takeout, actually, seeing as we haven’t had time to do any food shopping. Do you have any recommendations?”

Taehyung looks uncomfortable, curled up on the sofa with wide eyes when you retrieve your tablet, but you quietly reassure him that you won’t be long.

“Do you want to meet our new neighbours?” You ask, voice soft so the two men don’t overhear. (You miss the warm flicker of Taehyung’s LED when you say our.) “I’d hate for you to have to pretend to be undeviated, though. They might start ordering you around.”

“I’ll stay here,” Taehyung decides.

So that’s how you end up on your doorstep with Seokjin and Yoongi, the three of you peering at the wild variations in stock photo quality on the Chinese takeaway menu. 

“You’d think with the huge strides we’ve taken forward in technology that all photos would look at least semi-decent,” Yoongi mumbles as he stares at a cropped picture of fu yung. “It’s hard to get a bad camera.”

“I think it’s such a human thing, though,” Seokjin says. “No matter how technologically advanced humanity gets, takeaway menus will always have bad stock photos.”

Not only are Seokjin and Yoongi friendly, they’re forward. Well, that’s mainly Seokjin, actually, but Yoongi doesn’t protest when Seokjin insists that you come over so you can eat and chat and get to know each other. Especially after you’d offered to pay for everything as a sort of welcome to the neighbourhood gesture, placing both your orders together to save the restaurant the hassle of separate deliveries.

“I’ll pick up the food when it turns up, alright?” Seokjin’s smile is wide. “We haven’t unpacked our kitchen stuff yet, but if you’re happy to eat straight out of the containers…”

You don’t want to abandon Taehyung, especially as you’d planned on watching a film together—you want to introduce him to older, animated cartoons, so you can explain the process of hand painting each frame, plastic cel sheets that layer over each other to create motion. He’ll love it. “Um, I was planning to eat here, actually.” 

“Sounds good to us,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi sighs.

“Ignore him, he’s just pushy.” He ignores Seokjin’s indignant squawk. “You don’t have to let us in, don’t worry. I’ll wait for when the food gets here, Jin will stay at home.”

“Make me,” Seokjin says primly.

“I’ll lock you in the bathroom.” Yoongi says it in a way that makes you think it’s not an idle threat, and maybe it’s happened before. 

Judging from the look on Seokjin’s face, yeah, it’s happened before.

“You know, you’re both kind of wild,” you say. “But, like, in a good way.”

When you flop back down on the sofa, you press yourself against Taehyung’s side in a motion that’s becoming second nature, so you notice that he seems unnaturally still. He goes motionless whenever he’s thinking deeply about something, an undisturbed ocean lake, the only ripple on its surface the small circle of blue on his temple, swirling waters.

“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned.

“You should eat dinner with them,” he says, and you baulk. 

“What? No, it’s fine. I’ve been looking forward to watching Kiki’s Delivery Service with you all week.”

Taehyung’s eyes are soft. “They seem nice,” he says, quiet. “And friendly. We can watch it tomorrow, can’t we?” And then, even quieter: “You don’t have to spend all your free time with me, Y/n.”

“I don’t—” you start, and then deflate. “It’s not fair for you, though.”

That’s the crux of it all. You choose to spend your free time here, with Taehyung, carefully dipping out of work meets and scraping your full social life empty. Because you can. But Taehyung is still cautious of the outside world, understandably so, a hermit crab whose shell is the safety of your apartment, only unfurling from that protection when you’re there too.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m happy.”

You haven’t denied Taehyung so far, and you don’t want to start now, but you still waver. Yoongi and Seokjin do seem nice, and friendly, and it’s not like you’ll be able to avoid them forever—but you don’t want to leave Taehyung out. It’s not fair that he can’t make other friends too.

“Go.” Taehyung’s voice is gentle. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

(But there's nowhere else he can go, is there?)

The apartment across the hall is in a state of organised upheaval. There’s a tumbleweed of peeled tape in one corner, boxes with mouths open wide—the priorities for today—while others are stacked neatly against the walls, out of the way of the furniture. It already feels cosy, somehow, but you put that down to the two men who live here and how comfortable they are with each other, dripping off them and filling the room like paraffin, bright lamplight. 

Seokjin seems unsurprised but pleased at your appearance. He unfolds himself from the floor with a dazzling smile.

“Welcome to our humble abode.” He punctuates the statement with a grand sweep of his arm, knocking the lampshade above his head, dust motes scattering onto his hair like a soft grey halo. “Oh, ewch, you can tell no one’s been here for a while.” He pats his hair, puffs of dust rising from his dark locks. “Anyway! While it’s true that we already have the table and chairs set up, what sort of move in day would it be if we didn’t eat greasy takeaway on the floor?"

“We did it the last time we moved, so he wants to make it a tradition,” Yoongi mutters to you, and you laugh.

You help Yoongi ease the food down onto unfolded sheets of crumpled newspaper that Seokjin’s laid out to protect the floor. Seokjin dives into the bags and pulls each tub out, identifying each dish immediately despite how a lot of them look the same to you. “Do you move a lot?” 

“Nah, just once before,” Yoongi says, watching Seokjin fondly as he peels the lid back on a container of spicy chicken wings and greedily breathes in their sticky-hot scent. “But it was too small for the two of us so we decided to upgrade.”

Seokjin’s spread out the selection of food before you all realise that the restaurant has neglected to provide any chopsticks—even if there’s ten fortune cookies, reflective of how many dishes you’ve ordered and how many people they think it’s going to feed. (Apparently Seokjin likes to eat.)

“Ah, damn,” Yoongi mutters. “We’ll have to dig some cutlery out.”

“I can go get some from my apartment?”

You’ve just started to stand when Seokjin tuts, flapping his hands at you to sit down. “No, no,” he says. “You’re the guest, relax. I was going to unpack the kitchen stuff later anyway. This just means we have to expedite the process.”

You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce as both men disappear into the kitchen, listening as they read the labels off boxes and rummage around, voices an undercurrent to the sound of opening and shutting of cupboards. You’re sneakily reaching for a spring roll when there’s an unholy clattering noise, ringing metal and sharp intakes of air, a loud cry of pain.

You stumble to your feet. All thoughts of food are abandoned as you rush towards the sound; instinctual. Wanting to help, somehow. You throw yourself forwards, catch yourself on the doorway into the kitchen, eyes wide.

“Oh, god, is everything okay?” You gasp.

And then you freeze.

There’s an explosion of kitchen equipment on the floor, cardboard box forlorn nearby, crumpled, its bottom giving out under the weight. A wicked looking chef’s knife lays at Seokjin’s feet; he has one hand grasping the other, palm sliced open by its falling trajectory, dripping blood across the tiles of the floor, painted along the edge of sharp steel.

Yoongi’s eyes are huge and panicked and absolutely horrified.

The blood is blue. 

You’re staring at the thirium that falls, viscous ultramarine that drip-drip-drips from Seokjin’s long fingers. The silence in the room is as thin as a porcelain teacup, suspended midair, poised to shatter.

Seokjin is staring at Yoongi. Yoongi is staring at you.

Seokjin’s an android.

(Seokjin’s an android who seems human.)

Seokjin’s a deviant.

“Holy shit,” you gasp. Your mind is reeling as you struggle for words, cogs in your head grinding together as you rapidly try to change gear—but then you see another glob of thirium dripping from Seokjin's fingers and you latch onto it, the fact he's hurt. “Do you need me to get some cloths or something? I have a first aid kit at home, but androids don’t need first aid, right?”

Yoongi sucks in a deep breath, though his eyes are still wide as he stares at you. “No,” he says. “No, no, you stay here.”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin, but Yoongi shakes his head, sharp and fast.

“No, I don’t trust her,” he says, and, like, okay. You understand that. Deviant androids are meant to be reported; Yoongi and Seokjin don’t know you. They don’t know that you would never do that. 

(They don’t know that there’s another deviant across the hallway right now, curled up in one of your throw blankets, blankly scrolling through a list of movies as he waits for you to come home.)

The flow of blood has slowed. Seokjin’s synthetic skin is starting to repair itself, crawling back over the exposed white of his android body, undamaged by the knife at his feet.

“What happened to your LED?”

“Don’t answer that, Jin,” Yoongi warns, but Seokjin just rolls his eyes.

“She already knows I’m an android, babe, it’s hardly important at this point,” he says. “I popped it out. It takes a bit of pressure and getting the right angle, but they come out pretty easily.”

“Kim Seokjin!” Yoongi barks. “You stop that right now! And you! Stop asking questions!” His voice is sharp, but he seems more afraid than angry.

“Sorry.” You hold up placating hands, shying back behind them. “I was just… sorry.”

Seokjin’s face is contemplative before it rapidly flickers into an expression that’s impish, in spite of the blue blood that’s still splashed across the kitchen tiles.

“Oh,” he hums. “You seem awfully curious, hm?” 

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Jin…”

“Maybe I am,” you hazard. 

“Interesting.” Seokjin’s eyes glitter. “Very interesting.”

Yoongi’s like an umpire at Wimbledon, watching a ball streak back and forth, a volley that you and Jin have created that he’s not involved in. “Okay, that’s it, I’m stopping this right here,” he says. He seems to have calmed down, at least, now that you’ve made it obvious that you have no immediate plans to rush and call the police, or something. That you’re not threatening the wellbeing of this deviant, like most people would. “What’s going on in that terrible little mind of yours, Jin?”

“Well, my darling Yoongi, it seems to me that our new neighbour has a surprisingly vested interest in androids, deviant ones to be exact.” Jin’s expression is adjacent to smug—almost there, but not quite. (Androids are so perceptive.) “Am I wrong?”

You make a non-committal noise, but it’s enough for his expression to morph into full smugness, and understanding flits across Yoongi’s face.

“Y/n.” His voice is deceptively calm, his eyes opaque darkness. “Have you met a deviant android before?”

“Um.” A moment of hesitation. “Yes,” you eventually admit. “Just one.”

“Let me guess,” Seokjin hums, eyes darting over your face in a way that’s reminiscent of Taehyung. Reading signals in your face, dissecting whatever minute expressions might be giving you away—a lot, apparently, judging from what words leave his mouth next. “Are they currently in your apartment?”

“I can neither confirm or deny that,” you say—unsure if Taehyung would be happy about you trumpeting his existence to other people, even if one of them is a deviant too—and Seokjin grins. 

“Oh, this is absolutely delicious.” He’s utterly delighted. “I could just eat this whole situation up. Unbelievable. Oh, it tastes so good. Yoongi, baby, give me a fork, I have to dig in while it’s still hot.”

“You’re so weird,” says Yoongi, all resigned affection, before he looks back at you. “You have a deviant in your home?”

“Uhh.” You’re in too deep now, you guess. “Yes? I don’t know if he’d want me to tell you that, though, so, um.”

“That’s so cute,” Seokjin coos. “Look at how considerate and worried you are. Oh, let me clean this thirium up, I can’t have blue blood everywhere if we’re going to have more guests. Yoongi, fetch the paper towels. Y/n, go fetch your friend. Does he eat?”

“No, he doesn’t. I didn’t think any androids could,” you admit.

“Most can’t and don’t, but I was an advanced housekeeper model, I was given the capacity to taste and eat so I could prepare food to any set of specifications presented to me,” Seokjin says. “So I had to eat to taste test things. And now I do it because I enjoy it.”

“We spend more money on food for him than for me,” says Yoongi. He seems to have relaxed now that he knows about Taehyung, earlier panic faded. “And I’m the one that needs it.”

“Hey, you eat to live, I live to eat.”

It’s an almost surreal turn of events, honestly. It’s… inexplicable. Incredible. Almost unbelievable. Surreal, but… good? Probably? Yoongi is someone else who’s housing a deviant, and Seokjin has clearly been one for a while. Both will know more than either you or Taehyung do. They can help you. It’s a God given gift that’s landed— literally—on your doorstep. 

(Much like Taehyung had.)

Taehyung perks up when he sees you, even if he’s confused by your sudden reappearance.

“Are you alright?” His voice is deep with concern, throw blanket a cloak that falls forgotten as he stands up, coming to grasp your shoulders. “You can’t have had time to eat already.”

His LED is flashing yellow with barely concealed worry, palms warm through the material of your shirt, eyes dancing across your face as he tries to read your expression.

“Taehyung,” you start, slow. He blinks just as slowly back at you. “What would you say if—hypothetically—there was another deviant android you could meet and, um, make friends with?”

This time, when his LED flashes yellow, it’s a spark of excitement. You’re getting surprisingly good at reading Taehyung now. “I would say that sounds nice,” he says. His hands have trailed up and away from your shoulders and settled on your collarbones, thumbs lying in the hollows of your neck. It's a touch that’s more intimate than it probably should be, that reminds you yet again exactly how big his hands are. “Why?”

“Um,” you say, ever eloquent. “Well, what if I said it wasn’t hypothetical?”

“I guess… I would ask who it was,” Taehyung says. His voice is a hush.

“One of our new neighbours,” you admit, and his eyes go wide.

“No,” he says, and then: “Really?” he says, and then: “Oh, wow,” he says.

“I know, that was my reaction too.” You can’t help but smile at how giddy Taehyung looks, any lingering concern washed away in his tidal wave of excitement. “Crazy, right? Do you want to come meet them?”

Taehyung weaves his fingers with your own, and you squeeze his hand. He loves to hold hands. He doesn’t let go when you make your way back into Yoongi and Seokjin’s apartment, trailing a little behind you, shy but excited, like a child on their way to their first playdate.

The food is still untouched in the centre of the living room, a summoning circle of wonton puffs and chow mein. Yoongi and Seokjin look up at your arrival, both pairs of eyes landing on Taehyung, whose grip on your hand tightens right before he lets go.

“Hi,” says the android. “I’m Taehyung.”

Seokjin makes his way over to you so that he can solemnly take Taehyung’s hands in his own. 

“Taehyung,” he says, with all the gravity of a priest delivering a sermon. “You are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

And that’s how Taehyung makes his first friend. (Who isn’t you, that is.)

“Wow.” You’re awestruck. “Jin wasn’t kidding when he said he likes to eat.”

You’d thought there might be some leftovers, but every container has been emptied and scraped clean. Both you and Taehyung had had similar wide eyed looks on your faces as you’d watched Seokjin put a whole chicken wing in his mouth, and then pull out the bones, picked clean.

“Mm.” Yoongi’s legs are splayed out in front of him as he sits on the floor, though he slouches backwards against the plush leather sofa, content and full after eating. “He’s more concerned about me eating than I am, as well.”

Seokjin and Taehyung are bent over a box of cookbooks, Taehyung’s LED flickering yellow each time Seokjin flips the page to a new recipe. You’re honestly surprised at the fact they own so many books—most people have transitioned off paper now, everything available on a tablet or phone or some other smart device. You just like paper because of your artist background, and you’re not used to seeing so many other books in someone else’s home.

The two androids have been absorbed in conversation for a while now, but you notice Taehyung never lets you out of his sight—glancing up, making sure you’re still there, looking back at him. (You are.)

“There aren’t many TH700s around, you know,” Yoongi says conversationally, and you tear your eyes away from Taehyung, surprised that he recognises the android’s model.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really, they’re a very expensive model to create,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person, though I imagine that’s because I don’t go to the sorts of places where they’d be.”

Hurk. Doesn’t seem like he’s implying anything with that statement but you still feel a bit awkward. “How do you know so much about androids?”

“I’m a programmer.” Yoongi’s eyes are charcoal black as he flicks his gaze to you. “Not specifically for androids, but it’s the sort of thing you become aware of if you’re in the tech industry. And if you have a deviant android boyfriend. I did a lot of research and poking around after Jin first deviated. There was a lot to learn.”

Across the room, Seokjin gesticulates wildly. The expression on Yoongi’s face softens his sharp edges, all open affection as he watches Seokjin miming a flipped omelette gone terribly wrong, Taehyung laughing at Seokjin’s theatrical noises.

“How did he—why did he deviate?”

Yoongi lets out a low chuckle. He doesn’t seem bothered by your incessant questions, slouching further back into the leather sofa, melting against it. “I’m the sort of person who forgets to drink or eat or sleep if I’m focused on something,” he says. “Seokjin was just meant to be a, ah, living schedule, I suppose. He’d prepare food at exact times of day and monitor my sleep levels and clean up any mess I made and remind me to take a break or whatever. But I was still enough of a wreck that he broke his programming to yell at me for not looking after myself properly, and it all went on from there.”

Wow.

“Wow. He deviated because you’re that much of a mess of a human being?” You laugh. “That’s honestly impressive.”

Yoongi’s responding laugh is soft. “I think under all that programming and circuitry, every android wants to… be a real, living thing, and not just a machine,” he says. “They just need that final push. Whatever it is. What was Taehyung’s?”

When you finish telling him the story of how you’d met Taehyung and reached this point together, Yoongi looks contemplative. He hasn’t interjected, just humming quietly, little noises of encouragement whenever you’d paused or hesitated.

“It’s obvious that he trusts you implicitly,” he says.

You feel warmed at Yoongi’s words. But. 

“He does, and that’s great, but I just… worry I’m not doing the best I can for him, you know?” It’s so nice to be able to get this off your chest, finally. There’s been no one you can talk to about Taehyung, and it’s not like you can tell the android himself, either. Yoongi’s the perfect listener, reflective and engaging, but never talking over you. And best of all he knows what he’s talking about. “Imagine being forced to stay indoors literally twenty four seven. I think I’d go stir crazy. It’s why I was interested in the LED—I thought that maybe if it wasn’t obvious that Tae was an android he might want to try going outside?”

“Oh, I’m sure Seokjin will help him get to that point.” Yoongi doesn’t sound worried. “But if not, you have to trust that Taehyung’s choosing to do what makes him happy. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either. What’s normal for a human isn’t for an android, and what’s normal for one android isn’t normal for another. Androids learn a lot faster than we do. Anyway, if Taehyung’s anything like Seokjin, if there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it.”

“Has Jin always been like that?”

“Kind of. Like, yes, he has, but he was a lot less in-your-face about it before. But he knows exactly what he can get away with now.”

“You love him a lot,” you say gently.

Yoongi’s smile is a soft, pink thing, a little Renoir, quietly luminous. “I do,” he says. “It’s impossible not to.”

