#//thinking about how robotic i could make his joints and limbs look again

[mechahero]

//Stylization thoughts and stuff.

[maiko-san]

TADC x Robotic Jester! Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Since part 1 doing so well, I'll be making part 2

ft. Jax, Gangle

You're not really sure how time really works in the digital circus, but who cares anyway? You just live your own life here without worrying about anything especially your human past.

You're at The Tent, practicing your skill on a tricycle while juggling lit torches in your hands and on a tightrope.

Ragatha had gone to her room to rest while Kinger is in his pillow fort, probably thinking about his insect collection.

You were too focus juggling the torches and not noticing a pair of scissors cutting the rope. The last thing you hear was a 'snap' and then you fall on the ground quite comically ( in cartoony way ) followed by a laughter. You let out a groan and shakes your head, you couldn't help but growl as turn your head to face the culprit.

It was the newcomer, Jax.

JAX

Number 1 pain the as#&! in the entire circus. You don't like him one bit ever since he first appeared.

He loves tormenting others and saying "I love to see something funny happen to people" follow that stupid grin of his.

"Hahahaha! Look how funny you look when you fall, you look so stupid!" he laughed. Your teeth clenched together. "It's not funny....rabbit" you said, standing up and dusting your clothes.

Sometimes you have the urge to throw him into the void but Caine somehow can hear your thoughts and tell you not to or he will confiscate all of your items and give you a timeout.

"It would be more funny if you were to set on fire— oh wait, you already are!" Jax grins, you stare at him in disbelief. You take a whiff and you swore you smell something burning, your tail kinda feels hot for some reason.

You turn your head to see that the tip of your tail is on fire.

Let's just say, Jax loves tormenting you the most. You remind him of those cartoon characters in tv shows!

Some of his pranks can be overboard and there are times it causes you to become malfunction all thanks to his pranks especially when he pours water into your joint circuits, causing your limbs to twist uncontrollably.

He doesn't care that he hurts someone (or even cares about their feelings). Knowing that Caine could fix/solves everything with a snap of his fingers.

Jax is straight up a bunny from hell.

None of the others like Jax including you.

You just don't know what his problem is but if he ever dares to hurt your friends with his silly pranks, you won't hesitate to throw him into the void.

You roll your eyes and sigh, with him around the area making you lose interest in training. So, you decide to leave and go back to your room or go to Ragatha's.

After a few days had passed, a new human had appeared in the circus.

Gangle

A ribbon with a mask? She's an odd one.

The very first moment she arrived, she was nervous and scared.

Caine was about to give her a name until Jax decided to name her himself.

"How about Gangle? They do move so 'graceful' " he said with a proud grin on his face, you look at him in disbelief. Seriously? That just mean! ( Gangle means moves ungracefully ). Before you could protest about the name, Caine just agreed with the suggestion he have given.

"Well! Gangle, welcome to your new home!" Caine smiles.

For the first few days, Gangle did really well actually. You notice that she has two masks with her, that is her comedy mask and tragedy mask.

Gangle is very light since she was made out of ribbons, if you run past her the poor girl gets knocked down by the wind and breaks her mask at the same time.

You did it once and you feel guilty for doing so.

So you remind yourself to always be careful whenever you're around her.

Gangle really appreciates how you are so careful and gentle around her, unlike Jax who pushes her on purpose whenever he feels like it.

Every time she breaks her comedy mask, you would offer to fix it for her but she softly declines.

"Wah!" again, Jax tripped her over when she walks past him. Her comedy mask falls off her tragic mask and smashes on the floor, "My...my comedy mask" Gangle sobs as she holds up a piece of her shattered mask.

She sighs to herself and picks up the mask piece by the piece, she stops when a hand hovers her.

She looks up to see Ragatha, Kinger and you. You couldn't help but let out a scoff, glaring at the rabbit "Seriously, Jax? Again." you glare at the purple rabbit. "Pfft. What? Not my fault that she doesn't see it coming~" he said, closing his eyes as he shrugs off what he has just done.

Gangle and Ragatha could see that you're on your last straw. Your limbs extend and wrap themselves around the rabbit, causing Jax to blink in surprise.

The next thing, Jax was thrown out of the tent. There was a Jax shaped hole left on the roof of the tent, indicating he was thrown high up.

Gangle didn't expect for you to do it, she was shocked. She appreciates that you stood up for her but at the same time, feeling that she's a burden.

You assure her that it wasn't a problem and tell her if Jax ever bothers her again with his silly pranks, don't be afraid to tell you :D.

A/N :

State in the wiki, Jax gets to choose his own name when he first arrive and he also chooses Gangle's name too.

If you're thinking that "Jax is too mean!' that's what he is, he's just a straight up a-hole and a sociopath(?).

[flemlem]

okay so thoughts about creation saying that tubbo never was alive. This has been making me go wild. I have so many thoughts about his character and what this may make his character. So in we go, my inane ramblings.( warning, this is Long long)

So first off, during Fit's birthday, after Tubbo had been bugged and Etoiles had said that there was going to be a lot of tweets about how his character could see ghosts now, Tubbo responded with "look man, I was dead a long time ago". So not only has creation told people that Tubbo has Been dead, Q!Tubbo is also aware of this fact. He knows he's not human, he knows hes not alive, he just doesnt really care. Which does kind of make me confused about all his suicidal tendancies but hey, maybe since he's already died at least once he doesn't really care anymore. It's all a joke to him. That's why he always plays it off as nothing serious because he knows, worst comes to worst, he'll be back one day. Or at least thats what he might think. It might also just be the desperation of 'Maybe this time it will work. Maybe this time I will actually die'. Maybe he's been dead for a long time actually. Maybe this is his first iteration or maybe it's his fiftieth.

so my main thought is that he Was alive. Not recently. not recently at all. But he was, once upon a time. There was a time in the far far past, or the far far future where his heart beat on its own and he had to breathe to keep living, to keep creating. Then something happened. Maybe he got into a tough spot and the feds found him and changed him. Maybe in his creation he changed himself. The main reason that I think he Was alive at some point is because of what he said at the party. that he "was dead a long time ago". He doesnt say somehting like 'I've always been dead' just that he Has been dead for A Long Time.

Im personally all for him having died, time and time again, not quite robot not quite human. His conciousness just inhabits a shell. That's why he still has all his limbs despite definetly getting hands caught in crushers before. Maybe that shell is mechanical. Maybe Its something else. Maybe it is like creation. Something he made, that he molded from metal and flesh and clay that is just... hollow. A puppet with cut strings when its not being inhabited. Maybe he got too attached to this shell, maybe thats why he needs to be brought back this time.

I do like the thought that he changed himself. somewhere along the line maybe he got sick, or maybe he just got curious. He started swapping parts out Just Because. He's not Totally a robot. He still looks human enough, just that some of his joints, his muscels, his organs, well, they're not quite organic anymore. He did this to himself. He needed to keep living, he needed to keep creating. He couldnt leave his Creations behind. He needed to continue to make more and to up keep the ones he had already made. He just... forgot to upkeep himself while he was at it.

I also fully believe that he Knew that he was going to die. It wasn't that he wanted the two lives left, its just that he Knew that his body was going to fail soon. He doesn't have create to upkeep this body (this shell) for much longer. It could only take so much damage before it started to give out. That's why he made the 'deal ' with chayanne. He needed the others to think there was a reason for this, that he had signed his life away for more excitement. He needed them to not question it when he didnt get back up. He needed there to be an easy answer to point at. That's why Chayanne said that he thought that it was a joke. He didn't think it was serious because the deal never Actually Happened. But it didnt matter. He was going to die either way.

So anyway, thats like, most of my current thoughts rn. Im So Excited for this :DDDD I want it to permanentally affect Everyone.

[cookieswithay]

🤖"Reign of Donnie 0!"💜 Part dos, the conclusion!

🔨Donnie x female reader🧪

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Hey peoples. Thank you all for waiting so long. Please enjoy this big conclusion. And once again, because everyone's adulting, there is a smidge of suggestive talk. Only a smidge, though! Pt 1

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• Day 25

• "Donnie, c'mon!"

• "Mr. Murakami gonna make us pizza themed ramen!"

• Raph called from outside. Donnie sighed. He couldn't think about pizza delicacies right now. Why do you want him to snuff out smaller threats!? Of course, it's a good idea but... He thought you wanted him home. He wants to be back at home with you.

• "D?"

• The oldest walked into his part of the tank. (A perfect replica of his lab)

• "Why the long face? We're going home in a few days."

• Donnie sighed dramatically and slammed his face on his desk.

• "Oh-ho, I know that sound of anguish."

• Leo's in on the convo now.

• "Someone's having trouble with the future missis."

• His twin grumbled. He's...right. Donnie lifted up his phone to show the voicemail.

• "She...thinks we should stay longer to squash anymore threats."

• The brothers looked at each other.

• "That's it?"

• They said. The softshell gasped.

• "That's it!?"

• He shot up from his rolly chair.

• "She is my peanut butter and I am her jelly, existing without each other isn't something we enjoy."

• "So her throwing away the golden opportunity to reunite, is hurting my feelings!"

• Quietness. Now supes embarrassed, he sighs and melts back into his seat. (Y'know like Spinel did.) Raph looked around and put his hand on younger brother's head.

• "Okay...good job on spilling your guts, buddy."

• Donnie tucked into his knees.

• "Aww, cheer up. It'll only be a few more days."

• "We can catch the other baddies then."

• Raph said, attempting to lighten the mood. But, all it was doing was giving D a headache. Literally, Raph's hand is heavy. Leo scoffed.

• "Uh, how? It took us months just to pinpoint these guys."

• "They're probably PLENTY more evil organizations in this country."

• Leo got shoved into a nearby shelf.

• "Leo, we're trying to make him feel better."

• The oldest snapped. The blue twin muttered 'I'm just being saying.' as he got up. That gave Raph a lightbulb.

• "I got it!"

• "Let's take over Japan!"

• The twins looked at each other.

• "Huh?"

• Day 27

• You laid on the couch, staring at your phone. Meanwhile, Donnie 0 was vacuuming the floor with said couch over his shoulder. (Super strength was one of his many abilities.) You sighed. Why hasn't Donnie called you back yet? He always does, even if he's getting his arms twisted back. He hasn't responded to any of the memes you sent either. Is he over cats stuffed in shoes now?

• "Y/N."

• You looked down at your bot.

• "This task is complete."

• You gave him a little nod and looked back at your phone. You sent your live Donnie another message.

• Thinking about you 🥺

• You sighed. Is he hurt or something? Captured!? If he is, your taking the FIRST plane to Japan-

• Suddenly, the couch fell down. Making you shriek.

• "Apologies, my sweet,"

• Donnie 0 said, while looking over his limbs.

• "My arm joint got stuck."

• You laughed weakly.

• "No prob, Bob."

• He bent down and poked your nose.

• "I'm Donnie, you."

• He snickered. You smiled a little and looked down.

• "Something bothering you, Y/N?"

• You poked your lip out.

• "Uh-huh, my man's not answering me."

• The mention of the og Donnie, made the robot frown. But, he quickly wiped it off his face.

• "I think my is phone broken."

• You mumbled. That gave him an idea. A bad idea. He cleared his throat and imitated his creator's "triumphant" laugh.

• "Never fear, Y/N,"

• He stood up.

• "Your world's greatest robot is here."

• "I'll fix your phone."

• You blinked and stood up.

• "That's okay, I can just go to the Ephone store-."

• Before you could finish your sentence, you were dipped down. A robotic yet fleshy arm, secured your waist.

• "Please,"

• His hand clasped over your phoned one.

• "I insist."

• Your face nearly lit on fire. Laughing nervously, you squirmed away from the pose. (Falling on the floor.)

• "Okay, okay. Do whatever you need to do."

• You said, letting your device go. Mission successful, the robotic doppelganger thought. Teasing you has gotten significantly easier.

• "Well gtg, Donnie 0. I got a new anime with my name on it."

• "Bye, wifey."

• He replied smoothly. You smiled and walked into your room. But not before you said something that made his wires burn.

• "You're just like my Donatello."

• He wish that didn't URK him so badly. He is his own turtle! And he wishes you'd see him as such ! But, BUT, that's fine for now. Your falling in love thee update is still downloading. All he has to do is keep pushing and that beautiful, beating heart of yours will be his...

• Day 31 (Day before the departure)

• Your fiancee sighed as he put on his jacket. (Dark purple with a black dog on the back. It's part of a suit combo) You're still not answering. He even asked Donnie 0 to check your devices and he said they were working fine. Maybe you got a new phone? But, then why didn't you give him your new number-?

• "Donnie, Donnie!"

• D woke up from his trance. Mikey was shaking his shoulder.

• "Huh, what?"

• All his brothers were looking at 'im, their faces contorted with worry.

• "Turn off your blowtorch, Donnie."

• Raph said, with a 'calm down' motion (Also sporting a flashy dog suit🐶 His is red, of course.)

• "We're heading home tomorrow,."

• Donnie tugged his tie, anxiously.

• "And if this plan doesn't work!?"

• "Um..."

• (It's getting harder and harder to reassure this dude.)

• "We pack up and go home!"

• Leo said while swinging his sword over his shoulder. His twin looked astonished. Raph frowned.

• "No."

• He turned back to his brother in purple.

• "Don't even worry, D. This mission will go well, so stop thinking about losing so much."

• The scientist sighed and nodded. Everything's gonna be a-okay. Namaste.

• "Sheldon, turn on some of Donnie's calm jams."

• Mikey said with a smile. Suddenly, something rung in his brain. Sheldon...Shell...

• "Shelly!"

• Donnie shouted. 'Huh?' His brothers said in unison. He didn't have time to explain anything to them, he finally has a way to contact you! He grabbed Sheldon.

• (Who looked distraught and miffed about it.)

• "Sheldon, contact Shelly."

• The little robot perked up.

• "Shelly? You got it bro!"

• The softshell sighed of relief. Shelly (Sheldon's girlfriend) is your back up device that is made for emergency contacts. ANYTHING can get through to them. Though Donnie doesn't has time to have a long, wonderful chat with you, he can still leave a heartfelt message. He cleared his throat. The signal connects. He's on air.

• "Greetings my darling, I'm SO glad I finally got through. Miss me? Of course you did. Hope you it wasn't too much and..."

• He paused. Feelings rushed into his mouth.

• "I really love you and I can't wait to see you tomorrow. We gotta overthrow the Fujioka clan now, but...let's have a sleepover tomorrow, okay? We'll do whatever you want, anything...Bye, Y/N."

• Right before he signed off he remembered something he had to say. He smiled, showing off his very pearly whites.

• "Like my suit?

• Day 32 (The showdown.)

• "So you finally got in contact with him, huh?"

• April said, biting into a cookie. Right now, you and April ooo'neil are having a sleepover. Since you were feeling MAD lonely, you asked if she could spend some time with you. (April's usually busy trying to seal a business deal with her husband.) But, you finally got a message from your soon to be hubby! From your Shelly.

• "Yeah, apparently his phone was tripping out too."

• You replied, snagging a cookie yourself. She raised an eyebrow.

• "Donnie's phone was messing up?"

• You nodded. That's...weird. Like, really weird. She pointed to your closed door.

• "Did Donnie 0 fix your phone?"

• You laid back on your bed.

• "I dunno, he hasn't returned it yet."

• "Y/N, can you go to the store and grab some more sodas. We're all out."

• You answered while rubbing the head of the girl Sheldon. April frowns. That's it. Something's wrong. She thought quietly as you continued to talk about the message you got. Something just doesn't feel right. Donnie 0 is usually pleasant to her but he always looked at you kinda strangely...

• Omg.

• You frowned.

• "Why do I have to get 'em?"

• She scoffed.

• "You're the host."

• She retorted with crossed arms. You grumbled and hopped up and opened the door.

• "If you need anything, just ask my Donnie bot."

