#big system collab on this one!

[liza-lilly]

The Beast Child, Oakly (nearly 200 years old), depicted as though in ancient times! (Another version will be coming out for funsies in a different look!)

Tagging @zombeegutz since they helped a little too as an extra eye over our work!

[seiwas]

three-part honesty | todoroki shouto

wc: 16.3k

summary: honesty, you've realized, is shouto’s most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 

contains: intended as f!reader but no pronouns used, reader wears heels, a skirt, & a dress, post-canon (divergent), aged-up pro-hero!shouto and assistant!reader, workplace romance, development of feelings, confessions, boss/assistant dynamics, co-workers to lovers (ish), todoroki family dynamics and healing, fluff, slow burn.  

sequel to: two-part something ao3 mirror

a/n: primarily from shouto’s perspective but switching of character pov’s is denoted by ‘( )’. i enjoyed the entire process of writing this fic and hope you do too! 

sponsored by @arcvenes for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please do check it out and support if you can! this is also my submission for the pretty boy summer collab by @andypantsx3.

I. LISTEN CLOSELY

Much to his relief, Shouto’s yearly health check-up turns out just fine. 

His blood work results come back stellar, levels all floating within normal range; some x-rays and scans reveal injuries healing up nicely—that collarbone he’d fractured months ago, especially. Save for a few recommendations on better sleep and stress management, Shouto receives no additional diagnoses for anything particularly concerning. 

Except for this one thing—

“Maybe you have a crush.” Natsuo sinks into the backrest of his chair. A slight ‘squeak’ sounds from its springs as he props one foot up on his knee and clasps his hands over his stomach. 

Shouto thinks it must be some doctor pose; Natsuo’s been doing it more often now that he’s gotten deeper into his medical practice. 

In Shouto’s final year at UA, Natsuo made the decision to fully shift into Pre-Med. The aftermath of the war left a big portion of Musutafu lost and in dire need of a society to believe in. To Natsuo, this felt like a calling; an effort of playing his part to restore faith in a better, functioning system that did not discriminate. Internal medicine felt expansive in that way.

This, of course, also meant that Natsuo was now the (unofficial) assigned private and personal doctor of the Todoroki family—to Shouto, mostly. 

So—

A… Crush?

“How does that happen?” Shouto turns to his brother, head tilted in confusion. His brows furrow slightly. 

This isn’t what he was expecting at all. 

“I mean, you said it in your text,” Natsuo reaches for his phone, clicking it open to scroll. The light from his screen reflects on the gray of his irises; then, he air quotes, “you said: ‘my chest feels weird’, then when I asked if anything happened,” his index finger glides across the screen, swiping through a long block of text uncharacteristic of Shouto’s typical dry responses.

“You detailed the entire scene of–” he pauses for a moment, squinting to find a specific line, “–a santa hat? Being put on you, or something. You didn’t mention who but I figured it was—” 

You, Shouto thinks, at the moment Natsuo says your name. That same two-part thump sounds in his ears. 

You, who’s stayed by his side for the past five, nearly six years. You’ve carved your presence so deeply into his life, it’s become an undercurrent in his speech. He doesn’t even think of having to say your name when he talks about you. 

You, and how he turns over this familiarity with you inside his brain. How everyone knows—

“—who else stays with you in the agency past office hours, anyway?” 

Natsuo raises an eyebrow, knowing. 

“We’ve been working together for a while.” Shouto replies, lips pressed firmly into a small pout. 

If he’s being honest, he’s not sure what compelled him to say something Natsuo already knows. To state the obvious? Or to argue, maybe? To act in denial? To express disbelief? 

He takes a long breath, surveying Natsuo’s clinic. The walls are pristine white, the desk and examination bed the same shade of ashen gray—a conscious choice to keep patients calm; ironic, given the state of his thoughts right now. 

Shouto’s mind is buzzing, and Natsuo watches the muddled confusion in his little brother’s eyes shift and swirl in blue-gray emotion. Then he chuckles, holding onto his arm rests as he stands up from the other side of his desk. 

“It can happen, Shouto.” he plants a palm on his little brother’s head, ruffling red and white the way he would have when they were teens, “It’s been years, right? Feelings can develop over time, that sorta thing, you know?” 

Shouto lets the realization settle in. 

Under the weight of his brother’s hand, he feels like a kid again—right before all the training started; and right before being kept away, excluded from the childhood he could have had with his siblings. 

Shouto feels like a teen again, without the trauma, without the war, being taught things about life and himself, about feelings he never had the time nor capacity to explore.

The two-part thump continues, beating. 

A crush. On you. Huh. 

The rustling of his hair dusts strands of warm, fuzzy feelings over his eyelids. 

This feels… new, he thinks. 

.

.

.

Shouto knows his Mondays. 

He gets to Shouto Agency an hour before everyone else does because he likes the stillness of it right before the day turns busy. The sun is up but only barely, casting a soft glow of blue and orange hues through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. 

This habit began years ago, back when the agency functioned on the 7th floor of a commercial building. It was called Flashfreeze then, and even though it had an entire floor of 24 office units, being in a commercial building still meant sharing common areas with other companies and agencies. The morning rush left the elevators flooded in utter chaos daily. 

To Shouto, going in early meant less people and less noise—a quiet bube he could use to prepare himself for the rest of the day.  

A lot has changed since then: the agency’s move into a larger, newly constructed building of its own; staff, interns, and sidekicks quadrupling in numbers; better office spaces, bigger teams, more facilities—a big expansion, essentially. 

Somehow, despite being more settled in the industry, he finds that the days feel even busier than before. 

So, Shouto keeps his Mondays the same: his preference of coming in early carrying itself into this newer, much larger and private office space, and his same habit of brewing himself a cup of tea finding its own spot by the small kitchen nook you helped design during the construction of his office space. 

Everything about his office is optimized for efficiency: the backdoor, where he enters from on most days, opens to an elevator with a matching staircase that both lead straight down to the costume unit, training grounds, and his own parking area; the blinds of his windows automatically draw up and down at set times of the day; and the minimalism of his entire space is carefully considered, with every area plotted for easy navigation. 

It’s sleek and neat, sharp edges and clean lines, straightforward much like he is. Cold, for the most part, save for the corners touched by your warmth.

Pale yellow jars sit on the counter of his kitchen nook, with each one housing sugar, cinnamon, and his stash of tea.  

When he looks more closely around the room, he spots the fresh flowers on his desk—a vase of luscious white chrysanthemums starkly contrasting the dark grays and browns of his interiors; they tell him you must be in already, because even when he manages to come in an hour ahead, you always, without fail, beat him to it 30 minutes too early. 

And also, like always, you enter his office in the same way you do every Monday morning. 

Your heels clack against his stone flooring, marking your arrival. He turns to face you from the kitchen nook, cup of tea in hand as he greets you. 

“Good morning.” 

You jolt, nearly tripping. Your head whips up quickly as you clutch a mass of folders tightly to your chest. 

He takes a sip of his tea, the corners of his lips curling slightly on the edge of his cup. 

“Si–” you clear your throat, correcting yourself as you take a breath. Then you smile warmly, bowing your head slightly, “Shouto, good morning.” 

“You scared me a bit there,” you add with a soft chuckle. 

It’s endearing, he thinks, seeing you caught off guard, so out of your usual composure.

You loosen your grip on the folders, “I just came to place this on your desk,” your finger taps against the plastic, “I didn’t notice you were here already, sorry.” 

“No worries,” he sets down his tea cup, pocketing one hand in his sweatpants, “do you want some tea?” 

“I’m good, thank you,” you shake your head, walking towards his desk to set the folders down, “Just a couple of debriefs for the case last month.” 

He nods, eyes tracking your movement around the room. You pause then turn to him, clicking your pen as you say, “Let me get your schedule so we can do the run-down.” 

Shouto moves to his desk when you leave, settling into the few squeaks and cracks of the leather chair you helped restore using your quirk—the ability to minimally reconstruct organic matter. 

Not even a few minutes pass until you return, a tablet perched on the crook of your elbow with a digital pen in hand. 

This is part of his Monday routine. 

The agenda you follow is the same: a schedule run-down for the coming week, any notable trips or events, report updates, and department updates. Occasionally, PR will have you relay messages they have trouble communicating nicely—most of the time, they involve suggestions for him to ‘smile more’ or ‘answer questions more enthusiastically’. 

You have no problem telling him these things straight up, and he has no issue hearing it directly from you, either. 

For this week, you detail a few meetings scheduled for tomorrow and Wednesday, along with updates on his costume revisions, to be fitted on Wednesday afternoon, and—

“Deku requested a joint patrol on Thursday morning, so I moved your fitting for the gala to that evening instead. Is that okay with you?” you look up from your tablet, the tip of your pen hovering over the screen. 

In this light, you’re bathed in the colors of sunrise. 

(From where you’re standing, Shouto is backlit by the rising sun. His figure is washed over by a faded shadow, but you can see his eyes clearly, bright turquoise and dark gray staring right at you.

You hold your breath; you are well aware of Shouto’s tendencies to stare, but he’s taking much longer to answer you this time. And you don’t know what to do, where to look. Do you wait until—)

Shouto nods, catching himself lingering. 

You mumble an ‘okay’ before tapping on your tablet. 

The rest of your reminders are about upcoming events and deadlines: there’s the company team building happening in a few weeks, and a few reports due today and tomorrow. Fuyumi moved the family lunch to Saturday to make way for his photoshoot on Sunday. 

He watches you from his desk as you speak, your foot tapping in conjunction with each item you relay to him, as if marking every point. It’s a thing you do, something he’s noticed in the years you’ve worked together. 

Shouto knows his Mondays, and he’s always been relaxed during these earlier parts of it. 

But ever since that check-up with Natsuo, he’s been more… conscious about it lately. It seems to be a consistent trend that every time he’s around you, he feels a significant uptick in his heartbeat. 

Except now, when you speak—

“Will you be bringing a plus-one to the gala this year? The committee is confirming how many seats they’ll reserve for you.” 

—his heart feels like it drops, plummeting straight to his stomach. 

He looks at you intently, a slight crease forming between his brows. 

You go to most of these things with him; you always have, ever since. 

So, why are you even asking? 

He thinks about it, deciding what to say next. The thought of you not going with him feels weird. Unusual. 

If you’re unavailable, he supposes he can just go alone. 

But—

“What should I do then?” Shouto shifts in his seat, peering up at his brother. 

Natsuo’s instinctive reaction is to laugh; after all, it’s not often that you see pro-hero Shouto at a loss on troubleshooting. But when he spots pure and genuine uncertainty swirling in heterochromatic gray and blue, he sees his little brother—Shouto at ages 4, 8, and 12, still a little helpless on what to do.

“Do you want to do something about it?” Natsuo asks gently, squeezing Shouto’s shoulders. 

Shouto doesn’t say anything. 

The lack of response tells him all he needs to know. 

“Maybe figure that out first, then just be honest about it when the time comes. Nothing beats saying it plain and simple.” 

—‘just be honest about it’ echoes in his head, Natsuo’s voice morphing into his own.

“Will you not be available?” he manages to ask flatly, masking his worry. 

(You look up from your tablet and his eyes meet yours, an intensity in his gaze that’s only been directed at you a handful of times before.) 

“Oh,” you fluster a little, shifting your weight, “I will be, but I just thought…”

He can hear you hesitate, voice trailing off as if contemplating your next words. His head dips to coax you to go on. 

“...I just thought, maybe you’d want to bring someone from your family?” you give a small smile, half-genuine, half-uncertain. 

You know Shouto’s family; know their stories and know what each of them are like, individually. 

You know how far they’ve come into healing, seeing Touya through multiple cycles of rehab and relapse. You’ve witnessed his mother’s strength first-hand, watching her rebuild their family with the help of Fuyumi. On the weekends when work wouldn’t let up for Shouto, she’d welcome you to join in family lunches too. 

There were days during Natsuo’s medical internship when he’d go to the office at midnight because the hospital was nearby. It was the only free time he and Shouto had at the time, but Natsuo would ask you to join in, the three of you slurping on cup noodles while Natsuo prattled on about the absurdity of some of his coworkers. 

So, Shouto can fully understand your intentions. After all, he thinks you’ve been instrumental to his family’s healing, too. 

But he has his reasons for never bringing Fuyumi—she usually has school the next day, if not volunteer work at an orphanage. Natsuo has gotten increasingly busier with his practice, and Touya—Touya is still in rehab, and though he’s allowed at home three times a week, Shouto’s sure he’d rather spend it doing things other than being in a room full of pro-heroes. 

“It might be nice to bring your mom,” you add on.

And as for that—

“The gala is this Friday?” he leans forward, the tips of his bangs brushing his eyelids. 

You nod.

“She and Touya are going to the gardens,” he recalls, his mother casually mentioning it the last time he visited. 

You look pleasantly surprised, “Oh,” then your small smile returns, “that’s good to hear.” 

(It must mean a lot to Rei, you think. She’s always wanted to make up for lost time.) 

You don’t say anything else, silence filling the conversation as you hold his gaze.

It isn’t uncommon for Shouto to hold stare-offs, with you especially, but this might just be the first time he feels fully conscious about it—wondering what you’re thinking; if you can read his mind and tell what he’s thinking. 

“Do you not want to join me?” he asks, a small pout forming on his face. 

(The softness of his cheeks sink just a little bit, and his eyes lose some of the luster they typically carry in the morning. 

He looks so sad, you wish you just said yes in the first place. 

How do you even respond to this?) 

“No, n-no–” you stutter, inching forward subconsciously, “–it’s nothing like that.” 

You check your tablet, swiping through your calendar. He can see portions of it from where he’s sitting, your Friday definitely freed up and empty. 

He pushes himself up, standing to full-height. His hands dig into the pockets of his sweatpants as he tilts his head to the side. 

“What seems to be the problem then?” 

(In your years of knowing Shouto, you’ve learned that he never intends to sound harsh even though his words may seem like it. But even though you’re aware that he only means to be curious, you still feel a little embarrassed admitting that you didn’t anticipate the possibility of going to the gala with him this Friday. 

You’ve always been prepared; it’s in your job description to be like this. You should have had a back-up dress just in case. You shouldn’t have shown Shouto your hesitation in the first place.