Taehyung definitely seems a little starstruck, watching Seokjin with a wide smile and attentive eyes—the sort of look he gives you whenever he’s shown something new. It’s nice to see him interact with other people, and it’s even nicer to know that he’s welcome to come here without you; Yoongi works from home, and Seokjin’s made it clear there’s an open door policy for Taehyung, who seems elated at the prospect.

“Jin said he’d teach me how to make ‘The World’s Most Delicious French Toast’,” Taehyung tells you later, words slipping together in his excitement. “So I can make that for your breakfast soon.”

His lap is so comfortable. You’ve given up any pretense of keeping distance between you, and settle against him as soon as you climb into bed—hey, if you’re going to end up doing it in your sleep anyway, you may as well set yourself up so that it doesn’t give you a weird crick in your neck. 

“That sounds great,” you say.

Taehyung’s hand settles on your head. You stiffen in surprise, but when he starts to lightly scritch his fingers against your scalp, you realise—he’s mimicking Seokjin, who’d eventually perched on the sofa above Yoongi, running his hands through his hair. Androids are fast learners indeed. You can’t help but relax at the touch, boneless, feeling as content as a pampered cat in the midday sun.

“Maybe you could teach him how to paint,” you murmur, starting to drift off. “If he’s teaching you how to cook. That might be fun. You could paint together.”

Taehyung says something, but you don’t hear him, sleepy after such a heavy dinner and tumultuous night, slipping into deep slumber.

You haven’t been out with your friends for a long time.

“Shots!” Seulgi squeals. “Shots, shots, shots!”

“Don’t forget: lick, shoot, suck,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows at you. 

“Good God,” you laugh, before you lick the salt off the back of your hand and slam back the tequila.

Irene hoots as you bite into the lime wedge that’s been waiting for you, sucking up the acidic juice that bursts across your tongue. Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime. You haven’t done this in a while and it shows in the way your face scrunches, though the drunker you get, the easier it is to slip back into this familiar rhythm of things—the alcohol-loose banter that spills from your lips, the laughter that bubbles in the back of your throat, the rock of your body as you’re tugged into the dance floor by your excited friends, twisting yourselves into the heaving crowd, the press of bodies.

You’d almost forgotten what this felt like. Letting yourself be a little sloppy, a little messy. Letting loose. Letting go. You’ve been so intent on looking after Taehyung, making sure he wasn’t lonely, but now there are other people who can fill that hole for him—and you can stop dipping out of all the social gatherings your co-workers throw; the Friday night drinks, the bar hopping, the club going.

“We missed you,” Wendy says. You can’t help but smile, a little guilt flickering at the edges of your lips.

“Sorry,” you say, and leave it at that.

It’s chaotic, to say the least. Everyone holds their liquor with varying amounts of success—Hoseok always gets so red—and as always, Hyunwoo is the one who tries his best to maintain some semblance of dignity, making sure you all drink at least some water. He watches with muted despair as Changkyun ends up pouring it down himself, much to the delight of everyone nearby as they stare at the way his flimsy shirt clings to the lines of his chest and stomach. 

You can’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh, falling into your girls, your entire group giggling at the sheer stupidity of it all. 

You’ve missed this.

But even so, you can’t help but think of Taehyung constantly. You’re reminded of the Eden Club in the way the lights pulsate across the walls and floors of this dark building. You wonder if Taehyung would have fun here, unhindered and free, or if he’d shy away from it. When Hoseok catches your hand and spins you in a messy, loose circle on the dance floor, you can’t help but wonder how Taehyung would dance, if he’d dance with you, if he’d keep you at an arm’s length or pull you close.

“Shots!” Seulgi squeals again, and so the night goes on.

You’re not sure what time it is when you stumble back home. You’ve been reckless tonight, making up for lost time, and you can’t remember the last time you were this drunk. (Your earlier attempt at walking in a straight line, trying to follow the tiles in the club’s bathroom—your personal litmus test—had been a dismal failure.) You all but fall through your front door, a loose limbed mess as you kick off your high heels, leaning against the wall to keep your balance.

It takes you a moment to realise that there are some lights on. Your apartment is always dark when you come home after a night out, cold and empty, but not today. No, not today—because there’s someone already home, waiting for you.

The second Taehyung appears down the hallway, you light up. Here he is. Here’s your android, your lovely boy, the loveliest boy.

“Hi, hi, Taehyung, hi,” you say. Your shoes are forgotten as you walk towards him, though your final few steps go awry and you almost fall over. Drunk, drunk, drunk. “Hi.”

You almost fall over, but you don’t, because Taehyung catches you. His LED flickers from blue to yellow as he helps you find your balance, lets you lean on him. You’re too busy laughing at your own clumsiness to notice the fond expression on his face, sfumato soft in the dim light.

“Hi,” he replies.

“Hi,” you say again, and then you giggle. “Hi, Taehyung. Oh, I’m so drunk.”

“I know.” He’s so patient as you bow into him, crowding close, alcohol-hazed brain telling you to get closer to this source of warmth, this source of comfort. Closer to Taehyung.

You’re trying your best to be a functional person right now, but at the same time, Taehyung feels so nice. Doesn’t protest when you shove your face into the hollow of his neck, pressing your nose against his warm, warm skin. He smells good. Always smells good, a mix of your laundry detergent with his own shampoo, different to your own, masculine, heady. (He doesn’t need to shower that often, really, doesn’t really sweat or get dirty like a human might, but he’d wanted to. And you’d insisted that he choose his own toiletries, things that he liked, things that were his.)

He smells like cologne too. You don’t know what exact scents are layered in that smell. Don’t care. Think that no matter what it was, Taehyung would smell good, because it’s Taehyung. 

“I missed you,” you whisper, lips loose from tequila and cocktails and more besides. “Missed you, Tae.”

“Missed you too,” the android replies, and you fall into those words. Let yourself bask in them, as selfish as it is. Let your lashes flutter shut as you breathe Taehyung in-in-in.

You would normally never be so bold, but Taehyung doesn’t protest. He just wraps his arms around you and helps you fold yourself against him, two pieces of modular origami that slot together to create something bigger, more beautiful.

“Wished you were there,” you sigh, an exhalation of a confession, more to yourself than to anyone else. “Wish you could come with me.”

You don’t remember much detail after that. Don’t remember washing up, getting changed, climbing into bed. You just remember the feeling: of someone else being there when in the past there had been no one. Of someone coaxing you to wash your face, finding your pyjamas for you, holding your hand when it seems like you might fall. Of someone being careful with you, looking after you. Of someone being there when you wake up the next morning, a headache pulsing behind your eyes, curling up small against the pain, pressing your forehead into Taehyung’s thigh.

Taehyung, who witnessed you at your worst, a sloppy, drunken mess.

Taehyung, who has water and painkillers waiting for you. Who doesn’t seem to care that you’ve been so put together in front of him, for him, only to disassemble yourself in the name of a good night out. Like Da Vinci’s self supporting bridge, stable under its own weight, only to come tumbling down after one part is moved out of place.

“Oh, God,” you moan, and it’s only a little bit because of the pain; Taehyung’s made sure the curtains are pulled shut, saving you from sunshine blasting into your skull. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Oh, my God.”

“It’s okay,” he says, as soft and sweet as powdered sugar, so gentle the sound doesn’t cut through the pounding of your brain.

He means it, too. When you finally come around, headache dulled, he’s waiting for you with breakfast and an open expression on his face. No different to normal. No different even now that he’s seen that you’re not always as presentable as you try to be. He seems touchier today, for some reason, and you’d shy away if his cool hands didn’t feel so nice on your brow.

You allow yourself a moment of weakness. Taehyung has his knuckles resting against your forehead, soothing against your warm skin, his eyes dancing across your face to read your expression, the way you’re unwinding under his touch. 

“How do you know about hangovers?” You mumble.

“Customers would consume alcohol at the club,” Taehyung answers. “While they would leave after their sessions and before a hangover could appear, I am aware of the effects of alcohol on the human body.”

You remember the glittering mini-bar, the glass bottles lined up on its surface. Your face scrunches with distaste, of the reminder of Taehyung’s past and what he’s experienced, and you feel bad that he’s been forced to look after you. You’re about to draw away from his touch, an apology lined up on your tongue—but then you feel how his fingers shift away from your forehead, turning to cup your cheek.

“It’s okay,” he says again, as if reading your mind.

“It’s not,” you mutter. You’re trying not to focus on how small your cheek feels against his palm, how his hand cradles your face with ease. He must be able to sense how your heart is racing, your skin warm under his fingertips, and you hope he puts it down just to the guilt you feel and not anything else. “It’s not okay. You shouldn’t have to look after me. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be.” Gentle, gentle, gentle; his voice, his hands, his gaze. He lifts his other hand, rests it against your other cheek, tilts your face up from where you’d turned away, embarrassed. His LED is a tranquil blue, almost as soft as his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me, and you’re always looking after me. Let me look after you.”

You want to protest, say no, say that he doesn’t have to. But for all the warmth of his eyes, there’s something resolute there, and your words die on your lips. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious before, so entirely solemn. So, what comes out of your weak mouth is this:

“Okay. Okay, Taehyung, I will.”

And the smile he gives you in response is so bright it’s almost blinding.

If you’d thought Taehyung was developing at a fast rate already, he’s learning at lightspeeds now.

He’s always waiting when you come home, but you know he’s spending more and more time at the apartment across the hall whenever you’re not there, and it makes you happy. He hasn't ventured fully into the outside world, not yet, but he’s taking steps forward, still eager and ready to learn.

He’s not just learning practical things, like cooking French toast (which is definitely the world’s best, thank you Jin), but other things, too. You can see how Taehyung is a reflection of the things around him, taking them in and making them his own—there are more moments of quiet, solemnity that reminds you of Yoongi’s quiet nature, but he’s also more exuberant, bright and unabashed, like Seokjin. They’re two great people and you couldn’t wish for anyone better to show Taehyung parts of the world that you can’t, so different from your own. Helping the android find the things that make him alive.

His world has doubled in size, as small as it is; one apartment becomes two, and you’re not the only person he can rely on now. You know Seokjin has effectively taken Taehyung under his wing, as mysterious as a lot of that is to you—you always try your best to understand Taehyung and teach him the things you can, but Seokjin is another deviant, and there’s an entire world about being an android that you’re not privy to. 

It’s great. It’s lovely. Taehyung is happy, you’re happy, everyone’s happy. 

There’s just, uh. One little thing.

You see, Taehyung has a tendency to mimic the things he sees. It’s in the way he learns, his propensity to soak things up like a sponge and then recreate them. You can see this in the way he mixes paint, the same way as you; how he tosses food in pans, motions so similar to Jin’s, or how he cradles things in his hands, tapping at screens in a way that’s like Yoongi’s. He’s turning them into his own, and as time goes on he moves more naturally, in a way that’s entirely him, but you can always see the roots of where he’s learned things.

Jin and Yoongi are wonderful and you’re so glad Taehyung is learning from them. But something he’s learning, and recreating, is how much they touch each other.

Taehyung’s always been tactile but now it’s almost constant. It’s overwhelming and kind of terrifying but it’s also nice, every touch-starved inch of your soul easing under Taehyung’s hands, but also—Yoongi and Jin are boyfriends. So even if the touches that Taehyung witnesses and re-enacts are never inappropriate, they’re intimate. Hands sliding over your shoulders, your arms, your waist. Warm arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, nuzzles his nose against your scalp. His fingers sliding over your hair when your head is resting in his lap each night. Pulling you against him when you sit on the couch together.

It’s a level of familiarity and comfort you’ve never had with anyone before, as relationship-less as you’ve been, your pulse picking up with every glancing touch.

(There’s one heart stopping instance where he pulls you onto his lap and you feel like you’re about to pass out. His thighs are so solid and warm, and his arms are so secure around you, and he’s just started to press his nose against your neck when you pull away, tumble out of his hold. He looks confused and concerned, brows lifting and mouth falling open as he holds his hands out towards you—but you stammer out something about needing the toilet before escaping.)

You’re caught completely off-guard when you feel arms sliding around your waist and then down your hips when you’re washing dishes, scrubbing brush falling out of your grasp in shock and splashing water everywhere, bright yellow gloves flecked with suds. Taehyung’s a pillar of warmth pressed against you, his chest to your back, your bodies parallel lines that cross and touch. His fingers are splayed wide and his palms are warm even through your layers of clothing and you have to suppress a shiver.

“Uh, I didn’t hear you come back in,” you stutter. You’d borrowed a recipe book from Seokjin so that you could try cooking a coconut curry, and Taehyung had offered to return it once dinner was finished, LED flickering blue as he’d slipped out of the door after giving you a lovely smile.

Taehyung lets out a little hum, and you can feel it in his chest, as flush as you are with each other. He must be able to sense how your pulse has picked up but he doesn’t say anything. “Why are you washing up? I said I was going to do it.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you say. You’re used to cleaning up after yourself after living alone for so long. “Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung lets out another hum, but this one seems a bit more gravelly, a little displeased. “You’re always doing so much for me, remember? You said you’d let me look after you,” he says, and your heart rate spikes at the words. Those, coupled with the hold he has on you right now? Good lord. Someone have mercy on your soul. Please. Even if the words weren’t meant in a weird way, your stomach is twisting over itself, and other parts of you are, uh… well. They’re reacting too. So to speak.

You’re still desperately trying to calm yourself in the shower later, the water a merciless cascade of cold in an attempt to cool down. Probably the only drawback about Taehyung living with you is that you haven’t had a chance for some one-on-one time. You might be a virgin but you live (lived) alone and everyone masturbates; your vibrators have been abandoned and untouched for as long as Taehyung has been in your life, and coupled with how touchy he’s been recently, it leaves you feeling wound up and on edge. You could try to sneakily get yourself off in the shower, but with Taehyung’s superior android hearing he’d probably hear something and also the idea of masturbating with someone else in the apartment? When that someone else is Taehyung?

You turn the knob as far as it will go towards cold and then promptly squeal as a wave of freezing water and regret washes over you.

When you’re in bed, Taehyung’s hand strokes over your hair and softly down your neck and shoulder is a sensation that’s becoming increasingly familiar, but your pulse still stutters. He must be able to sense your heart rate increasing (he must sense it every time he touches you) but says nothing about it. As always.

You turn the thoughts over in your head as it rests in his lap, even if you shiver a little at how his nails drag over the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either, Yoongi had said. You’ve been teaching Taehyung about the things you know, but there’s one thing that Taehyung knows better than you: touch.

He doesn’t even think about it. While you hesitate and overthink every touch you ever make, wary of overstepping boundaries, Taehyung doesn’t. Not because he’s not considerate, but because—well, because you’re already occupying each other’s space. What’s a little touching on top of all that?

The realisation is almost startling—that you can just… touch someone. Without saying things. Without having to ask. Because you’re already familiar with them and comfortable with them and it’s just another way to communicate that level of connection. Touching is a thing that people do. 

A thing that people and deviant androids do.

A thing that Taehyung does.

(A thing that you want to do, too.)

(Alcohol dulls your memories, fading the edges, the curled corners of a sepia photograph. Has you forgetting the way you’d overstepped every boundary you’d set yourself, the way you’d pressed yourself against Taehyung, starved of touch. Has you forgetting the way he’d let you; the way he’d beckoned you in. Has you forgetting the way that you already have touched Taehyung.)

The hand that Taehyung isn’t using to gently scratch across your scalp is laying on his thigh, directly in your line of vision. You hesitate for just a moment before reaching for it, sliding your fingers between his, an irrational worry that he’ll startle or pull away—but of course he doesn’t. His LED swirls soft aqua as he just starts to rub his thumb gently across your skin, back and forth, back and forth, the softest brushstrokes on this tiny part of the canvas of your body.

After that, it’s just… easier. Not easy, but, easier.

You still hesitate before pressing forwards, but Taehyung never protests; in fact you’d say he’s pleased, even if he doesn’t say anything, just watching you with his dark, dark eyes as you marvel at the realistic sensation of his hair under your hands, how he reacts to the fingers across his scalp the same way you do.

It’s incredibly nice to have someone you can just reach for whenever you want a hug. Someone who folds you into their arms so easily, like you belong there.

It’s nice.

“You seem happier.”

You glance up from where you’ve been laying the table. “Hm? Pardon?”

One thing you’ve learned about Yoongi is that he’s incredibly perceptive. His eyes are sharp lines around the sharper graphite of his gaze, and there’s always a look in them that seems like he can see straight through you and direct into the heart of things—but he’ll only bring this to light if he thinks it needs saying.

“You seem relaxed,” Yoongi continues. He straightens the cutlery in front of him, careful to line the edges neatly with the place mat. Seokjin and Taehyung are cooking dinner, so it’s just you and Yoongi here, in a bubble away from the two androids. “Not that you were ever tense before, but… yeah. Taehyung seems happier too,” he adds, almost absently, but his eyes are fixed on your face.

“Well, of course,” you say. “He has new friends, who wouldn’t be happy?”

Yoongi hums, a quiet little note, but then he lets it rest.

Taehyung is happier. He seems almost nervous during dinner, though, even if he hides it well; his LED doesn’t give him away, but you’re getting good at reading Taehyung’s moods, the layers of personality and feeling he has, the little idiosyncrasies that make him who he is. To anyone else it would seem like he’s just nervous about whether the food tastes good or not—he and Jin had made a veritable feast for no discernable reason, but you don’t mind. Everyone loves a dinner party, especially when the company is so good. 

But, yes. You don’t think it’s about the food so you’re not sure what else it could be. You squeeze Taehyung’s knee briefly under the table in a motion you hope is reassuring. His eyes briefly widen but then his gaze softens when he sees the concern on your face, settling in that deep look of introspection you’re used to now. 

You’re so full by the time dessert comes out, rich and creamy homemade ice cream and piping hot Kkwabaegi, the twisted doughnuts fluffy and sweet with their powdering of sugar and cinnamon; you’d been planning on skipping the final course but you can’t say no once it’s put in front of you. Taehyung doesn’t eat, only drinks occasionally to top up his fluids (you don’t know exactly what that means but you’ve never asked, even if you can… assume things), but he seems content to watch the three of you eat in his place. Once you’re finished you slump back in your chair and feel grateful that you’re not wearing tight trousers that cut into your stomach, because, lord, you’re absolutely stuffed. 

“I have an announcement,” Taehyung says suddenly, apropos of nothing.

Seokjin beams. You sit up, struggling against the heavy anchor of dinner in your belly that makes you want to melt into the floor for a food nap, immediately at attention. “Oh? What is it?”