• She gave you a thumbs up and watched as you left. The moment you shut the door, she grabbed her phone. She has to call Donnie. She knows why you guys couldn't get in contact. And...there was no reception.

• "Dangit."

• She groaned. Wait a minute, Shelly! April picked up the robot and tapped away. Hopefully, the turtles are already on their way home.

• "Donnie, I know why you couldn't contact Y/N. Donnie 0 is in lo-"

• "Ahem."

• She froze. There he was, in the doorway

• "Donnie 0 is what?"

• He said with a his trademark smile. April said nothing, only narrowing her eyes. She has to play her cards right. This is a powerful Ai and it has feelings for her best friend. This could get ugly very fast. He took a step closer.

• "April,"

• He said calmly.

• "Put the robot the down and you can continue to have a peaceful evening, okay."

• She gripped it tightly. What should she do? She doesn't know if the boys are on there way or what Donnie 0's capable off. She could escape through the window but...she can't just leave you with this thing.

• "April, give me Shelly."

• The robot repeated, extending his hand. His purple pupils are starting glow. She's running out of time.

• "If you want her,"

• April said slowly.

• "Go get her!"

• She chucked the priceless invention out the window. Not able to resist the Donnie-ness flowing through him, he lunged for it.

• "Shelly!"

• April took that chance and dashed towards the front door. She'll pick you up and take you the airport and the boys will handle this crazy bucket of bolts-

• "Get back here!"

• A loud, distorted voice shouted. A long, metal claw wrapped around her, dragging her back to Donnie 0. He chuckled lowly.

• (Doing the tsk tsk tsk.)

• "It's such a shame I have to delete you April,"

• He said, tightening the grip.

• "I liked being your friend."

• She groans. Her bones...are gonna break!!! Suddenly, a orange ball crashed through the window. It hit Donnie 0 right in the jaw, nearly denting him. He yelped and dropped April. He looked around, ready to tear apart source.

• "Hey!"

• They both looked over at the front door.

• "Back away from our best girl, Robot Donnie."

• It was Mikey! And the rest of them. (Thank goodness) Donnie stepped up.

• "So,"

• He crossed his arms.

• "My greatest creation has gone insane."

• "WHY am I getting deja vu?"

• (Sheldon raised his wing to say something, but Mikey stopped him.)

• Donnie 0 laughed. Finally, he gonna let his true feelings free.

• "Oh poor, deluded, DUMB, Donatello."

• He chuckled. (Unintentionally crossing his arms like his creator.)

• "I'm not the insane one here."

• "You are."

• The softshell's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything.

• "Do you really think Y/N is always gonna wait around for you?"

• "You don't, do you? That's why I'm here. A remnant of you so she doesn't look elsewhere."

• His pupils burned a piercing purple.

• "But, your plan backfired. I imprinted. And now, I wanna take your place."

• "So be a good ex fiancee and make yourself scarce."

• All the brothers (and April) looked at D. Was he just gonna take that? The actual Donatello chuckled.

• (Not Haha, funny. Haha, you're dead.)

• "Phew, um, I have alot of choice words for you but,"

• He pressed a button on his Techbo, turning it into a double sided, light saber. (One of its many upgrades.)

• "Unlike you, I'll spare you the chit chat. And skip to the robot breaking."

• Everyone readied their weapons. And from lack of her mystic bat, April grabbed a rolling pin!

• "Haha! What now, Robo?"

• Mikey asked/laughed.

• "You got 4 angry, car lagged turtles AND a businesswoman on your back."

• "You're toast!"

• Donnie 0 chuckled, his shoulders bouncing. That's not a good sign.

• "Am I?"

• He snapped. The room began to shake. 3 more artificial intelligences came, each damaging your apartment in some way. And...surprise, surprise, it was the other mutated siblings. The robot in purple laughed, his voice switching from demonic to Donnie.

• "Did you really think I wasn't prepared for this!?"

• "Well, we were kinda hoping you weren't."

• Leo chimed in.

• "Brethren, take them down."

• "I'll handle master Donatello."

• And the fight begins! The Raphs clash fist, Mikey gets tackled by his bot, and Leo's is oddly super tactical. And of course, the main crazed robot is after Donnie's head.

• "Head ups, Raph!"

• Mikey shouted, swinging his robot his older brother's way. Despite, still blocking punches, the snap turtle ducked. Resulting in Mik-E slamming through the wall.

• "Bleh, I hate how much that thing looks like you."

• Raph mumbled. Mikey hopped on his back and pointed.

• "Ah! My look alike is still kicking!"

• The robot has indeed, got up. He cracked his head the right way and frowned. They screamed and ran off into the kitchen. Mik-E hot on their heels. Meanwhile, Leo and April were actually struggling with Le-O. He was in perfect sync with his original, yet he had quick enough reaction time to block their friend.

• "What do we do!? It's like fighting a computer in chess!"

• April shouted, trying to get one hit on the bot. Leo thought hard for a second. Then, he got it!

• "How do you beat computers?"

• He clashed swords with Le-O.

• "With cheat codes!"

• The robot scoffed at the lame pun and easily pushed him back into the coffee table.

• "Geez, D-0 wasn't kidding. You're super annoying."

• The slider smirked.

• "I get that alot."

• Suddenly, crackling was heard. The Ai turned around. There April was! Popping out of the classic blue portal and winding the pitch. She swung. And...!

• "Homerun!"

• Le-O was slammed in the cheek with the rolling pin, and crashed out your window. The condescending copycat was out for the count. (Maybe, nobody checked) The two high fived.

• "Another win for April and Leo!"

• Leo laughed.

• "Now let's go cream Raph's bot!"

• Donnie sighed as they scampered into the rowdy kitchen. Thank goodness, his brothers weren't struggling...much. Still looking at other commotion, the scientist caught the incoming staff.

• "It would be wise for you to keep your eyes on your opponent, Donatello."

• Donnie 0 hissed.(Although he couldn't pull his techbo back) The flesh and blood scientist scoffed and threw the staff away.

• "Bring it."

• Right before the fight you all have been waiting for began...!

• The doorknob turns. Everyone froze.

• You're home!

• "Hide!"

• Donnie whisper/shouted. The fam and the robots ducked behind the counter.

• "And you!"

• He pointed at the Ai next to 'im.

• "It's time for you to log off."

• He yanked on Mecha D's hoodie and reached Emergency shutdown button, (it's on the back of his neck) but the robot was ready.

• "Like hell it is."

• Donnie 0 snapped back. The scientist gasped and they began to tussle. Fabric was getting torn.

• "I did NOT give you foul language!"

• "Get your hands off me!"

• "Donnie?"

• Both of them froze and looked up at you. There you were. Standing in the doorway. Looking very confused (and a tad intrigued) by your turtle and robot tussling. The two of them stood up quickly and straightened themselves out. You looked around, slowly taking in your now destroyed home.

• "What the honk happened in here!?"

• You asked, while mourning over your broken, expensive coffee table.

• "It was him!"

• Both Donnies said like twins. You frowned. That's not a clear answer.

• "Seriously, Y/N, he did it!"

• They said together again.

• "Stop it!"

• "I'm serious!"

• "This copycatery is immature-!"

• You snapped your fingers. Both of them flinched and looked at you. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

• "Donnie 0, speak first."

• "But-"

• You put your hand up, silently shushing him. Your fiancee grumbled and crossed his arms. Donnie 0 smiled smugly at him and returned to his "chill butler" vibe.

• "Dearest,"

• "You're fiancee is jealous of me."

• You raised an eyebrow, no opinion showing in your eyes.

• "He came home early and told me to leave."

• "When I refused, because it's not the time we agreed upon, he got hostile."

• The squad behind the counter was getting ticked. He's just gonna openly lie like that? You looked at the real Donnie. It's his turn. Before the softshell could say anything, the robot popped back in.

• "Y/N,"

• He pulled you close.

• "I'm in love with you."

• Donnie inhaled sharply. Right in his face, huh? This robot has ZERO tact. You looked shocked.

• "Whenever I'm with you or when you talk to me,"

• He put one of his hands on his steel plastron.

• "My heart drive sparks like crazy and maybe it's just a malfunction but..."

• "I like it, okay! And I like you!"

• Your head was spinning. Your apartment was near annihilated. Your fiancee's home earlier. And now, your Ai is confessing his LOVE to you.

• "Uhh..."

• Noticing your spiraling, he sighed and yanked Donnie next to him. (He would've grabbed you back, but the grip on your arm might be tight)

• "Y/N...choose."

• You and your fiancee looked at Donnie 0, very distraught.

• "Organic life or Artificial life?"

• The room hushed. The boys AND the bots peeked from the counter. April readied her rolling pin. And Donnie bit his lip. They all had the same thought.

• She's gonna choose the real Donnie...

• Right?

• You looked at the robot and then back at the original. Slowly, you walked towards...

• Donnie 0.

• Donatello's heart shattered while the other's sparked. Everyone was shocked, especially Donnie. It only took one month to...to lose you? Donnie 0 hugged you tightly and your arms curled around his neck.

• "Oh, Y/N."

• Finally! It's happening! It's really happening! You're finally his-

• Suddenly, the robots eyes turned grey.

• And he slumped forward...

• Unconscious.

• The other brothers walked from behind the counter.

• "Did you sleep him with your love!?"

• Mikey asked. You shook your head.

• "Nope."

• "Just used the emergency shutdown button."

• Donnie shoved the knocked out robot off you and picked you up. You nearly touched the roof. He looked up at you with wet eyes.

• "Don't scare me like that!"

• You chuckled and kissed him on the head.

• "I'm sorry, I wanted to give him a false sense of security."

• He smushed his face into your shoulder and just whimpered. You sighed. This past month must've been rough. As you rubbed his shell, you got bombarded with questions.

• "How'd you know the bot was phony?"

• "We don't have to pay damages...right?"

• "Did you miss us!?"

• "You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"

• You frowned as they talked. You're gonna get overwhelmed at this rate. You snapped and everyone hushed again.

• "Raph,"

• You chose his question.

• "I kinda always had my guard around him."

• "He's an Artificial intelligence, those are practically doomed to fail."

• Donnie mumbled "not always" in the background. You answered the other "questions" as well. No damages need to be paid, but they are gonna fix it. You did miss them and your a-okay.

• "So what do we do with them?"

• Leo said, nodding to the robo bros. They were looking over their fallen brother, talking amongst themselves. Raph shrugged.

• "I don't really know?"

• "They only got crazy when Donnie's robot told them to."

• That's true. They do seem alot more peaceful now, but also lost.

• "As much as I hate to say this,"

• D said, finally done wetting the inside of your neck.

• "We gotta scrap 'em."

• "What!?"

• Mikey shouted.

• "Yes, Mikey."

• "Despite being the greatest artificial intelligence ever known to the planet,"

• "They're dangerous."

• "We already have enough problems as is."

• That was a good point. Everybody did get pretty roughed up and you still don't know the status of Japan. But...

• "I got it!"

• You suddenly said. Everyone looked at you and once again...

• "Huh?"

• 2 updating days later...

• "Remember, turn him on when you guys get on the plane, okay?"

• You told Raph 3.

• (Yeah, no super catchy name for him.)

• He nodded and adjusted his beanie.

• "Don't lose your brothers either."

• Right now you guys are setting the bots free...to do the international missions. Yes, it's sounds harsh, but they'll be happier there. They won't feel odd or oppressed by their originals and they can have their own adventures. Save people in their own way. (And with the new update, they'll be no more dangerous rebelling.)

• "I'll miss you, Mikey!"

• Mik‐E shouted hugging up his live action. Mikey choked.

• "Oh! You're gonna make me cry!"

• Yeah, everyone got tight with their robots in the little time. Not your fiancee though. He had to make a BIG change to his. Namely, the memory card. It was better if Donnie 0 started with a clean slate. Otherwise, he might try to get revenge on you or something. And nobody wants that. After alot of goodbyes and steel hugs, it was time for their flight.

• "Well, looks like it's time for our final bow."

• Le-O said. Everyone got quiet. Donnie cleared his throat and open his arms wide.

• "Robot brethren."

• They looked at each other and awkwardly embraced him.

• "Enjoy the world,"

• "And Donnie 1."

• He looked up at them.

• "Can you do that for me?"

• They all smiled and started talking at once.

• "You got it, Fleshy Donnie!"

• "We'll send you a postcard!"

• "Wait, why does Donnie get the 1?"

• After some more last minute chatter, they had to go. They all waved one last time and Raph 0 slung his unconscious purple brother back over his shoulder. You and the brothers watched in silence as the robots ran to catch their plane.

• "Welp, I had my fill on life sized robots for a bunch of years."

• "Mine was the best though."

• The slider said with a stretch. (It's like, 5 in the morning right now.)

• "Who wants to loiter at that shooting star bucks with me?"

• He said pointing at the airport one. Mikey hopped on his back.

• "I want some of that action!"

• Raph was down to join as well.

• "Let's eat all the pastries!"

• He shouted. Now that they're going to harass poor shooting star bucks employees, it's just you and your fiancee. You looked over at him.

• "Man, I missed you so much."

• He snickered and pulled you close.

• "I know."

• "Not hearing from you was basically torture."

• You laid your face on his shoulder. (He happened to not be wearing his battle shell today.)

• "What do think set Donnie 0 off?"

• You finally asked the question that's been nagging for the past two days. Did you accidentally break him or something?

• "I honestly have know idea."

• "But, I knew he was always special."

• Your brows furrowed.

• "I only downloaded our childhood and recent memories into him and he was just like me. Must've been some something special about the metal I used."

• You sighed and nuzzled into his neck. Maybe that was the case...or something different. Maybe even mystic. You didn't know. And you were kinda too scared to find out. (Leo and Raph gave you the rundown of what happened before you came home. Terrifying stuff.)

• You snorted.

• "And that wasn't a big red flag, dear?"

• Donnie huffed and looked back at you.

• "I thought my engineering was just that good."

• He poked your side.

• "If you must know, my intrusive darling."

• You chuckled, sounding like chipmunk. You finally came out of his shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his waist.

• (...The turtles do have waist, right?)

• "So, wanna get a coffee?"

• You asked while fluttering your eyelashes. He put on his thinking face.

• "Nah,"

• He smiled.

• "I hoping me and you can spend some time together...alone."

• You gasped dramatically, pretending to be shocked by such a vulgar request. Then laughed. Of course, D wanted to "hang out". It's has been awhile. You linked your arm with his.

• "Then by all means..."

• "Lead the way."

• (Tricked you guys! You two are just playing Luigi cart in the Tank!)

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

Whew! That was alot, but I'd happily do it again. Unfortunately, though, I'm burned out on Rise series. So, only turtle headcanons this holiday season. But, I will be showing designs of Donnie 0 and deleted scenes. And heck, maybe even a Q&A if anyone wants that. Stay cool!😎

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•○°

[rockman-x]

My favorite things about each X design

I'll have to put few pics because I'm on mobile. sowwy

also contains me fangirling cringely. you've been warned

X1 - X3 = Face, chunky-ness?

I'm not sure how to explain!

It has a certain appeal! Maybe it's because it seems a bit reminiscent from Classic Mega Man...?

X4 - X7 = Art style

X didn't change much from X3 to the next games (except eye color and apparently rounder shoulder pads, I think), but the style is of course, iconic!

X8 = More lines, slightly more robotic look, more cylindrical

This is the best picture of him I could find because I think he doesn't look so charming in other artwork... Or the models... Oh, the models...

And he's not so bad!

I really like the x shape on his... ear lights. The lines also make it a bit more clear that he's not human. The black joints are also really cool!

Command Mission = Everything

Like look at him. Perfection is real and it's X's Command Mission design.

Ver. Ke = More robotic!!

HELL YEAH BROTHER JUST LOOK AT HIM

an absolute pain for my lazy ass to draw but I love him 💙

I'd add some lines to his face too, but it's okay~

Zero series = everything (again)

Scrimblo...