So, you breathe out, voice level and calm. This is your problem to fix, you don’t have to let him know about it. You’ll find a way, like you always do.) 

“There’s no problem. I’ll add my name to the list then.”

Then you smile, but it’s just a touch uneasy, and if there’s one thing you underestimate about Shouto—for just as much as you know him, he’s gotten to know you pretty well too. 

He pauses. The last thing he would want is for you to feel forced to go.

“If you have other plans, I hope you don’t feel obligated to go. I can go alone.”

His brows furrow, crease deepening and heart still sinking. 

(And you can see it, that little pout on his face staying right where it is. 

You’re endeared, touched by his consideration.

“I don’t have other plans,” you grin, brighter and more at ease, “and I don’t feel forced to go either,” you sigh, hiding a small chuckle. 

A pause. 

You mull it over before deciding to admit why you were hesitant in the first place, “I thought you were going to bring your mom, so I wasn’t able to prepare a dress.”)

Shouto’s eyes widen slightly, mouth opening to express his apologies. 

“But–!” you interrupt, “That’s my fault,” you raise your hand, swaying it side-to-side. “So please don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” 

The smile on your face is meant to reassure him, he knows, but he still feels guilty. 

This Friday’s gala is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards; it’s grand because it’s important, and the dress code is always black-tie—everything typically made custom. 

He tilts his head slightly, thinking, eyes zeroing in on the small calendar propped up on his desk.

“My suit is being made by Bakugo’s parents, correct?” 

You nod, reiterating, “Your final fitting is on Thursday night.”

His gaze flits to you once again. 

(There’s that look in his eyes you’ve become all too familiar with—a glint of mischief accompanying a sort-of ‘Eureka!’ moment that means he’s thought of something.

The pieces click together, realization dawning upon you, but when you open your mouth to refuse—)

“I can ask them to do yours as well.” Shouto beats you to it. 

It wouldn’t be fair for you to scramble for your outfit last minute simply because he assumed you knew you were going. You shouldn’t be more stressed than you already are. 

“Si– Shouto,” you say firmly, “That’s too much.” 

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” he flashes you a small smile. 

(And you hate to admit it, but he’s right.

The Bakugo’s have known you for as long as you’ve been Shouto’s assistant. They’ve consistently designed his suits for big events like the Pro-Hero Awards, and Mitsuki has always extended their services to you too, knowing full well that you are Shouto’s plus-one most of the time. 

She likes to chat with you during suit pick-ups, with Masaru serving you a cup of tea as you wait for minor tweaks and adjustments to Shouto’s outfits. 

“It would be too last minute,” you resist, feeling bad for the hassle this would impose on them.

“Then I can call them later today.” Shouto reaches for his phone, eagerly typing what you assume is a reminder to call Mitsuki some time later, just as he said he would. 

“You–” your voice hesitates, “you don’t have to do that. I can contact their secretary–”

This is part of your job, after all. 

“It will be much faster if I call them directly.” 

And while he does have a point, you still feel bad, inching closer towards his desk, “It’s okay, you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with this–” 

He gives you a look. 

You stop moving. 

Shouto is stubborn, this much you know. When he looks like this, you’re well aware that there’s no point dissuading him from doing something he’s already set his mind to.)

“It’s only right given that I told you last minute.” 

He tells this to you sincerely; it really is the least he can do. 

Besides—

“…be honest…” the words replay in his head.

—he swallows his truth; lets it sink deep into stomach along with that two-part thump in his chest. 

“I only feel comfortable going to these with you, anyway.” 

(Your mind blanks, coming up with nothing else to say but ‘okay’.) 

.

.

.

Cameras flash as Shouto steps down from his van. 

The building ahead of him is colossal, tall pillars and perfect arches made of raw stone and marble—it feels both ancient and otherworldly, fitting to represent Musutafu in this new age. Ahead of him, the staircase stretches on, steps spanning the width of half a block. Down its center cascades a luscious carpet, thick velvet that further lends to the grandeur of the event. 

Standing at the foot of the staircase, Shouto takes a moment to unbutton his suit jacket, revealing his perfectly fitted waistcoat underneath. 

(You know he isn’t doing it on purpose; it’s hardly ever Shouto’s intention to make people swoon, but you’re positive that that one move alone can make anyone melt on sight—you included.) 

Tonight is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards, a prestigious event where hero rankings, major announcements, and charity biddings take place. 

(It’s not anything new to the both of you, but Shouto skipped out on the past two, and it’s been years since you joined him on the last one he went to. Being here again after so long makes you feel a little out of practice.

After he scales the flight of stairs ahead, Shouto turns back to you, offering his arm for support as you step down from the vehicle. You hesitate, partly because you don’t know whether it’s acceptable behavior for you to take it, and also because you don’t remember if this was something you did the last time you went to one of these with him.

You can’t think straight—not when he looks as seraphic as he does, face half-illuminated by the lights behind him with the shadows hugging the softness of his cheeks. 

Shouto is beautiful, a fact you’ve known long before you ever even started working with him; but you’re reminded of that fact in moments like this, especially. 

“The steps are tall,” he tells you, shaking you out of your thoughts as you glance back at the staircase behind him. You try not to stare, but the strands that frame his forehead shift from his sudden movement; it scatters into a perfect mess—characteristic of how anything out of place always seems to look on him.

You take his offer.)

His forearm is firm against your palm, the thick fabric of his suit jacket providing cushion for your touch. When he bends it towards his chest, your fingers slip towards the crook of his elbow. 

Scarlet red contrasts the building’s stone white structures, the carpet providing a center stage for all heroes and public figures to parade their outfits. If not for the photographers yelling, “Shouto, right!” and “Shouto, left!”, he would have gone straight inside, barely pausing on the landings between each flight of stairs. 

You stand to the side when he takes them, just as you always do. But between each flash that goes off, Shouto thinks about whether you should join him too; after all, Mitsuki did intend for the dark navy of your dress to match the stone gray of his three-piece suit. 

When you finally arrive at the lobby of the city hall, the two of you are welcomed into a receiving area adorned with crystal chandeliers. The lights bounce off the sharp white edges of the building’s neoclassical interiors, the carpet’s scarlet red returning as a recurring motif in the form of drapes cascading from the high ceilings and down the sides of the room.

By this time, Shouto’s relaxed a bit more, his hand slipping loosely into his front pocket. 

(You don’t realize you’re still holding onto him until you’re midway across the floor.) 

“Hey, you guys!” Kirishima waves over, squeezing himself within a narrow space between the backs of who look like one of the executives of the hero commission and last year’s awarded peace ambassador. 

(You don’t know how he could have possibly fit, the width of him wider than any pro-hero you know, but you chuckle at his timid mumbles of “sorry, excuse me, just passing through.” It reminds you of how he typically approaches you when he asks for favors regarding joint patrols and assignments with Shouto.

He greets you both with his trademark hug, a bone-crushing grip that leaves you a little winded.) 

“I didn’t know the two of you were coming!” 

“It was a last minute decision,” Shouto smiles, small and fond. 

(You look at Shouto intently from beside Kirishima, as if processing what he means. And when his eyes meet yours, you feel caught, shy, averting your gaze quickly.)

Kirishima clears his throat, no doubt noticing the interaction but choosing to focus on something else instead—Shouto’s outfit, a dark navy tie tucked underneath a fitted gray waistcoat; the white collar of his button down peeking through the all stone-gray ensemble. His hair is styled down, bangs curled inwards to form commas that frame his forehead.  

“Looking good, man.” the red head deflects, joining his index finger and thumb to form an ‘O-K’ sign as he nods at Shouto. Then he turns to you, the same genuine smile on his face as he says, “That color really suits you.” 

You smile sheepishly, mumbling, “Thanks.” 

(Kirishima is a sweetheart; you can never doubt that his intentions are pure. But the attention makes you feel a little self-conscious, even more now that—) 

Shouto looks at you then, again, too.

It’s the only time he’s managed to get a real good look at you if he’s being honest; from the incident in the car to the flashing lights up the staircase, there haven’t been many opportunities to fully see what you’re wearing. 

And—

Kirishima’s right. 

The color really does suit you, but so does the design of your dress—a simple cowl neck joining into halter straps; it dips low at the back, this detail of it, he knows. He’s been careful not to touch you there the entire time so far. It doesn’t help that your hair is tied into a low bun, accentuating the vacant space with how the dress hugs you beautifully in all the right places. 

The dark navy satin was a good choice, the perfect vessel for catching ripples of light. 

It’s simple but classic; understated, just like the accessories you’ve chosen are. And it brings out the one thing he thinks carries this look the most—

You. 

He tries to form the words in his head, urging himself to speak up—he wants to give you a compliment of his own. 

But—

“Bakubro!” Kirishima waves overhead, much like he did earlier. 

—maybe he can try again next time. 

You and Kirishima don’t stay long after Bakugo arrives, Ashido coming in to whisk you and the redhead away to the main room. She loops her arm around yours and pulls you towards her, prompting you to give one last glance at Shouto as an expression of your apologies. 

The corner of his lips curl only the slightest bit. 

Bakugo watches. 

“Don’t forget the drinks, Blasty!” Ashido calls over her shoulder, green silk flowing behind her. 

He tuts, grumbling as he heads towards the reception bar, leaving Shouto in the middle of the receiving area, unsure of where to follow. 

“Y’coming or what?” 

Shouto lingers for a few seconds, watching your back disappear into the hall before he decides to walk after Bakugo.  

The lobby begins to quiet down as people flood into the main event area, a large hall adorned with the same scarlet red drapes and crystal chandeliers. The table arrangements have been pre-selected and arranged, you and the others most likely finding your seats inside. 

“Old hag told me you’re dating.” 

Bakugo speaks, his back still turned to Shouto. 

The bar in front of them offers a generous selection of drinks, all ranging from different wines to cocktails and liquor shots. It isn’t a surprise that Bakugo knows all of his friends’ chosen drinks, down to each specificity—it’s how he shows that he cares. Shouto’s come to learn that over the years. 

Their friendship has settled into its own dynamic as Bakugo’s mellowed down. Shouto will ask a question here and there, and Bakugo will look at him like he’s the dumbest fuck on the planet, but still answer anyway. 

It works, as evidenced by right now. 

Shouto stops right beside Bakugo, leaning against the countertop as he hums, confused, “Who?” 

Bakugo sighs, sliding Shouto his gin and tonic, “Mom.” Then he rolls his eyes, gesturing towards the door of the main room, “She told me you two are finally dating.”

Shouto pauses mid-sip. 

When he recalls the conversation he had with Mitsuki, it went a lot more like:

“Can a dress be made for my assistant as well?” he speaks into the line, “I will be bringing them to the gala.” 

He doesn’t think he insinuated anything. 

But now that he replays it in his head, it’s no wonder Mitsuki’s enthusiastic reply sounded so eager. 

Bakugo snorts, smirking as if his suspicion was just proven right, “Knew that lady was hearin’ shit.” 

The bartender serves up another drink, Ashido’s raspberry daiquiri being placed right in front of the blond before he moves on to mix another one. Clacking ice fills in the silence, the drink coming together inside the shaker. 

Shouto stares at his drink and watches as little bubbles form on the slice of lime submerged in it. 

“Are you at least thinkin’ about it?” the blond faces Shouto, leaning his forearm against the counter. 

Shouto furrows his brows, a single thought running through his mind.

“How did you know?” 

Bakugo stares, deep vermillion as he speaks, deadpan, “You can’t be serious.” 

Shouto stares right back. 

Another drink is served, Kaminari’s mixed drink of vodka, lime, and lemonade.

The stare-off persists for a few seconds, a series of blinks emphasizing Shouto’s cluelessness to the whole ordeal. Because—why does it feel like everyone knows? Did he mention it without knowing? Or is it really just that obvious?

Bakugo sighs, mentally facepalming as he turns back to watch the bartender shake another drink, “Whatever. S’none of my business.” He leans onto the counter, elbows resting on the steeltop. 

Shouto isn’t sure what else to say. He knows that Bakugo is observant, that his friend has always had a keen sense of awareness for the things going on around him; it just never crossed his mind that that would include his interactions with you.

The blond slides over Ashido’s drink, prompting Shouto to hold the flute of the glass between his fingers, “Just don’t be a fuckin’ dumbass about it. Gotta be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”

The bartender serves up the final drink: Sero’s whiskey on the rocks. Bakugo takes it along with Kaminari’s and starts walking back to the main room, Shouto following right behind him. 

He thinks about it. 

A thump. 

Because right before they both enter the hall, Shouto spots you, further back at the right side of the room as you laugh at something Yaoyorozu must have said. 

He blinks, wondering if the soft glow around you is from the haziness of his eyes. 

“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will,” Bakugo mumbles, just within ear-shot before he walks ahead to where Kirishima and the others are seated. 

Shouto makes a mental note to drop off Ashido’s drink before heading over to you. 

.

.

.

You and Shouto leave the gala early.

A message from the police station came in the middle of the event: a request to bump up a few reports for submission tomorrow.

You’d mentioned to Shouto that he could stay, especially since he’d be needed to accept awards that you were sure he’d be the recipient of—among them being one of the top performing agencies of the year, a big chunk of it based on the high turnover rate of timely reports. But he insisted that someone else could represent him instead; he’s certain Midoriya wouldn’t mind. 

If you were going back to the agency to work, so was he. 

The night shift at the agency is minimally staffed, with most sidekicks and pro-heroes out on patrol. Regular employees have clocked out by this time, and it seems that the only ones left in the building are the emergency unit and the two of you. 

You’ve split the work between you two: Shouto tasked to fill in the second pages, where the scene-by-scene breakdown and additional comments can be found, and you, in charge of summarizing those details along with all basic information onto the first pages. 

It feels nostalgic, watching you flip through the papers laid out on the coffee table of his lounging area at a quarter past midnight. Back then, he had just hired you, and the only other employees in the agency were his gear tech and PR manager. There was no way the volume of workload could be managed without spending late nights organizing investigations and reports on the floor of that rented studio unit. 

Now, you sit by the coffee table in his lounging area, one you helped decorate. The books atop it have been pushed to the side to give you ample workspace, but even those remind him of how much consideration you’ve put into helping him build his space. 