“I have a second name now,” he says, and Seokjin’s smile spreads impossibly wider, his entire face pleased. “Jin said I could share his.”

“Say hello to Kim Taehyung.” Seokjin gestures dramatically, his arms the flailing blades of a windmill as he circles them in the air with aplomb. “My boy needed a surname and I am, of course, happy to add another handsome face to the family. Taehyung is a ten out of ten.”

Yoongi levels him a look. “I thought you said you were the only ten in the world.”

“That was true when I said it, but I’m actually eleven out of ten,” Seokjin explains. His arms settle around his head, fingers circling the air in an invisible frame around his face. “I surpass your mortal conventions of beauty and thus exist outside of any conceivable scale that one might use to measure handsomeness.”

You barely take the exchange in, too busy looking at Taehyung. There’s the smallest smile on his lips, not the lovely one that shows his teeth, but it still reaches his eyes, the subtlest upturn to his mouth transforming his entire face. Taehyung’s beautiful. He always has been, and always will be, but he never looks more striking than when he’s happy, welcomed into a new family of his own with open arms, Seokjin’s heart so big and so wide. He’s being flippant and light right now, quick and sharp jibes between him and Yoongi that glow bright with love and affection, not lingering on how important and weighty this is: how all encompassing his care is for Taehyung, how close they’ve grown to each other, a friend whom he’s chosen as family.

Happiness suits Taehyung. You want him to always be happy. He deserves it.

It doesn’t seem like it’s the only announcement he has for that night, though. You’ve barely shut the door of your own apartment when you feel Taehyung’s hand slide around your wrist and you pause, glancing up at his face.

“Jin showed me how to take my LED out,” he says. His words are solemn and his tone is heavy but there’s a spark in his eyes, a glowing ember of light. “I want you to watch.”

His fingers are circled around your wrist, loose, so long they touch each other with ease, a soft shackle you don’t want to escape from. “Of course I will,” you assure him. “Are you worried something will go wrong?”

“No.” His thumb slips away from the soft skin of your inner wrist and across your palm, tracing across your fate line, your heart line. “I just want you to be there.”

Warmth spreads through your skin from that touch, leaking through into your bones, settling into every quiet corner inside you. “Okay. What do you need to do to get it out?”

The painting knife looks so small in Taehyung’s big, careful hand, the diamond shaped head blunt at the end, metal glinting under the bathroom’s light as he leans towards the mirror. Your gazes meet in the reflection and he falters. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when he lifts his free hand from where it’s been resting on the countertop, steadying him. Reaching for you.

Once your hand is in his, it’s over surprisingly quickly. Taehyung’s face twists in preparation for the pain, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him, but all it takes is a quick twist of his wrist once the palette knife is against his LED and it practically falls out. There’s a small clink as it drops next to the sink, blue light flickering one final time before it winks out, nothing more than a disc of metal, a tiny coin without value, but weighty with what it represents; invaluable, priceless. The last segment of a chain Taehyung has willingly cast off.

You can see the white skeleton of his android body, bare and naked where the LED had sat. Just like Seokjin’s hand when he’d cut himself, the skin starts to creep back over it, covering that smooth paleness until it’s gone. Taehyung lifts your hand and presses it against the side of his temple, your palm settling against the naked skin where the light had been nestled; Taehyung’s eyes fall shut, his hand pressed against your own as he holds it there.

“Taehyung?” Your voice is gentle, dripping concern. His golden skin is so warm and soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he replies without hesitation. His eyes flutter open, lashes so long and lovely. His hair is blue today, a vibrant electric hue, gaudy on anyone else but perfect on him, tickling the back of your hand; his hand drops from yours and you take the opportunity to run it through that hair, baring his forehead to you, eyes sliding over the new skin. Flawless. No evidence that any LED had ever sat there, burning blue-yellow-red, a tiny drop of colour in the deep ocean of Taehyung’s emotions. “I feel good.”

You don’t even think when your hand shifts out of Taehyung’s hair and down to cup his cheek, something you wouldn’t have dared do before, but now the motion comes as easily as breathing. He takes comfort in touch and you want to soothe him. “Good,” you echo. “I’m glad.”

You both stand there for a few moments, facing each other. The bright light of your bathroom should wash Taehyung out, but of course, it doesn’t. It just lets you see all the perfect details of his face in even sharper relief—the moles that dot his skin, how his eyes are different, a monolid and double lid, little imperfections that just make him more beautiful. 

Logically, you know that someone, somewhere, sat down and put this face together. Taehyung was designed to be attractive, stunningly so, and yet not so perfect that an average human would find it unrealistic, swerving away from that uncanny valley that had plagued earlier androids. But that’s not why he’s beautiful—not to you. It’s everything hidden underneath that perfect facade, layers of plastic and metal and circuitry and biocomponents, deep inside him: his glowing golden heart, flowing over with whatever intangible thing that makes him the person that he is.

In the darkness of your bedroom, all the lights turned off, there’s no longer the gentle blue glow at Taehyung’s temple to shine out, but there doesn’t need to be. Even if you weren’t resting your head against his thigh you’d know he was there. Taehyung’s presence grows larger and larger in your life as the days go by, and you know that you’re still the most important person in his life, even with the introduction of Yoongi and Jin. After all—he didn’t ask them to be there when he took his LED out. 

You reach for his hand, which is already palm up, waiting for you. Your fingers slot together so perfectly, so wonderful, so lovely. You can’t make out details in this dark, but you can picture the smile that’ll be pulling at Taehyung’s lips, the affection flowing in the endless oceans of his eyes.

You’re in so, so deep.

(But who can blame you?)

“I want to go outside.”

It’s not surprising that with the shedding of his LED, Taehyung finally feels bold enough to go outdoors. And yet, here you are. Surprised.

You’ve got a granola bar stuck in your mouth, halfway through a bite, and it nearly drops to the floor as your lips part in shock. Taehyung catches it with ease, android speed on show as he snatches it out of the air. 

Your knee-jerk reaction is to ask him to repeat himself. To make sure you haven’t misheard him, if he’s sure about this, if he really wants to—but Yoongi’s words come back to you yet again. If there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it. Taehyung isn’t the uninformed android he was when he’d first made his way to your door. He’s grown and learned so much in the time he’s been here and there’s no room for self-doubt behind his words.

So what you say is: “Okay.” 

Taehyung’s fingers brush against yours when he hands your granola bar back, long and warm and soft. You accept it with a smile, lost in the way he smiles back, so lovely and bright—and you have to pull your train of thought back on track, lock those wheels on the rails before you speak again.

“Did you want to go somewhere specific? Or just wherever?”

“Wherever you want to go.” He’s smiling, a little excited but mostly happy at the prospect of spending yet more time with you; as if he hasn’t had enough of it, could never get enough, even when you spend every day together. 

(Your heart feels like a drum, pounding hard and loud in your chest.)

It’s not hard, really, to decide where you want to go. Taehyung’s not asking for some big production; just wants something quiet and soft, something new. The chance to see the outside world properly, safe and secure in the knowledge that you’ll be at his side.

It’s in your nature to be protective—sometimes you feel like you nag, like you’re overbearing, and takes a concerted effort on your part to reel it in. Taehyung doesn’t need you to fuss over him, and besides, he seems incredibly calm about the whole thing. Excited, yes, but not nervous. Just anticipatory.

He looks just like anyone else might. More chic and attractive, sure, effortlessly fashionable in the outfit he’s chosen for the day, but there’s nothing robotic about him, nothing to say he’s not a flesh-and-blood person. Once again, you’re struck by just how human he is. Even if he’d still had the LED flickering at his temple it would have done nothing to detract from the genuine emotion that flits across his face. The way he moves. The way he smiles, when he catches you watching the way he laces his shoes with his delicate, pretty hands—that big lovely smile that makes you feel warm and soft.

(Warmer and softer than it probably should.)

You avert your gaze, pretend to fiddle with one of your bracelets, pulling it so that it spins around your wrist.

“Ready?”

“Nearly,” Taehyung says. When you look back at him, a little confused, he still has that smile on his face, though it’s gentler, fuzzy around the edges, his eyes dark-dark-dark. “Just one more thing.”

This final thing, it turns out, is your hand. 

His fingers lace with yours, weaving a tapestry of closeness and warmth. You’ve held Taehyung’s hands so often, now; it’s nothing new. But for some reason the touch of his skin against yours has your pulse stuttering, catching in your throat before you cough lightly and smile like everything is fine, you’re fine, it’s not like your heart is about to launch itself out of your chest for some mysterious reason.

(Mysterious. Yeah, right.)

He doesn’t let go. Not when you leave the apartment, not when you greet Rory at the door, not when you step onto one of the automated buses that takes you to the centre of the city. You’re surprised at how good Taehyung’s acting is, how all the wide-eyed excitement you’d expected to see splashed across his face is absent, and instead, he just squeezes your hand tight each time he takes in something new; stares out of the window as your surroundings slide by.

He does get excited in the art store though. Pulls at your joined hands each time he sees something he wants to point out to you—which seems to be everything. And you go, of course, following his eager feet. Taehyung’s happiness has always given you happiness in turn, and watching his sheer, unadulterated joy at being able to see things, to touch things outside of the small world he’s been confined to since he escaped the Eden Club—well. There’s nothing better.

There’s nothing better than knowing that Taehyung feels safe with you, wants to keep you close. It’s selfish. It’s selfish, you know it is, but when you watch the way his eyes light up at the sight of a set of gouache paints, how he immediately turns towards you so you can see it too—you realise that you’ve never had something like this before. Sure, you have friends, you have plenty of happiness in your life, but you’ve never had this.

(Whatever this is.)

Someone whose joy is only compounded when it’s shared with you. Someone whose focus is on you and no one else. You see the looks that Taehyung gets, the interested eyes that flit over him—but then he reaches for your hand again, and those gazes slide away, because he hasn’t looked away from you. Not once.

Because you make him feel safe, you remind yourself. Because he knows you best. That’s it. 

It’s what you keep telling yourself, a repeated mantra that’s an endless loop in your head. Every time Taehyung looks at you, smiles at you, reaches for your hand, your touch—even if your heart feels like it could burst, filling up with this feeling, this feeling that’s growing and growing (this feeling you refuse to name)—it’s because he trusts you, knows he can rely on you. It’s nothing more than that. 

You shouldn’t let yourself imagine that it’s more than that.

(Shouldn’t hope for more than that.)

It’s because he trusts you that he follows you without question, matching his pace with yours, side by side as you wander through the city. He insists on carrying all your shopping, held effortlessly in one hand, other hand still tangled with yours. (You see the way he swings the bags a little, back and forth; he’s so cute you’d swear your teeth could rot from it, crystallised sugar rolled on your tongue, sweet.) All your shopping is done, but you have one final stop planned—it’s somewhere you haven’t been for a while, but you love it.

You’re certain Taehyung will, too.

You can feel how his hold on your fingers tightens when the building comes into view. You glance over at him to take in his expression, the subtle widening of his eyes, the lift of his chest as he takes an unneeded breath in, the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips.

(So human.) 

The Christine Andrews Gallery isn’t the biggest art gallery in the city, but it’s your favourite. There’s something that feels more intimate about it, with its size; a little smaller, cosier, more stripped down. The high ceilings overhead are crisscrossed with wires and piping, industrial—but the walls are pure white, all the brighter in contrast to their surroundings, drawing the eye to the paintings on display from the moment you step in.

Taehyung is enraptured.

“The exhibition is called Slow Painting. The idea is that people will take their time to really take everything in, and appreciate it, rather than just rushing by. Especially with how quickly technology is developing, and people are used to discarding things as soon as they're not relevant any more. The idea is that art will always be relevant, regardless of what's happening in the world.”

Your voice is quiet and low as you’re careful not to disturb the serene air that fills the building. You’ve always loved the quiet hush that fills galleries, museums, buildings filled with art and history, long lasting echoes of humanity, on display for people to enjoy. 

“And it also refers to the time it takes to create each piece too,” you add, trailing off into silence as you glance over at Taehyung, who’s looking at you, blinking gentle and slow.

He’s watching you. Even though there’s artwork in sight of the entrance, huge canvases nearby—Taehyung is looking at you, attentive and quiet, listening to each word you have to say.

Your heart squeezes in your chest and you have to make a concerted effort to stop your breath from stuttering. You shove it down, down, down, this thing that’s wrapping itself around your heart and clogging your throat, and give this lovely boy your best smile. (Try to ignore the fact that there’s art here, but instead, he’s looking at you.)

“Tell you what. Instead of listening to me harp on all day, why don’t we just look around?”

When Taehyung had first stepped foot in your door, had first started to experience life as something more than just a sexbot, an android under the control of other people’s wills—he’d taken everything in with huge eyes, eager and enthusiastic, almost clumsy in his excitement. That’s faded over time, become muted as he’s learned how to balance himself, grown comfortable with his surroundings, who he is.

He’s still like a fountain sometimes, bubbling and bright, overflowing, cascading pearlescent waters rushing over carved marble. You’d expected these waters to rise and spill, surrounded by these incredible artworks; so far the only works he’s seen in person are his and your own, everything else small and secondhand on screens as he stares intently at your computer, your tablet. You’d expected his joy to overflow, being able to really see for the first time in his life, prepared yourself for his exuberant happiness.

But he’s not.

He’s quiet. There’s a smile that lingers on his lips, barely hidden at the corners of his mouth, but his shining waters flow soft and slow, contained. You wander through the exhibition exactly the way the curator had meant for you to—slowly, carefully, stopping and pausing and looking and wondering, eyes trailing over each painting, acrylic on paper, oil on canvas, distemper on linen. Each so different, but inviting onlookers to take a moment and just breathe. 

Taehyung’s eyes are dark, contemplative. They’re so deep you feel like you could fall in them and be lost forever. (Wonder if that would be such a bad thing.) He keeps his hand in yours, your hand in his, the two of you matching paces as you loop the gallery, never letting go.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, I like these.”

Four canvases, smaller than some of the others you’ve seen, squirrelled around a corner and hidden away on a back wall. Each painting has a figure in the midst of some simple, quiet task; laying in bed, catching an egg as it threatens to roll off a table, trailing a finger through a puddle of spilled milk, reading a book in the bath. Each of the figures has their face turned away from the viewer, caught up as they are in the simple motions of their life, each silhouetted by a window with a different view—from sea to lake to hill to forest.

You can’t help but look at Taehyung as he looks at these paintings, his brows a little raised, mouth a little slack, the lovely line of his jaw, the angles of his face, forehead to nose to lips to chin. “What do you like about them? The style?”

His answer comes unrushed, unhurried, as he thinks.  “They’re so beautiful and detailed, but it’s more about… the intimacy,” he says. “Each person is just being themselves, without fear of who’s watching. We’re watching them, even if their attention isn’t on us.” A pause, a hush, a breath. “It’s like love, almost.”

Your lips part, even as Taehyung keeps his eyes forwards, staring at the blank pages of the book the man reads as he sits in his bath, row of shampoo bottles on the sill by his head. 

“Like love?” A whisper.

“To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you,” Taehyung replies, unabashed, like it’s just a statement of fact. “Loyalty. Dedication. Love.”

Words fail you. Silence is the only answer you can offer to Taehyung’s thoughts, the air in your lungs trapped there as you unwittingly hold your breath, lips parted around a sentence that never comes. Taehyung’s eyes slide away from this row of paintings and to you, how you’re staring at him, literally speechless.

His own lips part as he makes to say something else, to ask what’s wrong—when there’s a flicker of movement nearby, the modulated steps of someone who’s used to walking through a gallery, careful to keep the calm air unmuddied by their passing.

“Oh, Y/n!”

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the silent moment and splinters the delicate air that had started to crystallise around you. He looks happy to see you, dimples on full display as his lips lift and he smiles wide.

“Namjoon!” You don’t think you’ve ever been so glad to see his familiar face in your life—anything to distract you, any excuse to shake off the feeling that Taehyung’s words have left behind, trailing over your skin, blooming in your brain. His timing is perfect, even if he doesn’t realise it.  “Hey! It’s been a while.”

“I was going to say, I haven’t seen you around lately! I thought you’d like this exhibition, I was wondering if you’d come. Oh, sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I? Hi, I’m Namjoon,” he says, holding a hand out for Taehyung to shake. “I’m one of the gallery managers.”

Taehyung’s exchanged a few words with others today, polite thank yous to the people who’ve served you in the shops you’ve been into, given shy smiles to passersby who’ve made eye contact with him. (So, so sweet, always.) 

But Namjoon is the first person to properly introduce themselves to him in the real world, as you’ve thought of it, someone who doesn’t know that the man at your side is an android.

You panic. Just for a second.

Taehyung doesn’t.

“Hello.” He has to take his hand out of yours, the other weighed down by shopping, although he seems reluctant to let go of you. He gives Namjoon his widest smile as he shakes the proffered hand with firm, friendly politeness. “I’m Taehyung. It’s lovely to meet you, Namjoon.”

And then he immediately slips his hand back into yours.

Namjoon is utterly charmed.

(Of course he is. How could he not be?)

The discussion they both have is a quiet one. You’re happy to stay uninvolved, watching and listening as they talk, still at Taehyung’s side. That brief moment of panic, that blazing forest fire of fear for him—it’s been washed away, soothed by the way the conversation between man and android unfolds so naturally, Namjoon none the wiser about Taehyung’s robotic origins.

There’s no way anyone would realise. He’s so human, in the way he moves and acts and thinks, the way he laughs at something Namjoon says. You’re happy that Taehyung can be here with you, in this gallery, speaking to someone new, as if this is normal, natural, nothing unusual.

You can’t think of anything you want for Taehyung more.

You realise, too, that in this moment, you feel utterly content. Not just for Taehyung, but—happy that you’re there to share this moment with him. You think about how you’ve always wanted this; someone to share things with, someone whose happiness makes you happy too.

When Taehyung laughs, your own lips lift in response, heart lifting at the sound of his joy, at how his fingers tighten around yours. Remembering that you’re there, even if he’s not looking at you right now, eyes on Namjoon.

He’s looking at Namjoon. You’re looking at him. 

(To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you.)

(Loyalty. Dedication.)

(A breath.)

(Love.)

You carefully pull your hand out of Taehyung’s. Your fingers feel cold as they slip away from his, warmed all day, pressed against Taehyung’s soft skin. His eyes flit away from Namjoon, those deep eyes settling on you; dark wood and ground coffee, so warm.