Who makes me very sad. Holy fuck how does this guy make me so sad.

But really, he looks angelic. Fits really well thematically...

Maverick Hunter X = Softness

Especially in Day of Sigma, X has this air of someone with a kind and gentle personality, which is perfect because that's exactly what he's like!

The way he's portrayed writing wise really helps, but design is an essential part of that too!

And they got it. He's so cute!! How do you look at him and don't want to pinch his cheeks?!

Teppen (because even that has something I like) = More robotic

The limbs and torso are literally the only things that bother me deeply about this design, because otherwise everything is so, so good!

The lights, the lines, the eyes, the halo!!!! So awesome...

[frillyfacefins]

Bitey (Ozzie/Fizzarolli)

Fandom: Helluva Boss Rating: Explicit Pairing: Ozzie/Fizzarolli Tags: Oral Fixation, Mouth Kink, Fidgeting, chew toys, Fizzarolli has the personality of a dachshund, Cock Warming, Casual Sex, Fizzy is an Asshole (affectionate), Fluff, i guess Word Count: 2295

Also on AO3

Summary:

Fizzarolli has somehow gotten his hands (or rather, his mouth) on a chew toy for baby hellhounds. Ozzie usually wouldn't mind, but how the hell is he supposed to get anything done when he can't stop watching Fizzy's sharp little teeth work that pink silicone?

The first time he’d noticed the pink necklace, he had thought it was just some new fidget toy. Fizz had had it wrapped around his wrist, absentmindedly threading his fingers through the holes of one of the pendants while he was talking with Lithe about the lighting for the second act tonight. Ozzie had turned away to deal with something else, but when he looked back to his little jester, he saw that one of the pendants was now completely in his mouth and he was chewing on it while he was scanning the schedules on the wall.

“What’cha got there, Fizzbubble?” he asked, slightly worried that he’d try to swallow that thing. There was a reason he kept telling the waiters to make sure the deco on his cocktails was too big for him to eat - you really couldn’t trust Fizzarolli with a choking hazard.

“Hm?” Fizzy only glanced over at him at first, which told Ozzie that he had to be very focused on the schedules. He did, however, take the thing out of his mouth. It was a sort of pink donut, silicone or something, with a little cartoon face. “What‘s it look like? A clarinet? ’S a chew toy,” Fizz said, then he popped it right back into his mouth and went back to looking at the schedules.

Ozzie didn’t really think much about it at that point. His guess was that it was some kind of teething toy, but his attention got monopolized by some concerns Jesse had about an act they were trying to get, and he kind of forgot about it.

Until that evening, that was. Because the pendants showed up again as soon as Fizz had finished introducing the first act. 

He bounced up into Ozzie’s balcony as usual to watch the show. Ozzie’s eyes were running over the crowd, making sure that everything was going well, before he turned to Fizz for a moment - and noticed that he was chewing on something again. This time, it was a pink unicorn head.

Ozzie usually had no issue with Fizzy’s fidgeting whatsoever. All that excess energy was what made his little jester the powerhouse of an entertainer that he was, after all. He did make sure that he always had something appropriate to fidget with, of course, because when Fizz didn’t have anything to do with his hands, he would start destroying things around him - like scratching at wooden objects until he could peel the splinters off, or picking apart paper goods, or trying to get his claws between the joints of his robotic hands or arms. So since he didn’t want his favorite imp to leave behind a trail of destruction or damage his limbs to the point where whole parts needed to be replaced, he had made sure that there always was some kind of toy he could fidget with. They were strategically placed throughout Fizzarolli’s dressing room, Ozzie’s office, the backstage area, the car, all over their shared apartment and even in this balcony. Some of the people working the club had picked up on that and had started to bring Fizz new fidget toys every once in a while, which was a good thing because he got bored of them very easily. And if Fizz got bored, well, he wasn’t the one who would be cleaning up the mess he made, obviously. 

So Ozzie assumed the pink necklace with the three pendants - the last being a pink lego block, it seemed - was part of that little routine they had established to keep the star of Ozzie’s happy, because he had no idea where else Fizz could have gotten it but from one of the staff. The thing was that this wasn’t the usual kind of spinner or cube or squeeze toy. Otherwise, Fizzy’s sharp imp teeth would have already destroyed at least the donut he’d been gnawing on earlier, and that donut was still dangling on the necklace and seemed completely fine, not even showing teeth marks. So Fizzy was definitely right about it being a chew toy, something made from very tough silicone, maybe not even for baby imps but for something with even sharper teeth? Shark-type Envy demons, or - given the decidedly non-nautical designs - baby hellhounds maybe?

An image of Fizzy in a puppy costume suddenly came to Ozzie’s mind as he kept the eyes of his goat head on him. The thought was so fucking cute that he immediately had the urge to pull out his phone and order something like that, but just then he caught a glimpse of Fizzy’s little red tongue on the side of the chew toy, and he immediately became so transfixed that he forgot about the puppy costume plan. Some people - those who didn‘t know him personally - would have thought that Asmodeus, being the Sin of Lust personified, wasn’t easily distracted by lewd displays. But that logic came from a believe quite prevalent among the lower classes of Hell, that being affected by other people’s behavior had to be a weakness. But Ozzie was so in tune with his Sin that he was, effectively, always ready to zero in on anything around him that could be seen through an erotic lens. And the way his little favorite was licking the edges of that silicone unicorn’s face while holding the top of its head between his sharp teeth - well, it was no wonder that Ozzie’s cock was starting to pay attention.

Since Ozzie was not in the business of delaying his own gratification, he bent down to Fizzy and gave the part of the toy sticking out of his mouth a little flick.

“How about I give your pretty little mouth something else to play with?” he rasped into his ear.

To his delight, Fizzy immediately dropped the spit-slick toy and, a broad grin on his face, gave Ozzie’s hand a wet lick. But instead of getting his pretty little mouth on Ozzie’s cock right away, he nodded towards the stage. “Act’s about to end, boss-man,” he said. “Let me introduce the next one and then I‘m gonna help you with that.”

Ozzie hadn’t even noticed that the set was about to wrap up, and only when he heard the applause from the audience did he realize that Fizzy, of course, was right. He leaned back and nodded towards the stage. He could wait a few more minutes, especially because he knew that Fizz would bring that extra energy he’d get from the crowd work into the blowjob. 

Fizz gave him a wink. „Prep that dick for me, won‘t ya?“ he asked before he bounced right off the balcony.

It was definitely not the first time they had their fun on the balcony, so Ozzie didn‘t think too much of the whole incident.

Until he caught Fizzy chewing on the toy again the next day - on the lego pendant this time. 

Fizz had just finished yelling at Lavender for shedding all over the make-up area. It wasn‘t really her fault for shedding this time of the year, and Fizz had his own dressing room, but then again Fizz seemed to like yelling at people once in a while, and Ozzie‘d rather he yell at baphomets, who wouldn‘t mind, than at imps or succubi, who might actually get in a snit over it.

Now he was standing there in the middle of the backstage area, still glaring daggers at Lavender, who was just staring back and blinking slowly, likely blazed out of her mind. Without even breaking eye contact, Fizz put the lego chew toy into his mouth and started to gnaw on it.

It did seem to make his mood a little better, at least, since he actually turned away from the baphomet dancer and stomped over to wardrobe. He kept gnawing on the toy while he rifled through the racks, and even though Ozzie really needed to return to his office and get some paperwork done, he couldn‘t help but watch him for just a while longer. He‘d shoved the lego piece between his molars on the right side and was just chomping down on it, gnawing on it as if he was trying to bite it into pieces (the fact that it didn‘t actually break was one more piece of evidence for Ozzie‘s baby hellhound theory).

Finally, he sighed and gave up on getting any paperwork done before tonight‘s show. Instead he walked over to Fizzy and picked him up in one hand. Fizz squawked indignantly, dropping the lego piece out of his mouth as he was deposited on Ozzie‘s shoulder. „Ozzie, what the fuck, I‘ve got to change!“

Ozzie just took the garment bag with his costume in it. „Don‘t worry, I‘ll get you out of your clothes alright,“ he said.

On the third day, Ozzie started to think that Fizz was doing this on purpose.

They were both in the office, where Ozzie had set up an imp-sized workspace for Fizz perpendicular to his own desk. Ozzie was trying to review some proposed new regulations for the transport of succubi - apparently Dantalion had complained that there had been more demonic activity on Earth recently, which meant more work for those of Dantalion‘s people who had to go up and make humans forget about weird things they had seen, and since the only hellborn demons who regularly went up there were succubi using Asmodean Crystals, Baal had decided that this was his fault. It was annoying, but this kind of petty squabble between the Goetia was pretty standard and it wouldn‘t be the first time that he had butted heads with the other eight Kings of Hell.

It would have been a pretty straightforward issue - push back against every substantial change, demand proof that the problems on Earth were succubi-related, send in the last year-end-statement about how many new souls had entered hell for lust-related sins and how many of those souls had contact with succubi, and then make some minuscule concessions to Dantalion. 

But even though Ozzie could usually have this whole thing done within half an hour, he had been working on the same paragraph for about forty minutes because he couldn‘t stop casting surreptitious glances at Fizzarolli, who was working on some new jokes while his cute little rabbit teeth were worrying at the edge of the donut chew toy. Every once in a while he‘d wrap his lips around the toy and suckle it like a pacifier before he‘d go back to just nibbling on it with a look of the deepest focus on his face.

There was nothing as contrary to Ozzie‘s nature as ignoring his own arousal, but he needed to finish this fucking review. If you gave a Duke of Hell like Dantalion even one additional day to shore up their case, they would come at you with about five more issues that needed to be addressed in some way. It was like ignoring mold; it would only spread and become even more of a nuisance.

He let out a groan and rubbed one hand over his face with frustration.

The sudden noise got Fizz‘s attention. He looked up from his notes, the silicone donut hanging out of his mouth like a cat‘s tongue.

„Paperwork fucking with you?“ he asked without letting go of the toy, his voice muffled in a way that made Ozzie‘s state even worse.

Ozzie rolled his head to at least get some of the tension out of his neck. „Fizzy baby, the paperwork‘s not what‘s ‚fucking with me‘…“ He cast him a hot look that immediately made Fizz‘s eyebrows shoot up. „Thing is that I cannot fucking concentrate on whatever bullshit Dantalion‘s trying to lay on me here when you‘re over there with your sexy little mouth giving me a show…“

Fizz frowned, as if he wasn‘t quite sure what he meant at first, but then a smirk spread on his face. He finally spit out the donut. „I see…“

He grabbed his notepad and his pen and sauntered over to Ozzie‘s desk, where he draped himself over Ozzie‘s thigh. „Fuck, you‘re really stupid sometimes, aren‘t you?“

Ozzie tilted his head, genuinely intrigued. „How come?“

Fizz‘s smirk grew wider. „Well, if I‘m distracting you when I‘m using the chew toy, but also I like having something in my mouth while I work, there‘s a really simple solution, silly.“

He slipped between Ozzie‘s thighs and made himself comfortable by wrapping his legs around the legs of his chair so he didn‘t have to stand; then he stuck his head up the part of Ozzie‘s long shirt that went down over his crotch and pulled down his panties with his teeth - My Dark Lord, what a mouth - to free his cock.

Ozzie pulled his shirt up a little to see what exactly Fizzy was doing there. The imp grinned up at him and then just wrapped his mouth around the head of Ozzie‘s cock, before he propped his notepad on top of the base and continued to work on his jokes while he slowly started to suckle and nibble on the hardening flesh in his mouth.

Ozzie couldn‘t help a little chuckle as he tugged his shirt tails into the bottom of his vest, so that it wouldn‘t get into Fizz‘s way. How had he not thought of this? They hadn‘t done a lot of cock warming yet, but Fizzy was right - if he needed something in his mouth to concentrate, but Ozzie couldn‘t concentrate when he was having to watch him without getting to feel that mouth on himself… Then this really was the best solution, right?

And once he‘d be done with his paperwork, he would raw his little jester‘s throat until he‘d be coughing up cum for a week.

[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie​ because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his ��genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

[thenamesblurrito]

ladies and gentlemen this is ask dump no. 5

aw scrap here we go again!

answered asks include body modification as the opposite of empurata, Mutacons making bandages out of kibble, kibble used as furniture, numbers of Sweeps, a DILF alligator, RID15 Tidal Wave, a BIG infodump on dealing with the circus that is Iacon’s media, Cybertronian muppets, a WIP of Elita Infin1te (or rather her sword), and the many secret sufferings of Alpha Trion.

yea, sorta! body modification in SNAP is more limited than in canon. you can’t simply switch out your body like the total frame reformats of IDW or TFP, and losing a limb can be permanent if not healed in time. for the most part, the frame you have is the frame you’re stuck with, and those frames fall within specific parameters.

HOWEVER-

some modification and upgrades do exist! the most prominent here would be a prosthetic helm like Lugnut. if the processor is left intact and attached after a helm injury, a new helm can be sculpted, with extra optics to make up for the lower quality of artificial optics, and as visibly different as possible to differentiate from empurata. other replacements and prosthetics are common after debilitating injury where the original body part cannot be saved. whether or not the prosthetic is as good as the original depends on the individual and the specific injury. there are also functional medical upgrades, like thicker armor attachments, alt mode additions, etc. almost every upgrade is for the express purpose of improving one’s frame for their function, and there’s definitely a limit to them. you can’t give yourself new limbs if you only had four to begin with. a grounder cannot become a flier. the spark can only power so much mass in the frame, and some people have adverse reactions that mean the upgrades don’t take and must be removed.

this sort of relates to the next point here-

yes, with some caveats.

Cybertronians are a segmentary species, so they can detach some body parts for a bit without negative consequences, as long as that body part is reattached for revitalization and repair. many folks can do this without any medical assistance for the less integral kibble. for instance, Kup uses his tow arm as a walking stick, but he has to reattach it whenever he wants to go into alt mode, and if he doesn’t transform he still needs to reattach it for a couple hours every day at minimum. so if a Mutacon were to create a makeshift splint out of kibble and detach it, it would likely be fine, as long as they got that kibble back. otherwise, they’ve lost a whole chunk of their body that they can’t just regenerate.

for shifting armor to cover a wound without detaching it, that depends on the nature of the wound. if it’s ragged, large, or in areas with a lot of joints or movement, it might be difficult to shuffle around plating to cover it. a more superficial injury in a less delicate area would be easier

sort of! it’ll depend on the individual’s kibble, of course! double checking SNAP Bulkhead, i don’t think he could, because his kibble isn’t large enough. but Scylla could probably use her alt mode arms as a chair, Wreck-Gar has a built in backpack and belly bag, and of course the Necrobot uses his wingcloak as hands. different kibble with different bonus uses

the ideal number of Sweeps is seven, since less than that means they don’t have enough collective processing power to function optimally. more than seven, however, puts a strain on that collective processing power to smoothly operate so many at once. so there’s usually packs of as close to seven as they can get.

as to how many can just exist at the same time, it’s limited only by how many Scourge is willing to forge. he first invents them in s1e06 A Use for Army-building! An Upgrade to Sweeps. by the next episode they figure out that having dozens of them running around is... well it’s about as chaotic as having dozens of flying puppies with hands and weapons would be. in large numbers they’re very difficult to control. good thing Galvatron is excellent at commanding his new army!