Bakugo’s words linger when he thinks about it—how the books you’ve chosen remind him of his family. There’s one on the language of flowers that his mother would love, and a cookbook that he’s sure Fuyumi’s used (some corners are folded, with her handwriting scrawled on every other page). On another stack lie a few comic books he remembers Touya and Natsuo reading when they were younger (that he’s pretty sure he’s seen them flip through during their visits to his office over the years).  

And along with all the books sits a family photo taken years ago, framed and taken by you during one of their annual trips to their family beach house a few hours away from the city. 

It begins to sink in. 

A thump.

He folds the sleeves of his button down to his elbows, his gray suit jacket long since draped over the back of his leather chair. You’ve changed out of your heels too, opting instead for the soft slippers you keep under your desk. 

It’s cute, he thinks, the formality of your entire get-up toned down by a pair of fluffy yellow slippers. 

When he glances at you again, he finds you hunched over yourself on the sofa of his lounging area, an arm wrapped around yourself as if to contain whatever warmth you have left. 

He furrows his brows. 

“Are you cold?” his voice booms through the stillness of his office, jostling you out of focus. You whip your head up to look at him, shaking it immediately as if on autopilot. 

(He pouts, then, a small downturn of his lips that you find adorable, more than anything.) 

“I’m okay,” you smile, but he can see the slight twitching of your lip; the goosebumps dotting down your trembling arms. 

You always seem to be doing things like this with him. 

He pushes himself away from his desk, the wheels of his chair rolling against the stone floor. 

You never express your discomfort in any situation you’re put in, and you diligently work and endure all conditions to get the job done. He always extends his help, but you often decline, and—

“You have to be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”

—Shouto is beginning to realize that the way you treat him really is so much more than that. 

You’ve laid the groundwork of the operations in his agency and you always smooth talk your way to getting him out of schedules he mistakenly forgets to show up to (typically with good reason, though). You cover all the areas he misses—this entire building would not be how it looks and functions without your help overseeing its construction. 

You’re organized and driven, eager and compassionate, and you care, above all else. 

The flowers you leave on his desk are never needed, but you always insist on them to keep his space alive. You fix all his clumsy papercuts, even though he never asks you to; he’s dealt with much, much worse, yet it’s only a split-second after you spot it that the tingling of your quirk works its way to mend his split skin. 

It’s just like what happened in the car earlier tonight, a few minutes away from reaching the city hall. Shouto had accidentally cut himself with the invitation to the gala, and though he insisted that it was okay, it was right on his eyelid—a miracle it even missed his eyeball in the first place, you’d commented. 

You managed to convince him then, saying, “It’s going to sting every time you blink.” —which was true; it did sting every time he blinked. 

That care extends to the people in his life too. His mom loves to go to the weekend market with you, and Fuyumi can always count on you to help her cook when she needs an extra hand. You keep up with Natsuo’s jokes and Touya talks to you, long enough conversations that allow him to be himself. 

You care, and you insist upon your care especially when you know he needs it but would never ask for it. 

It’s only fair, then, that it’s time he does the same for you. 

He removes the suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, the movement drawing your attention. 

(Your eyes widen as he approaches you. You feel shy, a little flustered as you raise your hands up to reassure him that you don’t need it.) 

“Your arms are shivering.” he points out, holding up the thick fabric. 

You crane your neck up to look at him, just a few steps away from reach. 

(You can’t deny the facts.)

From above, he only sees skin—the plunging dip of your exposed back, the small hairs standing along your arms. He tries his best to look into your eyes only, but—

“At least let me place this over you.” 

(And you know you can’t deny Shouto, either.) 

—when you concede and let him, he steps closer and bends just a little bit, his full height too tall to be able to place it on you properly. His arms circle around you, carefully resting the thick wool around your neck and onto your shoulders. 

He bends lower to adjust the sleeves, making sure that your arms are fully covered. You’re so still, and so close, the tips of his ears nearly touching the highest points of your cheeks. 

(It’s just like the gala—)

It’s just like the car—

(—with Shouto helping you navigate through the crowd of people exiting the event as early as you both did. His presence was a steady heat against your back, near and warm but barely touching.)

—with your face almost nose-to-nose with his; apart from the gentle touch of your fingertip against his eyelid, Shouto can only remember feeling that, along with the traitorous thump of his heartbeat. 

It’s a good thing that he had his eyes closed then; he wouldn’t have known how to react at the proximity. 

But now, he can see you so clearly, your low bun kept in place by bobby pins the same color of your hair; there’s glitter on the inner corners of your eyes, some of it falling to dot the corners of your nose. 

This has to be more than just a crush if he’s feeling this intensely.  

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, then it’s two blinks before you look away, clearing your throat as you glance at him again, a little bashful, “Thank you.” 

Shouto nods, taking one step back. 

“The estate we booked for the company outing offered to host a visit for you next weekend.” you speak before he fully returns to his seat, shifting in your seat, “I checked your schedule and there’s nothing set for that day yet.” His suit jacket dwarfs you, the deep navy silk becoming an accent the further you sink into it, “Maybe you’d like to go with your mom?”

You suggest it to him again. Because you know and you care. 

He taps his foot, looking out into the city, “That would be nice.” Then he turns back to you, strands of his bangs falling to dust his forehead as he puts his hands inside his pockets, “You’ll be coming too, then?” 

(There are things you don’t allow your heart to feel in moments like this—hope being one of them. Shouto looks dangerously attractive in a suit, and it’s been difficult to keep your feelings at bay the entire night. He speaks honestly, rarely with double meaning, so when he speaks to you like this, you try not to think too much of it. 

“Yes,” you agree, thinking that he must want you to scope out the venue for the company outing activities, “is there anything in particular that you want me to check out for the team building?”)

Shouto tilts his head. 

“Not for work,” he clarifies, staring straight into your eyes. “Just to spend the day with us.” 

He expects your reaction already, your eyes widening and your hands raising to wave off a ‘there’s no need.’ But, he finds that there’s no reason for you to be shy, already beating you to the final say.

“Mom would want you there,” he mentions, because it’s true. She’d look for you. 

And if he’s being completely honest with himself, with how he’s been feeling around you lately—he would too. 

II. IF I SPEAK

The Todoroki family home comes alive on the weekends. 

Since Touya’s return, his mom has moved into a smaller, more modern place to stay. The walls of its exteriors are painted a warm off-white, its features complemented by light wood and bluish-gray accents. At the back exists a garden large enough for a few small trees and her growing flower collection—a complete flip from their larger and darker old home. 

The tall windows stream sunlight into the living space, each corner of the house doused in its comfort. Opting for a smaller home was a conscious choice—everything would be within reach, and so would the people in it. 

On the days that Touya is allowed to stay home from rehab, he lives here, sometimes with Fuyumi, but always with Rei. 

“Food is ready!” Fuyumi calls from the kitchen, prompting Touya and Natsuo to look over from the couch. Shouto is just about to finish setting the table when Rei brings out a piping hot pot of soup, Fuyumi in tow with a whole plate of tonkotsu. 

Natsuo heads inside the kitchen for anything else that might need carrying, and Touya opens the fridge to take out the iced tea he helped make last night.

It’s taken some time to get here—with Touya willingly doing anything with his family. Getting used to living with people he thought abandoned him for a decade is hard; learning to become a family has been even harder. 

But Touya has always lived in a special corner of his mother’s heart—never forgotten and always considered. Shouto thinks it’s the same case for all of them; that’s how it’s managed to work. 

Touya takes his seat beside Shouto, pouring himself a glass of iced tea while waiting for the rest of their family. 

“Played any golf lately?” Touya eyes Shouto from the side.  

Shouto shakes his head, staring at his palms; calluses used to line the base of his fingers, “Work at the agency has gotten busy.” 

Taking up golf has been part of Touya’s rehabilitation program for the past few months, a recommendation to aid in improving focus while keeping himself calm. And though there was much resistance at first, Touya’s grown fond enough of the sport to play it on his own; it’s made all the difference, Shouto’s noticed, his brother’s overall disposition a lot less angry—

“Looks like I’m going to beat your ass next week,” Touya smirks, cracking his wrists. 

—but still equally as snarky.

Shouto doesn’t normally care about competition; the only person he really has to beat is himself. But he and Touya are alike in many ways, with eyes as sharp as their father’s but their faces holding the same innocence as their mother’s. They are both lit up by fires—one forced to blaze and the other forced to dim. There is a bluntness Shouto shares with Touya that no one else in the family can argue with.

“Being too confident can jinx it for you on the fairway,” Shouto replies, turning to his brother with his signature blank gaze. 

Natsuo laughs as he settles into his seat beside Touya, watching as his older brother’s smirk quickly dissolves into a frown. 

“Little shit,” Touya mumbles, taking a sip from his drink. 

The corners of Shouto’s lips curl up slightly. 

Rei and Fuyumi join the table last, bringing out a steaming pot of rice and a few side dishes to complement the rest of the meal. 

These family lunches keep them connected. 

Fuyumi believes that no matter how busy they are, having this time to gather together and share details on each other’s lives is important.

“Sorry I can’t join you and these two next weekend, mom,” Natsuo starts, slicing through his tonkotsu as he points an elbow towards his brothers, “The hospital has a medical mission out of town.” 

Rei simply smiles, waving her hand, “No need to apologize. I’m so proud of you, Natsuo.” 

“Will you be free, Fuyumi?” she turns next to her, placing a hand on Fuyumi’s lap. 

Fuyumi swallows her food, smiling apologetically, “Sorry, mom, the school’s hosting a kiddie pool party for the first day of summer.”  

Rei pats her lap reassuringly, smiling again as she says, “It’s no problem, I’m glad the kids are having fun under your care.” 

“It’ll just be the three of us, then.” Rei looks at her two boys across from her—her eldest and her youngest. 

Touya blows at his bowl, puffs of steam dissipating into the air. For as hot as Touya’s flames can get, he dislikes anything too hot to eat—a preference of his that Rei’s taken note of as she reaches across the table to cool down his bowl ever so slightly. 

“Thanks,” Touya mumbles, still hesitant to call her ‘mom’ when it’s face-to-face. 

“I heard the estate has a greenhouse,” Shouto mentions, Rei instantly perking up at the information, “You can take a look at the plants there, mom.” 

“That sounds lovely, Shouto,” she smiles; this time, it reaches her eyes, “We can take photos in your handsome outfits too.” 

Touya scrunches his nose as Shouto nods. As per the invitation, the estate prepared a whole day’s worth of activities—a game of golf in the morning, brunch by the gardens, and a simple wine tasting to cap off the afternoon. 

Lunch continues with Fuyumi sharing more about the kids she’s handling this year, and Natsuo retelling interactions of the most obnoxious patients he’s had yet. 

They laugh, a little more like a family—Shouto chuckling as Touya gives a snarky comment or two. Fuyumi laughs, full-bodied, and Rei giggles, softly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

“How are your flowers, mom?” Shouto asks after they settle down, remembering that you helped her pick out which ones to plant last time. 

“The morning glories are going to be blooming soon,” Rei replies, her smile fond and proud. Since being released from the hospital years ago, she’s taken to planting and flower arranging, oftentimes asking you to help her choose which ones to use. 

“Really?” Fuyumi turns her head, gasping as she catches a glance from the window across the room, “They look good, mom! Can I have some when they bloom?” 

Rei nods, turning to her youngest, “You can get some too, Shouto.” 

For you, she adds.

Natsuo eyes him from the side as he freezes, Rei suggesting some more, “You can place it in a vase. It’s not fair, you always receive flowers for your desk.” 

Shouto nods, a small ‘okay’ because he doesn’t really know how else to respond without giving his feelings away. 

Touya observes Shouto’s expressions, his eyes twinkling in sinister aquamarine.

“Speaking of,” he shifts in his seat, crossing his legs to face Shouto, “s’your hot assistant coming?” 

Something twists in Shouto’s face, his brows furrowing slightly. 

Touya knows just how to get on Shouto’s nerves.

(What stares back at him is a deadly shade of gray and blue. 

Touya does this pretty often: provoking just for fun. 

Shouto stares at almost everyone he interacts with; it’s unnerving and uncomfortable for people who aren’t used to it, but Touya’s noticed that his little brother stares at you for far longer than he needs to. 

And though he’s missed a big chunk of how Shouto grew up, he likes to think he reads him pretty well now—how he acts around you, especially.

At his core, Shouto believes in carving his own path, choosing to fix wrongs and better himself for the now. Touya knows these things, knows where a person is weakest, just like he’s been taught—just like he’s been made aware of his entire life. Yet, for how independent Shouto’s become, he still chooses to lean on you; turns to you for thoughts and opinions,  considering you in everything. 

Touya has met you a few times; the whole family has. During the worst of his relapse, you were the only person apart from family who was trusted to accompany him in and out of rehab. You picked him up and dropped him off, often joining Rei and Fuyumi on visits when Shouto would be too busy. 

To him, you’re an extension of Shouto at this point—an olive branch that’s been just as instrumental in healing this family and the people in it. 

It’s never in the big things, but those few minutes of small talk you attempt with him in the car ride home help loosen his tongue, training a muscle that with time, has helped him open up more. 

Touya doesn’t care much for people; he’s still just beginning to learn to love his family again, but he thinks you fit in well, because you and Natsuo have the same god-awful humor, and Fuyumi only trusts you to help out in the kitchen. His mom likes having you around, and you never stick your neck in too deep in other people’s shit when they aren’t ready for it—especially his. You never nag Shouto, but you stand firm on the things you disagree with, because as far as Touya can see, you care, far deeper than your job requires you to. 

In all ways, you are the stability and calm authenticity that Shouto needs after growing up in such a tumultuous family.

So, Touya likes to stir the pot a little. Or a lot. Maybe.

Just for fun.)

Shouto continues to stare, his frown deepening. His jaw clenches, tension throbbing in his temples.

“Don’t say it like that,” he mutters, low and firm.

He feels like a kid again; like this would be a conversation they’d be having if things were normal and Touya had been around when Shouto turned 15, teasing him about a crush he might have, like older brothers do. 

Natsuo and Fuyumi have always felt like his protectors, siblings forced to be parents by circumstance; but Touya feels like his brother, the one he can fight and steal food from; the one who holds a toy up above head where Shouto can’t reach—even though he’s much, much taller than his older brother now. 