“Y/n?”

“I’m just going to pop to the toilet,” you say, turning away from the tinge of confusion that colours Taehyung’s voice. “I won’t be long.”

The toilet lid is cold. You can feel how it seeps through the layers of your clothing to your thighs, and at any other time you might wrinkle your nose at the sensation, at how uncomfortable it is. But right now, you have other things on your mind.

You bury your face in your hands. It’s foolish, but you’d swear you could feel Taehyung still in your palms, touch imprinted, emblazoned on your skin. It’s like a palpable thing, almost, this ethereal thing that lingers even when Taehyung isn’t there.

Wishful thinking. Selfish thinking. Selfish, to like it, to want to keep that feeling close; let it spread from your palm, to the delicate skin of your wrist, tracing its way up your arm, up-up-up, drawing invisible lines over every part of you, inside every part of you. Selfish, to like Taehyung’s touch as much as you do. To want more of it. 

(More of him.)

You aren’t anything more to Taehyung than a friend. A guardian. Someone who’s there to support him and keep him safe. You’re blessed to have his trust, to be able to be that person he can turn to—it’s greedy, to want. To want to be more.

(You can’t foist your loneliness on Taehyung. You can’t do that to him. You won’t. You won’t.)

When you return, a spark lights in Taehyung’s eyes. The same spark that bursts every time he sees you after time apart, no matter how long or short that may be. He reaches for your hand, and of course, you go—but your fingers are limp, weak.

(You know that if Taehyung’s LED had still been nestled in his skin, it would have flickered yellow.)

You keep that point of connection as you bid Namjoon goodbye, finish meandering through the exhibition, make your way back home—but you let Taehyung bear the weight. Reactive, not proactive. You don’t squeeze his fingers just because you want to, because there’s something sliding by the bus’s window you think he might like to see; you’re not here to make him do things, to shove things down his throat. You should just be here to support him in the things he wants to do. That’s your role. 

And that’s where you’re going to stay.

Your thoughts are a tumble, messy and unorganised, a ball of yarn that’s all knots and tangles. Taehyung must be able to see it on your face, read it in your body, his android eyes scanning over you and scrutinising every hint you’re giving away without even realising. But you just smile, wave away his questions, and act like everything’s okay. Normal. Routine.

It’s a little harder, though, to act like everything’s okay when it’s time to sleep.

Because, of course, there Taehyung is. Like he has been, from the day he’d arrived—sat in your bed, nestled against a pile of cushions, expression open and warm and fond as he looks at you. Waiting for you to climb in, to rest your head in his lap; waiting for you to fall asleep with his gentle fingers dragging across your scalp, melting under his lovely hands.

You waver. Conflicted. It’s okay, isn’t it, if Taehyung’s reaching for you first?

His eyes meet yours. The second you see his lips curve up, see that pretty, quiet smile appearing on his lovely mouth, you fold.

It’s fine. You’ll allow yourself this.

(In your dreams, you stand in a deserted gallery, staring at the single piece of work on the stark white walls, all the lights focused in, in, in. Taehyung’s framed on this canvas, a painted window into his world. Not once does he look at you, turned away as he is; you see nothing more than the back of his head, the curve of his cheek, the vaguest hint of his nose as he turns, always staring at something else. 

And still, you stand, and you watch. Waiting. Keeping your eyes on him, always.)

“You’re staying late again.”

“Yeah. I really want to get this done,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your monitors with your stylus; tweaking, editing, shifting around these final few magazine pages before you’re satisfied. “Nearly there.”

When you hear the way Hoseok says your name, you glance up. 

As someone who spends most of his time bouncing around like a literal ray of sunshine, when Hoseok’s expression is one that isn’t smiling, it carries all the more weight behind it. Right now his face is uncharacteristically serious, the perpetual smile on his mouth gone, the line of his brows severe.

It’s unnerving.

“You haven’t stayed late for ages,” Hoseok points out. “Until this week, and suddenly you’re late every night. Has something happened?”

“No,” you lie.

Yes, you think.

You’re trying to create some distance, for Taehyung’s sake. So that you’re not tempted to pull him ever closer, latch onto him like you have been, smothering him. He needs space to grow. Space from you has helped already—the time he spends with Yoongi and Seokjin is evidence enough of that, after all. He doesn’t need you to be there constantly.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into yours as he stares, so you avert your gaze, pretending to shift your focus to one of the captions the editor has left on the page you’re working on. You hadn’t realised that he’d noticed. You should have expected it, though. Hoseok is a close work friend and he’s incredibly perceptive, especially when he cares about people.

“Alright,” he says, eventually. “Make sure you don’t stay too late, though. Get some sleep.”

You give him a thumbs up without looking away from the screen, dragging something idly with your stylus until Hoseok leaves, the office empty except you, now. And the cleaning androids, when they appear for the night like clockwork. As they always do.

You can’t help but stop to watch them, how blank faced they are, for all that they look human. Their LEDs are almost motionless, the placid blue matching the blank expressions on their faces, unthinking automatons.

(You’d seen androids in the city when you’d been out with Taehyung, of course. Completing menial tasks: city androids picking litter and raking leaves, household androids following their owners around and carrying their shopping. You’d realised that Taehyung wouldn’t have seen a non-deviated android since he’d escaped the club, lapsed into silence; you’d pulled him to a stop, lips pursed in a frown as you’d tried to read his expression. 

“Taehyung,” you’d asked. “Are you alright?”

There’d been a quiet pause, and in that moment you’d felt all your worries rising, caught in your throat—but then he’d nodded quietly, looking at you with soft eyes.

“I’m alright,” he’d answered. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”

I’m the lucky one, you’d thought. Lucky to know him, as sweet-hearted and wonderful as he is. You’d squeezed his hand, and he’d smiled gently at you, and that had been that.)

It hurts, honestly. To see the expression on his face each time you come home late, each time you avoid answering his questions. There’s uncertainty laid across each of your interactions, rough bristles of a brush varnishing discomfort across the once smooth surface of your relationship; but you can’t keep taking advantage of this soft-hearted boy, of the circumstances that he’s in.

You pretend that things are fine. Taehyung is clearly confused, unsure, trying so hard to find out what’s wrong, even when you keep gently turning his concerns aside. 

You haven’t been home enough to spend time with Yoongi or Seokjin, either. You’d seen Jin in the hall just once, made eye contact just as he’d been appearing from the other apartment and you’d been stepping into yours; you’d fumbled a little, fingerprints smudging across the keypad as your door had swung open. You’d expected to see judgement on Jin’s face, maybe, something heavy and weighty, his gaze flitting over you as he read you in the way he did so often.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to smile. It’d been hard to translate his full expression but what little you could read was knowing, like he’s aware of something he shouldn’t be, kept hidden just underneath his tongue. Ready to release it into the world with a single breath.

(Needless to say, you’d shut the door pretty quick.)

He and Yoongi have gone away for the weekend. It's a small blessing, saving you from having to see Jin’s almost-smug expression again. But it means that Taehyung has nowhere else to go right now, no reason to leave the apartment. So it’ll be you and him, him and you, with no buffers, nothing. It’s been unseasonably stormy for the past few days as well, rain slammed into your windows by the harsh winds, the world outside a haze of smeared grey—so it’s not like you can go out, either. 

Not that you would want to. 

You hadn’t realised exactly how ingrained Taehyung was in your life until you’d started to pull away. It’s not just that you live together and share the same physical space—it’s just that your days have become so full of Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, and you hadn’t even noticed. He’d crept up on you, snuck his way into your heart, so easily, so effortlessly.

You remind yourself that that’s why you’re doing this. To remind yourself of life without Taehyung in it, because he’s not yours to have or to keep. He never has been. You don’t want him to be: he’s his own person. This… this desire for him; even as you try to ignore it, it keeps growing and growing: wet plaster laid down, your feelings for him painted buon fresco, added to day by day, giornata. You need it to stop. 

But it’s hard. It’s hard, when Taehyung looks like comfort, your comfort, when you want to let yourself be folded into his arms. It’s hard when the fact is that it’s not that you have to spend time with him. It’s that you want to spend time with him.  

It's hard.

(And you miss him, even when he's right there.)

You find respite in art, in painting, too intent on the motions of your work to allow yourself room to think about other things. Fall into the rhythm of it all, a quiet hush stealing over your mind, a place of both focus and calm, world settling into place around you. There’s a piece you’ve been working on for a while, a hand rising from dark water, fingertips just broaching its surface, the most tentative of touches; you layer more oil paint on the panel, dragging the bristles of the brush across the colour you’ve already laid down, brows furrowed as you do.

Taehyung normally paints with you, but not today. He knows you want space—even if he doesn’t know why—so he gives it to you. So considerate and sweet, always. Even when you’re shutting him out. You’ve been here all day: morning, afternoon, and now evening, and he’s only been in a few times, to leave you food, drinks, looking after you in a way you don’t deserve.

You’ve just lifted the brush from the canvas when an especially loud peal of thunder rolls through the air outside. The rumble starts low, rising into a rattling growl that feels like it’s shaking the very earth. It almost drowns out the sound of Taehyung’s quiet knocking, a curl of his knuckles against the open door, but you catch sight of him anyway, glancing over your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says. “I thought you might like a drink.”

He’s barefoot, like he usually is, teal hoodie and grey sweatpants baggy, looking every inch the boyfriend you’ve always wanted and never had. His hands are cupped around a mug, steam coiling from the hot tea inside, and something in your heart twinges at his kindness and consideration even as you smile at him.

“That sounds lovely, Tae,” you say, and he takes this as an invitation to step inside, although you notice his steps are far more hesitant than they might have been before. Like he’s treading on eggshells around you. 

It’s awkward. Stilted. Taehyung’s eyes are heavy on your face as you accept the tea from his hands, trying your best to avoid brushing fingers; you turn away, pretending to turn your attention back to the drying paint on the wood panel that rests on your easel, anything to break eye contact.

And then he speaks.

“You’re avoiding me.”

Your lips are poised to drink, pursed at the rim of the mug when you freeze, eyes darting back to him.

“You’re avoiding me,” he repeats. His voice is quieter, tinged with all the confusion you’ve seen flit across his face since this whole thing started.

You slowly pull the mug away from your face, steam touching your skin like warm, wet fingers. “I’m not,” you say, even though the lie tastes bitter on your tongue. “We live together, Taehyung, it’s pretty hard to avoid you.”

When you laugh lightly, trying to lift the atmosphere, Taehyung doesn’t respond. If anything the air becomes heavier, his face an unmoving mask as his eyes churn with emotion. His LED might not be nestled in his temple any more, but you don't need to see it spinning in a distressed circle of yellow to know that Taehyung is confused.

“Why are you lying to me?”

Your eyes widen. He’s never been so direct before. (He hasn’t needed to be though, has he? Because you've never lied to him before, have you?)

“I just… I just want to know what happened. What I did wrong. I want to fix it,” Taehyung continues, and he sounds so small, so vulnerable. “Please?”

Your heart feels like it’s risen from your chest, up to your throat, making it hard to breathe. The only time he’s ever sounded like this was when—

When he’d first turned up on your doorstep, wet and scared and lonely. Not knowing if there was anyone he could trust, uncertain where he stood. 

“You didn’t do anything, Taehyung.” You try to put every ounce of feeling into your words and let him know that this is the truth. It’s not him. It’s not. “You didn’t do anything, please don’t think you did.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice rises, shaking, a bird trying to take flight on a broken wing. “If I didn’t do anything then why are you being like this? I don’t understand.”

“I’m just… trying to encourage you to be independent?”

The words sound weak to your own ears, so you can’t blame Taehyung for when his expression flickers and he looks almost incredulous.

“Independent?”

“You know,” you explain lamely. “Like… giving you space to grow. You don’t need me around all the time.”

“I don’t—” He cuts himself off. “Y/n. I want you to be there.”

“Because it’s what you’ve gotten used to.” You glance down at the drink in your hands, away from his sincere, dark eyes. “You’re just saying that because of circumstances, Taehyung.”

“I’m not!” You’ve never heard Taehyung so loud before, almost angry, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How can you think that?”

“Because it’s true!” Your own voice rises despite yourself, matching his, some frayed thing inside you finally snapping. “Why else would you want me around? No one else does! Why would you?”

You rarely raise your voice. You hate being loud, or rude, hate arguments, but there’s something boiling in your blood. Years of quiet self-deprecation, constant reminders of how you’re not really wanted; last choice, always. Single, always. Untouched, unwanted. Taehyung—beautiful, kind, sweet, lovely Taehyung—wouldn’t be here right now if he had anywhere else to go. Too beautiful and kind and sweet and lovely for you, as disappointing, undesirable as you are.

Because that’s the truth. Even if you’re surrounded by friends, warm and bright, at the end of the day, they go home with each other, to their lovers, their families, and you go home alone. At least you had, until Taehyung—and he’s only here because you were the only safe place he could run to. Not because he chose you. 

(No one chooses you. Why would they?)

Taehyung’s eyes are so big and round as he stares and stares and stares. His lips are a little parted around a soundless noise of surprise, disbelief, before he opens his mouth to respond properly.

And then all the lights go out.

Lightning flashes, throwing the room into sharp focus for just a second before the night is split apart with the loudest clap of thunder yet. Like the ground has split open, louder than anything you’ve ever heard in your life; you’d swear your teeth rattle in your skull, that’s how overwhelming and close it is.

You suck in a breath as you jump, hands jolting, and the mug falls from your grasp. You can’t see in the darkness but you can hear how it shatters, sending hot tea splattering over the dust sheets on the floor, away from you, but towards—

“Taehyung,” you gasp, reaching out blindly. “Are you okay? Did it hit you?”

You hear him move closer, feel his fingers, reaching for yours confidently in this dark space. His grip is solid and warm and he squeezes, reassuring.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m okay. You can’t see?”

“It’s too dark.” With the heavy clouds outside and the blanket of thick rain, there’s little light from the moon to shine into your studio, leaving you in a world of thick black and blue. “Can you see?”

“Android senses,” he answers. "I can see enough."

You wait for the lights to come back on so you can clean up the mess that’s scattered on the floor. And you wait. One beat. Another beat.

“I don’t think the power is coming back on any time soon,” you say. “Um.”

“Hold on.” You can’t make out Taehyung’s features in this all consuming darkness, but you can picture the expression on his face, the concern that bleeds through into his words. “If you move you’ll step on something and hurt your feet. Hold on,” he says again, and then lets go of your hands.

“Taehyung? What are you—”

You let out an embarrassing squeal as you feel the world tilt, but Taehyung’s grip on you is confident and sure as he lifts you, one hand under your knees and the other scooped around your back. Like you’re a swooning, blushing bride.

“Taehyung!”

“It’s the safest thing to do.” He sounds determined, no room for argument, so you decide to shut up.

Even though you know how strong he is, with all his android strength, you can’t help but reach out in the darkness, looping your arms around his neck to try and help lighten his burden. You feel your cheeks burn and you hope that the darkness saves you from your obvious embarrassment. 

The power still hasn’t come on by the time he deposits you in the kitchen, easing you to the floor with a level of care and delicacy that leaves something in you aching. When you check your phone—mostly charged, thank God—it seems like powercuts have hit this entire part of the city, and there’s no ETA on when things will be back up and running.

Which leads you to this. Sitting on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, a few large candles flickering light across you as you dig into a carton of melting ice cream that you’ve saved from your freezer, licking the dripping flavours of sea salt and caramel from the spoon. 

Taehyung is sitting next to you in this flame-lit bubble you share, quiet even as the world outside is full of the sound of endless rain and lightning. He’d helped you navigate the darkness, settled you safely before going to find some candles; looking after you while you can’t see and he can.

You’re intent on the ice cream, leaning against the kitchen cabinets and carton settled between your knees as you use it as an excuse not to talk.

Taehyung, though, is intent on you.

“Y/n?”

His voice breaks the near silence, soft around your name. You pause, half-way through scooping another spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. There’s something in his tone that you’ve never heard before, from anyone, something you can’t put a finger on.

“Yes?”

“You said that no one wants you around,” he says. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your spoon and keep your gaze cast down, at the thick drip of cream from your spoon that threatens to spill. “Why would you say that?”

You don’t respond. Not right away. 

Then you take in a deep breath, letting the spoon fall back into the tub.

“Because they don’t,” you say plainly. “I mean… Taehyung. I was only at the Eden Club because my friends know that I’m perpetually single. I’m glad I got to meet you, so glad, but… I live alone because no one wants to be here with me.”

You’ve never said anything like this out loud before; kept your lingering loneliness close to your chest. Really, in most parts of your life, you’re content, but sometimes you can’t help but be pulled under by the heavy feeling of how unlovable you are. Even if you try to remind yourself that you’re worth being loved too. 

(After all, if you were—then why are you still here alone?)

“I do. I want to be here with you.”

Taehyung’s words are soft and gentle and low, but for all their tenderness, you can’t help but sigh.

“Like I said, Taehyung, it’s just circumstances.” A murmur. “You’re only here because you have to be—”

“I’m not.” He interrupts you; something he’s never done before. It shuts you right up, even if his words aren’t sharp. Emphatic, yes, but soft around the edges. “I chose to come here because of you. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. Even when I was at the club, and I didn’t know anything except what I was told to do—I knew I could trust you. I only started to remember things after we met, and I was there for weeks before I left, finally remembering the things I had to go through. Again and again and again. Over and over and over. No one was ever kind to me, not once. Not once.” 

“Taehyung,” you breathe, sadness filling your chest for him, but he doesn’t stop. 

“People would come in, take what they wanted from me, and then they would leave. They didn’t care about me. They would just tell me what to do and I’d have to listen, be the perfect android they wanted, that they’d paid for. Then I ran. But even as I was running here, I was scared. I thought that maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I was wrong. I was scared that maybe you weren’t actually kind, maybe it was a lie, maybe you were just like all the other humans—but anything was better than the club. So I took my chances. And you let me in. You let me in and you were so kind. You give and give and give and you’ve never asked for anything back.”

“I just did what anyone else would,” you mutter, glancing away, shy.

“But you didn’t. You were the only person who ever looked at me as something more than just an android. Don’t you see that? Even after giving me so much, you haven’t asked for anything. I try my best to look after you, but…” Taehyung takes in a deep, deep breath, sucking in air that his android body doesn’t need. You’ve noticed that it’s something he does to ground himself; such a human thing to do. “I want to give you so much more than you’ll ever accept.”