(the post this is referring to) @oldboyjensenhinglemeier​ thanks Dilf Waitress, i can always rely on you

(the post this is referring to) i think that’s fantastic, i’d love to see a Cybertronian whale. imagine the size of the holding cell you’d have to have for him!

oooohohoho what a sticky subject. here’s a quick rundown on faction ideology to give you some context for how they operate and thus deal with the media. the heroes aren’t referred to as heroes, but rather as vigilantes at best and violent gangs in a turf war at worst. Froid has remotely diagnosed them with pathological dissent. at the same time, some folks have jumped on the market to make hero merch, and it becomes a very lucrative business for some. public opinion is constantly torn between fear and anger at how they do whatever they’d like and gratitude and admiration for how they throw themselves in harms way to prevent disaster and save people. it’s really a giant mess all the time that changes by the day.

there is of course the whole snafu surrounding the media’s portrayal of the Elite Guard as a backup team for the Autobots, and Elita 1 as Optimus’ sidekick. and Elita 1 is Not Happy about that. Elita 2 is startlingly good at winding the reporters around her little finger and always seems to know just what to say, whereas Elita 3 just grumbles at the cameras, even sometimes demanding they respect boundaries or be locked in the nearest building with the use of her powers. Elita 4 barely notices them unless she’s in the mood to prank someone, and Elita 5 just avoids them, as they tend to dramatize her size and thus her danger. given their excellent teamwork and how they’re (mostly) in favor of reform instead of anarchy, the Elite Guard would actually have a good shot at getting along with the news, except they bow to precisely no one, including the people wanting to interview them, so instead they come across as a standoffish and self-serving clique with dangerous habits

the Decepticons are in the bad-boy limelight and they love it. well, at least Galvatron, Hellscream, and Thunderblast do. Galvatron takes advantage of every opportunity to pontificate on the evils of society and the right to rise up for freedom. broadcasters have learned to cut the cameras as soon as he starts speaking so his ideas don’t get the chance to spread too far. Hellscream cares less about principles and more about scaring the living daylights out of every reporter he sees, often leaving them with cracked equipment and ringing audials from the sheer destructive power of his voice. Thunderblast just wants to preen in all the attention and boy does she get it. Cyclonus actively avoids most gawkers, Scourge talks too long and complicated to make good news, Drift either ignores them or sends them away with some lofty spiritual advice, and Triptych is dangerously unpredictable so most reporters have learned to stay away from him.

the Predacons came into existence in a negative light, and they were grimly prepared for it. after all, Sixshot used to be a Decepticon, and their falling-out and defection caused quite a stir. when Abominus first appeared, the fearful reaction of the public to such an ‘abomination’ is actually how he chose his name in the first place. Airachnid loves tormenting reporters with nuclear-grade sarcasm and subtle threats, but if anyone makes her truly mad she’ll string them up in her web cabling and leave them hanging. she also flaunts that cabling by using her darts to knit nets, shawls, and other decorations, despite the fact that getting cabling tangled up in seams and joints can lead to something called entrapment protocols, mentioned in the seventh ask here. Enforcers use capture equipment designed to trigger entrapment protocols, so her mimicry of that as nothing more than a casual accessory is a big ‘frag you’.

Soundwave.... is a category of his own. he only comes into being in the fourth season, but the media soon learns to quake at the thought of encountering Soundwave, and his minicons are little better. there’s at least one instance where he Rosanna-rolls the entirety of Iacon.

the Autobots keep wavering between ‘the only true good ones of all these vigilantes’ and ‘the worst possible people in the world, hide the children, lock the doors’ in the eyes of the media. Optimus does his best to treat everyone fairly, and the Mistress usually has something encouraging to share. much like Galvatron but for completely opposite reasons, broadcasters have learned to cut cameras when Ultra Magnus starts talking, because his encyclopedic knowledge of law means he regularly lists every instance of malpractice, abuse, illegality, and disrespect that he sees in the average reporter, Enforcer, or politician, which is not the kind of upbraiding that would serve the propaganda machine. however, it does get him the attention of Tyrest, who leverages legality and public opinion to try and draw Ultra Magnus into an agreement during s3e03- A Councilmember’s Boon! An Upgrade to Legality. Rodimus is a chaos beast who has been known to snatch cameras for selfies. it’s kind of a tossup as to whether Cheetor will be going slow enough to show up in the footage or not.

now, i can’t talk about the media without mentioning the feral force of nature that is Rewind. the best of the best, he’s the only one willing to brave the battlefields for an up-close look, constantly endangering himself in order to get the freshest scoop. he might not always hold opinions in line with the mandated propaganda about these vigilantes, but the media lets him get away with it, since he’s the most successful at getting them more news. this has caused him to be targeted at least once, unfortunately.

love this question. love it. you know those lil remote controlled robot dogs, or things to that effect? i’m imagining that’s what Cybertronian muppets are like, since they can create robotics and animatronics with a lot more finesse and ease than we can. in fact, making fabric is probably harder for them than robotics, since they don’t have the same materials as we do to work with. but anyway, these muppets wouldn’t be limited by what a hand can do to puppet them around, being instead remote controlled from off stage, so i don’t know if they’d have that kind of visual gag. maybe instead there would be fourth-wall breaking where one muppet snatches the remote of another?

the painful thing about this answer is that i have a design i’m happy with EXCEPT FOR THE HELM i have sketched and resketched a dozen different ideas ugh. the body looks fine, all five of them combined in a way that makes sense to me, but i just CANNOT get the helm right i’m so angry. anyway here’s the Cyber Caliber, all of their swords combined into one massive weapon

the more accurate question is, what hasn’t happened to him. he’s been through a lot, the poor mech. but i’ll list some things for you:

that one time he had a sibling be erased from reality

that one time he had to murder another sibling because they decided evil was fun

that one time a fragging beachball stole his work

the fact he doesn’t know if his twin is alive or not

that one time he was a junker running for his life

that one time he was too late to save the Terminus Blade, and it was stolen

that one time his pride and joy, the Athenaum Sanctorum, was destroyed, and everything archived there was lost

that other time the same fragging beachball stole his work

that other time he was a junker hiding for his life

the fact that the theft of his diary started a whole new branch of religion and he has to read his own words as if they’re sacred

the fact that the title of Trion was in fact derived from his diary, and the sheer painful irony of being given the title of Trion.

that one time he had to rip off some fingers to fit in

that one time Trypticon showed up, awhile before the JAAT was founded, and he had to take it on alone

that other time Trypticon showed up when the JAAT opened and he had to hand out some precious relics to children to protect the school

aaaaand his current reason for drinking! the fact that of all twenty-something heroes running around, he only knows who THREE of them are because he only gave out THREE RELICS! and relics just keep disappearing from the collection he’s guarding

someone help him he is not having a good time. and it’s only going to get worse...

[eve6262]

jayvik week day 6 - dancing/[dream]

He could believe it's a dream. It would be so easy, to assume that the body he touches is warm because he wants it to be and his subconscious has claimed it for itself; but there is metal everywhere and it's cold and distant and frightening aside from Viktor himself.

Coming here was a nightmare, maybe. Blitzcrank didn't fight him but he still felt the stare of two eyes that can't blink, saw every unfeeling machine that watched him with beady eyes; predators lying in wait, except even that attributes too much malice to them. And feeling means something that is infinitely less terrifying than apathy.

What's the difference between a dream and a nightmare, anyway?

That's stupid. He knows the answer to that question. He wakes up at least once a week from them, usually every night- it's him, in the snow, again, nearly dying, but uncaring of the cold that he can't really feel because Viktor is dying there. The snow seeps into the metal joints, causing both limbs to be unusable, the Hexclaw ripped apart by the storm, a body shivering in his arms before eventually falling still-

"Jayce?"

"Yes?"

"I asked you a question."

"Sorry, I got distracted."

Viktor sighs. The Viktor of his dreams would either repeat the question immediately, a relic of how they would be in their Hextech dream days (ha, now there's a relic), or know to come over and comfort him. But this one is more realistic- married to his work first and his husband second, utterly focused, only really talking for efficiency's sake. "I asked if you were aware whether the capacitors cause an uptick in the latent magic surrounding them."

"Oh. Uh, no."

"No as in they don't?"

"No as in we don't know how to check that sort of thing," he says honestly. "It's never come up. Why? Wait, latent magic in the air?"

"Hmph." Viktor slashes something with chalk. It leaves white dust in the air where he moved. "Yes, I suppose you wouldn't. It is much less taboo here, however. A mage or two has been willing to explain in exchange for metal limbs or food."

A response almost makes its way out of his mouth, but his mind's eye blinds him with images of runes floating in the air, a teleportation spell that gets them both out of this conundrum, his mother living and the man who saved them giving him a single, quiet stone. Viktor has since said that you'd need a particularly powerful mage to revive it, if you'd want to use it- not because of the power needed, but the incredible fragility of the object.

Viktor has learned a lot since they've separated. Now that they're back together, Jayce is struggling to catch up.

It's not all his fault, though. It is in large part that he simply could not research magic properly topside, what with their Demacian attitudes towards witchcraft and the like. Zaun, uncaring, has its fair share of mages and maguses, and as such Viktor has found no trouble in his efforts. Couple that with his lack of a need for extraneous funding, as his robots do the work for him and charge a pittance because the only thing he needs to survive is produced in his foundries, and you have a man who does as he pleases.

"Jayce." There is a hand on his, now. "What is it?"

"Nothing, V," he says, trying to be honest, and it kind of is nothing. Just his mind attempting to make any thoughts at all and proceeding to take that as sure, I'll give you the least helpful things you have ever wanted. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Y'know. The past."

"Ah." Metal hinges stop, muscles freezing in place. Viktor pauses for but a moment, trying to calculate his next move, but Jayce sees it and thinks of a little Zaunite sumprat caught in the Enforcer's flashlight. Wide-eyed, unmoving, but thinking and planning and knowing. Not nearly as helpless as it seems. "It is quite late. Do you need rest?"

"You need rest too," Jayce insists.

"I do not."

"When was the last time you slept?"

Viktor pretends to look at the blackboard.

"I know you still need some sleep."

"Fine," Viktor acquiesces, and that was quick so he must have been exhausted already. Mostly a fight with himself, and if he's losing? Then Jayce should've forced him into bed days ago. "I will, but only because you are."

"Sap," comes the affectionate reply, and the two of them head into Viktor's bedroom .

This routine is easy, familiar. Viktor takes baths whenever he can be bothered, which is whenever someone is willing to help him, and Jayce takes them in morning. Thus they both strip down, with Jayce in nothing but his boxers and Viktor in a set of soft pants. There's not a word between them as Viktor cuddles up into the other's space, easily slotting into each other like two cogs in the machine.

"Sweet dreams, V."

"Sweet dreams, Jayce."

--

the vibes returneth

~Eve6262

[trollartistry]

Fleeting Reunion

Doing a drabble again! No art this time, but I might draw it later. I had the idea of ‘what if Nemi reunited with Classic Freddy as an adult?’ and wanted to do something with it.

Now, just an FYI, this drabble’s based on the idea that *somehow* and for *some* reason, the old classic animatronics were kept and used as parts or something for the new Glamrocks. Also dunno what year Security Breach canonly is in so I’m using our current year, 2021. So I’m really breaking canon here- oh well.

Story under the read more!

The first time Nemi discovered the old, beat down classics, he was shocked and thought he had been seeing things. Tucked deep in the pizzaplex was a parts and services room, and while he worked as a nightguard, on occasion he’d act as a mechanic. The man only had been looking for a basic piece to replace in Monty’s arm as it had broken mid golf swing, and it was an easy fix. But Nemi found more than just the part he needed- he found 4 familiar animatronics from the pizzeria he used to go to as a child; Foxy, Bonnie, Chica, and of course Freddy.

It plagued his mind, and it unnerved him every time he had to go into that room. They weren’t even that dismantled, if anything just.. broken. The foam and fabric on all of them torn, Chica’s hands were missing, Bonnie’s face was gone, and Foxy looked shredded up along his limbs and ear. Freddy was the only one that looked mostly decent, but the state he was in infuriated the nightguard. All of these beloved robots, just dumped in the back with no care in the world.

And then Nemi’s thoughts went from a simple, curious walk to a manic, inquisitive run. Were they the same four from that old pizzeria he attended on a weekly basis when he was a child? Why were they here? Could they still work if he powered them up? What would he even do once he turned them all on and they were the old ones he once knew? ...Would Freddy remember who he was, if Nemi was to power him up? 

Finally his willpower broke one night. He had to know. He would only power up Freddy, just to see what would happen. If it wasn’t the same Freddy as the one all those years ago, he’d just shut him back off and let his burning questions fizzle to forgotten ash. And if it was the same Freddy, well.. they could at least catch up.

He spent a good month or so sneaking in, fiddling with wires and parts to make sure the bot could turn on without much difficulty. Thankfully, it seemed any evidence of his tampering either went unnoticed, or wasn’t reported cuz no one ever stopped him. And finally, one night, he was done. All there was left to do was flick the switch and power Freddy up. Nemi took a breath in, muttered his hope, and flicked the switch.

Sparks sputtered and the whole frame of Freddy jolted as power ran through his circuits, causing Nemi to jump back. Inside there was whirring, old inner workings flowing with electricity. The man watched, unsure if his heart was racing with hope or anxiety as the bot’s eyes twitched a bit, before blinking, focusing in on the darkened room and the person before him.

Freddy sat up against the wall, ears tilting a little and he blinked once, twice. Nemi could tell he was confused immediately, the way his eyebrows furrowed and he shut his jaw in a pursed manner. There was silence, an uncomfortable silence and Nemi didn’t know what to say or do, Freddy was just sitting there..

As Nemi opened his mouth, Freddy blinked with some recognition and spoke, unsure, “..*D-Deadname*?”

It’s a name that hasn’t been used by friends or family in so many years, only used for legal manners. But hearing it makes Nemi choke on his words as his heart clenches with emotion. So it is the same Freddy, and he recognizes him even after all these years.

“..Y-yea, it’s me, Freddy.” Nemi said, coming back over to kneel down before the sitting bot, unable to help but grin at him. “I don’t- don’t go by that anymore b-but it’s me.”

Freddy’s silent as he looks the man over, obviously a bit frazzled seeing someone he last saw as a child now kneeling before him as a grown man. He then looks around the room, and sees all of the different parts, and his fellow animatronics. He’s quiet as he takes it all in, and even though he’s old and worn, Freddy was wise and knew what this entailed. They weren’t in use anymore and instead replaced.

“I uh.. go by Nemi now.” Nemi said, bringing the bot’s attention back to him. Freddy blinked, then softly hummed a little as he nodded, “Nemi.. it’s.. unique.”

“Heh.. yea, got it during highschool.” Nemi replied. It’s quiet again and Freddy’s once again looking around, and Nemi wiped his watery eyes before deciding to explain, “You uh.. You’re in Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaplex. The year’s 2021.. I guess you guys are being used as parts now.”

“2021?” Freddy asked, attention back on Nemi. The man nods and Freddy gives a quiet sigh, “..I’m amazed we’re still in solid pieces then. Or that I even work..” He looked down at himself.

“I uh.. had to fix you quite a bit actually just to get you to t-turn on..” Nemi said with a shrug. He’s looking over Freddy again, and now that the animatronic’s on and talking, it makes his withered state hurt Nemi all the more. Freddy doesn’t miss the first tears dripping down the man’s face and he tries to distract him from his emotions, “Hey.. at least my name’s still out there, right? Surely there’s another model of me still keeping an eye on you.” He smiled.

Nemi’s heart only hurts more than that. Glamrock Freddy was just as incredible as the classic, if not more, and sure, the man loves him dearly.. but he could hear his younger self weep in the back of his mind, ‘But that’s not MY Freddy!’ Nemi clenches his eyes shut at that, a sniffle escaping him, and Freddy quietly sighs before he opens his arms, the old joints creaking. “Shh.. come here, it’s okay.”

The guard, though grown, can’t help but immediately close the distance to hug the beloved animatronic, a sob escaping him. Freddy holds him close, and recalls the few times he did this to Nemi when he was a little girl. He begins to try and play the same tune he did back then, but realizes he no longer has his music box, only a soft clicking noise coming from the inner crank that was left installed to turn it. So instead, Freddy talks and hopes his voice offers that same comfort.

“I missed you.. It’s nice to see you grown up.” Freddy said softly, removing the security hat from Nemi’s head to stroke his hair soothingly. Nemi manages to whimper out that he missed the bot as well, along with an apology that makes Freddy hush him softly, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Nemi..”