Touya scoffs, smirking, “Just saying what you think, little brother.”

.

.

.

All Shouto hears is a thump. 

A succession of them, in a steady three-part beat. 

The golf ball in front of him sits on an even plot of vibrant green, its dents and grooves emphasized by the sunlight of the early morning—there’s pressure, a thump; he needs to beat Touya in this hole to tie overall. Another thump; you’re watching him play. 

He analyzes all conditions, feels the heat on his back seep through the fabric of his white golf shirt. He breathes in and prepares to swing. 

Today is the visit to the estate. 

The agenda starts with an early game of golf, followed by brunch at the gardens and wine tasting in the early to late afternoon. It’s a beautiful day, and Shouto should be focusing on winning this game, but it’s distracting when you’re all he’s really thought about since the start of this round. 

—you, in your perfectly fitted white golf shirt and its complementary skirt; you, sitting with his mom at the back of the golf cart, smiling and laughing as if you aren’t the slightest bit aware of how much you brighten a space when you look like that. You, with your head whipping right in his direction when you hear the loud ‘swauck!’ that the impact of his club makes with the ball—your eyes excited and hopeful. 

Shouto misses the hole, and Touya snickers from the side. 

The thumbs up you give him is a soothing balm to his miss.

Shouto readjusts his cap as they walk closer to the hole, tucking in the strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He glances back at you and lingers, interrupted only by—

“Pretty thing, your assistant,” Touya teases, nudging his head towards your direction, “Cute skirt and all.” 

“Stop.” Shouto stares, impassive and unamused. His eyebrow twitches before he turns, walking away. 

From afar, he can hear Touya’s chuckle, breathy from the movement of fixing his arm sleeve. Shouto only pays attention to preparing his putter.  

He knows this is just how his older brother is. 

Since the start of this round, Touya’s managed to lead by a few strokes, with Shouto falling behind in every hole. It’s frustrating and annoying, aggravated even more by Touya’s teasing and the fact that Shouto has played the sport for far longer than Touya has.

It doesn’t help that he ends up missing again, with Touya managing to make the put afterwards. 

Shouto sighs, clenching his jaw. 

“You know,” Touya eyes him as they walk to the next hole, “staring’s not gonna get you anywhere.” 

“I’m not staring,” Shouto retorts immediately. The expanse of greenery ahead of him is taunting, an endless plot of land that feels like it’s watching.  

Touya scoffs, “Sure.” 

The golf course in the estate is landscaped with luscious trees, vibrant in the brightness of summer. Flowers bloom along the perimeter, yellows and reds carving out this specific section of the estate. You and his mom follow closely behind, riding the cart at a slow and steady pace. 

Just a few meters down, the little red flag for the next hole comes into view, moving with the breeze. 

“If you don’t plan on acting on it, you should let me know.” Touya mentions it a little too casually. 

Another thump. 

It’s a joke. Obviously. Something only meant to rile him up—it’s how Touya is. 

But it still makes him feel just a tad bit uneasy; it makes him feel a little bit like it did when they were kids. 

Before Touya disappeared, they used to sneak into the garden on winter nights. Shouto must have been no older than five and learning how to manage his quirk properly. 

They used to play a game: The Twigfire Race, Touya called it—a competition on who can form the longest and fastest fire trail using a bunch of twigs. 

Touya would always win, his long legs and lanky arms gathering more sticks than Shouto ever could at that age. His flames burned a deep azure blue, eating through the twigs much faster than Shouto’s flames did. Then, he’d press onto the pads of his burnt fingertips, teasing Shouto in some twisted attempt at motivating his little brother to do better. 

Touya would always win, but not without getting a word in. Not without leaving Shouto with a lesson or two about it. 

“I said, stop.” Shouto warns him, voice stern as he turns slightly to catch his brother's eyes. 

“Damn. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Touya raises a hand in mock surrender, smirking, “I can just do it without asking you.” 

Shouto stops walking, fists clenched tightly around his golf club. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Oh, I’m not joking,” Touya taunts, holding back his laugh.

The stare Shouto gives him turns icy, glare intensifying as he inches closer towards his big brother. Touya doesn’t move, the stare-off lasting long enough for you to notice the confrontation. 

From his periphery, Shouto can see you looking at them in confusion. 

“Or am I?” Touya snickers right before he turns away, walking straight towards the next hole. 

Shouto watches him walk away, each thump matching the footsteps his brother makes. To the side, the cart slows to a halt and you get off, standing up as if to gain a better view of what just happened. 

You lock eyes with Shouto and he musters a small smile, raising a hand as if to say ‘everything’s fine.’ 

“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done, Shouto!” Touya calls from a few steps ahead. 

Shouto stares at his brother’s back; it’s just how Touya used to say when they were kids—

“You just have to go for it!” 

He takes a step. 

.

.

.

Touya wins the round, with Shouto losing by only a few strokes. 

Rei hugs them both, Touya’s slight reluctance evident in the way his arms stay glued to his side as she wraps hers around the both of them. 

Shouto brings one hand up, resting it against her back; from his line of sight, he spots you smiling fondly, giving him another thumbs up when your eyes meet. 

.

.

.

The estate’s staff escorts everyone to their respective rooms, allowing some time to change into clothes more suited for the late morning brunch. 

When Shouto and Touya finish, they make their way to the greenhouse, a glass dome teeming with life. It’s art in bloom—chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, sunflowers, and camellias all in varying colors of pink, red, purple, and yellow. Under a small bridge is a pond, alive with koi fish swimming underneath pads of water lilies, and right up above, where the sunlight streams in, are baskets of japanese roses, hanging in bright, fuschia clusters. 

He walks atop the bridge, hands stuffed inside his linen pants—a pair that matches the linen shirt you gifted him birthdays ago. What surrounds him is beautiful; perhaps the most heavenly place he’s been to. 

A morning of golf under the sun, nature in florescence. A (relatively) peaceful morning. 

And you—

The moment Shouto spots you, the scenery on your backdrop fades into muddled hues. You and Rei enter the greenhouse side-by-side, with his mother wearing an all-white ensemble: a cardigan with a long, flowy skirt. 

And you—

—you walk in wearing a pale yellow sundress, its hem hitting just above your knees. There are dainty flowers dotted all over it, but nothing too loud; the straps sink into a v-neck with bust details, flowing down into an a-line skirt. It’s perfectly understated, only emphasizing the focus on how radiant you look in it. 

He can’t stop staring. 

Touya snorts as he passes him. 

This day, this sight, is going to stay in his memory for a long, long while, he thinks. 

From up ahead, he can hear his mom call for Touya, dragging him around to ask which blooms would look best for the garden at home. And when he snaps out of the daze you’ve put him in, you appear right beside him, asking if he’s okay. 

“Yes,” he answers promptly, unsure of what to say next. His eyes flit to the baskets of japanese roses hanging above you, then to the view peeking from outside. “Do you want to look around before we eat?”

You nod. 

The depth of the greenhouse is deceiving upon first glance, with Touya and Rei now out of sight as you explore the area. You walk close enough to be side-by-side but still stay a step behind like you typically do, pausing every now and then to take pictures of the flowers around you. 

“You seem more relaxed,” he points out, pushing up the sleeves of his button-up. 

You turn to him from the chrysanthemums you’re snapping, a little flustered at his comment. 

(And at him, mostly. You don’t know how anyone can look this good in a simple linen set. Nature favors Todoroki Shouto, and it shows in moments like now, with sunlight hitting his face at just the right angle that it paints stardust on the tips of his eyelashes.) 

“It’s good,” he quickly follows-up, fluffing through his bangs, “I did mention this wasn’t for work.” 

(You feel warm at the reminder.

“It’s nice to see you with some down time too,” you return the sentiment, uncomfortable with the attention on you.

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress.)

“Did something happen earlier?” you put your phone down, continuing to walk. “At the course. Things looked pretty tense.” 

Shouto hums, considers his next words. He takes a few more steps before answering, “Touya is a dick.” 

A laugh escapes you, and you cover your mouth quickly as you mumble an apology. Shouto knows it’s because it’s completely out of character for him to be so vulgar and insulting when it comes to his siblings.

“Was he sabotaging you?” 

“...Something like that.” he responds. 

“That’s okay,” you scrunch your nose, peering up at him, “You haven’t had much time to play lately.” 

And Shouto wonders if he’s just that easy to console, or if it’s a specific comfort that only comes from you. You make it so easy for him to feel better about all the little and big things—whether it’s news articles headlining him as a PR nightmare, or near-losses on missions gone wrong. 

Not a lot of things get to Shouto, but when they do, you somehow always know how to handle it. 

You continue to stroll around the greenhouse, looking closely at the steel bars holding up the glass arches. From a few steps ahead, Shouto can hear your mumbles—something about measurements and the logistics of turning the rooftop of the agency into a smaller version of this greenhouse.  

“You and mom looked like you were enjoying yourselves earlier,” he mentions offhandedly, hands clasped around his back. 

It’s something he’s noticed for a while—his mother seems to relax more around you, laughing and smiling in most of your conversations. He gets it; you have that effect on everyone around you, the warmth you exude a welcome invitation to be opened up to. 

(You eye him from the side knowingly; Todoroki Shouto is nothing but a closet snoop.) 

“We were talking about plant stuff,” you smile, “and how she’s happy you and Touya finally got to play together. You should’ve seen how red her hands were from clapping for the both of you.” 

He chuckles softly, matching your steps in comfortable silence. 

It’s at a different section of the greenhouse that he pauses, giving you time to admire the shrubs of hydrangeas blooming around you.

Touya’s words come back to him. 

He wonders if he should say it, if he should ask—

“Don’t move,” you tell him, raising your phone to eye-level.

Shouto stares at you, hands in his pockets as he watches you tap on your phone.

“Look to the side,” you instruct him again, and he follows, albeit a little confused. 

When he turns to face you again, the smile on your face is beaming, glowing as you turn your phone to show him the photos you managed to take. 

“The lighting was nice. See!” 

And when you point to the way sunlight streaks highlights onto the redness of his hair, down to the slope of his nose and the width of shoulders, he can’t help but agree. 

Now, he wonders—

“Do you want a photo with the flowers?” Shouto asks, because it makes no sense that you deem him worthy to be pictured in perfect lighting when there’s you, looking like you do—the walking subject to the backdrop of greenery behind you. 

Your eyes widen, a stuttered “O-Oh,” falling from your lips. You tug at your skirt again, fiddling with the soft fabric until your eyes nervously meet his. “I don’t really need—”

“The lighting is nice here, too.”

“Oh,” you respond, a hint of diffidence as you flash a small, hesitant smile, “Okay.” 

As Shouto angles himself to take your photo, he notices you turn restless, the smile on your face never quite reaching your eyes and your fingers constantly twirling the fabric of your dress. 

He puts down his phone, tilting his head. 

“Are insects biting you?”

(Your brows shoot up, embarrassed by how he’s noticed. 

You shake your head in response, providing no other explanation besides “Sorry.” 

He continues to stare, as if waiting for you to continue. You know there’s no point hiding the real reason you feel so nervous when he’s already noticed this much.  

“I think I might be underdressed,” you admit, smiling sheepishly as you clasp your fingers in front of you, “This entire place is gorgeous.”

The estate screams high-class; apart from the golf course and the greenhouse, the area also boasts its own private lake glistening across a large green field. It feels a little too good to be true—a paradise you find yourself out of place in. 

But—)

Shouto looks at you, really looks at you—at the way your dress hits right above your knees at the perfect length, at how your collarbones peek through its dainty v-neck cut. Its pale yellow makes you look like summer, radiating in light, and he thinks he hasn’t seen anything more beautiful, really; anything more fitting—for this occasion, for this venue, for this day. 

For you. 

The words have been lodged at his throat since he first saw you step in, and now they’re being pushed out, coaxed slowly by the honesty beating thunderously in his chest. 

He thinks about his mom, how she speaks of beauty whenever and wherever she finds it, with nothing stopping her speech and—

There’s a hum, a thoughtful vibration priming his throat as he continues to stare. 

“I think you’re dressed just right,” is what he manages to get out. 

A thump. 

It’s more than that, though, he knows. 

If this is his chance, if this is ‘next time’ from his attempt at the gala—

He blinks, and you only get prettier. 

“You look beautiful.” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.

(And when he says your name unlike any way he’s said it before, you feel your chest expand, terrified that it might explode.

Shouto is blunt and honest to a fault; and that honesty, you’ve realized, also happens to be his most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 

“T-Thank you.” you straighten your dress, “You—”)

Shouto’s phone vibrates in his palm, a call from Touya breaking him out of your conversation. He bows his head slightly to excuse himself and you nod in acknowledgment. 

“Brunch is served,” he relays, pocketing his phone soon after he hangs up.

(Then, with his hand inside his pocket, he bends his arm deeper, creating a wider loop as if to offer it for you to hang onto—the same way he did during the gala.

And just like you did then, you take it.)

.

.

.

Brunch was served at the estate’s main patio, a circular table made of light wood adorned with dainty white tableware and muted green linen. In the middle was a centerpiece, an assortment of fresh flowers from the greenhouse coming together for a pop of color against the main neutral color scheme. 

The food was divine, a lovely selection of seasonal salads and warm breads, along with eggs cooked in every way possible. Newly harvested fruits were served before and after the meal, a kind of appetizer-dessert to complement the main piece—a large slab of freshly caught salmon. 

Now, you all gather on the second floor of the estate’s main building, right at the balcony overlooking the greenhouse and the field—a perfect view for wine tasting.

Shouto doesn’t care much for alcohol, all technicalities going past his head as the sommelier explains notes and wine pairings.

He can’t taste much of the difference, if he’s being honest. 

In the sommelier’s hand is a bottle of red wine; he describes all of the technical parts of it before finishing off with the fact that it’s ‘beautifully balanced’, something that causes Touya to snort at the side. 

Shouto looks, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

Touya leans in closer to his little brother, swirling the wine in his glass as he lowers his voice mockingly, “‘You look beautiful’.”

The expression on Shouto’s face remains unreadable, his brain processing the fact that his brother must have overheard his conversation with you earlier. It’s while Touya begins to gulp down his glass that Shouto steps on his foot—a sharp pressure stomped onto freshly cleaned loafers. 