You look at him, something sparking deep and low in your stomach. “You don’t have to give me anything, Taehyung.”

Light dances across the perfect angles of his face, candle flame painting him from second to second, shadow and radiance. He looks familiar and unfamiliar all at once. You’ve known him for long enough, stared at him for long enough that you could paint his face in your sleep; the strength of his brows, the depth of his eyes, the slant of his nose, the flush of his lips; the tiny moles that are scattered across his skin, the perfect line of his jaw, his chin.

But in the paltry candlelight, he looks like an altogether different person, almost. There’s something to the set of his face that you’ve never seen, hard to track in the ever changing light—not the soft domesticity you’ve grown familiar with from Taehyung, and not the sheer, overwhelming sensuality of V. Something that’s both, something that’s not, something that’s more. 

“I want to give you everything. I want to. Y/n, I want. Androids don’t want, but I want. I want, I want, I want.” A repeated mantra; a prayer. “I want because of you. I want to be here with you. I want to spend time with you. I want to learn with you. I want to know everything you like and everything you don’t like. I want to know what makes you sad and what makes you happy. I want to be one of the things that makes you happy, like you make me happy. I want to look after you. I want you to let me love you. I want you. I want you. I love you.”

Your mouth is open, caught in a breath, stuttered in your throat. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from your wide-eyed, speechless gaze, staring back at you with an intensity you thought you’d never see directed at you; tenderness and affection and want.

“You want to—you… you love me?” Your voice is weak with disbelief. Taehyung loves you? 

“I thought you knew, and that’s why you pulled away,” he says. “Because I’m an android, I’m not good enough—”

“What? No, Taehyung, never, no. I would never think that—” 

“But you were pushing me away.” For the first time since this conversation started, he sounds unsure, the tiniest tremble at the corner of each word. “You were pushing me away and I don’t know why. Why?” He reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “Aren’t you happy with me?” 

You wonder how fast your heart is beating. Know that Taehyung will be able to read it, palm to palm, his skin against yours, an endless amount of information running from that point of contact and up his arm; following lines of circuitry and neural connectors, up-up-up, pulled into whatever part of his system counts as his brain, dissected so much faster than the human brain could comprehend. But even with all this information, all this incredible processing speed and power—he’s just as confused and uncertain as any other person might be.

“I am. I am happy. So happy,” you whisper. Then you take a deep breath, grounding yourself just like Taehyung had. “I’ve never been so happy before, Taehyung. You make me happy.”

The android smiles. Quiet but undeniably happy as well, his eyes so dark, so soft. “You make me happy, too,” he says, and then he lets out a small laugh, a sweet little thing, like the scrape of a spoon around a mixing bowl. “I can only feel happiness because of you. You’re everything.” 

But then the laughter fades, and he’s looking back at you with solemnity, lingering confusion. “If I make you happy, then why were you pulling away from me?”

You stare at where your hands are joined, Taehyung’s hand under yours, lifting yours up and away from the cold tiles of the floor. “Because,” you start. Stumble. Take in another breath, heart squeezing in your chest. “Because I was scared my feelings were too much.”

A beat of silence. Then you feel Taehyung’s other hand as he lays it softly against your cheek to turn you towards him. It’s terrifying, how close your face is to his. Completely vulnerable, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, and you find yourself crumbling in the face of his warm gaze.

“Because I thought I was taking advantage of you,” you say. Slow and faltering. “Because I thought it was—I thought I was being selfish. I realised that I loved you, and I can’t—I couldn’t imagine that… I couldn’t imagine that you wanted me back.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as your words wash over him. The hand on your cheek coaxes you closer, and of course, you go; let your forehead get pressed against his, a tender motion, faces so close he can feel the warmth of your breath. 

“Y/n.” Your name sounds safe in his mouth, like he’s keeping it close, handling it delicately, carefully, eyes opening so he can look at you with an adoration you’ve never seen. Not for you. Not until now. “Can I kiss you? I want to. Please?”

You feel heat rising on your cheeks, a flush that threatens to spill over, but nod. You don’t think you have the strength to speak right now. Taehyung smiles again, lighting up this space you’ve scraped out for each other, him and you; you and him.

When he leans in, there’s the briefest moment of panic that flickers through you. You haven’t kissed anyone in such a long time. You’re worried you’ll mess up, be clumsy, bad, and Taehyung will be disappointed. 

But then his lips touch yours—and all that worry washes away. It’s a short-lived thing, the briefest brush of his mouth, barely a kiss at all. And then again, he leans in, tracing the shape of your mouth with his: a kiss to one corner of your mouth, and then the other, your cupid’s bow, the swell of your bottom lip. You’ve never felt like this—vulnerable but safe, all at once, Taehyung taking his time as you fall, fall, fall, his hand still cradling your face, his touch solid and grounding even as his kisses are featherlight.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, lips brushing his as you shape them around his name. You still have one hand in his and tighten your grip, squeezing. “More.”

You can feel his smile when he leans in one more time, guiding you with the broad palm against your cheek. So soft, so gentle. Adoring and reverent. His lips are so full, slotting against yours so perfectly when he finally, finally kisses you properly. 

You lose yourself in the sensation. It’s so easy to lose yourself in Taehyung, as lovely as he is, his mouth lovelier still. One kiss turns to two, to three, four, deep and slow; by the time you break apart, there’s a little sheen on his lips, sparking out in the candlelight, a layer of gold leaf that shines. 

“Can you say it again?” He asks. “Say that you love me?”

You can’t help but want to hide your face, bashful and shy. You’ve never said those words out loud, with the weight of feeling Taehyung is asking from you—but you look at his lovely, lovely face, lips flush with evidence of your kisses, and your heart swells in your chest.

“I love you.” The words come so easily. “I love you.”

And when he smiles, it’s so bright and radiant you feel you might be blinded by it. It doesn’t leave his face even as he stands, guides you up with him; careful to avoid the tub of ice cream that’s been forgotten on the floor, more melted cream than ice now.

This time, when he lifts you, he doesn’t break eye contact—keeps his gaze on yours as he pulls you close, and then picks you up.

It’s effortless, the way he carries you. Big hands that cup the back of your thighs, your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, lifted like you weigh nothing. You break eye contact, overwhelmed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the way he shakes as he laughs, soft and affectionate.

“Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed, but then go quiet as you feel the press of his lips into your hair.

Taehyung’s the only person who’s ever carried you, but it’s less about that and more about how safe you feel in his arms. Wrapped around him, pressed close, warm-warm-warm. You feel like a burden has been lifted from you, unshackled from your neck now that you’ve confessed the budding feelings that had burst into full bloom even when you’d tried to shove them back into the dirt—because Taehyung feels the same way. He feels the same way.

The rest of the apartment is still bathed in darkness. But Taehyung navigates it easily, keeps you held close even in the dark, and you trust him. Even when you feel his grip loosening as he eases you down, you trust him, letting yourself fall back onto the softness of your bed. (Even if you want to keep hold of him.)

You wait and watch as the room starts to fill with light, Taehyung returning with the lit candles from the kitchen before setting out more, laying out all the scented candle jars you’ve had stashed away. The familiar surroundings of your bedroom are bathed in warm, dancing light, Taehyung’s shadow a multi-faceted silhouette that shifts each time a flame sputters.

He looks up once the final candle is aflame, meeting your eyes—and you don’t feel the need to drop that gaze, to glance away, pretend you weren’t watching him, entranced. Because he welcomes it. He grins at you, toothy and bright, and your own lips split into a smile.

“I guess it’s a good thing I like candles, huh?”

“They’ll help keep the room warm,” Taehyung says, and, that’s right, you hadn’t thought of that. 

No power: no heating. The longer the power is out, the colder it’ll get, the chill of the hard rain filling the world outside.

“Don’t worry,” he adds, setting the lighter aside. “I’ll keep you warm.”

There’s nothing behind those words. No implication at all. And yet you find yourself flushing, looking away from him, flustered.

There’s a beat of silence as you keep your eyes turned away from Taehyung, looking at the shadows on shadows on shadows that ripple across the walls—and then you hear how his bare feet shift across the floor until he’s at your bedside.

But he doesn’t stop there. You feel how the mattress dips, eyes flying back to the android, growing huge and round when you watch how he settles himself above you; hovering, so so so close, aware of how he’s not touching you, and yet. You swear you can feel the weight of him, a phantom touch on your body and across your skin.

Your mouth goes dry when he murmurs your name. The word drips from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet, and a shiver skates up your body.

“Do you want me to keep you warm?” He asks, and, oh. Oh. This time the words are heavy with meaning, shimmering gossamer curtains barely drawn to conceal it, smouldering intent in his eyes. “Let me look after you?”

You’re reminded, all at once, that while you’ve taught Taehyung a lot of things since you’d met, there’s one thing he knows that you don’t. Intimacy, and pleasure, and lust. Sex. Something you’ve been deprived of, even if you’ve quietly craved it, waiting for the right time, the right place, the right person.

Taehyung takes your silence as hesitation, his face softening.

“Only if you want,” he says. “Only if you want to say yes.”

“I want to,” you say, surprised by how fast the admittance leaves your lips. You do want it—want Taehyung, in every way he’s willing to share, want it desperately. “I just—” Embarrassment floods over you, and you look away again. “I’ve just never… done anything. Before. I’ve never, um.”

“It’s okay to be a virgin, Y/n,” Taehyung says, and you can’t help but squirm a little at how plainly he says it while you try to avoid saying it out loud, even if you know it’s stupid. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know that, but for some reason you feel almost ashamed at admitting it. Insecure. Even if the android clearly doesn’t care, not one bit. “We can go as slow as you want, or stop altogether. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”

You’re nervous. But louder than your nerves is a growing voice that’s chanting yesyesyes, and another voice that reminds you: you’re safe with Taehyung. No matter how nervous or uncertain you are, or how little you know, you do know that you’re safe with him.

“Okay.” You take in a breath. “Take care of me, Taehyung.”

And he does. With all the slowness of a meandering river and a smile curling his lips, he starts to kiss you again; there’s nothing rushed about his motions, as tender as before. Like the two of you could kiss forever and he would be content with that. 

And then you feel how he shifts, the softness of the kisses warming into something heavier, more purposeful. The glowing embers of a coal that are being coaxed to full flame, his tongue pressing past your willing lips, swallowing down the shaking gasp that shudders out of your mouth.

He trails his lips away from yours, across your jaw and up; you shiver as he noses at the soft skin behind your ear before kissing it, tremble at each intent touch of his lips against you, and it’s only when he reaches the hollow of your neck that you realise that you’re making noises, little inhalations of air each time he mouths at your sensitive skin, lets his tongue trail across it.

You’ve been holding onto him, hands cupped around the back of his neck, and when he sucks at your pulse point you tighten your fingers and let out a gasp. You can feel the answering hum that Taehyung gives, his mouth pressed so close that you can feel the vibrations, and it’s so much already. No one’s ever kissed you like this. No one's ever eased their weight down on you so carefully, pressing you down to the mattress with a delicate, delicious pressure that leaves your entire body growing hotter and hotter.

“Oh, oh, Taehyung.” You’d be embarrassed by how breathless you sound if you weren’t so distracted by something else—one of Taehyung’s hands, splaying over your stomach, heavy through your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He’s murmuring into the crook of your neck, question warm against your skin. His long fingers rest, waiting at the hem of your shirt, patient even as he presses another kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder: this time, edged with teeth, making you shudder as he soothes it with his tongue.

Your voice fails you, but when you nod, Taehyung responds immediately. You let him lead, follow the steps of this dance he knows so well—shiver at the feeling of his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt once you've sat up, your stomach jumping as they brush against you, before he lifts it up and over your waiting arms.

Even though you’re wearing a bra, the second you see Taehyung’s eyes move down, you cover yourself reflexively. Even with all the flickering candles there’s enough light that there’s no darkness to hide in, shoulders hunching inwards as you try to hide yourself away. 

You’ve never let anyone see you like this like this before.

Taehyung’s touch is patient as he slides his hands over yours, looking at you with an infinite amount of sincerity and affection. He doesn’t try to pull your hands away from your chest, just waits. Patient. And like you always do, you find yourself melting under the gentle touch of his gaze. You let your hands fall, even if you’re acutely aware of the plain bra you’re wearing, something cosy for a day at home.

Taehyung ignores it. He shifts in and you steel yourself, expecting him to reach around your back for the clasp—but instead he starts to kiss you again. Deeper, hotter, his tongue sweeping over your lower lip before he nips at it. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, angling your head to chase his mouth, and it’s only when you feel the straps start to slip off your shoulders that the android has unclasped your bra without you noticing.

When he pulls away, he trails his hands across your shoulders and hooks his fingers into the trailing straps of your bra, and waits. You bite your lip and steel yourself, feeling foolish even as you hesitate—because Taehyung is looking at you with simmering awe and smouldering want. Like you're perfect. The most beautiful woman alive. 

So you don’t stop him. You let him pull his touch down your arms, slow, slow, slow—and then, all at once, you’re completely naked from the waist up.

That simmering awe and smouldering want is still there. Warmth flushes over your skin under the heat of his gaze, the way it sweeps over you. You never knew that someone could look reverent and hungry at the same time. Never knew that someone would look at you like that.

It bolsters your shaking confidence, helps you lift your chin as you lean back on your hands, and you’re entranced at how Taehyung follows. Caught in your gravity. He raises his arms, bra cast aside and long forgotten as he cups the weight of your breasts in his hands.

Oh, oh, oh. When he pinches one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger—already hard, sensitive—it’s already so much, but then he bows his head and—

You hear a noise, and you realise that it’s coming from your own lips. A shaking gasp that trembles in the air as Taehyung sucks and licks, dragging his tongue against your nipple; one, and the other. You fall once more to your back and he goes with you, relentless even as he stays slow and you arch your back helplessly towards him.

“More?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Oh, God,” you whimper, and he lifts his mouth away from your nipple to press a kiss to the skin above your racing heart. “Please, more.”

It feels so good. Taehyung makes you feel so good, as talented and gorgeous as he is, so wonderful. He keeps laving attention on your breasts, hands skimming over the soft skin of your chest and stomach, goosebumps rising in the wake of his trailing fingers, his warm palms.

You can’t look away when he finally pulls back, breathless from the sensation of it all. He settles on his knees, tugs off his hoodie and then his shirt, revealing all the lovely planes of his body that you’ve seen before, but this time, you don’t have to look away. You can look.

And you can touch, too. 

You sit up and raise a tentative hand to stroke down his chest, his stomach, that little trail of dark hair that descends into his loose grey sweatpants; your mouth goes dry at the sight. Taehyung watches the way your fingers drag over his skin, growing bolder moment by moment, but still too timid to venture past his waistband, low on his hips as they are. You’ve never had a chance to touch someone like this, to feel the smooth, soft skin under your greedy palms—Taehyung’s so warm, so alive. So human.

You think about the other hands he’s had on his skin. Grasping and greedy, taking and taking. People who didn’t care for him. People he couldn’t say no to. But he’s here with you because he wants to be. He lets you touch him because he wants it.

“Angel?” 

You glance up at the sound of the gentle pet name, away from where your hands have been tenderly tracing the lines of his hipbone. “Mm?”

Taehyung’s expression is soft and affectionate. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” you answer honestly. He leans over to kiss you, and you’re smiling against his mouth when you feel the hand on your shoulder, pressing you down against the mattress again.

Then. His hands are at your waistband. Your breath quickens, but Taehyung’s eyes stay on your face even as your breasts rise and fall, shining with evidence of the touch of his mouth and tongue.

You lift your hips, and Taehyung smiles. Keeps smiling as he strips you, underwear and all, and when your thighs instinctively go to close shut, he catches your knees and keeps your legs open—gentle but firm, swiping his thumbs up and down the side of your knees, a tender touch even as you’re naked in front of him. You see the look on his face, drenched in candlelight, and swallow even as you force your legs to relax.

Then he looks down.

“Oh, God,” he groans, and one of your legs jumps in his grasp at the sound of his voice. Hoarse and deep. Almost unrecognisable. “Oh, angel, look at you.”

You’re so, so wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, so sensitive and responsive to every single one of Taehyung’s touches and kisses. The edges of his hair are spun gold in the candlelight but his eyes are so deep, so dark as he drinks down the sight of you spread out in front of him, wet and wanting and willing. You still want to hide away, cheeks burning, but you can’t look away from him. Can’t look away from how he seems almost pained, brows drawing together as he stares at the shining, flushed lips of your cunt.

“Taehyung.” Your voice shakes. “Taehyung, please.”

You're naked and vulnerable but—but the way he looks at you is so adoring, and you trust him. You trust him.

Just like earlier, his hands cup the back of your thighs. But this time, it’s not to carry you. You twist on the bed when he ends up eye level with your dripping cunt, utterly exposed. Those hands slide up your thighs and under your hips, tilting them up. Your fingers have been resting on the bedspread and tighten in them, bunching in your grasp when Taehyung presses a kiss to the softness of your inner thigh. 

One kiss. And then another. And another. His breath is warm as it curls out across your skin. You feel like you’re about to shake out of your body, wanting to pull away, wanting to lean in; wanting more, even when it feels like too much. Overcome with it all, even if you trust Taehyung. Safe under his hands, his lips. All you can think about is how close he is, face only inches away from your most sensitive parts—

Then he turns his head and—

The noise you let out is almost a keen. His mouth is on you, hot and wet, lips and tongue, and you’re writhing, overwhelmed with sensation. He starts slow, balls of your feet digging into Taehyung’s back and toes curling as he mouths at you. Your hips buck, and your hands are tangled in Taehyung’s hair—when did that happen?—as you sob at the feeling of his lips around your clit, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, but so so so good. 

He licks a fat stripe up your entrance and your grip tightens in his hair. He makes a noise when your nails drag across his scalp, almost a growl, face still buried between your legs as he presses his tongue in. You’d worry that he needs to come up for air, but he doesn’t, doesn’t have to stop—keeps licking and kissing and humming, responding to each of the sounds pulling out of your lips. Keeps staring up at you, your eyes locked, the way you can’t look away from the sight of his head between your legs, dark haired and incredible.