The brunette pulls back a little, shaking his head as he tries to wipe those spilled tears, “I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye to you back then when I had to move.. A-And now, here you are, i-in the back of a damn mall collecting d-dust and in pieces-” He began, and a old paw cups his cheek.

“None of that is your fault.” Freddy said as he comforted the man, “What matters is you had a good life after your time with me. I knew I would eventually be taken down from the spotlight, either for good or for a new model to replace me.. it happens, Nemi.”

Nemi looks at the bot who gives him a warm smile, the same smile he would give him all those years ago. It calms some of those bubbling sorrows, but Nemi still can’t help but sniffle.

“It’s been, what.. 10 or so years? And you’ve changed so much.. we have time, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? Just like old times.” Freddy offered, and Nemi nodded.

He told the bear about his father’s passing, the many years of moving before he ended up in his aunt and uncle’s care. How he discovered his own identity and realized he was a man, and graduated highschool by the skin of his teeth. Freddy listened to all of it, just like how he used to listen to Nemi as a child talk about his days back then. He then asked about the pizzaplex and how the man enjoyed working there, and Nemi in turn talked about the whole place and the Glamrock animatronics. Freddy’s amused at how Nemi talks about Glamrock Freddy- its that same admiration the man had for Freddy back then.. and something more, Freddy can tell. The conversation helped Nemi calm down and it was comforting to Freddy himself to know he was still loved by people, even if it was a completely different model. But a glance to his watch told Nemi he only had another hour or two before his shift was up. Before his time with Freddy, was up.

“..Y’know,” Nemi began after a silent moment of just being close to the bot, “I think- I think they’d get along fine with you and the others.. I could work on them too, get them up and running, and-”

“No.” Freddy shuts down the idea with a frown. It hurts to do so, but he knows his place. “I’ve had my time on the stage. We all have..”

The nightguard looks shocked at Freddy’s answer, and tries to change his mind, “F-Freddy c’mon, it’ll be fine! Maybe- Maybe HR would consider refurbishing you guys and you can be part of it all even-!” He said, voice cracking with desperation and Freddy cups the man’s face again, eyes sternly looking down at him.

“You and I both know that’s not how it would go, Nemi.” He said, “Even if we got along with the Glamrocks, it’d be trouble for all of us to be on again. You already risked your job just to get me back online, do you know how much trouble you’ll get into if you left me on?”

“I don’t care!” Nemi exclaimed, not caring just how childish he sounded, “Do you know how much I missed you when I had to leave?! And now here at my job I find your- your broken body just laying here and not know if it was really you and now that I put in all that work, it really IS you?! I-I can’t just- power you back down and forget about you after this, I-I wont! I love you too much to lose you again!!”

There’s a silence, and Nemi’s face grows red as he realizes what he said was selfish and childish of him, along with a confession for the old bot. Freddy’s surprised to hear it, but he then smiles, brushing back some of the brunette hair.

“I know. But you’ve never lost me nor forgot about me, have you? You got a job at a place with my name still in it, along with getting along with another me.” Freddy said warmly, “I know it’s hard.. but it’s for the best. If you kept me on, it would jeopardize everything and you could lose everything you have here.. including that Glamrock version of me.”

Nemi’s eyes widen, before looking away with sorrow at the thought of losing Glamrock Freddy. Freddy was right, but the thought of having to turn him back off had Nemi’s heart twisting in agony. “..B-but.. I can’t..” He whimpered, and Freddy pulled him back into the embrace.

“I know it’s hard.. but you have to.” Freddy murmured. “I’ll still be here, in more ways than one.”

Nemi nodded, fresh tears spilling as he let out another sob, “Can- can I hear your song, just one last time..?”

Freddy may of not had his music box, but he began to hum softly, letting the man hear that tune once more. They stayed there in the darkness of the room, Nemi quietly crying in Freddy’s arms as he listened, before sitting up as the last few notes were hummed. Nemi opened up the bot’s chest, reaching in to that power switch and looked up at Freddy, the two sharing one last gaze.

“G-Goodbye, Freddy..”

“Goodbye, Nemi.”

And with a flip of the switch, the sound of machinery powering down echoed in Nemi’s ears as he watched the life fade from Freddy’s eyes as he slumped against the wall, eyelids closing over. The man closed the chest plate, staring at the bot with a heavy heart before picking up his hat and getting up. He went to the door, pausing to take one glance back to the beloved bear, before exiting the room, the thud of the door closing behind him echoing down the hall.

A week later when he has to go in to that same room, he’s griefstricken to see the four bodies of the classic animatronics were gone for good and for the rest of that night, it’s spent sticking close to Glamrock Freddy as the new, shiny Glamrock model of his beloved childhood friend still brought the man comfort and happiness.

[thesarcasticside]

Anything-$00000DDD

Summary

He could have been anything. When he looked inside his own mind, he dug through darkness. Memories like ashes, the particles filling his lungs were all that were familiar to him—and those only felt like nothing. No fragments, just a fine powder.

Janus is a cyborg who works for the Dragon Witch, a criminal mastermind who runs a company that designs cybernetics.

He meets Remus, a self-taught biomedical engineer, and a variety of other robotic and alien characters, all of whom are trying to convince him that he is more than just a cybernetic puppet.

But who is “Dee” if not an empty husk created only to be controlled?

General warnings

Psychological horror, body horror, cybernetics, missing limbs, artificial limbs, Non-consensual forced medical treatment, physical abuse, blood, violence, guns, mind control, permanent amnesia, manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, nightmares, streams of consciousness, unreliable narration. Content that resembles depersonalization, derealization, or dissociation

More notes, links, and chapter text under the cut

AO3 Anything, AO3 series, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

This is my story for the 2021 Storytime! Big Bang! @ts-storytime Thank you to @ben-phantomhive-trash, who is the artist I was partnered with for the event! They created this fantastic art!!!! I love it so much I can't even.

Thank you to PunkRock for helping me figure out the shorts characters and other plot things. Also thank you to AryaSkywalker, Thembo, and Carrotflowerking17 and the Big Bang 2021 discord for additional help!!!!

This fic is an alternative entry point to my (In Other Worlds) Series. This fic happens at the same time roughly as Millennia, a companion novel. You can read this fic and then check out the rest of the series, or check out the series and then read this.

Also, I don't use Janus's actual name throughout the fic for thematic and narrative reasons. You'll see. I hope that does not put you off too much. Consider it part of the angst.

Clarification of general warnings and pairings, minor spoilers

I added the tag unreliable narrator, but I will clarify that the narrator is not actively lying to the audience. This tag relates to Janus's memory issues and the uncertainty resulting from that. tbh I would not worry too much about the events being untrue, and more be concerned about these being Janus's imperfect recollection of events.

I think this fic is a bit more violent than Millennia at times, hence I added the archive warning for violence. I still feel like a teen would be fine reading this, so I am keeping the rating Teen and Up. This fic focuses the most on what I dub psychological horror (angst, mind control, memory issues, consciousness, nightmares, etc.). I also tagged this story with disassociation, and content in this fic may resemble derealization and depersonalization.

If you think I should warn/rate this fic differently, I am happy to hear feedback and reconsider.

I tagged this as Remus/Janus, but like, ya gotta squint. Mostly banter and being soft. I love romance, but I have a hard time writing it. Could be seen as platonic too.

HINT 1: KEY.

HINT 2: "kind of" not "kinda"

CHAPTER START

NAME J. D. Dedrick ID 25:35--25:44 / 51:09 ALIENRACE Dūcesnaca OCCUPATION Robotics Researcher

Chapter Warnings cybernetics, missing/artificial limbs (eye, legs), forced medical treatment/experimentation, amnesia, depersonalization/derealization/dissociation, unreliable narration, psychological horror, swearing Chapter Characters Janus, the Dragon Witch, Virgil (not by name)

He could have been anything. When he looked inside his own mind, he dug through darkness. Memories like ashes, the particles filling his lungs were all that were familiar to him—and those only felt like nothing. No fragments, just a fine powder.

He woke up to yellow in his eyes, stinging and unfocused. Lights beyond the veil flickered. He saw a figure move; he looked small. After a brief glance into the world, he began to drown. He threw everything into the yellow encasement, and after an agonizing struggle, the rush of acceleration threw him to the ground.

When the air touched his face, black fireworks exploded in his hazy vision, and the first memory he had was gone.

He woke up again, like a corpse left in the stale air for vultures: beaks plucking out his skin piece by piece. His vision blurry and halved, he stared up at the birds breaking his body into bits.

Reports say he was involved in a huge space crash. DRACANA has generously sponsored his artificiality.

That sounded like a lie. That sort of blatant untruth where there was no connection to reality tied to it. Everything his senses told him felt unreal, everything except the pain that grounded him like a shot duck.

Whispers like gossip broke into his mind between droughts of consciousness. His senses were pieced together and broken apart, like pieces of clay in a kiln shattering. Memories of vultures and lab coats glued together by agony floated through space until eventually he was awake.

Probably just one of her business rivals

Dei’dra—he knew her name—loomed over him, to his right. He could see nothing to his left. The light stung, he squinted and blinked his eye. He could feel nothing on the left side of his face. Dei’dra smiled at him.

“Wake up, dollface. Didn’t think you’d make it, but you pulled through.”

He did not know where he was. He did not know who he was. All he knew was that this woman was Dei’dra, the Dragon Witch, and he hated her.

“Well, he seems to be doing well. Might as well put him under and move onto the next stage.”

He lived out his days creating sand sculptures in his mind. He saw himself running in place, downloading skills and targets and concepts. The sand would blow away each day, leaving him with nothing to remember them by.

Between bouts of black unconsciousness, he saw grey, and white, and pale pink, brown, and blue. Abstract shapes morphing into creatures that prodded at him. Cold metal seething, machines twisting his body together like crochet. He gave nonsense names for some, not even names consisting of words, just pure thoughts.

Slowly, he lost sight of the sand in his brain, yet the grains still dripped from his ears when he shook his head. He became a part of reality. Or perhaps he became part of a hellish dream.

Darkness huddled in the damp sides of his eyes, danger snapping at his bruised joints and soles. Deep inside his chest, his heart damned, words mixed with intuitive instincts, daring his body to live beyond the yellow veil.

Stage One of Project $DEE has been completed.

$DEE was not his name. It was what he was called. One of the words that would echo in his brain. Dee. Dee. Dee. Like a rhythm, like the beeping machines. Like the ringing of the heart monitor. It was embedded in his ears. Baby words jumping around, forming pictures, babbling him into nothing.

Dee, his brain still a desert, started to make better sense of this reality he lived in. He could control his body sometimes. He could move his arms. Or what was left of his limbs. Or what they had lent him.

The second picture in his brain, the one after the yellow veil: it was the artificial lights on Lab C’s ceiling. Grey illuminated by white, he stared up at the square tiles and textured glass, like undulating waves of melted sand.

With how long he was locked in place staring up at this picture, he memorized it. He could close his eyes at any moment and picture it in its exact detail again.

“Time to get up, Doll-face. It’s time for your first mission.”

He saw Dei’dra’s face again. He felt his restraints loosen and break away.

His first mission was not all that glorious. He was lanky, unused to moving in his body. He was a wall of meat. Disposable. He followed a trail like a zombie. He barely spoke to the team he was placed in. He remembered their orders regarding him.

“He’s still pretty out of it. Give him some good experience, but we’d like to keep working on him so bring him back in one piece.”

Dee felt like a puppet, simply put. Some machine inside him aimed his cannons and lasers. He stood in place, shooting at targets. He was guided by an invisible leash by the team he was assigned to. He saw sepia shapes. Blurs of bodies. All he could feel was the emotions in his gut telling him, repeatedly:

Youaregoingtodieyouaregoingtodieyouaregoingtodieagainyouaregoingtodiestoppleasestoppleaseyouaregoingtodiestopstopstopstopstop.

He was kept suspended in place while his body completed the mission. And then he was back in Lab C, mind clearer.

He was thinking in sentences now. He could monologue, like any great villain. That is what he had become, hadn’t he? Why a villain? Where had he learned that word? The more he sifted through the sand, the more words he could find he no longer remembered learning. They were just there, connected to nothing. No memory. No past life.

He kept thinking these words. And then he decided that since his jaw was not glued shut, he would give speaking a try. Garbled and slurred at first, he kept talking as much as they let him.

They made him run between ceilings of grey. They made him speak between illuminated square tiles. He practiced lines of a script. Subterfuge settled in his brain like a mirage in the distance between the settled sand.

He could walk on the unsteady ground once again. He could see. He could hear. He could experience the world around him. He gazed up at the ceiling but was interrupted by a splotch of dark violet.

Another blot. Another vulture. He stood there out of the corner of his artificial eye.

“What are you waiting for? Get on with the tests.” His voice sharp, cutting through his tongue.

This was an unusual time of day for tests. To say it was a time of day was generous. It was more like he would be experimented on for hours upon hours and then suddenly they would stop. Nothing to do but bask in the nothingness it brought.

At this point, Dee thought that he was done with most of the tests. He had his limbs. He had an eye, which he opened wider to get a better look at the violet blotch. Something about the blotch was connected to something else in his brain, but he could not quite place it.

“Well, whatever it is, get on with it, it certainly could not have waited until morning.”

It shuffled closer to him. Less of a blotch now. He could make out shapes. He could recognize his face now if he saw him again.

Air escaped his lungs, and then he said again, asking, “Whatever might you need from me today, doctor?”

The blotch was shaking. “If you are just here to sight-see, I am going back to sleep.” His eyes weighed heavily on his face, eyelids falling through his willpower.

“Are you… okay?”

No, I am not ‘okay’. I am ‘$DEE.’

“Do I LOOK okay? Yeah sure, I am right as rain, having a grand old time—feeling peachy, even.” At this point, the words just spiraled off his tongue and through his teeth. The blotch made a sound, and Dee’s frustration grew, the pain of today’s tests ricocheting in his body.

“If you aren’t here to run another one of your little tests, then just get out. Go tell your superior, or better yet, go tell Dei’dra to go fuck herself and leave me alone.”

And he left him alone. He wondered vaguely what that was all about. He then fell asleep.

[rhydium]

fuck it starfinite drabble

its 12pm n i haven't slept, @ the two (2) other fans of these dumbasses come get yall juice ig ???? played around w/ a concept i had n figured i'll just ... post it. why not. this takes place in my android infinite au, pre-relationship!! u don't rly need context other than that tbh ((but feel free to ask me abt it i will gladly infodump))

cw: loss of limb (infinite's arm; it gets reattached), references to blood n stuff in the context of intrusive thoughts. please lmk if i need more!!

×

"what on earth were you thinking?" starline near shouts, his voice exasperated, shaky with adrenaline. he's angry and he's afraid and it's, it's stupid, really, he can fix this, but his hands tremble as he rummages through his toolbox, eyes darting over to infinite; missing their right arm, wires sparking, broken and it's sickening. he has to look away again. breathe.

"you can't keep... you — you're being too reckless!"

"i don't have much other choice." infinite says, so simply, so infuriatingly calm, so calm, such disregard for the fact they just had a limb blown off.

starline finds the last screwdriver he needs, but continues to sift around, poking and prodding and inspecting wrenches as if he's still looking for something. if he stops that means having to face this and he isn't ready — he needs to, but he can't.

"why?" he asks, ignoring the way his voice cracks, swallows the dry lump in his throat, "why, infinite?"

"is it really not obvious?"

starline grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut. his hands grip the edge of the box. "no!! it isn't!"

"i can be repaired. rebuilt. you can't. it's not that complicated. if one of us gets hit then logically it should be me."

his chest seizes as the words sink in, sink through his skin and down, down, down into his stomach like a stone; his gut churns and twists with guilt.

no... no, that's —

"that's stupid!" starline hisses. that self-sacrificing, idiotic...!

he whips around, locking eyes with infinite, don't look at their arm, don't look at it, don't look at the socket.