“Fuckin–” Touya hisses, cursing under his breath as he pulls his foot away. 

The edges of Shouto’s lips curl up as he turns back to his glass of wine, watching from across the table as his mom smiles fondly at something you must have said. 

(You still feel flustered, a little fuzzy. You’re unsure whether the heat emanating off your cheeks is from the wine or the lingering echoes of his compliment earlier.

From across the table, you lock eyes with Shouto, gray and blue sitting strikingly atop flushed cheeks. You look away quickly—a knee-jerk reaction of bashfulness. He doesn’t hold his liquor well, a fact you’ve known for many, many years, so you can’t tell for sure whether he’s turned red from the wine, or from the same thing you’re feeling, too.)

III. LET ME TELL YOU (HONESTLY)

“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will.”

“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done…”

“...just be honest about it when the time comes.”

The streets are calm at this time of night, with cars occasionally passing by and the chimes of shop doors tinkling as they open and shut. Not a lot of people stay up late in this part of the neighborhood, but Shouto still hears them—all the jumbled voices of Bakugo and his brothers merging in his mind. 

He steps onto concrete, footfalls muffled by the cushion of his boots—a new update on his costume, one you suggested after a stealth mission mishap caused by the drag of his heel. 

Tonight is his scheduled patrol—a route he knows like the back of his hand, memorized from the many years he’s been assigned to it. The streetlamps ahead cast a dim glow down the road; an atmosphere he would otherwise find unsettling if not for the fact that it’s provided him odd comfort in times he’s needed it the most. 

Tonight, his mind ruminates on you. 

Lately, his interactions with you have been… different—shy glances and awkward slip-ups; the intentional way he’s been expressing himself more around you. 

He can’t tell what you think of it yet. 

Yet, you still sit with him in comfortable silence on the nights that you both work late, and you still bring in fresh flowers for his desk every few days. He’s sure that when he gets back to the agency after his shift, you’ll still be there, claiming to finish a report when you both know it’s just an excuse to make sure that he finished patrol safely.

You still care for him in the same way. 

And now that he’s thinking more about it, maybe it’s been those little things all along—the same way you’ve been treating him all these years shifting into something deeper and more significant, beating its way out of his chest. 

You know Shouto better than anyone—so much so that his family asks you for lists of gift ideas because they don’t have the slightest clue what else to get him. He’s found himself seeking your opinion on things more and more over the years, and if he’s being honest, a big chunk of his decisions are now partly influenced by what you think of them first. 

Across the street, a couple sways to the beat of the jazz bar they step out of, their hands intertwined and smiles giddy with adoration and love. He looks away quickly before they catch him staring. 

There are things Shouto’s discovered that he likes seeing you do—like how you shift your feet when you feel flustered at something he says, or when you tap your index finger against whatever surface it’s on when you’re deep in thought. Your eyes widen when he says things you don’t expect him to, and something about that intrigues him.

He thinks you look cute. 

He wonders if you know that about yourself; and if you don’t, a part of him is saying that he should be the one to tell you.  

.

.

.

You and Shouto attend only one day of teambuilding. 

The company trip spans an entire two weeks, with each department coming in a few days at a time. You both would stay if you could, but Shouto’s schedule doesn’t allow him to be gone for more than a day.

It’s always been unspoken: wherever Shouto goes, you go too. 

This day of the teambuilding is assigned for the managers and those under Shouto’s direct reporting team. 

The estate is still as beautiful as the last time you both visited, summer shining atop the glistening surface of the lake across the green field. Company trips aren’t typically this grand, but this is also the first time in years that Shouto’s had free time to drop by. 

(It’s a bit funny, you think, watching him struggle to reach the finish line in a three-legged race paired with his finance director. Shouto is typically awkward in most team activities, but you find it endearing, watching him put full effort into things he normally doesn’t do.) 

By mid-afternoon, the day’s activities have consisted of tank rolls, marble balancing, and a classic game of pass-the-message (which, you’ve learned, Shouto is absolute garbage at). And for the final game of the day, the both of you are paired for a duo tug of war against his PR manager and support engineer. 

The afternoon heat burns the back of Shouto’s neck, his cap providing little to no protection for that area of his skin. He stands behind you, rope twisted firmly in his grasp as he prepares to pull. You mimic his stance, bracing yourself with your knees bent as you grip the rope tightly. 

Prior to the game, you were all given three minutes to discuss strategies. 

And so now, Shouto counts, low and steady, “One.” 

“Get set,” the facilitator for this activity announces. 

“Two.” 

You take a deep breath. 

“Go!” 

“Three.”

You both pull, holding your ground for a few seconds. He can see your knuckles turning white from where he’s standing, and when he glances at the other team, they’ve begun to lean back, anchoring their bodies to the ground before pulling away slowly. 

Shouto digs his feet into the earth, the rope’s rough fibers sticking to the calluses on his hands. It doesn’t take long before you both slip forward, being dragged by the other team and eventually pulled into your loss. 

You turn back to him immediately, apologetic as you rub your palms, “Sorry!”

(Before the game even began, you already knew whoever your partner was would be carrying most of the work. And you feel a little bad because your loss does make a bit of sense, you think. 

Though Shouto is strong, you know he’s developed his agility far more than his strength. It doesn’t help that his support engineer lifts bulks of synthetic thermal cloth everyday. 

The both of you didn’t stand a chance, really.) 

But Shouto waves it off, smiling softly. 

“Are you okay?” he looks down at your hands. Your skin is an angry flaming red all over your palms, but what causes him to frown are the small cuts resting at the base of your fingers. 

“Yup, all g–” you attempt to hide it, but Shouto’s reflexes are quick, and he catches your wrist the moment you pull away. 

It’s an instinctive reaction when he looks over it once, pressing his thumb to the center of your palm to get a better look. He reaches for his utility belt out of habit, patting the area above his hip only to feel nothing but the smooth cotton of his shirt.

Right, he remembers, he isn’t wearing his gear today.  

He drops his arms, looking around the field for a first-aid kit nearby. 

(A small chuckle escapes you, endeared, and Shouto looks up at the sound. His eyes meet yours briefly before he jogs all the way to retrieve the red box by the tree. 

It’s just a friction burn; a few small cuts from the rough material of the rope, at most. 

You don’t need first-aid. But—) 

When Shouto comes back, he ushers you to the side, grabbing a few cotton buds and antiseptic ointment from the box. His brain works on autopilot, barely thinking as he tends to your injury.

(You don’t need first-aid. But—) 

He peels the bandaid for you and gently places it on top of your wounds—a yellow checkered pattern decorating your skin. 

(You don’t need first aid. But you kind of get it, you think. It’s the same instinctive reaction you have when he gets papercuts. There’s no need for you to mend them with your quirk, but it’s an inexplicable feeling that makes you feel uneasy at the idea of him getting injured off the field.

A whistle is blown to call everyone back to huddle. 

“Better?” Shouto stares at you from under his cap, readjusting it as red and white strands touch the tips of his eyelashes. 

(He looks unfairly pretty like this. How can he even expect you to answer?

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, swallowing your breath. 

When Shouto walks towards everyone else, you follow, pressing your thumb onto your palm.) 

.

.

.

Shouto drops by the greenhouse at the end of the day. 

The sky above the glass dome ceiling is warmed by orange and pink hues. At sunset, the greenhouse looks ethereal, an almost otherworldly escape. The flowers haven’t changed much from his last visit here, but they seem to have blossomed further now that time has passed. 

He walks past the familiar cluster of chrysanthemums and spots a patch of white flowers he doesn’t recall from last time—a wooden placard with the name ‘iris’ sticks out from the soil. His knees bend to crouch low, fingers grazing over the softness of its petals. 

Earlier today, the estate so kindly offered to let him bring home flowers of his choice, and this bunch in front of him calls out to him, a purity and warmth that reminds him of his mom. 

The nippers in his hand feel clunky, a heavy-duty version of the ones he uses when he helps with gardening at home; but he cuts the stems gently, careful to remember all he’s been taught. 

When he thinks he’s gotten enough, he continues to stroll around the greenhouse, the wicker basket in his hand half-filled with pure, white irises. 

A little further down the path, he passes by the hydrangea bushes, his steps slowing as fragmented pieces of that memory with you replay in slow motion. 

“The lighting was nice. See!” 

“You look beautiful,” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.

And he decides—

He should get you flowers too. 

Your desk always seems to have some, and you’re consistently on top of keeping fresh flowers around the agency—on his desk specifically. 

It’s only right.

His mom always tells him that flowers can never lie; they bloom where they are loved and speak from the heart when words are not enough—it’s why she loves them so much.

And, maybe she has a point, because the pink hydrangeas look pretty; they remind him of you, especially.

On his way here, the white camellias spoke to him too. Maybe he’ll get them both for you. 

He crouches low again, nipping the hydrangea stems before backtracking to collect a few camellias. By the time he finishes, his wicker basket is filled to the brim, an assortment of pink and white threatening to spill from its edges. The leaves of the irises stick out, poking at his wrist and making the skin itch.

You find him that way—struggling to wrangle in the abundance of blooms into his basket.

“I think you need another basket,” you chuckle, walking towards him. 

There’s something about you and this hour; how it feels like you fit right in this moment, at the peak of sunset, blooming the same way the flowers do. 

Your smile is radiant against the warmth of diffused sunlight, and though he’s seen you in this same exact slacks-and-blouse combination before, the way he sees you now has shifted. 

You look different, but in all the ways he can’t visibly point out. 

He blinks, and that thump beats once more. 

His arm moves before he can comprehend it, the bunch of camellias and hydrangeas outstretched towards you.

Your eyes widen in surprise, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you tilt your head slightly, your hand reaching out for it reluctantly. 

“Would you want me to have this wrapped?” 

(The flowers feel lush in your palm, and you can’t help but wonder who he intends to give them to. There are irises in his basket too, left untouched for reasons you’re not sure you’d like to know. 

Your grip on the stems tighten. 

The camellias stare back at you, an immaculate white, with the pink hydrangeas adding a delicate softness to them. It’s a pretty combination, and you can’t help but think that whoever they’re intended for should feel—)

“It’s for you.”

You lock eyes when you look up. There’s a weight to Shouto’s gaze that intends to get his message across, the words still barely forming on his tongue. 

“Oh,” is the only thing you manage to say.  

(—surprised; grateful; confused; the emotions swirl inside of you. The shock is apparent on your face, your eyes widening at his admission. Confusion presents itself in the tilt of your head as you stumble over how to express your gratitude.

“It’s not…” you hesitate, diverting your gaze to anything else but that piercing pair of gray-and-blue. Your mind is drawing up a blank, figuring out what reason he has for giving them to you.)

“There’s no occasion…?”

It comes out as half a question and half something else, your uncertainty marked by the semi-lilt at the end. 

Shouto blinks. 

He wonders if he should tell you now, if he should just confess that he’s been feeling differently about you these days.

You shift your feet, your thumbs rubbing against the flowers’ leaves. 

The thump persists in his chest, knocking at the base of his throat—

Thump.

He takes a deep breath.

Thump.

—but even with its persistence, the words still struggle to come out.

Thump.

Maybe not now; it’s not the right time. 

But he says something else, an admission much easier that still holds just as much truth.

“No occasion.” 

.

.

.

Shouto knows your Mondays. 

You switch out the flowers on his desk for a different arrangement of blooms every week. Then, you give him a run-down of his schedule, going over important announcements and upcoming events. 

The mornings go by quickly, with you constantly moving around your desk. Shouto can’t tell what you’re doing exactly, but you’re always working on something whenever he sneaks a peek through the single glass panel cut-out from your shared wall. 

Lunch is a wildcard. On some days, you bring your own; on others, you grab a bite down in the cafeteria. Your routine is largely dependent on how busy you anticipate work to be that day, and though it varies from time-to-time, you never forget to knock on his door—a two-part thump that takes him out of his own little work bubble. 

He almost looks forward to it now, the way your head peeps in from behind his office doors. You call out his name softly, only continuing to speak when he looks up from whatever file he’s working on. 

Shouto knows your Mondays. 

You spend the afternoons all over the place, much like he does; while he roams the city, you roam the agency, attending meetings and checking in on different departments. He knows because when he comes back by the end of the day, you almost always have a new set of updates prepared on your desk for the next morning. 

He also knows that Mondays are when you often work overtime, preferring to get a bulk of any urgent matters completed and out of the way.

The back door of his office clicks shut as he walks into the room, his rubber boots leaving no trace that he’s arrived from how quietly his footsteps hit the floor. He unbuckles his utility belt, one hand automatically reaching for its lock; it’s a habit, the ‘clack’ that sounds from it a satisfying marker he looks forward to at the end of every patrol. 

In the corner of his office is a private restroom that he slips into. He quickly changes out of his hero suit and into a pair of sweatpants, throwing on one of his many favorite white shirts—his go-to outfit on the days he works late. 

There are still some reports he has to look over tonight, but nothing too time-consuming. 

It’s really you he’s staying behind for. 

He glances at you through the glass panel of his wall, your face dimly lit by your computer screen. Your eyebrows are scrunched, eyes squinting in pure focus. 

It never feels right for him to leave when you haven’t left either. 

He settles into his seat, finger tapping on his desk as he contemplates whether or not he should offer you his help. 

You always decline when he does; he can already hear your response. But there are stacks of folders on your desk right now and he’s predicting that it’ll take at least a few more hours before you get through all of them.

He taps his foot, staring at the report in front of him. 

A thump. 

The wheels of his chair roll back, leather squeaking as he stands up. 

As soon as he exits his office, you look up, surprised. 

“You’re back!” 

He nods, walking closer to your desk. “It’s 8:00 p.m.”

You glance at the top of your screen, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “Right.” 

(This is his way of telling you it’s late, you’re well aware.)

He looks around your desk, folders and stationery all neatly organized and labeled. You keep a few touches of your personality around your space, with personalized pens and notepads gathered in one corner. 

They’re all things he’s seen before, but what makes him do a double-take is the vase sitting in the corner, obscured by your computer screen. 

Sitting inside it is the arrangement of flowers he gave you back at the teambuilding, the pink hydrangeas still as good as new next to the white camellias. It’s been a little over a week since, and you always change the arrangement on your desk as frequently as you change his. 