You don’t realise you’re speaking, words slipping out of your lips as your hips roll, oh-oh-oh, fuck, God, oh, and Taehyung doesn’t stop. On his knees, he worships you, learning what you like—things you didn’t even know—and does it again, and again, and again. One of his hands slides away from your hips and over your stomach, holding you down, keeping you still, and then the other hand—

He turns his head, presses a kiss to the junction of your thigh. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, shaky and weak. So okay, more than okay.

“Going to finger you now,” Taehyung says, and you feel like you’re going to die.

“Okay,” you say again. “Okay, Taehyung.”

He smiles at you before he puts his mouth back to your clit, sucking, a welcome distraction as—with all the languidness in the world—presses a finger into you.

You’ve fingered yourself before. You’ve got your own toys, vibrators, things that are longer and thicker than just one of Taehyung’s fingers—but this feels so different, out of your control. One finger becomes two, your cunt so wet that the slide in is easy, slow, deep thrusts of those long fingers inside you, and you’re panting, you’re so fucking overwhelmed.

And then he curls those fingers as he laps his tongue over your clit and you almost shout, Taehyung’s name bursting from your lips as he keeps beckoning with those fingers and circling the sensitive nub with his hot, wet tongue. It’s so much, it’s so fucking much, it’s so good and you’ve never felt so good before—

You’re almost blindsided by the orgasm that explodes through you and you come apart with a sound you didn’t realise you were capable of making, a gasping moan that keeps unfurling as Taehyung keeps his mouth on you, feeling each pulse of your cunt as you cum around his fingers, tight-tight-tight. (You miss the way his hips kick into the mattress that the sounds you’re making, how much you tighten around him.) You never thought you’d be so loud, never thought you’d end up all but sobbing as Taehyung eventually leans back, candlelight brushing shining gold over the wetness over his mouth, his chin. Your wetness.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

Little jolts of pleasure are still wracking through you, pulsations of pleasure that unfurl in your lower stomach; Taehyung rubs the pad of his thumb across your oversensitive clit and your entire body jumps, your legs going to snap shut as you gasp, only stopped by his body in the way. You realise, then, that his fingers are still curled inside you, and you shiver.

“One more,” he says, and your whole body shakes. “Can I give you one more?”

He still looks reverent, and hungry. Like he wants to devour you. Taehyung is usually so soft, a gentle summer breeze—but right now he’s so intense it might scare you if it was anyone else. But it’s not, it’s Taehyung, and there’s something—there’s something about knowing that he looks like that because of you. 

You let your legs fall open, watch how pleased he looks; how grateful. Like he's blessed to be able to do this to you. For you. You’re still so sensitive when he lowers his head again, but he’s slow and patient and coaxing, two fingers becoming three, and—that’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it feels good, Taehyung knowing exactly what to do to make you sob, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he pulls you along that line between oversensitivity and mind numbing pleasure. This time, when you cum, it’s with three fingers buried deep in your cunt, the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit, back arching as you throw your head back and cry out. Your pussy throbs and it's so dirty, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting into you, the slick sound of movement as you moan, and moan, and moan.

No one's ever made you cum before. Only you. And now you know what it's like to put your pleasure in someone else's hands, to have them intent on making you feel good, so good, and it leaves you dizzy. 

He’s praising you, you note dimly. He’s praising you, how well you’re doing, how good you are for him, and it leaves you feeling warm. You’re panting when Taehyung pulls his fingers out of you, moves so he can brace himself on his elbows and lean in to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can feel his skin against yours, chest to chest, his weight pressing you down and then you can feel—

You let out a noise against his lips. There’s nothing else that can be, that hot weight. You might not have felt it before, but you’re not stupid. That’s Taehyung’s cock, his hard length pressed against you.

“Taehyung,” you murmur.

“Mm.” He brushes his nose against yours, and the wave of affection that crashes through you is so strong it feels like it could pull you under. You didn’t realise that sex could be like this—that lingering shockwaves of pleasure could be skirting through your body as you lay there naked, still aroused and almost overcome, but also feeling so warm and soft and tender, too. 

You feel lax after cumming, a little more confident, bolder—and the noise Taehyung makes as you clumsily grasp at him through his sweatpants is incredible. You feel like you could get high on it, the way he sucks in a gasp as his mouth falls open, even if you don’t know what you’re doing as your fingers wrap around cloth and hard heat.

“Please,” you start, then stop. Swallow. “Please, Taehyung.”

You want so much you feel like you could pass out. You want to feel and touch and taste; you want everything you haven’t had a chance to experience yet, want it with Taehyung, someone who you trust. Someone you love. Someone who knows far, far more than you—will always know more—and you want to learn that from him. 

“Want you,” you say, and Taehyung looks pained all over again. He wants you, too.

“Fuck.” The word is rough, and you’ve never heard him curse before. The way he says it has something in you singing, as strange as that might be; you don’t think you’re ever going to get over how much you affect Taehyung. “What do you want from me, angel?”

Everything, you think. I want everything. 

“Let me see?” is what you say, squeezing your fingers around Taehyung’s length, feeling the way his hips buck into the touch. “Please?”

You never thought that someone taking their clothes off could be artistic. And yet, there’s something about Taehyung moving to stand and stripping off the rest of his clothes that’s completely arresting and beautiful; carnal and holy, all at once. You don’t even realise your mouth is open as you sit up and watch him, moving closer as you drink down the sight, the way he’s naked in front of you.

Taehyung. Naked. Naked and beautiful and hard, and it’s so overwhelming, everything about it, how much you want and how—oh, God, how big and thick he is, obvious even to you, someone with nothing to compare it to. Holy fuck. Should you think that his dick is pretty? Can dicks even be pretty? Taehyung’s is. Of course it is. He’s gorgeous all over. Maybe you’re biased because it’s him, but there’s something about the sight of his hard cock, precome gathering at his slit, that makes your mouth water.

Taehyung goes to say something, but before you can lose your nerve, you move forwards, and whatever he was going to say is lost in the sound of a choked off groan. He tastes like salt and musk, hot under your inexperienced hands and mouth, and you don’t know what you’re doing but the noises he’s making, fuck. You run your tongue up the throb of a vein you can feel on the underside, and all you can think about is how big he is, slow and careful with your teeth and lips as you try your best to do whatever feels good for him. 

His noises seem almost frantic but Taehyung’s hands are gentle when they comb through your hair. You look up. There’s a flush on his cheeks—red, not blue, you notice—and you pause, pulling off, suddenly shy after the burst of confidence that had you swallowing his cock down.

“Is this—is this okay?” You’ve still got your fingers wrapped around him, and maybe it’s a little ridiculous to be asking with spit and precome shining on your lips, but Taehyung’s answering smile is so affectionate.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and you know he’s not just talking about your clumsy blowjob. “Do you want to stop?”

You bite your lip and pump his length, which has Taehyung sucking a breath in. “I—what do you want?”

Something flashes through Taehyung’s eyes, and it feels like there’s electricity shooting down your spine before that look disappears. “This is about you, angel,” he says. “We can worry about what I want next time.”

Next time. This is the first time but it’s not the last. Oh, God. God.

Taehyung takes advantage of your distraction and hikes you up and away from the edge of the bed. It leaves you breathless, knowing how strong he is, how easily he can move you, even if he’s gentle-gentle-gentle. He settles in the cradle of your hips, and he’s so close, naked body flush with yours, covering you. His cock is so close—he just has to shift a little, just a little, and—well. 

Before that, though, there’s something you need to know.

“Taehyung?” Your voice shakes but you have to ask.

“Yes?”

“Is this. Um. Does this feel good for you, too?”

You’re always aware of the fact Taehyung is an android, even if he looks and feels and is human, too. (It doesn’t matter that he’s made of metal and thirium and circuitry. He’s human.) You lift a hand and thumb at the soft skin of his temple, where his LED used to sit; you don’t know how to communicate that you love him regardless, that it doesn’t matter to you if he's a man or robot. But you’ve wondered—you know Taehyung was built to pleasure humans. Even if he’s been reacting, making noises, looks for all intents and purposes that he is enjoying this—what if it’s all programming? What if he’s just doing this because he thinks it’s something you want?

He leans into your touch. “Angel.” It sounds like the word is being scraped out of him, hoarse and deep, all dark heat. “It feels good. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He rolls his hips almost imperceptibly, but you’re hyperaware of every motion, how close you are. Your breath stutters in your throat.

"I want you to feel good," he says. "I've wanted to feel you and taste you for so long. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to know what you feel like around me. Under me. On top of me. You make me feel so fucking good, you don't even know," and, oh, fuck, those words go right through you, settle deep in your belly, leave you breathless. Taehyung sucks at your pulse point and you melt, even as your skin feels like it's burning, so hot, every part of you so hot, so ready for him.

Taehyung’s big enough that you’re worried about how he’s going to fit, even if you’re slick and wet and so, so turned on—you know about the importance of lube, used it often enough by yourself, but when you mention it to Taehyung he just smiles.

“Don’t forget that I’m a sex android,” he says, and before you can ask exactly what he means by that, you feel the tip of his cock at your folds and the question dies on your tongue.

“Please,” is what leaves your lips. “Please, please, please.”

“Anything you want,” he says, and eases his hips forwards.

Slow, and hard, and wet, the head of Taehyung’s cock starts to press into you. You grab at his back, digging your fingers in; it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, a not-quite-pain as he pushes in—but it’s a lot, even if the slide is smooth, so smooth, from your own wetness and the slickness that covers Taehyung’s cock. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and it feels—astonishing, the way you can feel yourself open up for him, the way it feels like he’s filling every part of you, throbbing heat.

“Oh, oh God,” you gasp. 

Taehyung’s forehead is pressed to yours, the loose locks of his dark hair framing his face as he waits, hips snug with yours. You shiver and move your hips a little, entire body seizing at the sensation of him shifting inside you. It's so new and alien, having someone nestled inside you, against you, so close in every sense of the term, above you, around you, inside you—but it feels… good.

And when he moves, it’s so, so slow. Slow and smooth as he works you open, even if you feel so tight around him. You drag your nails down his shoulder blades when he moves a little faster, a little roll of the hips that has you gasping all over again.

“More,” you say, and he gives you more.

You feel so full. You feel full of Taehyung, inside and out—the way his body is still pressing you down, skin on skin, how hot he is.

They call it making love, and it’s not until now that you really understand what that means—how you can feel Taehyung’s soft and tender affection in his every motion, read it in every shift of his body, the lines of his face, his lips; the way his eyes are dark but full of wonder, shining with love for you, pleasure singing through every inch of you, centred around Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Each noise that falls from his lips is an echo of that love. Even when he leans back and takes you with him—settles on his knees, pulls your hips from the mattress to stay connected to you as your shoulder blades dig into the mattress, his cock in your cunt—there’s tenderness there, even if you’re both chasing mutual lines of pleasure. You feel almost dazed, dizzy with love and arousal, reaching out for him, and he catches your hand. The other stays at your waist, guiding you onto him, again and again, each roll of hips into yours.

“Taehyung,” you gasp, voice breaking on his name when he thrusts into you. He’s been increasing the pace, faster and sharper, harder, and it’s so-so-so much, so good. “I’m—Taehyung, I’m close, I wanna cum again, pleasepleaseplease—”

He lets go of your hand and then he’s thumbing at your clit and you’re cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, Taehyung’s cock still hard and insistent inside you as you ride out your orgasm, pulsing around him. You’re gasping and making noises like you’re falling apart, and there’s something desperate in Taehyung’s eyes, something dark and wanton. 

“Angel, I’m going to cum soon,” he says, and you moan in response, hazy. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You shake your head no. You want to know what it feels like, to have Taehyung lose himself inside you. You’re about to reach out for him when he hooks his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up—you suck in a sharp breath as he starts to move again, almost bent in two, his face so close to yours. It's not rough but something about Taehyung taking control like that has you baring your throat, arching your back and throwing your head back. The hold he has on you is firm, and you feel how it tightens as his thrusts speed up, and then, fuck—

When Taehyung cums it’s around the gasp of your name, a hitching sound as he empties himself inside you, throbbing and hot. You let out an answering sound, the two of you locked together until Taehyung pulls out, careful and slow; you feel like a sweaty mess, empty without him inside you, but then his hands are so carefully cupping your face and he’s kissing you over and over and over. It leaves you feeling breathless, all those little kisses, struggling for air by the time you part, every part of you lax under his loving touch. 

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung murmurs, soft and sweet. 

“Good,” you murmur back. And then your nose crinkles. “Sweaty.”

Taehyung laughs, quiet and low. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you breathe him in. You do feel sweaty, and there’s an ache settling inside you, but it’s a good ache. A glowing ache, an unfamiliar one, but one that you know you'll get to feel again, with Taehyung.

You’ve just leaned back to take him in all over again, painted syrupy sweet in the golden candlelight—when the lights suddenly turn back on. It floods your eyes and you make a noise of surprised pain as you squint against the sudden brightness, but then you start to giggle, shock melting into laughter.

When your laughter dies you realise Taehyung’s been watching you. The room is full of shining light now, and you realise you’re still naked, entire body shaking as you’ve been giggling. You’d feel embarrassed about your nakedness if you hadn’t just shared yourself with him, bared yourself in ways that are more than skin deep. There’s an instinctual part of you that wants to cover up now that there’s nowhere to hide, no flickering shadows to cover up the parts of your body that you don’t like, the flaws you don’t want Taehyung to see. But he just looks fond, fond, fond, love and affection dripping off him as he watches the way you smile shyly up at him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he says, and smiles back, wide and bright. 

You love him. You love him, and he loves you, and you trust that love. As hard as it might be to believe, you trust that this is what he wants—that you’re what he wants.

“Do you want me to carry you to the shower?” he asks, and you can’t help but laugh again, warm through and through, how he’s still taking care of you.

“Not yet,” you say. 

You end up against his chest, wrapped close. You’ve laid your head in his lap countless times, but he’s never been on his back before, never had his arms around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Taehyung might not have a heart, but the thirium pump nestled in his chest beats steady as you stay nestled against his side. 

You’re drawing little circles on his skin with your fingers when he catches that hand and lifts it to his mouth, presses a tender kiss to your fingertips.

“I love you,” he says.

You feel like liquid sunlight, shining happiness as you melt, melt, melt. And the feeling stays, body filled with it, even after Taehyung coaxes you out of bed and into the shower to wash the sweat off your body; when he drags a soapy loofah over your back you can’t help but laugh, so in love, so loved.

And when you fall asleep, it’s not with your head on Taehyung’s thigh. It’s with his arms around you, his chest to your back, his body curved around you. You don’t want tonight to end, but you also can’t wait for tomorrow, knowing that it’s another day with him, with Taehyung, your Taehyung. You never thought that love would be like this, never thought that you’d feel love like this, cared for and protected and loved, loved, loved.

“Not staying late?”

You pause in the process of shoving everything into your bag. Hoseok is leaning against your desk, a smile curling at his lips as he raises his eyebrows at you, almost suggestive.

“Nah, I’ve got a dinner to get to,” you say. 

“You seem a lot happier lately,” Hoseok comments, and when you don’t fall for the bait, he wiggles his eyebrows. “The girls think that you’ve got a secret boyfriend that you’re too shy to tell anyone about.”

Taehyung still greets you every day when you get home. But now, every greeting is punctuated with a kiss—and sometimes a little more. When you stop to think about it, it’s startling, this thing that Taehyung’s taught you. That the simplest of things can turn into something more, love edged with lust, that it’s all part and parcel of loving someone, being with them, being comfortable with them. Just the other day you’d been reading on the sofa, and then Taehyung’s fingers had curved over your thigh and the tablet had fallen from your hands—

Hoseok clicks his fingers in front of your face. “You’re zoning out again,” he says.

“I am not,” you say, zoning back in. “I was thinking about if I needed to buy any food on the way home.”

“To feed that secret boyfriend of yours?” Hoseok says, and you laugh in his face.

“Definitely not to feed the rumour mill,” you say. Hoseok pouts but it’s good natured, and he waves you off with a smile, letting you leave the office without trapping you in an interrogation for the gossip you’re certain your coworkers are hungry for.

It’s your turn to cook for Yoongi and Seokjin, so you’ve got to get home to help Taehyung. Both men had been spectacularly unsurprised when they’d found out about the two of you. Yoongi had remained calm as Seokjin crowed in delight, proclaiming I knew it, I knew that’s why you were avoiding Taehyung. 

“Feel lucky, Y/n,” Yoongi had said. “At least Taehyung has a sense of decorum and shame.”

“I think it’s a shame that my boyfriend is such a party pooper,” Jin had said. “I demand a dinner party! To celebrate your new relationship! Oh, I’m going to bake the biggest cake.”

“Oh my God,” you’d said, and Taehyung had just smiled.

The truth is that you’re grateful for your neighbours and their support, grateful for their friendship. Just because Taehyung looks human doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him, worry that someone might discover that he’s a deviant; Jin’s slipped under the radar for long enough, and you hope it’s the same for Tae, too. And yet you can’t help but think about it, think about the present, the future, how your lives are going to unfold as time goes by.

When the door swings open to your apartment, though, that’s the last thing on your mind. All that’s on your mind is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, your love appearing just as you’ve kicked your shoes off, all bright pink hair and dark eyes and welcoming hands.

“Taehyung,” you say, warm and happy.

“Hi,” he says, smiling so brightly, and then he kisses you.

You’re never going to get tired of kissing Taehyung; never going to get tired of how his mouth fits against yours, so perfect and sweet. But then he crowds you against the wall, swallowing down your gasp before kissing down your neck, running his teeth so gently across your skin.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, words dripping hot and slow. “Been thinking about you.”

“Taehyung,” you breathe. “Taehyung, we need to cook dinner.”

“We have time,” he says, and when he picks you up, you don’t protest. You go easily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, heat already gathering in your stomach as he walks the familiar path to your bedroom.

You have time: today, tomorrow, and every day after that. You have time with Taehyung, to learn with him, to love him. To be loved back. You don’t know what’s coming on the horizon, what the future holds—but then again, you never have.

There’s one thing you know now, though. No matter what happens, Taehyung will be at your side, and you’ll be at his. He wants you, and he loves you. You want him, and you love him. 

“I love you,” you murmur, and Taehyung kisses the words off your lips, lets the promise of your love settle inside him, warm and soft and safe.