"don't speak like that. ever again."

whether it's his expression, his tone, infinite seems taken aback, almost appearing to flinch. they stare at him, frowning, though in a way more indicative of confusion than anger.

"like what?"

"like you're disposable!!"

...fuck.

there's a long moment of silence after starline's outburst. he pulls in a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his bill, averting his eyes to the floor, anywhere else, anywhere but infinite. he thinks about apologising — he shouldn't have yelled like that — but infinite is, this can't continue, they're being nonsensical, they keep endangering themselves, it can't.

"i... you just don't get it, do you?" he murmurs, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. a small, strained laugh escapes his throat, voice thin. "do you have any idea how it makes me feel, watching you get hurt like this?? throwing yourself around like some kind of — like a living shield??"

he's not going to cry. starline is not about to cry.

"you... could have died." infinite says quietly. "all those times, and today, if i hadn't stepped in — for you those blows would have been life changing, if not fucking fatal. do you know how that makes me feel, star?! i can't let that happen. it's so easy to just, imagine you laying there, not moving, the blood, and..." their fingers — god, the ones they still have — twitch restlessly. infinite picks at their claws.

starline can hardly restrain the choked noise that fights its way out of him.

they're doing this for him, to protect him, this is all his —

"it's not your fault." infinite speaks firmly, as if sensing his thought process. "but objectively..." they wave a hand, sighing, "you know? this doesn't even hurt me."

"it hurts me." starline exhales through his nose wearily. "emotionally."

"i'd rather you be a bit emotionally distressed than dead," infinite scoffs softly, "let me repeat; the damage i take isn't permanent or painful. you, on the other hand, are one accident from being... i don't even want to imagine it."

"then what am i supposed to do?!"

"be more careful and i won't have to get involved." infinite shrugs.

starline groans.

"why does it bother you so much?"

"are you kidding?!"

the lack of response would point toward no, apparently.

"because i care about you, you absolute fool!"

infinite falters for a moment.

"...but. i'm not in pain. i can be fixed. what are you afraid of?"

starline gazes at them wordlessly.

i'm afraid one day i won't be able to fix you.

i'm afraid i'm going to lose you.

i'm terrified of losing you because i love you but you don't know that and you can't know that.

"...star?"

"i — look, forget it. i just, i don't want to talk about this anymore, i need to repair your arm."

"you're hiding something."

"aren't you perceptive..." starline can't help but mutter.

"are you okay?"

does it look like it?

"i'm fine."

"could at least put a little effort into it if you're going to lie." infinite mumbles.

"would you just...!" starline takes a deep breath. "be quiet. please."

infinite briefly opens their mouth as if preparing to protest, but ultimately falls silent. they look away, absently staring off at the far window.

starline grabs his tools. he just... has to focus on work. this will probably take a while, he realises. it's easily the most damage infinite has ever taken — at least during their time with him. he's worked with robotics a long time, but infinite is a highly advanced android, and they require extra care, presicion.

infinite's shoulder sparks again. they don't react.

"...you really don't feel anything, do you?"

infinite raises a brow.

oh. right. i told them not to talk.

they shake their head, and starline nods, uttering a quiet "sorry."

no reply.

"can i... start the repair?"

"...you're not just going to go ahead and do it?"

"no. never. listen, i've made habit of asking for your consent and i have no intention of breaking it. it's your body."

"...i don't mind."

"alright."

starline supresses a sigh and begins to tackle the rather daunting task of fixing up and reattaching infinite's lost arm, which has been laying motionless on the table for the past ten minutes. despite the lack of blood, absence of stench, as would be had if infinite was organic, it's still disturbing somehow. he shivers at the thought of dealing with dismembered flesh, of muscle and bone, and finds himself suddenly a lot more appreciative that infinite is an artificial being.

despite the knowledge infinite can't actually feel any of what he's doing, starline proceeds slowly, gently. regardless of whether they can feel it, their body deserves to be treated with respect. he fiddles with their wires delicately between his fingers, turns bolts and adjusts joints with only as much firmness as necessary, apologises when he has to snap certain supports back into place. now and then, he glances at infinite, who looks oddly tense, contemplative... uncertain.

"are you... uncomfortable?"

"what...? no, i... i told you i can't feel it, didn't i?" they say distantly.

"well — yes, but, what about mentally? are you alright...? do you want me to stop? i'm sorry that these procedures are so... invasive, and it probably, after —"

— no, no, what are you doing don't bring that up —

"...ah. nevermind."

infinite blinks, as if processing his words, and then their expression shifts in understanding.

"you're fine. i mean, this is.... i'm fine." they affirm.

"...okay."

"i mean it. it's... you're nothing like him."

there was once a time starline would have found such a statement insulting. nowadays, he can't be more relieved infinite thinks as such. he adjusts his glasses and continues tinkering away, figuring he won't get much else out of them, at least for now. whatever is on their mind, he'll let it be. the rest of the repair goes smoothly, time passing in a silence that is isn't uncomfortable, nor fully comfortable. he can't help but feel bad about the... was it an argument? he isn't sure, really. maybe that's what infinite was thinking about...?

as he wraps things up, closing the last panel on their forearm and preparing to request that infinite run through a few tests to make sure everything is working correctly, they finally speak; though it isn't anything starline was expecting them to say.

"you could destroy me," infinite utters softly, and they just kind of... look at him, something in their eyes that starline can't put a name to. "if you wanted to. you could rip me apart from the inside."

"i... guess i could." starline murmurs, his fingers lightly trailing over the panel, hidden beneath infinite's fur, the only sign of its existence being several small ridges and the bump of a screw head. "does that scare you?"

infinite smiles. "it's terrifying." they reply. "to allow myself to be so vulnerable... to — to want to let my guard down."

starline blinks in surprise.

to want to...? they want to let me in?

"then why...?" he tilts his head curiously. his hand stills, but lingers where it is.

infinite shrugs loosely. "it's you."

oh.

starline, don't you even think about it, that isn't what they mean...!

he clears his throat awkwardly.

"er... is that... supposed to explain it?"

"it's all i've got." infinite replies. the small quirk of their lips broadens a bit, and they chuckle. "sorry."

...starline finds himself smiling back.

god, he's tired, the past hour has been immeasurably draining, but... this, this makes it all worth it. seeing them like that... it lifts all the stress, the anxiety. he feels lighter.

"thank you."

"huh?"

"for trusting me. i know it... must take a lot."

infinite shifts their hand — the one that hadn't been damaged — and hesitantly, very slowly reaches over. they look between starline's hand still resting on their inner arm, just above the wrist, starline's eyes, his hand again, and starline goes to withdraw — but before he can do so, infinite places their own over it.

"thank you." they whisper. "for treating me kindly. for treating me like... a person."

starline's breath catches in his throat. oh god, he cannot mess this up. infinite never — they never initiate contact like this, ever. he can't scare them away, he knows it's difficult for them to be touched, let alone how much faith they're showing in him to touch, and he will not squander all their progress. nothing will ruin this moment.

"you are one."

"...i care about you too, star."

"i — what?"

"you said earlier that you cared about me. i care about you too," they elaborate, a flicker in their eyes, this time something starline recognises, as quickly as it's hidden again; fondness. a very specific kind of fondness that... no — he isn't sure if he's imagining this or not. he has to be. surely, he's making it up. wishful thinking, seeing what one wants to.

"...a lot. more than you know." infinite finishes.

starline gazes into their eyes steadily, searching, trying to find it again. infinite stares back, almost like they're looking for something, too. oh, how easy it would be; to lean down, move in, to kiss them, but starline is not going there. he has no confirmation infinite likes him like, well, that and, it would be far too fast even if they did. not to mention he certainly wouldn't do it without asking.

"...you're hiding something too, aren't you?" starline settles for asking vaguely.

infinite's eyes widen slightly, then glitter mysteriously, amused.

"aren't you perceptive?"

[ask-spider-man-61610]

The Infiltration: Part One of Three

To say that two shapeshifters stood in the basement laboratory of a government building wouldn't be quite accurate. One shapeshifter stood in the basement laboratory. The other could more honestly be described as meticulously sculpted into shape. The particles that made up his body were arranged into the shape of a standing man, held in place by static cling, but that wasn't really standing. It was a rough approximation of standing, just like everything about Flint Marko was a rough approximation of a human being. He'd long since gotten used to the fact, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant.

The other shapeshifter, Reed Richards, leaned against a table that was great for projecting holograms but terrible for holding papers or drinks. Fancy and impractical equipment like this was one of the Cape Code Authority's most well-known features.

A third man stood in this laboratory too, off to one side. He was, in a way, the exact opposite of a shapeshifter. More on him later.

"I've taken some time to look into your request," Richards said as he tapped a few icons on the tabletop. "Here's the basics of my thoughts so far. A shell to house your nervous system and respond to electrical signals."

There was a sound like sand sliding down a dune before Flint began to speak. It had taken him a long time to relearn how to talk after becoming the Sandman; even now, it took effort to hold the shape of those granular vocal cords as he spoke in a deep and raspy voice. "Yeah. Y'said that last time, Doc. What's changed?"

Richards, in response, pinched an image on the tabletop and widened it out, his fingers stretching like rubber bands to expand the picture further. He raised his arm--he seemed to ignore his joints, the entire limb bending like a garden hose--and flicked one finger up, and a hologram rose out of the table's display to cast a soft white glow over the room. The hologram looked like eggshells glued to an Erector set, arranged into the shape of a bipedal form that lay on the table as if it were a stretcher. "What's changed is that I've done some research into actually making that shell. Take a look, I've drafted up a basic schematic for what it'd look like."

"And you decided it'd look like a Phantom?"

Richards snorted, but ignored the question. "The outermost shell is solid-light holography," he continued, making a vague swiping gesture through the air above the image. The eggshell faded out, revealing the bare animatronic beneath, which (judging by the sculpted face made of sand) Flint found even less impressive. Frowning, Richards looked down at the hologram again and added, "We could, given some finagling, calibrate it to resemble an actual human. But generating these 3D models is a pain, so I didn't bother."

Perhaps a more critical mind would have asked why, if 3D models were such a pain, they bothered to use holograms at all instead of pen and paper. But Flint's mind had never been an especially critical one; he was in no way stupid, but for all his life had tended to take things as they came. Instead he asked, "Is that why it looks like a Phantom? 'Cuz you're just recycling a picture you already had?"

"Not letting that go, eh?" Richards replied, the ghost of a smirk on his face as he glanced up at the Sandman again. He waved his hand again, and the computer misinterpreted his gesture and deactivated the projection of the suit. Rolling his eyes, Richards reactivated the hologram and said, "No. Well, partially. It looks like a Phantom because that technology is what a lot of my idea is based on. You see, what you're asking for is very similar to how the technology works anyway--an artificial support structure for a unique nervous system. The only difference is that your nervous system is two gallons of granulated silica, whereas the Phantoms are currently working with--"

And here he stopped, falling silent and stoic. His eyes, suddenly devoid of their smiling crow's feet, glanced Flint's way before his disgusting elastic fingers returned to typing on the touchscreen between them. The pile of sand, insomuch as it could, looked confused.

"What?" he said, in a voice like a seashell crushed underfoot on a beach. "What're the Phantoms workin' with? I thought they were just robots."

This was a common misconception, and Richards, like most of the Cape Code Authority, had a vested interest in upholding it. "Phantoms" were the colloquial name for Perpetual Holographic Avatar/Nano-Tech Offensive Monsters. Bipedal, autonomous drones with light weaponry, they were the foot soldiers of the CCA, the beat cops, the cavalry when an agent wanted reinforcement. They had been in development since the War of the Worlds had brought the Chitauri and all their technology to Earth six years ago, and some of the core technology of the drones was better kept unknown. What Richards had said threatened to jeopardise that secrecy.

The third man in the room chose then to speak. Stepping forward, his black cloak obscuring the entirety of his six-foot-plus form, he spoke with a voice that was digitally altered to be an octave deeper. "They are robots," he said, his white face mask moving like genuine flesh. "Their processors have a unique method of operation, though. They have some of the most sophisticated A.I. in the world, and their microprocessors are similar enough to a human's that it won't require too much tinkering to render it compatible with your...situation."

This was Scrier--or rather, a Scrier; one of many--and he was a champion liar. Nobody quite knew when he had joined the CCA or what level he occupied, but the executives of the organization seemed to treat him as a special case. He never answered distress calls, except to break up protests and strikes. He had no patrol routes, no assigned partners, and the only training courses he attended were the ones he taught--the ones about corporate rights and the agency's responsibility to them. Agents weren't allowed to try and investigate Scrier's identity. For all they knew, he was an undercover boss trying to hear his subordinates' opinions on him.

This was true, but it was a little more specific than that.

"Yes!" Richards said, gesturing towards the man gratefully. "Thank you, Scrier. I didn't know how exactly to put that. Yes, Phantoms run on a very human-like system. In theory, adapting it to suit your nervous system should be far easier than trying to create something out of whole cloth."

"I thought you were like a super genius," Flint said, sounding a bit annoyed. "You've invented flying cars and indestructible fabrics that let you go to space. You have yer own interdimensional portal. Why is this taking so much thought? Why does this need to be made out of other stuff and spit and prayers?"

Richards gave him a blank glare for a few seconds before sighing. "Okay," he said, leaning on the table. "First of all, I am a genius. I'm one of the smartest people to ever live, but that doesn't mean I know everything. I have to research and experiment. Any innovation, even one from me, takes time." He waved his hand again and the hologram vanished. "Second of all, remember: I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

"You're doing this because that was my condition!" Flint shot back, and the pile of sand swelled slightly and grew almost half a foot. He raised his arms; granules fell from the sculptures and scattered across the floor. "That's what I said when I joined this stupid super-cop thing! I hate being the Sandman, Doc! You guys offered to give me this--this job of disrupting protests and taking down unregistered super-guys because your bosses told me you could make me...not."

He glanced down at his hands. And indeed hands they were; years of practice had let him sculpt the sand at the end of his arms into an incredibly realistic form, with perfectly jointed fingers. You could almost see what must have once been his fingerprints. But as he looked at them a small stream of sand fell from them to the ground.

"I'm not expectin' you to make me human again," he said. "But just...something that'll make me feel more human. Something that feels like a body." His features hardened again, sand dunes into sandstone. "If you're just half-assing that--if you're just giving me something that-that makes people treat me like a Phantom and that'll break in like a week--"

And here he stopped. There was more than just a salary that kept agents of the Cape Code Authority in line. You had a lot of wiggle room as a superhero registered under them: you could slack off on the job, you could issue arrests for what you were pretty sure was a crime, you could stop and frisk anyone you liked, you could be sure that the beatings you gave to unarmed suspects were graciously forgiven by your superiors. But one thing you couldn't do was leave. Quitting the CCA was a surefire way to bring the coworkers you had once trusted down on your head; no longer registered, you had no more immunity than a child experimenting with the most basic powers did. Nobody wanted to find themselves imprisoned in Complex 42--stranded inescapably in the Negative Zone, tortured by armed guards and experimented on to replicate your powers, only protected from the hostile, annihilating environment outside the prison by a few wafer-thin force fields. But that was exactly where Flint's line of thinking threatened to take him.

"...Forget it," he mumbled, defeated, and as he slumped down slightly his face and body lost much of its detail.

Richards stared across the table with an uncomfortable air. Glancing down at the table, he tapped a few keys on it and the hologram vanished. With one hand he pushed his glasses up, and then his arm stretched the five feet across the table and patted Flint's semblance of a shoulder.

"Look," he said. "I can't make any promises. You're...unprecedented, Marko. The only shapeshifter of your kind. I'm doing the best I can to help you. But if I can use technology we already have to do it, then I'm going to. You're not my only job in the CCA. But I'm working on it." He took his hand back, and then needed a second to brush off the sand that had come with it. "...It's getting late. We ought to call it a day, I need to head home."