So for you to keep it for this long—

“And how may I help you?” you ask jokingly, biting down your smile. 

His eyes flit over to you, your gaze set on your screen as you continue to type.

(It’s hard to focus on the documents in front of you when he looks at you like that. Shouto’s stare has always been unnerving, but it feels especially scrutinizing when he merely stands, watching without a word.)

“You have a lot of work left,” he gestures towards the stack of folders on your desk. 

(Your eyes glance over the pile quickly as you mumble, “Yeah.” 

A few seconds of silence pass before what he really means starts to sink in. 

It’s not often that Shouto finishes work before you—at least, to your knowledge. You still see him inside his office when you pack your things, ready to leave. 

So, this is out of the ordinary. 

And if he’s standing in front of your desk, hinting at how much longer you’ll be staying at work. Then, it can only mean—

“A-are you waiting for me to go?” you move to stand, guilty. “Don’t worry about it, I can lock up.”)

Shouto furrows his brows, tilting his head slightly. 

That’s never been a thing; he’s always gone home last, and has always waited for you when you have work left to do. He makes sure of it every time, watching carefully for your computer light to turn off. 

But he won’t tell you that; letting you know would mean admitting that he’s been doing it for years. 

He places his palm on the top folder. 

“What else do you have to do?” 

You stay quiet for a few seconds before reluctantly listing it all—reports, meeting summaries, and a few emails you plan to schedule for tomorrow morning. His frown deepens as your list only grows, immediately cutting yourself off the second you notice your ramblings. 

“… but if you’re waiting, I can bring these home and—”

“What can I do to help?” he interjects, stopping you just before you shut down your computer. 

(You can only stare when proceeds to take a seat in front of you, the legs of your guest chair dragging against the floor as he pulls it closer. 

It hits you a bit like déjà vu, this moment, how it feels just like early days back in that rented studio unit; back when you could count the number of people comprising his team on one hand. 

Back then, your desks were just a few steps away from each other, an overflow of paperwork inevitably spilling into each other’s spaces. Because all of the files were stored in your drawers, it was more convenient for Shouto to sit himself across your desk, splitting the work and going over them one at a time. 

Things are different now that the agency’s grown—you have a bigger space, and the work isn’t nearly as packed as it used to be; but some days still end up a little bit more hectic than others. Like today.

“There’s no need,” you reach for the stack under his palm, “I can finish this at—”

“We can finish faster if we do this together.”

That promptly shuts you up. 

Shouto is blunt to a fault, unafraid of saying things as they are; his voice carries an unbothered cadence no matter who it is he’s talking to. 

You figure, there’s no point arguing with him when he’s right, after all.) 

Shouto begins going over a few of the reports that you’ve tagged red and yellow, listening intently as you instruct him on which parts to focus on. In exchange, you make space for him on your desk, setting aside some of the folders you had brought out earlier.

It’s a good hour into working before Shouto notices you easing up slightly, your shoulders more relaxed in comparison to how bunched up they were earlier.

He knows you’ve been glancing at him occasionally, your head turning every now and then to check on how he’s doing—a failed attempt at subtlety. 

“Are you almost done?” he asks, head down as he slips another completed file into its folder. The stack beside him is growing, his ‘done’ pile nearly as tall as the unfinished one. 

(You turn to him, attention shifting to the split of red and white hair down the center of his head, “Yeah, I just—”

Your words trail off, eyes squinting as you move closer to where he’s hunched over. 

Right on the shoulder of his shirt is a small tear, big enough to touch the edges of its collar but small enough that you’d only have to be up close to be able to notice. 

You assess the tear intently, looking carefully for any cuts underneath and thankfully find none.

But—

He notices you’ve gone quiet and looks up, the sudden movement catching you off guard. You make a sound, something in-between a squeak and an ‘oops.’ 

“Sorry, I just,” you point, “your shirt’s ripped.” 

His eyes follow the direction of your finger, finding the small tear running horizontally along the fabric of hjs shirt. 

“I can fix it,” you offer, the wheels of your chair rolling to land you directly across him. 

It’s one of his favorite shirts.)

He barely thinks when his body acts on its own, pressing itself closer to your desk as you slightly bend over for better reach. 

You don’t have to patch up his shirt, especially something so small. He has plenty of the same ones in his closet; and if it comes to it, he wouldn’t mind buying a new one. You really don’t have to patch up his shirt, because he wouldn’t have even noticed had you not mentioned it. 

But it’s that kind of tender care and attention to detail that you’ve had for him since you started working together that’s always drawn him in. 

Shouto has lived most of his life with the means to live comfortably, but since starting his own agency, he’s learned the value of maximizing resources—and it’s all because of you.

A thump. 

The moment your fingers touch his shoulder, he hears nothing but that continuous three-beat thump. Your quirk tingles when it touches skin, but you aren’t mending that—you’re fixing his shirt, separate from your skin, and yet, he still feels the little zaps go off inside of him. 

A thump. 

Up close, the strands of your hair tickle his cheek. 

A thump. 

The fabric of his shirt mends itself slowly, and it only makes him think of everything else—of the leather chair you helped fix, painstakingly going through each and every crack to bring it back to near-new condition. He thinks about every cut and scrape you’ve helped heal without having to, about every time you’ve insisted when he’d shrug it off as nothing. 

From you, he’s learned that things can be fixed without having to change them whole. 

It’s how he’s (you’ve) managed to keep the agency running; it’s why you get along so well with him and the rest of his family. 

And these feelings in his chest are pounding, built up over time to tip over and transform into something more than just an excellent work dynamic. At this point, it’s become companionship, a presence he seeks out a little bit more than friendship. 

You know him better than anyone else does. 

The flowers he gave you are still on your desk. 

So, he says your name, voice low and tender by your ear. 

You freeze, holding your breath. 

Another thump.

His honesty spills outs—

“I like you.” 

A three-beat thump. 

(You don’t believe it at first, the urge to ask him again right at the tip of your tongue. But, he pulls away, unfinished, and looks you in the eye to continue. 

“But it feels more than a crush, I think.” He presses his fingers against the table, grounding himself, “Natsuo told me it was a crush, and he told me to think about it, so I did.” 

Shouto is a man of sufficient words; not too few, not too plenty. But when he gets nervous and a little excited, he starts rambling, and—

“Bakugo told me his mom thought we were dating, and even though I said that wasn’t the case, I almost didn’t want to deny it. Touya has been a dick about it, but he makes good points, so I also owe it to him.”

(The shock on your face shifts into fondness. You can’t see the point of what he’s saying yet, but it’s cute—one of the many things that make him endearing.) 

He pauses, watching your expression shift into curiosity. 

“It started with this thumping,” he places a hand over his chest. “It used to only come sometimes, but lately it’s been happening all the time.” 

Shouto keeps his gaze deadset on yours. He doesn’t say anything else, sentences just barely forming in his head to fully capture what he really means. His feet and palms stay firmly planted where they are, his only movement being the steady blinking of his eyes. 

(But it’s okay, because you can understand. 

If you’re being honest, the signs were all there. 

Nothing Shouto does can be subtle when you know him as well as you do. 

A smile breaks out on your face, the one you can barely contain around him. It’s a little teasing and shy but completely genuine from the way it softens your eyes. 

“We’ll have to come up with something for HR,” you try to contain your smile.)

And he isn’t worried at all. He knows you’ll both find a way, just like you always do.

additional material: moodboard + playlist

a/n: so much to say about this fic but i'll sum it up with saying this is my baby! and i hold it close to my heart for many reasons. writing this made me love their dynamic and i hope you did too!

thank you notes: to @soumies for literally beta reading this. i owe this fic to you fr you are my lifesaver i love you. to @augustinewrites @scarabrat @stellamancer @arcvenes for helping me a ton with characterisations, dialogues, songs, inspo, everything!!! ily all!! it took a village to write this fic fr. (+ to my bf for sitting me down and so he could explain the whole point system of golf for like 30 minutes LOL)

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[rush-the-stars]

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART III

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.8k || ao3 || <- part ii || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, one slap from the reader to suguru and he sorta likes it, fainting, fainting from lack of food, reader refuses to eat because she doesn't want getou to feed her, getou does not let reader eat unless he feeds them; forced feeding. forced bathing, smut; masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: happy mother's day to alpha suguru getou <3 this is the third and final part of this lil series for @lorelune 's spring fever collab! pls mind the warnings, i added some! i will be honest this part feels like a fever dream to myself lol...,.not beta read..,.i barely read it back bc im terrified of my own smut JFDKLSK enjoy LMAO but on a real note, thank you to everyone who has reached out and been so kind ab this fic! i hope you enjoy this last part! let me know your thoughts <33

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When Suguru first offers you food from his own hand, you push it away. He cooked it for you and you refuse it, turn your nose up at him and shut your mouth resolutely, feel your lips cage your teeth like a muzzle

“I’ll do it myself.” You tell him firmly. 

But then he holds the food away from you. 

You go nearly a day and a half, feverish and woozy, without eating. 

You do not plan on conceding, but end up fainting not long after. Your body is under too much stress; you need sustenance. You need food and water. 

So he begins to feed you as your lashes flutter and you are too weak to deny him this time. 

It’s easier, when you can hardly keep your eyes open. His hands are impossibly gentle. You feel his fingers against your lips, careful, and loving. 

When you’re feeling better, you glower at him. 

He is rather pleased, though. 

The next time he tries to feed you by hand, you turn and bite his hand, sink your teeth into the meat of it. 

He laughs warmly, fondly. 

“Feel better to get that out of your system?” He asks, when you finally pull away. 

You don’t respond to him.

He grabs your face swiftly then, big hand fitting around your jaw and bearing down. This time, he holds you steady, and brings the slice of orange to your mouth. 

You squirm, but he says, “I will not have you fainting again.” 

“Let me feed myself then.” You manage to get out, but he holds you tighter, presses at your jaw to get it to unhinge. 

The orange pops into your mouth. 

“You’re insufferable.” You say around it, cheek puffed with the fruit. 

Unfortunately, it’s good. Sweet. A little cool. Refreshing. You do want more. 

“This doesn’t have to be so difficult.” He responds evenly, peeling away the next piece of the orange. It looks so small in his hands. 

You swallow the piece in your mouth. 

“You’re right,” you respond stubbornly, “it doesn’t.” You reach for the next piece but he holds it away from you. 

Frustration overcomes you, chokes you like thorny vines strangling out the softer plants around them. Heat hits your face again and you have to wonder if you’ll ever get over it all. If he’ll ever stop making you feel this way.

Tears prick your eyes again. 

You turn your face away from him. He sighs. 

“It isn’t so bad,” he says softly, “if you’d just give in.” 

You sniff. “I could say the same of you.” 

“I’m trying to take care of you,” he says, “and at every turn, you are still trying to refuse it.” 

“I don’t need—”

“But don’t you want it?” He asks gently, hand reaching out slowly, knuckles first, so they skim your cheek. “It’s okay to want.” 

Stubbornly, you remain silent. 

“You’ve been so alone, for so long, my little stray. It’s okay to be taken care of.” He consoles softly, voice just a rumble that warms to your ears. 

“I’ll not think you any less strong, if you let me feed you now.” He promises, “if you let me care for you this week.” 

You don’t know why, but a tear slips down your cheek. There’s a lump in your throat, hard and aching, and threatening your resolve. 

He catches your tear with a thumb. “Poor thing, so torn up.” 

You sniff hard, trying to hold everything in. It’s trembling and tender, though, your heart. The ache in your chest.

You don’t think you’ll win this one—

Your head is foggy and throbbing. You don’t even know what you’re winning or losing. Or what you’re fighting for, when he puts it that way. 

You feel silly for denying him.

Perhaps worse for agreeing.

Finally, in a voice smaller than intended? you ask, “can I have another piece?” 

Suguru studies you for a moment. 

He lifts the curved bend of the orange up to your lips, testing. Waiting. It's a half moon curve, ripe and tempting.

You give in and part your lips, accept the crescent into your mouth like holding the moon on your tongue for him. 

He presses it inside, on your tongue, and you accept the crescent like holding a soft, tangerine moon in your mouth for him. His fingers skim your teeth, placing a world there, on your tongue.

“Good girl,” he says, pleased and warm, when you close around the slice. 

And then you obediently swallow it down—worldeater that you are, hungry dog that you are. 

Another tear slips free as you chew it slowly. It’s tangy and sweet and lovely. You feel the well of emotions inside you open up, threatening to drag you down into its depths—you think if you start to cry now, you won’t ever stop.

Suguru dutifully peels off another piece of orange, making sure it’s free of rind or unwanted seeds. 

When he lifts it to your mouth, you open readily for it now. Close your lips around his fingers gently, around the sweet orange.

With tears in your eyes, you look up at him, through wet lashes. 

His scent has darkened, pungent and spicier. It lingers in the back of your mouth. It’s—it makes your head spin.

And there's a strange look in his eyes now. 

Almost hungry himself, if you didn’t know better. 

A cramp rolls through you, hips and lower back churning, and you whimper, reaching for him. 

He takes hold of you easily. 

“Hurts?” He muses softly.

You nod, tense and quick. 

“Breathe,” he urges, shifting between your knees from where you’re sitting perched on his counter. 

Instinctively, you cling to him.

You let yourself pull him closer, fit himself to you—

“Breathe,” he says again gently.

But you can feel him between your legs, you can feel his own desire, and it strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Like crashing to earth.

He’s hard and heat sweeps through you in a whirlwind, so fast it makes you feel dizzy. Your head spins as you sink your nails deep into him, bear down with your strength like a bad dog, like you could get him to stay. 

Distantly, you think he’s such a strange, awful man. 

Is he so turned on from feeding you? Or from the fight? 

“Suguru,” you mewl, clinging to him desperately. And he holds you, keeps you close, until your hips twitch. 

You seek friction and he denies you. 

Frustratingly, tears spring to your eyes again. 

“You’re so—“ you try to get out, “why are you also denying yourself?” 

“Because I made you a promise.” Suguru responds evenly. He pauses, eyes flickering over you, a lightning flash of violet, “and, perhaps,” he squeezes your waist, “to teach you a lesson.” 

A noise of frustration works its way out of you, a little growl or whine, somewhere in the back of your throat. 