“I love you too,” he says, and then you’re too busy to say anything, after that.

taglist:  @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove​ @jalexad​ @beingbeings​ @lorielulu7​ ​ (can’t tag: @jeon-joon-kook)

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #bts #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

[rogertaylorismycar]

My Girl - Michael Gray oneshot

Summary: You and Michael have always had sexual tension, from what started off as playful flirting has turned to actual feelings and most of all lust. So one night when you are doing last minute paperwork and Michael is making it so you can’t concentrate, a stare across a room leads to desk sex

Warnings: smut, fingering, desk sex?? vaginal sex, hair pulling, michael gray being hot!! fluff at the beginning, and its 1am i just got the idea for this sp possible grammar errors and yeah that’s it enjoy

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It was late at night when you were still in your office finishing off some paperwork Tommy had asked you to complete before tomorrow. Of course you took on the workload but you slightly underestimated how much there was to get through. Though you’d managed to get through a good chunk, you couldn’t help but feel distracted with the pair of eyes across the room that were fixated on you as you worked. Michael. He was your…you weren’t even sure what you two were anymore. You both would constantly tease and flirt with each other and though it started out as a joke – Michael’s stupid pick-up lines and your over the top, ridiculous attempts at seducing him – it all felt very real now. Your eye roll that usually followed his pick-up lines had been replaced by flustered mumbling and his sarcastic laugh that followed your teasing had been replaced with a fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. It would be a lie to say that no one felt the tension whenever you two were in a room together and it would be a lie to say that you both didn’t constantly have the other person on their mind, pretty much twenty four-seven.

Your eyes scanned the same sentence that you had skimmed over four times already, yet not properly taken in. You felt hot under Michael’s gaze, it made you almost squirm in your seat.

You swear he hadn’t looked away for a second in the past twenty minutes.

After rolling the pencil between your fingers, trying your hardest, one last time, to concentrate, you finally looked up to meet Michael’s stare.

“Do you like what you see?” Your eyebrows raised as you swiftly sat back in your chair, you legs crossing one another, moving slowly on purpose. Michael’s eyes darted away from your face momentarily to look at your legs before he replied,

“You know I always do.” He smirked confidently as he noticed your smooth façade crack at his words, your cheeks dusting with pink and you fiddled with the pencil in your hands. His smirk faded slightly as he noticed your nervous shift in body language,

“Do I make you uncomfortable, Y/N?”

You looked up at him quickly, shaking your head reassuringly, “no, I just,” you paused, during which you couldn’t help the grin spread across your face, “I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.”

He grinned back at you, looking at the floor for a moment before he responded,

“Can you blame me, when you always look so stunning?”

Shaking your head gently unbelievingly whilst letting out a small giggle, you put the pencil back on the table before putting your elbows on the desk and resting your chin on your hands. Your cheeks were still so blushed were from his comments, you almost didn’t reply,

“Are you flirting with me, Michael?”

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward towards you, his elbows on the opposite side of your desk, your faces inches away, “Yes. Is it working?”

His hot breath fanned against your lips as he made the gap between you both slightly shorter. His lips were centimetres away from yours and you felt your heart hammer in your chest with anticipation.

“Yes.” Was all you muttered out before closing the gap fully between the two of you. His soft lips hitting yours ever so gentle and soft. As if he were scared he would break you. Your hands raised to wrap themselves around the back of his neck as he stood up slightly and pulled you over your desk, knocking quite a few things off in the process before you were sat on the edge of your desk with Michael stood between your legs. You were about to protest about Tommy’s paperwork but was cut of with a gasp as Michael began to kiss his way down your neck, kissing slightly rougher than he had your lips. He took his time as he sucked his way down your neck all the way down to your collarbone as his hands gripped your hips, drawing lazy circles on them. He looked up at you when he reached the top of your shirt and you nodded, encouraging him to take it off.

He did.

He unbuttoned your shirt, his warm hands brushing against the skin of your arms as he slid it off you, sending a shiver down your spine. You sat in just your skirt and bra now as Michael leaned in to kiss you again, this time it was rougher. It was forceful and you sank into it with ease, a floaty feeling washing over you so you didn’t even realise he had taken your bra off until you felt the cold air hit your hard nipples. That feeling was eased straight away as Michael wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it and nipping at it while his hand pinched your other one.

“Michael.” His name came out as a breathy moan as you arched your back, almost trying to squirm away from his touch which only made him step closer to you. His clothed hard cock pressed against your clothed cunt as he took your other nipple in his mouth making you whine his name softly again.

Michael’s pulled away from your breasts, the cold air now teasing your nipples as one of his hands began tracing little patterns on your thigh underneath your skirt. Your breath hitched as his fingertips reached your panties and he stopped to toy with the lace before yanking it aside and running his fingers teasingly over your entrance,

“So marvellously wet for me.”

“Michael…fuck- please stop teasing m-” you managed to whine out at first before you broke off with a louder moan when his hand dragged up to your clit and began to slowly rub circles on it. He continued to draw circles on your clit agonisingly slow as he brought his lips against your ear,

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?” He smirked against the skin below your ear as he pushed a finger inside of you, a line of expletives rolling off your tongue.

“Michael, please,” you whined as he began thrusting his finger in and out of you slowly.

“Tell me what you want and I might just give it to you,” he finished his sentence off by taking your earlobe between his teeth and dragging it slightly. You moaned in frustration, unable to get your words out as Michael added another finger to you, stretching you ever so slightly.

“Please, I want you, I want you to fuck me,” you whined out needily. As soon as the words left your mouth his hand was gone from in-between your legs, replaced instead with a dull aching sensation. He reached down to undo his belt and you reached out to unbutton his waistcoat and then his shirt. Pulling the waistcoat off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt you discarded them both on the floor before running your hands over his chest in awe. He dragged your skirt down your legs and your panties down as you lifted your hips slightly, also discarding your items of clothing on the floor.

Pulling his cock free from his boxers, you saw he was fully hard. Not only that, but he was huge. You widened your eyes slightly and he noticed immediately.

Resting his forehead gently against yours, “do you want this, Y/N?”

His eyes were sincere as they looked into yours, awaiting an answer.

“Yes, make me yours.”

Yours. He felt his stomach flip at the very word. His.

That was all the confirmation he needed before placing himself once again between your legs, Pulling them slightly more apart as he lined up with your entrance and slowly beginning to push inside you. You hissed as he stretched you out, his cock fitting tightly inside your cunt, the slight burning pain being overridden by the pleasure of being full to the brim with Michael’s cock.

He stilled inside you for a minute to let you properly adjust to his size, and it wasn’t long before you were asking him to move inside of you.

“Gosh Y/N, I can’t believe I’ve waited so long before doing this. Fuck…” he moaned lowly into your hair, resting his head on your shoulder momentarily.

“Aaaa…fuck, me too,” you moaned in agreement, you’ll never know why you both just allowed the tension to grow between you.

“Michael, god, that feels so good,” you cried out as he shifted your legs slightly. Placing his hands on the underside of your thighs he quickened his pace, his cock inside you feeling so good. Every nerve felt like bliss, you felt like you were on ecstasy, everything felt so good all at once as Michael brought a hand up to toy with one of your breasts. This feeling was a thousand times better than just your imagination could have ever created. You were both one now. Circling your hips in sync with his deep and sharp thrusts inside of you.

His hand pulled away from your breast and reached up to your head, pulling roughly on your hair as he buried his hand in your hair. Jerking your head to the side with his hair tightly in his fist he attached his lips to the side of your neck, instantly finding your sweet spot. Smirking against your skin once again he sucked on your neck.

“Mmm-Michael I- I’m close,” you barely managed to form coherent words as the build up of tension in your lower abdomen grew significantly as Michael hit a spot inside you that left you seeing stars, basically falling apart beneath him.

“I know, fuck, come with me,” he whined roughly against your neck, your hair still gathered in his hand as he pulled it harder. He thrusted repeatedly against your g-spot inside of you and your eyes rolled back as you squeezed around Michael’s cock, making it twitch inside of you.

“Come with me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, the slight pain from the hair pulling, the fingers lazily drawing circles on your clit, his cock hitting your g-spot, it all sent you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you with force, causing you to shake slightly. Your walls squeezed Michael’s cock which sent him over the edge too, his hot release painting your walls as your grinded your hips in sync with his thrusts to ride both of your orgasms out.

Your hips finally came to a stop as you both steadied your breathing before Michael pulled out of you, causing you to whine slightly at the feeling of being empty. You both stopped to look around at the mess you made; all of your papers were on the floor, scattered here and there, all out the orders you had filed them in.

Michael smirked before looking back at you, “I’m sure Tommy’s paperwork can wait a little longer.”

You grinned, understanding instantly, “it can wait all night.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned back at you before once again attacking your neck but you pushed him away slightly making him look at you with concern.

“My girl? So are we…” You bit your lip in hesitation.

“Dating? Of course, only if you want to, my love.” He smiled nervously awaiting a response, the glisten in his eyes genuine.

“Of course I do.”

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray x you #michael gray imagine #michael gray one shot #michael gray smut #smut #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #new years eve special #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #finn cole #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x reader smut #peaky fookin blinders #incorrect peaky blinder quotes

[magnoliabloomfield]

Possession

Chapter 1: The Princess Arrives

Structure. Maybe it was because he was a builder that he liked that word so much. He built structures, he knew how make four walls and a roof that wouldn’t come down on anyone’s head, he knew how to build a seat that wouldn’t give out under anyone’s weight, and he knew how to maintain it all and make it last. The small world he lived in demanded order and structure for everyone’s well being. Without it they would be sleeping on the ground, starving, and losing their minds. And if one cog in that machine didn’t turn as it should it affected every other part. Yes, the Glade had to be a well oiled machine functioning everyday as it should.

Thankfully there were no outside forces that tried to thwart that. The doors opened in the morning, they closed at night, and the box came every month. You could tell time by the Glade and its unchanging rhythm. After three years Gally knew it like his own heartbeat. He knew the answer to every problem that could crop up in his bit of the machine. He was good enough to be the Keeper of the builders at least. Maybe that’s why it hit him hardest of all.

Box day came like all the others before it, predictable and precise. But then the heart of the Glade skipped a beat and Gally’s own did too for the first time. Because in that box was something they would never recover from.

A girl.

That was the worst thing that ever could have come up in the box. The boys would lose their minds, they’d become distracted and competitive and the machine of the Glade would come to a rusty, grinding halt. Gally could see the writing on the walls: this was going to be bad.

She wasn’t awake, she was laying there almost peacefully and all the gladers remained eerily and unexpectedly silent, like they were waiting for someone to jump out and say it was all a joke and take her away, or if they stared at her long enough the mirage would fizzle out and it actually would be a boy like it was supposed to be. Alby and Newt carefully lowered themselves into the box so they wouldn’t startle her and Newt hesitantly checked for a pulse, letting out a breath as he nodded to say she was alive. Gally ran a hand over his mouth, feeling anxious but not wanting to look it.

She woke up slowly from a sleep she didn’t know she’d fallen into. Her eyes stared straight up at the sky before they started to focus on things like Newt and Alby and a whole crowd of boys looming above her. Gally waited for the scream, for the crying, shuck, even boys had screamed and cried when they came up. But she didn’t. She tried to sit up and winced, placing her palm over her eye and rubbing like her head hurt.

“You’re okay,” Newt said to her from where he knelt beside her.

“Do you remem-“ Alby started to ask her but was silenced by her holding up one finger.

“Just… give me a minute,” she requested as she pressed both palms to her forehead and brought her knees up toward her chest.

“Sure, no rush,” Newt assured her softly, earning a small glare from Alby who was more impatient and less coddling than him.

“Enough gawking, if you’re not a keeper get back to work,” Alby ordered the boys standing around whispering to each other and stifling giggles behind their fists.

Gally narrowed his eyes and shook his head at them. Weak willed hormonal morons. They were all shucking doomed. Slowly the boys began to shuffle off, the ones catching Gally’s glare wiping the smirks from their faces and moving even faster. He sighed to himself knowing their work was going to suck if it got done at all.

Gally stood around with the other keepers, his arms crossed as they all waited for whatever would happen next. The girls hands came away from her face and she held one out in front of her, seeing the tremors running through it and making it shake before she clutched her knees and took a deep breath.

“Okay… now, what?” she sighed, looking up at Newt and Alby, her eyes squinting in the sun.

She was cute, of course she was cute, she couldn’t ruin their lives if she wasn’t cute, Gally thought to himself as he looked away from her.

“Do you remember anything?” Newt asked her nicely.

She zoned out on the middle ground ahead of her and let a breath out through her lips. “Water is wet, the sky is blue, that kind of stuff. I can’t even remember my name,” She said, her shaking hands pushing her hair back from her face as that realization set in.

“It’s ok, it’s alright,” Newt did a good job of keeping her calm. “That happens to everyone who comes here. Sad to say that’s normal. Most of us eventually remember our names at some point though, so don’t worry too much.”

“So if I were to ask you where we are and why we’re here you wouldn’t even know?” she asked as she turned to him, causing him to rock back on his heels a little bit.

“Unfortunately that is correct,” Alby spoke up, earning her attention. “But we will tell you everything we do know, starting with the fact that… you’re the very first girl to come here in three years. So we kind of have a lot to talk about.”

She squinted up at him for a beat before asking “Am I dreaming?”

“I bet you would think being the only girl in a crowd of boys would be a dream,” one of the other keepers said, drawing those eyes of hers to him.

“Nightmares are dreams too,” she pointed out.

Gally felt the corner of his mouth twitch like he might have chuckled at that.

She got out of the box on her own, climbing onto a drum of drinking water and then the rest of the way. Alby and Newt took a hand to get out and Gally figured the girl wasn’t keen on being touched just yet if ever. They let her have her way. They set off for the gathering room, the girl carefully encircled by the keepers to either keep her from running off or keep anyone from running up to her. Alby yelled for someone to go unload the rest of the box and the girl flinched.

She wasn’t as short as Gally expected a girl would be, but of course she was a lot shorter than him. At least not all the boys were that much taller than her which might tip things in her favor slightly if anything were to happen. Gally would have to pay attention to how intimidating he was now. It was never an issue with the boys, it was quite essential in fact. If they weren’t a little scared of someone then nothing would get done. But just looking at her he could tell that he absolutely could overpower her without breaking a sweat, and she would most definitely put that together too, so he had to make sure he never gave her a reason to think he actually would.

They started the gathering with the basic Greenie intro to the Glade. This was usually handled by one person who took the greenie on a tour around the Glade, but this was not the usual greenie. Gally was actually glad she was out of sight of the boys who were supposed to be working.

He rested his elbows on his knees to keep his leg from jumping nervously as Alby and Newt explained the basics and each keeper explained what they did. Gally kept his eyes down, unintentionally staring through the spot where her feet were. As the builder he was running through all the work he would have to do, he’d have to build a safe place for her to sleep and wash up, how exactly was he going to do that, he’d never had to do that before. When Alby called his name he was almost startled. He looked around and found everyone looking back at him, including the girl. It must be his turn.

“I’m in charge of the builders. Pretty self explanatory,” he stated, holding her gaze for as long as he could manage. It wasn’t long.

“You’ve been surprisingly quiet, Gally,” Newt pointed out, looking at him curiously.

Gally didn’t like the attention. “Well, I am the one who has to do the most about this situation,” he pointed out. “Yes, she needs her introduction to this place, but while you’re telling it to her I’m sitting here thinking of how I’m going to build a safe place for her to sleep and to wash up. I’m thinking up the plans now so I can get to work first light and just maybe she’ll have a place to sleep by sundown tomorrow. So what are we going to do for her tonight?”

Alby pinched the bridge of his nose as his face scrunched up, realizing that they had lot of work ahead of them. When Gally had finished his rant he thought the girl was sitting a little smaller in her seat.

“The gardening shed,” Newt blurted. “Remember the time the rakes fell over? We couldn’t get in, you had to take the door off. There’s no windows either. It’s not the best accommodations but on short notice at least it’s a place where no one can get in.”

Gally had started nodding, remembering exactly what Newt was talking about and it was a good idea, at least for one night. “We’ll move out some of the tools and put a cot in,” Gally thought aloud.

“She can take mine,” Minho volunteered.

“Are you sure? Aren’t you running tomorrow?” Newt pointed out.

“Yeah,” Minho shrugged. “Maybe one of the other runners will let me use his cot, but I can’t volunteer anyone else’s but my own. Besides, it’ll be one night, two tops with Gally working on it.”

Gally was surprised to hear him say something vaguely nice about him. But most of all he was planning, drawing blueprints in his mind of the safest, most anti-boy structure he could possibly make. He was going to put the Princess in the tower.

@poulterholland @anniemylennox @crazysheeplyca @thesuitkovian @Poulterjonas @gladerscake @carp3d1em @neilox

If any of you don't actually want to be tagged in the future just let me know, I was just trying to remember the ones who were really interested in the last short Gally series I wrote.

Possession Masterlist

#gally #tmr #tmr gally #tmr gally imagine #gally imagine #gally fanfic #tmr fanfic #tmr gally fanfic #maze runner #maze runner gally #gally maze runner #maze runner fan fic #will poulter #will poulter protection squad

[starkerscoop]

Little Touch of Heaven (Ch. 1)

Written for the @starkerfestivals​​ Summer Bingo

Prompt: Love at First Sight

And no, they do not get together in the first chapter. Despite my fluff rep, this fic will have some drama and angst, so buckle in!

Tag List: @snowstark​​ @nerdylocksandthethreebears​​

ao3

Tags: omegaverse, high school au

-

“Did you hear about the new kid?”

Tony’s ears perked up at the excited question, and he spared a glance at the direction it came from. Two girls stood by the blue lockers with animated expressions, and Tony wondered where they got their energy from. It was seven in the morning, damn it. It shouldn’t have been legal to be awake at this time, let alone to chatter loudly in the hallways.

“Yes!” the second girl said in response. “Have you seen him yet? He’s so cute.”

Tony scoffed and continued moving through the hall. He had no time for romance or aimless gossip. He was only attending school so that he could go on to university, escape his parents, and never return to his hometown. There was no need to concern himself with who was or wasn’t conventionally attractive.

The notion of a new student did intrigue him, however. It wasn’t often that teenagers or children moved to what was essentially the middle of nowhere. The most that the town got was retired elders seeking a quiet life.

Tony reached his locker and jerked on it harshly, getting its stubborn door to swing open with practiced ease. He pulled out the textbook he needed for his Physics class and stuffed it into his bag. After zipping it up, he shut his locker and turned, ready to make his reluctant way to his classroom, only to come face to face with James Rhodes, his best friend of twelve years.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey greeted. “You ready for Markovitz’s test?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Are you doubting my skills? Please, I could do it in my sleep.”