"Have to convince Susan not to walk out on you again?" Scrier suggested, already heading for the door.

Reed just dragged his hand down his face, his features stretching in his grip, and didn't answer. His eyes were bagged and his posture tired. Instead he began to trudge towards the door, each leg bending like it was made of plasticine, and followed by an animate pile of sand.

The light of streetlights and storefront signs shone through the windows as the three of them stepped out of the laboratory. About ten feet away, a custodian looked up from the floor he was mopping and gave the trio a quizzical expression, but the only one who paid him any mind was Scrier, whose expression was hard to parse through the prosthetic mask. Richards and Flint just began to head the opposite direction down the hall.

"Hey! Scrier! Don't you have some skulking to do somewhere else?!" Flint called back.

As the door to the lab swung closed, the janitor adjusted his grip on the mop and looked back down at his work. Scrier, after a second more of staring, turned away and began to saunter off.

It was a long hallway. They kept walking for a good long while before they turned and were out of sight. And for all that time the janitor continued to mop and silently sweated, waiting for them to notice that the security cameras weren't moving like they usually did. Even when the three Cape Code Authority agents were gone, the custodian continued to work. He worked until the vibrations of their footsteps through the floor had faded into the background tremors of the environment. And even longer than that, until the buzz of spider-sense in the back of his mind had subsided slightly, no longer quite so focused on them.

[aka-indulgence]

So I wanna get back to writing but I’m not yet ready to tackle the big stuff or asks just yet and i was recommended to write a oneshot/short thing so.... yet again, conversations with @llamagoddessofficial​ brought an idea to life and I’ve been kinda obsessed with it <u<

----

Space.

Vast, hauntingly beautiful...

lonely.

Even though you’re far from alone on this station- there was a huge crew of humans aboard with you- being on a station always left you with this feeling of... isolation.

You were on lone station, far from the planet whence it was launched, circling the star from a distance. There was no obvious motivation for why you were in one right now- living in space has become commodity, just another way of living. But to say you and the crew were living in space “just because” wasn’t quite the correct answer either... a lot of the people onboard were researches, and you were simply a mechanic on the ship.

You’re distracted a little from looking out the window, at the stars, when you hear a little clank from the outside.

You can’t quite see what’s directly out the station from where you are, so you took a few steps further from the edges of the window and lean a bit into it. You can see a metallic leg, blue sparks from a torch... S4-N5 was out there, his eight legs firmly gripping onto the outside of the station while he was making some kind of superficial repair. As he did, he seemed to notice you, as his “skull” turned to the side, his artificial eyes with “lights” as pupils fixating on you. There was a glare so you couldn’t see him completely... he must’ve caught you in his sensors. You give him a little smile and a wave before he turned away from you to focus on the station.

Yes, humans weren’t the only crew members... there were also robots on this ship. They assisted in managing most of the ship to make sure nothing was falling apart, in order, and generally making the humans; lives much more comfortable, doing things that were deemed too risky for humans to do. They were categorized by intelligence, conveniently titled in three levels, at least on this ship. There were the I-1s, which... to be honest doesn’t seem to be “real” intelligence. They just remember what kind of coffee you like, for example, catering to your tastes, delivering things to your room, the roombas and toasters, those guys. I-2s has a more managing role, controlling the locks, the doors, gases, air, and all the calculating needed to keep the station stable. They have an AI, but they were mostly fixed to their programming.

Then there were the I-3s.... like S4-N5.

Much more intelligent than the other two, they’re mostly mobile, can react to things they didn’t originally have in their programming, do tasks, solves puzzles and problems... advanced learning AIs. Affectionately called “big three” by most people since they’ve become... slightly more common than before, they’re one of the most intelligent AIs created. S4-N5 (who you called “Sans” for short that everyone else picked up- “Es Four En Five” was quite a mouthful to say) was a mobile, mechanic robot. He was made to fix the major fixes in or out the ship, with eight legs to provide grip while he was outside to stop him from floating away, and two arms for all the fixing. He had tools stored in pretty much every part of him, including his legs- another reason why he had so many, er... limbs.

He had a head and upper body that looked strikingly similar to a human’s skeleton- despite having thick “bones” and a very rounded skull. Black “sockets” with lights serving as eyes... and a permanent, wide grin on his face. You’re not even sure why it’s there- but then again why did his upper body part have to look like a skeleton? Maybe it was just a design choice to make him less spider-y but... yeah he still looks like a robotic, spider skeleton.

What did S4-N5 stand for again? “Station something something”-?

“Hey how’s it hanging? you’ve been staring out for a while there. What, trying to tan your face?”

Your lips drop into a lopsided grin at the voice, feeling annoyed before you even see his face.

“Hi... Robert...” you turn around, straining your smile, “Yeah, I was just, thinking...”

“Oh yeah? What about?” You took a few steps back when Robert stepped uncomfortably close to you, leaning back on the window. You know the glass is made to endure but you start to play with your fingers looking at him.

“Oh just... hey, do you remember what ‘S4-N5′ stands for?”

“Ugh... the robot bug thing?” Robert’s “charming” smile turned into a frown at the mention, “Why do you wanna know?”

“I was just wondering because I saw him, I- nevermind...” guy probably has no idea...

“Those things don’t matter anyways, they’re probably just a bunch of numbers and codes to track which model and version of the robot is..” Robert made a pout with his mouth, looking like he wanted nothing more than to steer the conversation away from Sans.

“Hey do you wanna know what me and the boys did earlier?”

... Riiight back to him.

But that’s hardly just a Robert thing... everyone on the ship doesn’t really like talking about Sans. They seem to barely want to do ANYTHING with Sans. He has a reputation for being the creepiest robot on the ship, almost entirely silent, walking around with his eight legs like a giant spider, with that upper “skeletal” body with the grin that now that you’re thinking about it again may be so he’d look friendlier... instead doing the opposite.

You tune out of him for a while as he regales you with something stupid he did on the ship that has you wondering how he even got assigned to this station when you perk your head at the sound of the air-lock door hissing open, the sounds of metal clinking against metal.

“-and ah fuck, speak of the devil. You talk about him and there he is.”

You turn around and see Sans as the doors close behind him in all his glory. Standing almost at twice your height, a shiny, metallic spider. His legs resembled knives, sharp with pointed joints, dividing a leg into three parts. His plated “abdomen”, equipped with machinery, energy storage, and a compartment for supplies suspended above the legs, holding up his torso.

You knew those legs are for mobility, grip, and tools, while the abdomen served to keep all of his body parts in check... but even you had to admit his likeness to spiders could be a bit unnerving.

“Ugh, look at that thing...” Robert whispered to you, as if Sans would take offense to whatever he was about to say, “he’s so fucking creepy, c’mon, why don’t we go somewhere else?”

He looked like he was about to take you by the arm before you jerked away from him.

“Why? He’s just doing his thing, he’s not made to hurt us, just relax!” you hiss at him. You knew Sans could be pretty creepy to some people, but he’s just being childish right now.

“Are we looking at the same thing? I- look, now it’s staring at us,”

You took a glance behind and sure enough, Sans was facing you, with only his head turned to you. You saw how his “pupils” focused, fixating on the nearby humans.

Is it just you or did his eyes look.. more intense than usual..?

“Do you see that? It looks like it’d fucking kill you in your sleep, don’t go out the ship with it (Y/n), it’d probably snip your tether, sadistic fuck.”

“What is wrong with you? He’s just doing his job can you just leave him alone?” You knew Sans was an AI but... it just felt wrong to be talking about him that way in front of him.

“What, because he’ll listen to me?” Robert scoffed, before his definite scowl turned into something less confident. “... actually yeah I don’t like that, so come on let’s go get some food or something.”

“You can go ahead and do that, I...” think of something think of something, “... need to go to the supply room for a moment. I think I’ve got something to fix and I’d rather finish it now rather than later.”

You walk on ahead without letting Robert reply, hearing his slightly distressed sounds of frustration.

“I- ok fine, I’ll be in the cafeteria.”

You hold your sigh until you get into the supply room, for once wishing you had a task to do as you look at your E-Pad.

One lose pipe at Section 8... least priority... what’s is it I need...

You don’t really have to do it, it’s hardly a human-specific maintenance job, but you didn’t want to just be hanging around outside while you wait for Robert to clear out of the cafeteria, because you’re starting to feel peckish.

Your mind goes a bit blank, staring at some spare pipes in front of you. You pick them up with no real intention in your mind, your mind just throwing around the word ‘pipe’ in your head and your hand just grabbed the nearest thing related. It was mostly quiet in the room, aside from the sound of air flowing out of the ventilation system and providing white noise in the background. You completely lose track of what you’re doing, just killing time in the most useless ways possible when...

Clink. Clink.

You hear... Sans’ legs clanking around outside. Something about the sound makes you go still, gripping tighter onto a pipe that just so happened to be in your hand. It was slow, deliberate movements... your heart rate quickened. Something about that quiet noise, sounding so loud when the room was so quiet felt you with this primal dread. You could hear your heart beating in your ears.

He was approaching the door...

Why were those legs so chillingly horrifying to you sometimes?

... No no, it’s ok he’s just... walking by...

The clanging stopped right outside the door while you bore holes into the pipe with your stare. keenly aware of Sans’ movements.

...

The hissing of the sealed doors opening almost makes you jump out of your skin, goosebumps suddenly breaking everywhere all over your skin as you make the mental note that: Sans opened the door.

As he steps inside, those quiet, tapping noises... you shake off your discomfort, ignoring the uncomfortable chill climbing up your spine the closer he sounds.

You said it yourself earlier. He’s harmless, he’s just doing his job... probably needs to take something. You’re in the supply room, remember? He may be a robot but treating him like he’s a monster just didn’t sit right with you when his sole purpose is to keep the ship intact.

You mess around with the pipes some more, trying to make it look like you’re busy gathering supplies, or something. He’s probably come to get supplies himself, he always resupplies the spares in his abdomen for future fixes before going to neutral mode.

You hear his movement doesn’t stop, every step he makes sounds like a whole second, and he keeps coming closer and closer and closer... until he’s directly behind you.

You sweat a little, the proximity making you a bit nervous, feeling like you’re being scrutinized.

He’s completely silent, and the silence stretches on longer than you’d think... what’s he doing? His shadow fell over you, unmoving, stationary. After a while you couldn’t stand it and turned around to see what he was doing-

Squeaking a little when you saw he had bent down so he was at your eye level, finding yourself face to face with him.

“O-oh hey Sans!” You greeted him cheerfully, though your heart threatened to leap out of your chest just a second earlier.

“Hello, Crew-Member 55.” He tilted his head to the side a bit, like he was confused by your reaction.

“I’m... sorry, you surprised me, I didn’t think you’d be that close. Did you... need anything?”

You’re so close to him that you could hear his eyes as his pupils widened and narrowed, focusing on you, see all his individual “teeth” of his, looking like a big, wide cheshire grin.

“... tool set complete.” He says, one of his automated responses. “It seems that you need something, 55. Do you require assistance?”

You looked at the pipe still clutched into your hand and drop it back into the latch. “I... yeah, actually. There’s a... a loose pipe in section 8, can you help me get the tools I need?”

“...” Sans tilted his body back, and you could hear again the whirring in his eyes as he focuses.

“... no tools required.” he finally says, surprising you a bit. “I can manage it for you, 55. You do not need to fix it.”

“Huh?” You checked your E-pad, and sure enough, the task was labelled as “taken by S4-N5”.

“Oh.. thanks Sans, you didn’t have to do that.” you smile at him, and... was it just you or did his grin widen a bit?

“I’ll uh... leave you to that then...” you slip out from the end of the room he had you cornered in- not going to lie, being trapped by a giant metallic spider didn’t seem very comfortable to you. His head faced you the entire time, his head turning 180 degrees. You almost rushed outside a bit to escape his gaze, but then you stop right at the door.

“Oh Sans, can I ask you a question?”

He’s silent. You take it as a ‘yes’.

“I... haha, sorry I forgot... what does S4-N5 stand for?”

“Station 4, Neurocognitive 5.” He responds as soon as you’re done speaking. “Station 4 refers to the station I am assigned: a star revolving station. Neurocognitive refers to my AI: Cognitive. I don’t have real neurons, however I am named so because I simulate one. Was that clear and concise, 55?”

You stagger a bit, for some reason you had.. human expectations for him? You didn’t think he’d reply you with such a detailed explanation of his name.

... you smile at him.

“Yes it was. Thanks, Sans, I appreciate it.”

“A pleasure, 55. Have a pleasant day.”

Of course, his response was robotic but... he is a robot. And... maybe you’re anthropomorphizing him a little but it sounds like he had emotion saying it.

You come out with a little spring in your step. Guess you’ll just check the cafeteria... if Robert’s there you can just go to your crew room and wait him out there. At least you didn’t have anything to do today.

You hear the sound of Sans shuffling around the supply room, probably getting what he needed to make the maintenance before he shuts the door. You hear him stepping away from you to Section 8. You hear another door open, his metallic legs coming to a halt.

“Oh hey whoah- hey!” You hear Robert’s voice, startled, staggering back to the door. You hear Sans skitter back as well, much faster than you heard him walking earlier.

“Please step away.” His voice, suddenly much colder and robotic sounded. “Please step away.”

You turn around and see Robert grasping the toilet door (guess he hadn’t immediately went to get food), trying to make as much space as he can from Sans, while Sans was pressing himself to the other side of the corridor, his eyes... much sharper than you saw them before. They looked almost.. hostile(?).

“Man I’m trying- move!”

“Please be at least 1.5 meters, or 4 feet away. Please be at least 1.5 meters, or 4 feet away.”

Everything becomes static again as you focus on what Sans is saying.

Please be at least 1.5 meters, or 4 feet away.

"This is a safety precaution. Please step away.”

...

You were much, much closer to Sans when he had you trapped in the supply room.

[acrosstimeandspace]

attic blues

i wanted to do another relationship analysis sort of story like i did with asmo, but this time with belphie! i have plans to do one for barb and simeon too!

trigger warnings for: a bit of robotic gore, a tiny bit violence

Belphegor had only prepared for one unwittingly stupid human exchange student, yet here stood two. Obviously whoever stood near MC wasn’t Solomon, he’d be too smart to trust the demon. But it ticked him off exponentially to know that there were three bloody humans in the Devildom, made his blood boil and that urge to cause havoc to twist unpleasantly in his stomach, making it hard to play nice.

“I thought we had promised to keep this secret. Are you still upset that I lied to you, MC?”

“No, it’s not that!” MC shook their head, he could only see them, the other human was smart enough to hide their appearance. “I thought it’d be smart to try and get Rune in on this as well, to help warm your brothers up. They’re very friendly!”

“You make me sound like a pet dog.” The voice was soft, teasing in a way his brothers once had been.

“Oh shush!”

“So who is this Rune, exactly?” He pressed his face up against the gate, trying to get any form of a glance.

“He’s my brother! He ended up coming with me as well, accidentally. Don’t you want to introduce yourself?”

He heard Rune hum, then the shifting sound of clothes let him know they were resting against a wall. “I’m Rune, MC’s adopted brother. They say you want to try and patch things up with Lucifer?”

“Yes, and in order to do so I need you to get pacts with my brothers. It doesn’t matter who, so long as they trust you enough to open the door.”

“Hmm.” Belphegor saw MC look over to where Rune was, exchanging a look. “Okay then, we’ll try things out. Though if you do anything stupid though and I’ll kick your teeth in.”

MC let out an exasperated gasp, “Rune! Be nice! You’re not like this to the other brothers!”

“Ah, I can be like this to Lucifer. You know like when he tried to kill you?”

“Wait, that was you who tried to deck him?”

“Yup. Now c’mon, MC. Sorry Belphegor but we have to leave, so your brothers aren’t suspicious.”