“Won’t you do anything to help me?” You get out, pawing at his shoulders, his chest. 

“I’m feeding you,” he says, “I’m caring for you.” 

And then he draws away, back to the orange, and your fingers grip the edge of the counter until pain presses into them. You have to force air into your lungs, try and make your head stop spinning. 

The wooziness and the aching is perhaps the worst part. You feel out of your mind, wish you could crawl out of your body. 

When Suguru returns, he has another piece of orange between his fingers. 

You glare up at him with glassy eyes. 

“Open,” he says, warm and low.

Pleased.

Turned on. 

Your lips part and you accept the fruit and his fingers into your mouth. You let yourself close around them, feel his knuckles on the inside of your warm, wet cheek. 

You’re slow about it, or maybe he is. 

You hold his gaze furiously. 

Maybe it was time you taught him a lesson, too. You bite down hard into the orange. It bursts in your mouth. 

***

The third day is perhaps the worst.

You’re so hot and somehow both overstimulated and undertouched. Your skin crawls until Suguru touches you. You ache in a way that makes you fear for your own health; several times you start to cry—not just cry, but bawl—from the pain. From the frustration.

At one point, you beg Suguru to take you to the hospital. To help you. To save you. 

You babble that you’re going to split apart. You’re going to lose your mind.

Like a colicky baby, you can’t calm down. 

And this time, he can’t quite seem to soothe you, either.

You twist and turn and pull at your clothes and your hair. You dig your nails into your own skin and drag them down in vicious, curving marks. 

You press and scratch at inflamed, painful scent glands. 

Your jaw hurts strangely in the joints. 

(You realize you want something in your mouth. Maybe you want it between your teeth.) 

Suguru tries to hold your hands away from yourself, tries to keep you from tearing into your own skin, but it only worsens you. It only makes you fight harder and cry harder. You lash out more, using more force with yourself, with him. 

When he snaps finally, pinning you roughly and with a flash of his sharper, greater canines, something inside of you howls. 

All you can do is beg and plead and cry. Press up against him desperately. Sink your face into his throat and inhale and—

Bite.

Your teeth close around the skin of his throat and bear down harshly.

He inhales sharply, spine going rigid with the pain for a moment.

You taste his blood on your tongue and feel your eyes roll blissfully to the back of your head. Darkness as your lashes flutter shut. You whimper into his throat—

“Is that what you needed?” He hisses, slipping his hand behind you to cradle your head to him, to keep you at his throat, “you just needed to get your teeth into me?” 

As if in response, you twine yourself around him, hitching your legs around his waist. Your arms winding around his broad shoulders, as if you could absorb him into your very body, your very soul. 

“Too bad it won’t take, hm?” Suguru muses, unmoving, allowing himself to melt into your vice grip on him. 

You make a soft noise; one that would be embarrassing if you didn’t—if you weren’t so—

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To Mark me properly?” He continues, voice bedroom soft, “you want to scar me with your own teeth?” 

As if in response, you try and fasten your mouth down harder, grinder your teeth into his flesh until he groans. The sound reverberates through you, rattles around inside your head until you’re mindless with it. 

When you finally manage to unlatch your teeth, he hisses and pulls away to grab your jaw. 

“What a little beast,” he sneers at you, “with my blood all over your mouth.” 

Something inside of you snaps. 

Unintentionally, you shudder into your cursed form—teeth elongating, nails sharpening. Strength rips through your otherwise feeble, heat-laddled body. In a sudden move of power, you shove him hard, and throw him off you. 

In an instant, you are back atop him. 

This time, when your teeth sink into the juncture of his other shoulder, they are far longer. 

He actually cries out in pain. 

The sound sparks beneath your skin, roars to life like a sudden fire and when he tries to grab your jaw and pry you off him, your claws sink into his wrist. 

You struggle with each other, using your cursed energy, using all the strength you have. 

Blood drips down his chest, dampening the collar of his shirt. 

He barks out a pained laugh, “you really are a curse.”

And then he is forcing you off of him, wrenching your teeth out of his skin in a brutal drag, shoving you away from him. 

You hiss, baring your dripping fangs at him and he growls back. The sound low and primal. Warning bells ping around your head, but you lunge for him again. 

This time, he isn’t so ill-prepared. 

He grapples with you on the bed, shoving you down into it with his forearm bearing down hard into your chest. 

You make a noise of pain but he doesn’t let up.

He’s panting and bleeding, his long hair slipping from its usual half-up appearance. 

Something inside of you is quite pleased at the image of him. 

Not so pristine. 

Perhaps unsure, for once in all the time you’ve known him. 

“Calm down.” He says low and soft. Part growl, part purr. “Your aggression is misguided.” 

Your teeth are bared in a snarl, “you are my tormentor.” 

“I am only respecting your wishes.” Suguru says and there is a horrible, smug lift to the corner of his lips. Maybe it’s more a threat of his teeth, which gleam in the lowlight. “I made you a promise and I’m keeping it.” 

“Let me up,” you snap. 

“Will you be good?” Suguru asks. 

Your fever spikes, tears pricking again at your eyes, and you finally lose your transformation. It melts from you, until you are fangless and drained once more. 

So drained, in fact, that your eyes gutter.

Suguru is off you in an instant. Air rushes into your lungs, the pressure from your chest lifting and he lets you heave for breath rough and hard. 

You don’t catch him move, but suddenly a glass of water is brought to your lips. When you can breathe, you drink. You let him guide it to your lips. And this time, when you try to pull away, he stops you. 

His hand cradles the back of your head, keeping your mouth to the glass.

“More,” he presses, “you’re weaker than you know.” 

And for once, you don’t fight him. 

You gulp down the rest of it, some of it slipping from your mouth, down your chin, rolling down your working throat. It’s cool but barely a balm to the oppressive heat inside of you. 

When you finish, Suguru pulls the glass away. He sets it down and studies you.

He tsks softly, “you’re a mess.” 

You take him in, though your eyes are growing heavy, all of that fighting took a lot out of you. It’s catching up with you quickly now. 

But your eyes land on the bite marks you’ve littered him with. The one, specifically, that is still ringed and bleeding, dripping down his chest. 

“So are you.” You reply, words slurring. 

You don’t catch what he says next, muffled, as you fade from consciousness. Darkness sweeps in to cradle you, much the way Suguru is now, and you fall into a restless sleep. 

***

Suguru wakes you at some point. 

It’s pitch black outside the window; there is very little light in the room at all, which adds to your confusion. Your head is throbbing. 

You whimper. 

“Sit up for me,” his voice is a hush, “can you do that?” 

“Let me sleep,” you reply, pushing weakly at him as he forces you up. Everything swims. Your head lolls like a doll and he catches it so you don’t give yourself whiplash. 

“You’re burning up,” he replies, “I need to get the fever down.” 

You don’t have the wherewithal to understand this. 

For a moment, you hope that he means—

“I’m going to give you a bath.” 

You make another noise, this one in disagreement. Fussy. 

He tuts softly at you, the way mothers do at bad children, and then he disappears, allowing you to fall back against the bed once more. 

You’re not sure for how long, but you doze off again, unable to keep your eyes open. You only awake when Suguru lifts you clear from the bed and into his arms. Again, you make a noise of protest, pushing weakly at him, but he pays you no mind. 

You open your eyes and wince against the bathroom light. 

The bath is running, filling with water. You frown and squirm in his hold, just as he gently sets you on the floor beside the tub. 

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he murmurs and you push his hands away.

“No,” you snap, “leave.” 

He sighs, “you can hardly sit up right now. I don’t trust you in the bath alone.” 

“I’m not a child,” you protest.

“No, but you’re experiencing a compounded Heat, after years of not having one and you don’t have a knot to soothe you.” Suguru’s voice is cool. His eyes are, too. 

You level him with the best glare you can manage, “and whose fault is that?” 

“I’m only keeping my promise.” He almost sings. 

You swat at him but he catches your wrist easily and pulls you up further as you begin to slouch further and further down against the edge of the tub. “Come,” he says, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” 

This time, when he reaches to remove your shirt, you only grumble in protest. He peels it from you carefully, revealing bare skin. Despite how hot you are, you shiver hard. 

You ache. 

This is the worst fever you’ve ever had. Perhaps, this is one of the worst you’ve felt ever. 

You can hardly move enough to allow Suguru to slip your bottoms off and you feel so miserable that you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed or frustrated or angry. 

Tears bead at your eyes again but it’s purely because you are in so much pain. 

Suguru lifts you into the bath. 

It’s lukewarm. Tufts of bubbles smell like lavender. The water is milky and gentle. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started to cry again, reaching out for Suguru. You realize he’s cleaned and bandaged his bite mark. He also coos to you, rolling up his sleeves to reach you in the water, stroking at your throat, your cheek.

And then he takes a wash cloth in hand and begins to do the same. He bathes you with a strange gentleness. A gentleness you have not given him. Your tears continue, tracking down your face, which he dutifully washes, too. He wipes away your tears, any sweat and grime, until you feel shining and new.

Eventually, you rest your arms on the lip of the bathtub, folded, and lay your cheek against them. You’re exhausted and still hurting, but at least quiet for now. At least you are cleaned and—

Suguru strokes at your cheek, traces the curve and folds of your ear, gently strokes through your hair. 

“Poor thing,” Suguru murmurs, knuckles drawing across your jaw, down your throat. When he passes along your scent gland, you shiver, you wince a little. 

“Hurts,” you get out and he coos more to you.

Babying you.

And you don’t have the strength to deny him any longer, so you let yourself be babied. You whimper at him and let him try to soothe you, you let him quiet and pet you. 

You’re looking at each other rather frankly, through the haze of your Heat, through all the lust or aggression or fear. In a rare moment of peace, you gaze up at his face and he looks down into yours. 

“Do you hate me?” You ask and your voice is rather raw from all the crying, “is that why you’ve led me here?” 

A strangely fond smile touches his lips, “on the contrary,” Suguru replies, fingers careful along your cheek, “I adore you.” 

“You have such a strange way of showing it.” You tell him. 

“I’m only keeping my promise,” he says again and all you have in you is a deep, dejected sigh. 

“I’m going to make you pay for this, Suguru.” And though your tone is docile, even sleepy, it is a promise. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try.” He agrees, touch growing stronger, bolder, as he pets down your throat, your shoulder. You lean into the touch like a cat, too exhausted to deny it. “And I’ll still be here after—your ire or punishment will not scare me away.” 

You look at him for a moment, long and hard, and only find the truth there. Something strangely raw.

After a moment, you say, “I know.” 

He hums softly, leaning forward to give your burning forehead a rare and gentle kiss, “do your worst, then.” 

You pick your head up barely, tilt your face to his and catch him in a sudden, burning kiss. 

You pull away as quickly as you’d done it. 

You can tell you’ve surprised him only momentarily, it passes over his features like a bird flickering through the sky, there and gone. 

And you say, “no,” soft, and against his lips, “I’ll do my best this time.” 

He pulls away, creating carefully controlled distance. “Come,” he says, urging you up and out of the bath, “let’s get you to bed.” 

“Carry me?” You ask as he bundles you into a soft towel. “Let me wear your shirt?” 

His eyes glint violet, dark and quick, but he says, “of course.” And indulges you.

He even holds you all night and lets you sleep in late. 

The fever only worsens. 

And you can’t tell if your resolve crumbles or strengthens; but either way, you’re born anew with the sun the next day. 

*** 

Suguru woke up before you. He let you sleep in. But now you're awake and waiting for him. When Suguru returns to wake you in the early afternoon, instead of sleeping, you are half-lidded and sun-warmed, laying in his sheets still. The fever has reached a pitch inside you. You’re sure it’s done irreparable damage to your mind and psyche because of how you find yourself.

Because of how Suguru finds you. 

The shirt of his you’d worn to bed is pushed up to your chin, revealing your bare chest, your stomach, flexing and twitching, with your legs spread. Your fingers between them, working messily against yourself, against where you’ve needed since your Heat began. 

For once, you have shocked Suguru. 

Enough that his lips part. 

Just a flash, a ripple of his features, before he smooths them out quickly. Effortlessly. But it is enough to spur you on regardless, to feel just slightly triumphant. 

You keen softly, arching your back, pushing your fingers gently through silken folds. 

“Suguru,” you mewl his name, all soft and broken, arching your hips into your own touch desperately. Beyond your desire for revenge, is simply your desire, the need to feel full, to feel pleasure like this. And you reasoned with yourself, all night, and all morning, that you’d win regardless; either you’d wrestle his tightly held control from his grasp, and get what you so desperately want from him, or you’d still get to touch yourself and find some brief moment of reprieve. 

Beyond either of those two things, you could not think. They ran around your mind like wild, starved dogs hunting down the possibility of a rabbit. 

(Or are you the rabbit? Running around and around your mind, trying to escape the bite? Or are you looking for it?) 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks and for a moment, he doesn’t dare step closer to you or the bed. 

You push a finger inside yourself, it goes in easy—so slick and easy—that the next pass, you add a second and gasp. 

What are you doing? You feel half out of your mind. 

“Can’t help it—” you get out, “it hurts so bad. It’s—I’m so—” 

You watch a muscle in his jaw feather and tick. His scent is—

It hits you like a blow to the chest, the way he smells. It’s dark and spiced with warmth; tobacco and the oud in his scent has become heavier. You can almost taste it in the air.

“Suguru—“ you mewl again, pleading and cloying. You tilt your hips up towards your hand, towards him. You’re trying to entice him. 

You can nearly hear the way his teeth grind together. 

“You’re a brat,” he hisses but you can sense the way his control has slipped and thinned. You can nearly feel it fraying in his voice alone.

You practically purr, fingers pushing desperately inside yourself. 

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” you simper, “I’ve been so good letting you feed me and bathe me—I’m wearing the shirt you put me in, too.” 

For a moment, you watch as his eyes slowly dip down the length of your body, to where your fingers are. You watch his expression flicker, the tilt of his eyebrows, the slight parting of his lips. You whimper, knowing he’s watching, and try to curl your fingers. 

But they don’t reach as deep as his might—not thick enough, either, and the ache inside you grows monstrously. 

Perhaps only soothed by the way, for once, you’ve rendered Suguru Getou rather speechless. You toss your head back and moan at the thought. 