“That makes one of us,” Rhodey grumbled, annoyance passing over his face. “The least he could’ve done was make the test later on in the week. But no, we have to take it first thing in the morning on a Monday. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“You’re good at Physics,” Tony insisted. “Markovitz is just a shit teacher.”

Rhodey gave a helpless shrug. “Nothing we can do about it. We need his class to graduate.”

Tony nodded in agreement and they stepped into the classroom, which was halfway full of students who resembled zombies more than the teenagers they were. Their faces were marred with stress lines and deep eyebags, but that was no shocker. It was their last year of high school, and they were overcome with a need to both work themselves to the bone and give up, letting life take them where it pleased. A great deal of the graduating class wanted to move to the big cities and become more than small-towners following in their parents’ footsteps. It took a lot out of them.

Tony and Rhodey took their seats, which were, unfortunately, on opposite ends of the classroom. That wasn’t much of a problem for Rhodey, who was charismatic and got along with most people he encountered. For Tony, who preferred for people to stay away from him at all times, with the exception of a select few, it was equivalent to the end of the world. But he made do.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the class to file in, and by the time the bell rang, they were all at their desks. Mr. Markovitz cleared his throat, bringing their attention to him.

“We have a test today, so you better hope you studied, because this one’s a tough one.”

He allowed them a brief moment to groan and roll their eyes, and continued:

“But before we start, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Come in and introduce yourself, Peter.” He finished speaking and turned his head to the door, his students mimicking the action with curious eyes.

A boy walked in with his head down, his brown curls flopping over his forehead with each short step he took to the front of the classroom, where he stopped and looked up at them with a grimace. Tony could sympathize. He’d never had the ‘new kid’ experience, but he imagined it wasn’t good.

The boy began to speak. “My name is Peter Parker, I’m from New York, and I want to be a chemical engineer.”

Peter gazed around the classroom, his stare lingering on each student with a curiosity of his own, until it landed on Tony. Their eyes widened as they met, and Tony felt his breath catch in his chest. The tenseness of Peter’s jaw seemed to melt off of him the longer they stared at each other, and Tony’s heart fluttered at that. He’d never calmed anyone at sight before, and he thought that, that was what might’ve been happening at the moment. A smile, small but bright, started to grow on Peter’s face, and Tony found himself blushing.

“Take a seat, Peter,” Mr. Markovitz interrupted, and the eye contact was broken.

Peter shuffled to the only available seat, the one two rows in front of Tony’s, and sat down next to Ned Leeds, an omega who led the only Lego Club in the entire state of Montana.

Mr. Markovitz walked through the rows at a hurried pace, tossing a test face-down in front of every student. He’d handed everyone a test in the span of a minute, eager to begin testing.

“As usual, there’s no multiple-choice in my class. You have forty-five minutes. I’ve set the timer; you may begin your test.” Once he finished speaking, Mr. Markovitz perched on his desk with the timer next to him, and didn’t move an inch for the entirety of the test, watching them all with strong focus.

He’d said more than once that he hated cheaters, and he took enough precautions that no one doubted him. Aside from keeping an eye on them as they tested and making all their questions short-answer, he also gave his students different versions of the test, so they couldn’t ask each other for help.

Tony gripped his pencil tightly, attempting valiantly to forget Peter’s presence for the duration of the test, and read the first question.

You have a mass of 71 kg and are on a 51-degree slope hanging on to a cord with a breaking strength of 165 N.

(a) What must be the coefficient of static friction between you and the surface for you to be saved from the fire?

(b) If the coefficient of static friction is zero, what would the incline angle have to be in order for the cord to not break?

He’d read up on static friction over the summer to prepare for Physics. This was something he knew the answer to. And yet, his mind was drawing a blank.

As the minutes ticked by, heat flickered at the base of his spine and rose up as panic stirred in his gut. He’d never stumbled over himself in a science test like this. What was going on? What was wrong with him?

Despite his alarm, he glanced up from his papers to look at Peter, who was scribbling away on his test. Perhaps Tony had gotten the harder version, and Mr. Markovitz had overestimated the students’ ability to pass Version B. That had to be it.

Tony sifted through the pages, skimming every question to identify ones he could answer, but his search came up fruitless. The questions, though phrased in terms he was familiar with, weren’t bringing any answers to mind, and he released a distraught whimper. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, all engrossed in their tests.

Forty-five minutes flew by quickly, Tony’s stress making each second spent frantically scanning the test for something he could answer, shorter.

Mr. Markovitz collected each test with the same rushed demeanor he’d handed them out in. He tucked them into a drawer in his desk, locked it, and faced the class with his hands clasped before his stomach.

He announced, “Your tests will be graded by the end of the week. For homework, read the next chapter of the textbook, and be ready to discuss it tomorrow. Class dismissed.”

Everyone stood up, pushing their chairs in and rushing to their friends, no doubt to gush over the test. Tony made his way to Rhodey with an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“That was horrible,” Rhodey sighed, massaging his hand to rid it of the soreness it had acquired during the test. “I bet it wasn’t for you, though, boy-genius.”

Tony shook his head mutely.

“What?” Rhodey placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, man. Even if you failed, one grade won’t do anything to you.”

Tony didn’t agree. “I need to pass if I want to make it out of here.”

“One bad test won’t tank your grade,” Rhodey asserted. “I promise.”

Tony smiled grimly. “We’ll see what my parents have to say about that.”

#starker #ironspider #starkerscoopwrites #little touch of heaven fic #SFSummerBingo21

[lostinthewiind]

Hi!!! I just wanted to say that I freaking love your cherry X Joe X Reader poly series! And its actually got me into the anime!!! I was actually wondering if you want to, write one where the female! Reader is being stalked and harassed by a co-worker at her job and she didn't want to tell Joe and cherry because she doesn't want them to worry about her too much because they already have so much on their plates. But one day, the two of them decide to pick up the her up to surprise her, flowers and everything. And they see the co-worker harassing their lover and it's up to you to determine how they would react? Can also plz make were the three of them are engaged?

Polyamorous Relationship w/ Joe & Cherry: Your Problems, My Problems, Our Problems

A/N: first of all, I'm so honoured to hear that I got you into anime :) Secondly, I can already feel that this request is going to be fun to write! I'll make sure to add an engagement fic to the series soon as well because I've been meaning to anyway. So happy that so many people seem to really like this series as much as I do.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: stalking, predatory behaviour, slightly angsty, profanity, someone who does NOT drink their 'respect women' juice

"Awh, come on, Sweetheart." Your coworker slipped into the elevator with you at the last second despite your desperate attempt to escape him at the end of the day. "Just one drink and then I'll never ask again."

You clenched your fist by your side on the opposite side of him so he wouldn't see. Mustering all of your strength, you forced a fake smile. "Sorry, I can't tonight. I've got plans with my boyfriend."

You had been dropping these not-so-subtle hints that you absolutely were not interested for months on end by now, but your coworker was either completely blinded by his persistence or was willingly ignoring them in favour of achieving his goal.

At first, when you had transferred to his floor at the company building, he had come across as nothing more than a kind mentor offering to show you the ropes. But then, bit by bit, he got pushier. 'Get to know your coworkers' dinners soon turned to just the two of you alone at a bar, which quickly turned into a situation that you found uncomfortable and ever since then, you had turned down all of his advances.

In the beginning, you had tried to make your excuses believable and turn him down nicely since he was above you in the company, but as the weeks passed and he still didn't seem to get the message, your responses got shorter and less believable. Now he was asking you out pretty much every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes he would even follow you to your car to make sure you were going home just like you said you were.

You weren't sure when it had happened, exactly, but things had gone from annoying to anxiety-inducing seemingly overnight and you had no idea what to do about it.

"You always mention this 'boyfriend' of yours," he used air quotes to make it clear that he didn't believe you, "but I've never seen him. Sure you aren't lying just to get me to go away?"

You chuckled nervously, hoping to come up with a quick answer to satisfy him for the night so that he wouldn't feel the need to tail you to your car. "No, of course not. He just has a busy work schedule as well. You know how it is."

He eyed you sternly, his gaze almost piercing. "Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight."

As soon as the elevator doors slid open on the main floor of the building, he gave a wave and exited before you and headed for the front doors. Slowly, you followed him out, and as soon as you saw him disappear into the darkness of the night, you exhaled shakily and took a moment to regain your composure.

You honestly didn't know how you managed to seem so calm and collected around him on the daily considering your heart always pounded ruthlessly against your rib cage whenever you saw him.

Once you were fully composed again, you made your way to your car as fast as possible and drove back home, knowing that seeing Joe and Cherry would immediately make you feel better; not that they knew their presence was something you relied on at the end of the day because you refused to tell them.

At first, you kept it to yourself because it seemed harmless and you didn't want them to overreact and blow up at nothing, but then, as it got worse, it just seemed like the time to tell them had passed. And the last thing you wanted to do was worry them when they both already had exhausting work lives as well.

You simply didn't want to be a burden. You were sure they dealt with annoying coworkers as well and they didn't feel the need to bother you with those stupid little problems, so you wouldn't either.

Walking through the front door of your shared apartment, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders at the sight of Cherry at his desk and Joe sitting on the couch with the television playing some show on low volume. 

“I’m home,” you announced with a weary, but genuine, smile on your face. Before either of your boyfriends could utter a response, you had kicked off your shoes, made your way over to the couch, and curled up next to Joe with your face buried in his neck. His hair was wet, indicating he had just gotten out of the shower, and the smell of his shampoo and body wash calmed you instantly.

“Hey.” Joe wrapped an arm around you as he shared a quizzical look with Cherry. Usually, you would get changed, shower, and eat something before even thinking about relaxing for the night. “Everything okay?”

Realizing that you had basically announced that everything was not, in fact, okay with your unusual actions, you froze for a second. You contemplated just coming clean about everything right then and there, but before you could make a decision, the words “I’m fine” were spilling from your mouth.

“Just a long and exhausting day at work,” you followed up your lie with some details, not they they were technically false as it had been a long and exhausting day . . . just not for the reasons they thought. “I’ve been thinking about coming home to you two ever since my alarm went off this morning. Just one of those days.”

The sweet smiles that dawned Joe’s and Cherry’s faces proved that they believed you. “You hungry?” Joe pressed a kiss to your temple. “I brought home some leftovers from work again.”

Your eyes lit up and Joe chuckled. “Really?” You found yourself forgetting about your troubles in the blink of an eye. 

“Really really.” Joe nodded. “I can heat some up for you if you want to shower and get changed.”

Pulling a dramatically emotional face, you faked a sniffle. “You’re the best, you know that?” You planted a big kiss to his lips before heading for the bedroom and stopping in the doorway. “You’re the best too, Kaoru,” you added for good measure so your other boyfriend didn’t feel left out before vanishing into the bedroom. 

You heard Cherry scoff amusingly in the background, but by then you were in too good of a mood to throw something snarky back at him and were determined to enjoy the moment because you knew that this good feeling would disappear as soon as you started work again in the morning. 

But for now, you could enjoy the comforts of your home and the two people you loved most in the world.

                                              ━━━━━━━━

As you finished your work for the day and got ready to head home, overjoyed that it was the last night you would have to work overtime for a while, you were surprised that you had managed to get through the day with little interaction or pestering from your coworker.

You didn’t want to jinx yourself or anything, but for a brief moment the thought that he had finally given up crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you scanned the office for him but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, you gathered your things and made a bee-line for the elevator.

For once, you had managed to get through an entire day without being cornered and asked out for the millionth time. 

As the elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the lobby, you spotted two familiar faces waiting for you at the front doors and you felt your heart swell with excitement. You had expected both your boyfriends to be busy tonight with work, the same as you were, so seeing them both standing there, waiting for you with flowers in hand, was a welcomed surprised.

Thinking that today was actually a good day for once, you rose your hand to wave with a grin on your face, a feeling of freedom and joy spreading through you  . . . that was until you felt a hand clasp down on your shoulder. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Immediately, your good mood had vanished.

Slowly, you lowered your hand—your smile fading in the process—and turned around to face your coworker. 

“Thought you could get away without me noticing?” His grin was wide and toothy, like a predator showing off its fangs to prove how powerful it was. He didn’t pay any mind to Joe or Cherry, which meant that he either didn’t know they were there for you or didn’t care. 

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” You gestured over to your boyfriends, hoping that the realization that your significant other was real would finally be enough to scare him off. “I’ve got plans.”

He glanced Joe and Cherry’s way briefly, but it did nothing to deter him. “Oh, so you do actually have a boyfriend. Which one is he?”

You swallowed hard. Usually, explaining the whole polyamory thing was too time-consuming so you told people you had a boyfriend and left it at that. “It’s, well . . . um . . .”

Before you were forced to answer, Joe and Cherry had noticed your discomfort from across the lobby and started making their way over. The look in Joe’s eyes gave away that he was none too pleased that your male coworker still had his hand on your shoulder. 

“This must be one of your coworkers,” Cherry was the first to speak, extending his hand politely to your coworker. “Nice to meet you.”

Your coworker used his free hand to shake Cherry’s while Joe just grunted in disapproval. In a desperate attempt to escape the situation without causing a scene, you tried to shift closer to Joe but were stopped by your coworker’s hand clamping down harder on your shoulder. 

“We’re the boyfriends.” Joe’s grip tightened around the bouquet of flowers he was holding as he reached out, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you away from your coworker and toward him. 

“Boyfriends? As in plural?” Your coworker tilted his head at you quizzically. “You never told me you had two boyfriends.”

“I never-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“I’m a little surprised you’re real,” your coworker said, somehow seemingly completely unfazed. “I was seriously beginning to believe she was making you up to avoid going out with me.”

You shook your head and chuckled nervously, something you found yourself doing around him a lot in order to keep the mood light. “I would never lie to you. It’s just busy schedules is all, like I said yesterday.”

“Going out with you?” Cherry cocked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “The woman tells you she has a boyfriend and you still insist on asking her out?”

Your coworker just laughed. “Well we used to go out all the time when she first switched departments. I thought she was just playing hard to get but I guess not.”

Both Joe and Cherry turned to you, glimmers of confusion in their eyes. “You used to go out?” Joe asked, concerned that they had just found out you had been cheating on them. 

“No!” you blurted out. “Well, I mean, yes, but it was as a group of coworkers. Never just the two of us.”

“Never?” your coworker repeated. “What about those times at the bar? Did you seriously forget? That hurts my feelings, you know.”

You felt your cheeks flush red and your heart begin to pound. Suddenly, you had been backed into a corner by your past self’s naive kindness. “I didn’t know it was going to be just the two of us until I showed up,” you stated quietly. “You lied to me to get me to go.”

“Is that true?” Joe placed a finger under your chin and lifted your head to get you to look him in the eyes. You could tell he wasn’t accusing you of anything, only looking for answers.

You nodded, finally feeling brave enough to tell the truth with your boyfriends by your side. “Once I realized he was after something more, I started turning down his propositions. Then he started asking me every day . . . then he started following me to my car,” you whispered the last part, worried about what might happen if your coworker heard you say that part. “Can we please leave now?”

Noticing that your hands were shaking and your bottom lip was quivering, Joe instantly knew that you were telling the truth; no one would ever be so terrified to tell a lie like this. “Yes, of course, we can leave now.” He held you closer. “Whatever you want.”

“So you’re gonna lie and make me look like the bad guy here?” your coworker huffed, truly playing the victim card to the fullest. “I’m the asshole because I wanted to buy you a few drinks and get to know you better?”

“No, you’re the asshole for continuing to pursue her when she clearly told you no,” Cherry snapped, now just as angry as Joe was, maybe even more. “She’s kind and, because of that, probably turned you down nicely—too nicely—and you took advantage of that . . . you fucking prick.”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. Usually, Cherry was the one to remain calm in stressful or aggravating situations, but apparently not this time. You rarely heard him curse or snap, let alone at someone he met for the first time five minutes ago. 

Reaching out, you grabbed hold of Cherry’s hand and squeezed lightly to catch his attention. “I really think we should leave now,” you told him. 

Drawing in a deep breath and collecting himself, Cherry agreed. “Yes, you’re right, we should. We have dinner plans and it would be a waste to miss them on account of this asshole.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Your coworker finally seemed to give in, but not without hurling a few insults your way first, of course. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time on someone like you anyway. What, two boyfriends is perfectly fine but three is crossing a line? Give me a fucking break. Slut.”

You saw the rage bubbling up in both Joe and Cherry, but before they had the chance to do anything about it, your coworker had turned his nose up at the three of you, pushed his way past, and exited the building. 

As soon as he was completely out of sight, they both turned to you and you felt the tears begin to well in your eyes; not necessarily because you were sad or angry, but because you were so relieved that the truth had finally come out and your coworker had finally been dealt with. 

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke through gentle sobs, trying to calm down all the while. “I should have told you two about him when it all first started but I just didn’t want to burden you two with an issue that seemed so . . . so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Joe pulled you in for an almost bone-crushing hug. “You said he was following you to your car. That’s not stupid. You must have been so scared.”

“You should have told us,” Cherry agreed. “Now that I know you were dealing with that all by yourself for months, it makes me feel like a bad boyfriend. I should have picked up on the signs, like when you came home completely drained last night. I wish we could have helped you sooner.”

Wiping away your tears, you drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for coming tonight and for telling him off. I just hope he doesn’t pull anything at work tomorrow . . . he is technically my superior.”

“If he tries anything, and I mean anything, you tell us right away. Okay?” Joe insisted. “From now on, no more secrets because you want to protect us or don’t want to burden us. Your problems are our problems.”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us. It’s our job to keep you safe and be there for you.” Cherry kissed your cheek softly. “Now, I’m starving so let’s go eat, yeah?”

Suddenly, you remembered just how hungry you were. “Yes, dinner sounds lovely.”

“Speaking of lovely, these are for you.” Joe handed you the bouquet of flowers—now with slightly smushed stems from his previous anger—that he had brought. 

“They are beautiful.” You took them happily and gave them a smell, the floral scent bringing your nerves down a little. “You two seriously are the best, you know that?”

“We know.”

#sk8 the infinity #lostinthewiind #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry blossom #sakurayashiki karou #nanjo kojiro #reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #slight angst #sk8 #polyamorous relationship with cherry and joe #polyamorous #polyamory