He heard the walk away as MC gave a wave before leaving him all to his lonesome once again. Usually he’d hate it, stew in his anger. But he was intrigued, what a peculiar little human Rune was.

~

And then the almost daily visits from Rune started. At first Belphegor wondered if the tough guy stick was all an act, for Rune sure seemed to not be bothered by him. They’d come up, talk quietly about whatever to him for a while before saying their goodbyes. Rune had become one of his first real interactions outside of using MC or cursing Lucifer, and he soon started to crave them.

“You’re late.” He huffed, pouting despite the fact that he couldn’t see them.

“I don’t have a set schedule to see you, you know.”

“You have a pattern, nimrod.”

“Ah, is that it? Guess I have to wait longer for my next visit then, so your brothers don’t catch on.”

The statement was joking, he knew it was. Rune wouldn’t do that, yet it still flooded his nerves with panic.

“Don’t. Don’t leave. They have MC, they won’t notice, they’ll be fine.”

If he could have, he would’ve reached through the gate to them, keeping them close. That realization sent an unpleasant, fiery stone into his gut. What was he, some stupid, lovestruck human? He couldn’t become what he hated, what he wanted dead. He shouldn’t be craving them, needing them like this.

The pause Rune gave him made that stone hurt worse. Was what he said wrong? Then Belphegor saw Rune’s hand, resting outside his door. He didn’t move to try to see more of him.

“Sorry, I won’t joke like that again, okay?”

Belphegor swallowed thickly, “Whatever.”

Belphegor’s eyes didn’t leave Rune’s hand as he talked of random things, opening Belphegor up like some delicate package. He began to relax, that stupid human’s presence was soothing. Soon another feeling  replaced the fiery stone, much more pleasant and comforting. Even when silence lulled around them, the warmth wrapped pleasantly around Belphegor. He wished there was a blanket like that, to keep close to him at all times. He missed that type of comfort.

“I want to show you lots of things once I get out.” He spoke softly.

“I’ll be waiting for that. I promise it’ll come soon.” Belphegor liked the tone of Rune’s voice, it felt like a warm cup of tea.

“You have to go soon.”

“I promise I’ll come back sooner.”

Belphegor snorted, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Maybe. But maybe we’ll see each other in our dreams.”

For another time Belphegor was glad Rune couldn’t see him, his face heating up. He had many dreams about his human companion, many desires that he couldn’t believe. Waking up from each dream about a date or holding their hands under starlight put that fiery stone back in his gut and twisted it up red and angry until he wished he had dreamed of anything else. But he also didn’t want to dream of something different, wanted Rune to stay and keep that warmth that made him feel safe. How could a weak, squishy human make him like this? He wanted to scream.

He didn’t hear them say goodbye, which was a good thing. He hated hearing them go, hated it because the cold of the attic settled back into his bones and made him want to cry.

~

Freedom. No more gate no more attic he was free, he could do what he wanted. What did he want now? Belphegor only felt anxiety, he couldn’t comprehend this freedom, panic instead ate away. That painfully hot and angry stone was back to twisting up his gut, screaming and making him feel all of his grief and the coldness of the attic wouldn’t leave him. He should be free, be rid of this. Why was it still here? Why did it all hurt so much?

Seeing MC painted his vision irrationally red and bloodlust filled up his mind. It’d be so easy to do something so stupid. Get Diavolo to let go of his stupid little idea of humans being good. So he invited them in for a hug, which they took. He was going to threaten them, form shifting and horns protruding.

But MC ran, smarter than he thought. It stunned him a bit, he thought they were too naive. That should’ve cooled him down but it only fueled his anger.

He found MC in the foyer, about to do the unspeakable when a fist collided with his face and white hot pain flooded his brain, not even registering the crack of bone.

Belphegor looked up to see what he could only describe as a brunet Satan, if his irises were to swallow up his eyes and glow a soft green. The markings on this guy’s joints were aglow in the same way, arms poised to defend.

“I told you I’d kick your teeth in if you tried something dumb,” his voice was familiar, the pain that ebbed it’s way into his tone twisted at Belphegor’s heart. Perhaps if he were in a better state of mind the hurt that came with it would matter.

“Oh, what do you think a pathetic human can do? I’m going to do what should have been done when you got here. The reasons for Lilith’s death, I’ll make you suffer the way she did!”

He lunged again, grabbing hold of Rune’s — this had to be Rune, who he longed for but was now going to tear apart — arm, twisting it so it would break. He wanted them to shatter like Lilith.

It did, not in the way he expected it to. The tearing sound was like that of a machine, wires popping loose as the appendage came off. Belphegor stood there, dumbfounded. Machine. How could Rune be a machine when an undeniably human soul rested in his chest?

And then another swift feeling of pain hit his face as he fell back on his ass, letting go of the arm at impact. He was coming out of that fever, that rage of grief slowly.

After the front doors opened everything was a blur. He understood MC was Lilith’s descendant, that his sister had been reborn and lived a human life. That Rune was some sort of android and was MC’s bodyguard in the form a protective sibling. That he was somehow getting off light, despite the attempt of murder and actually injuring Rune.

It bothered him, bothered him that worse wasn’t happening. Bothered him that Rune seemed so nonchalant about his arm.

So when Beel wanted to go catch up, Belphegor first asked to see if Rune was okay. He had to make sure they were. Couldn’t rest until he was sure. What was going to happen to their arm now? What did they feel towards him? They should hate him, it felt like a rational emotion for the circumstances.

He barely peaked his head in, listening intently to Rune’s explanations to Satan and Levi about how he was going about to repair his arm. A hiss, a click and then a small “done” parted from Rune and he was fixed, a new arm attached.

He was going to release a sigh of relief, Beel’s hand on his back comforting as Rune was okay, until Levi let out a sharp gasp. He had grabbed at his arm, yanking Rune towards him. The grip on Rune should have been painful, especially since Levi had grabbed him so roughly, but both seemed to have frozen in shock.

“Oh, I forgot I wouldn’t be feeling anything there. It’s been so long since I’ve had to repair a limb I’ve forgotten the time it takes to readjust all the feelings to it.”

Belphegor stiffened before turning and running, wanting to sleep away everything like he used to. Rune couldn’t feel his arm because of him, Rune had been hurt because of him. How could he even think that he’d even want to be near him? The cold of the attic crept back in despite him clearly being in his and Beel’s room now, and it ached.

Beel was there too, rubbing his back and cooing. Cooing? Oh, Belphegor had been crying. He had been crying for Rune.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You like them, Belphie. You feel guilty about what you did, but now you’re afraid of hurting them.”

“Again. I’d hurt them again. After they came and visited me nearly every day. A-after—“

“After you had begun to like them.”

It was a simple way of putting his feelings, ones that he had tried to bury in his furry. But Beel understood him better than anyone else, and knew he couldn’t handle the full truth quite yet. Because Belphegor couldn’t bear the idea of hurting another person he loved.

[mandadoration]

twenty-six minutes

summary: Is it depraved of you to seek comfort in a reprogrammed Imperial droid?

word count: 1, 956

pairing: k-2so x reader

warnings: smut, fingering, i can’t believe im a robot fucker, im so sorry

a/n: I lost… so much steam halfway through, but I persisted. This one’s for all you robot fuckers out there.

I’m so, so sorry. 

Anyways... back to your regularly scheduled program. 

Read this on AO3

“You’re awfully squirmy.”

K-2SO says it so casually, as if you weren’t rutting yourself against the cold, but quickly warming, metal of his thigh, as if his hands weren’t pulling and pinching at your flesh, pulling you back against his chassis every time you tried to curl into yourself. It’s hard to get leverage; he’s so much taller than you are, and your toes barely brush the floor from where you sit in his lap, worsened by the fact K2 was sitting on the high meeting table, but your face is flushing and pleasure is curling in your belly. The positioning is definitely uncomfortable, but that’s pushed away when he tugs at your nipple in an almost curious manner, pulling a mewl from you. 

“Yeah?” you breathe. “That tends to happen when you’re, ah, in a compromising position.” 

K-2’s limbs are long enough that he’s able to reach over to pull your Rebellion-issued pants off of you, along with your panties, with no trouble, tossing it across the room dismissively. Thankfully, you had the foresight to take off your shirt before, and you make sure it’s still within arms reach if someone were to walk in. K-2 lifts you up enough to hook your legs over his, pulling you flush against him, and spreads his legs so that your legs are forced to follow, and you whine when the cold air hits your pussy. You go to try and cover yourself with your hands, but he swats them away with a sharp slap. 

“‘Compromising’?” K-2 repeats back to you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t think it’s compromising that--” Your sentence breaks off when he threads his spindly fingers through your hair and pulls back until your neck is exposed, giving him more room to run his other hand down your body. You stay frozen in that position when he releases your hair, wincing only a little when a few strands get caught between the joints, letting K-2 use both hands to feel you up, and the shock of the cold metal of his hands makes your brain stutter. “That-- that--”

“That what?” K-2 asks. “That we’re currently in an empty meeting room doing things that will surely put both of us on probation, if not ruin our reputations?” He seems content on poking and prodding at you while he talks, and it seems like every time you have these encounters with K-2SO, he makes it his job to pry new noises from you. And honestly? You don’t even know if K-2 likes you. You think it’s more of a… fascination. Of you yourself or just the mere fact you were an organic, you’re not sure. He doesn’t get anything out of this, besides the fact that you’re nearly powerless against him. He’s enough of a shithead bucket of bolts that you don’t doubt that he gets whatever weird form of droid pleasure from torturing you like this. Still, you’re too shy to bring it up, too insecure that if as soon as you voiced your worries, he would dismiss it and say that you were being stupidly human. 

“I-I guess so, yeah,” you mutter under your breath. You barely manage to smother a yelp when K-2 practically manhandles you into a better position-- probably annoyed that you’re slipping. Which is not your fault, you’d like to add. It’s not your fault K-2SO was all limbs and has no real surface to perch yourself on. 

He’d probably slap you if he heard you say that out loud.

“Probation could, uh, put a damper on things; I’m not… I’m not sure?”

“Is there anything you’re sure of?” K-2 scoffs. He spreads his legs a little wider, taking yours with it, and digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh until you whine. Pleased with the response, he gives one last squeeze before releasing you. 

“A-aren’t you worried we’re gonna get caught?” you hiss at him, jolting when his fingers trail inwards until it brushes against your clit. Maker, you don’t even know what you’d do if you got caught. Your brain is too scrambled right not to think properly, and lying isn’t programmed in droids in case he would have to make up for the fact your brain is quickly turning into mush. K-2 is too much of a character to lie easily anyways. Cassian always complains that he’s not good at acting or lying, but too sassy to keep his mouth shut and let others talk for him. You hear a quiet, internal whirring from K-2 as he almost absentmindedly teases the outside of your entrance. But you know this motherfucker. 

Everything he does is deliberate and intentional. 

“The probability of us getting caught sits at 63% currently,” he says, “and rises with each pathetic moan you give.” He finally, finally sinks one, long digit into your aching hole, simultaneously shoving his fingers in your mouth as you’re mid-moan to cut you off. “46% now.” You want to be mad at him, but he presses down on your tongue to silence you, and you worry that if you spoke up, he’d stop completely. You wouldn’t put it past him to leave you here, aching and wanting. He’s done it before, and he’d do it again. The perks of being a droid is that he doesn’t care or have anything to deal with if your little rendezvous got interrupted. K-2 has nothing to worry about. All he thinks of is the next time he gets to fuck with you, mentally and physically, while you’re out here stressing over every little detail.

“K-2,” you say, garble, really, and thrust your hips up to try and urge him to do more than just lazily thrust his fingers in and out of you. If you could look at him, you’re sure he would be rolling his eyes at you and your lack of patience, but he seems to understand what you’re saying and slips in another finger next to you. You turn your head and spit his fingers out, moaning when he curls his fingers in you. 

“You do know that you tend to be loud when I pleasure you, right?” K-2 asks you bluntly, but he brings his spit-slick fingers down to rub at your clit anyways. 

“Don’t,” you gasp out, kicking your leg out and slipping down a little further, “don’t say like it’s a-a chore.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says, “it is a chore.” You frown and try to hoist yourself back up. 

“Then why do you even--” K-2 shushes you with another curl of his fingers alongside a rough swipe up your clit that leaves you gasping, and you nearly slam your head against his torso as you straighten up. You bite your lip to stop the curse that wells up before it can get out. 

“It’s rude to interrupt people before they finish talking,” he scolds. Then after a moment, “It is a chore,” he repeats, “but I highly doubt that there are other people that would willingly let me do this to them.” 

Of course that was it. You can’t help be disappointed by his answer, but what else had you expected from someone like K-2SO of all people? Or droids, more accurately. Because of course this snarky, sarcastic reprogrammed Imperial droid would only be involved with you because no one else would. Because you’re depraved and desperate for any affection that you’ll find it in a dismissive droid who probably would drop you at any given moment the second you he deems you uninteresting--

“I can practically hear you thinking,” K-2 says, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Are you getting bored?” He slows down his movements, but you grind back down to meet him, and he resumes, stretching and scissoring you open until your toes curl. Eventually, he slips in a third finger, leaving you panting. The metal of K-2’s fingers are hard and unforgiving in your wet heat, but you suppose that’s why it’s all the more enticing. “I asked you a question.”

“No I’m not ‘getting bored’,” you grit out. Despite how you’ve been stuck in your own head and worrying, K-2 is too good at what he’s doing. Just a little more--

“Then what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing’s the matter, K-2, just-- c’mon, a little more?” you beg him. You really don’t want to have this conversation now. You cant your hips up, and try to look up at him with the best pleading eyes you can muster, pouting your bitten lips. 

“Something is obviously the matter,” he complains, looking down at you, but he speeds up and rubs your clit in a way he knows you like, forcing a gasp from you. “Remember to be quiet or we’ll get caught.” You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, the other to play with your breast as you focus on the wet sounds filling the air, the way K-2 is tireless in his movements, at how exposed and filthy you must look right now, having an Imperial droid finger fuck you in an empty meeting room at a Rebel base--

You keen high in your throat when you cum, and this time you actually do slam your head on the metal of his chassis. Instinctively, you try to bring your knees together as K-2 keeps insistently touching you as you ride out your orgasm, but your legs are still hooked around his, and he’s unmoving as you shake in his lap. 

“Twenty-six minutes,” K-2SO notes, then he picks you up by hooking his arms underneath your armpits, and sets you on the cold meeting table before handing you your shirt. 

“What?” you breathe out. Your head is still spinning as you try to get your bearings, and at least the cold of the table jolts you back to your senses a little. 

“It took you twenty-six minutes to reach orgasm this time,” he clarifies. K-2 bends down to pick up your discarded pants and underwear and tosses them at you. You barely manage to catch it before it smacks you in the face. 

“And that’s significant because… how?”

“Your average time to reach completion is twenty-three,” K-2SO says, once again, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “So something was on your mind.” You sigh and tug on your pants. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“K-2, I really don’t want to talk about this right now,” you say to him, and you can’t help it, but your tone is short despite how your hands are still racked with the occasional tremor. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he says dryly, watching you as you button up your shirt. You shoot him a nasty glare, but re-lace your boots and use the reflection of the smudged meeting table to make sure you looked presentable. Your hair is a mess and your face is flushed, but you doubt anyone would bring it up if you encountered them in the halls on the way back to your room. “If you ask me--”

“Well, I didn’t, so shut it, K-2,” you snap at him. You stomp towards the door before you can lace your other boot. “Go find Cassian and bother him for a while.” You’re being cold and just downright a bitch to K-2SO, you know, and you don’t doubt that he’ll vaguely tell Cassian about it, but your nerves are still buzzing and high strung, and you really, really don’t want to have this talk with him right now. If K-2 knew what was good for him, he’d leave it alone.

And as you shut the door behind you, you hear him say, “Ah, of course. Cassian. As if he’d listen to me.”

---

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