“Suguru—won’t you help me? Even a little?” You arch off the bed and catch his gaze when his eyes fly back up to your face. 

“No,” he snaps quickly, “I promised you—“

“Then tell me what to do—talk to me.” You beg, “it hurts so bad, Suguru—“

The muscle in his jaw feathers again. But this time, he wades carefully into the room, stepping closer to the edge of the bed.

The moment he’s there, you adjust so he can see you better, move so your foot is just nearly touching his thigh at the end of the bed. And even that small potential for touch has you crying out again. 

“I’m not sure I should, after the way you’ve been acting.” He says and though he’s trying for casualness, you can sense the tension lurking underneath.

“Touch yourself then,” you breathe, your own eyes drifting down to his sweatpants—to the noticeable bulge—

In a bold move, you place your foot on his lower abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes as your fingers gently push in and out, walls fluttering desperately around them.

He catches your ankle before you can move another inch. The way he squeezes you makes a thrill run through you, race up your spine, pool somewhere low and hot in the depths of you. 

“Is this your way of trying to make me suffer?” He asks and despite everything, a hint of a smile flickers across your heated, panting face.

“Is it working?” You ask. 

All he does is hum, thumb stroking along the bone of your ankle.

Even that is enough for pleasure to skitter and flare beneath your skin. 

“Wanna see you,” you get out, breathy and soft, “wanna see what I’m missing.”

Suguru curses and you laugh, delirious and soft.

Pleasure blushes and surges beneath your skin. 

“No,” he says again but he has to grind the word out, pull it and wrestle it from his own mouth. “You won’t get the better of me here.” 

“Don’t you get tired of your tightly wound control?” You get out, twisting a little so that you might free your ankle from his grasp, but he holds firm.

“I should be asking the same of you—but clearly,” his eyes flicker again, “you do.” 

“Need you so bad—“ you get out, almost pouting. 

You can nearly hear his teeth grind together. He inhales sharply, as if to try and steady himself, but you can tell it only worsens him. Your scent must be thick in the air, sweetened and cloying.

Your fingers slip messily, desperately, over your clit, down inside of yourself and back out. You whine, a little frustrated, trying again and again to satiate the ache inside of you. But anything you do, isn’t enough. 

It almost feels as if it’s made it worse. 

“Poor thing,” Suguru finally says and you realize, he’s regained some of his composure, “look what you’ve done to yourself.” 

You curse this time. 

But you press on, unwilling to give up your win yet, “you’ve also done this—because you wanted the upper hand so bad.” You press inside yourself, hips lifting towards your fingers, “you didn’t have to take the suppressants.” 

His brow flickers up, “I did it for you.” 

“Did you?” You gasp, adding a second finger. 

He swallows, eyes falling to the apex of your thighs, watching, as you fitfully try to pleasure yourself. 

“You didn’t have to—you could’ve let me trigger your Rut. Then we both would’ve been like this—” your voice hitches, “then you would’ve gotten what you wanted sooner and you could’ve feigned innocence.” 

“You didn’t want that,” he says, watching you carefully, “who's to say you won’t come out of this Heat and resist me again?”  

“I won’t,” you breathe, “I did—” you mewl, hips arching and falling, trying so hard, working yourself up so horribly. 

You bite off a groan. 

Suguru clicks his tongue, makes a soft, disapproving noise. “And now look at you,” his hand slides along your calf, so large, and—

“Don’t even know how to properly touch yourself.” 

“Suguru—” 

Suddenly, he tugs you gently, so you’re down at the edge of the bed, your legs on either side of his thighs as he stands above you. 

He leans down slightly and you sit up, towards him, hoping, desperate—

“Such a terrible, little Omega. Do you need me to teach you this, too? Do you need me to help you?” 

You cry out, kitten soft, as needy and tender as a child. 

“Please,” you beg, “please, I need you—”

His hand traces up the outside of your calf, up to your thigh and you squirm, hope fluttering, heart racing—

“Don’t move,” he murmurs, “or I won’t help you.” 

“Suguru,” you growl in frustration. 

“Ah, ah, I thought you were being good?” 

Your head spins—you have no idea how he managed to flip it on you so sharply, but suddenly he has, and suddenly you're nearly underneath him, and he’s leaning over you and watching so intensely—so— 

You try to go still for him. Your chest is heaving. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs and his hand slowly arcs over the bend of your hip, and towards your stomach. Your hips twitch and he stills, “careful—” he warns. 

You force yourself to freeze, still panting. 

And then he lays the broadness of his hand on your lower stomach, his thumb just barely brushing your mound. 

“This is as far as I’ll go,” he says and with the way you almost fall into a frustrated groan, he seizes your chin with his other hand, “I’ll not touch you sexually. This is all I’ll give you—be grateful for even this.” 

You sneer at him and he takes his hand away. 

Instantly, you miss the warmth, the pressure, the—

“Be good, or I’ll leave the room now and let you suffer even worse than before—see what you’ve done to yourself? Worked yourself up so horribly, and all for what?”  Suguru’s voice is soft and smooth and so, horribly in control again. When did he get it back? When did he take it from you? 

“My attention? The hopes that I’d give in?” He asks. 

When you don’t respond, he squeezes your face, prompting you, “answer me, pet.” 

“Yes—I want your attention. I want—” the words break over you like a wave, the realization like a blow. You want. 

You desire. 

You want him. You want an Alpha and not just any Alpha but Suguru, despite everything, maybe because of everything. Maybe because you made him chase, and he did. Maybe because you have run your whole life from this—this attention and this desire and this intimacy—and you have finally found someone willing to hunt you down like a fox, and in the face of your gnashing teeth and growling and yipping, to treat you gently. Like you’re a beloved house pet and not a snarling, wild beast. 

“I want you,” you say honestly and his hold slackens on your cheeks to let you speak, “I hate you and I want you and—there’s no one but you—it’s only you and you’re awful but I am, too, and I need—” 

It cracks out of you, voice raw, a half-sob. 

Your tears make him smile. 

He hushes you gently, “oh, sweet girl,” he soothes, and his other hand slowly returns to its place on your trembling, lower stomach, “you’re so torn up about this. How much grief have you given yourself? Hm? Just for wanting?” 

You heave, unable to respond, suddenly reaching with your free hand for him, pulling on his shirt, closer to you. 

He gives in and goes, lets you claw at his back and bury your face in his shoulder. He finally lets go of your face, in favor of letting you fall to pieces beneath him. His knee dips on the mattress. But he holds himself above you still.

“I’ll guide you now,” he murmurs and his voice is by your ear. He turns his nose to nudge against your temple, inhaling slowly. 

You can feel the rumble of a groan through him that he holds back, a soft growl. 

And then, “look at me.” 

You sniffle and with a great deal of reluctance, you pull your face away from the safety of his shoulder to find his gaze. Midnight violet. Depthless. 

“Hate me all you want,” he says, “but I adore you—no matter how you are. Willing and pliant, or vicious and biting. I’ll always adore you. And I’ll always do what’s best for you.” 

Something inside of you cleaves open. Fractures in a way that is irreparable. 

You want to say something but you don’t know what, you have something so tremendous and terrifying inside of you, because of him—all you can get out is a soft cry. 

“Now,” he continues, eyes flickering over your body, and his thumb gently strokes over your lower stomach. “You feel empty, don’t you?” 

A whimper eeks out of you. You nod slowly. Empty and torn apart and open and aching. 

“Use three fingers, not two.” He commands gently, “you want something bigger, hm? I’m sure it hurts so badly—you’re so wet.” 

Without thinking, you obey him. 

You press three fingers carefully inside of you and it’s the first stretch you’ve gotten, the first spark of relief. 

You cry out, clinging to him. 

“That’s it,” he encourages, “in and out for me.” 

You tilt your hips up into his hand, towards your fingers, and he doesn’t scold you. The pressure on your lower stomach makes pleasure bloom and strengthen there. For a moment, it’s just the soft, slick noises of yourself, and it’s so—

Embarrassing. So horrible. 

You must look out of your depth, you must look lost or terrified, because he finally speaks again, “curl your fingers for me, darling.” 

You do just that and moan the moment you press deeper inside yourself. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “does that feel better? Answer me.” 

“Yes—yeah.” You get out, crooking your fingers inside yourself. “I still want—” 

“More?” He murmurs, pressing his hand gently against your lower stomach, “this time, you have to make do with just this.” 

You bite back your whine or complaint, head hazy—fingers moving desperately. But you don’t complain, you don’t fuss. 

He smiles when he realizes how you’ve caught yourself, “oh, look at that,” he purrs, “you can be tamed after all.” 

And before you can ruin it for yourself, Suguru sweeps his thumb just barely over your mound again, and says, “rock your hips now, gentle.” 

The moment you do, the friction against your palm makes you moan, head falling back, baring your throat. 

Perhaps without thinking, he dips forward, nose tracing over the cure of your neck, following instinct. You make another soft noise, and in your haze, wish desperately that he would just bite down—

All you get is the brief skim of his warm, soft lips. No teeth and you miss them, achingly. 

He presses his hand down just a little more and—

Pleasure bursts beneath your skin with enough force that your back bows off the bed, mouth parted. 

You sob. 

You feel your walls flutter uselessly around your fingers, feel your body desperate for something you can’t have this time, and fall apart.

Suguru is there to catch you. 

He coos to you, soft and easy, and even kisses at your damp, tear-struck cheeks. He lets you arch and twist and chase your pleasure, lets you be wanton and shameless and desperate. He lets you claw him and bite him and cry into his shoulder. 

And when you begin to quiet, he suddenly hitches your legs around his waist and lifts you clear from the bed. You lope your arms weakly around his neck and bury your face into his throat. 

You don’t protest or fight him, you are grateful and eager for all the places you touch, feeling incredibly fragile in his broad arms.  

You don’t bother to look where he’s taking you—can’t find it in yourself to care, if you can feel him against your center, feel where he’s hard and aching himself, even with the suppressants—

But between one breath and the next, you’re in the bathtub again, and the water from the shower blasts on from above. 

Ice cold water pours on you. 

You shriek and Suguru has the nerve to laugh, which makes you lunge for him, yanking him towards the spray of water. 

It soaks his shirt, his hair, as he holds himself over you, before stepping carefully into the tub to join you. 

He sits with you, beneath the cold water, and pushes his hair out of his face as you clamber into his lap. 

You pull at his wet shirt and he lets you take it off of him, throw it over the side of the tub in a heap. 

He reaches to do the same to you, ridding you of the only article of clothing you’d had on. 

You grit your teeth, “does it have to be so cold?” You ask, feeling the spray now rain against your back, your shoulders. You lean away from it, into his arms. 

“You needed this.” He says fondly. And then, as he strokes your wet hair, “I did, too.” 

“You’re an awful man,” you curse him, shivering.

“I know,” he agrees with a soft, fond smile. 

You look at him, hair inky and dark, lashes damp against his cheek, and the pleased way he smiles. Like an insufferable, giant cat. You’re aching and furious and freezing and so—so tender. 

“I hate you,” you tell him but it sounds more like a confession, soft around the edges. 

He kisses your temple, lingers there, and you can feel the curve of his smile. You can hear it color his voice;

“I know.” 

***

Something shifts between the two of you after that. And the following day, your Heat finally begins to wane slightly. 

You try to touch yourself again and Suguru forbids it this time. You fight and snarl with him, but you let him hold you and lull you to sleep. You let him feed you. And bathe you. You sleep bare against his naked chest and are soothed by it the way a fussy baby is calmed by the bare skin of their mother. 

You feel infinitely closer to him. 

You lounge with him in bed, in his living room, hanging off him all that you can. 

He indulges this behavior, encourages it, even. 

And on the eighth day, your Heat finally breaks. 

When you wake, still curled on his chest, with his hands stroking tenderly over your bare back, he asks, “how do you feel?” 

“Sane, I think.” You murmur it into his chest. 

“Your Heat broke in the night.” He says and touches your head, your forehead, like he’s taking your temperature. “You’re still a little warmer, but it’s over now, I think.” 

Slowly, you pick yourself up to look at him. To hover over him. 

He looks up at you, too, uncertain. Waiting. You’re sure he’s waiting to see if you’ll return to your usual self, if you’ll snap or snarl or chew him out—will you storm out? Or seethe? Will you fight him still, after everything, even as he holds you in his arms now? 

“Thank you for respecting my wishes,” you say instead and lean down to suddenly press your lips to his. 

You feel his surprise, the way his lips part, the way he freezes and you sink down into it. For a moment, you worry he won’t reciprocate again. 

But then, his hand comes up to cradle your face, and he nudges into the kiss. Hungry. Deep. 

You give into him, you encourage him, coaxing him with soft tongue and eager mouth. 

When you pull away, you grab his face this time, the way he always grabs yours, squeezing his lips into a little pout, “but if you ever make me suffer like that again through a Heat,” your nails dig into his cheek, “I’ll fucking kill you.” 

He laughs, canines flashing, and surges forward to kiss you again. Harder. Meaner. 

It’s all teeth and heat, a little vicious, the way you are. He wrestles you beneath him, kisses you into the mattress. And when he pulls away, he says;

“If you ever make me suffer like that again, you’ll wish you’d killed me first.” 

You feel your own smile against his neck, against one of the ridges of your own bite mark, and with all the satisfaction in the world, you sink your teeth down into it again. 

It’s like a key coming up against a lock, fitting snugly to their own indents, and finding their own, well-worn place. 

It’s like finally coming home. 

[semisgroupie]

summer memories

camp counselor!sae itoshi x camp counselor!fem. reader

wc: 1.8k

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f!receiving), anal fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), rimming (f!receiving), sae is an ass man to me (sorrynotsorry), spit, having sex in someone else’s bed, one spank

synopsis: an empty campsite, two horny counselors, what do you think will happen?

a/n: this is my contribution to the help wanted! collab hosted by @interstellar-inn

You didn’t know what to expect when you first got the job this summer. A camp counselor at a sleep away camp, you were nervous about what was going to happen, you were nervous about your skills with children but soon you learned that all your worries were for nothing. The campers that were assigned to you were absolute angels, they loved you endlessly. The other counselors weren’t stuck up like you thought them to be, they welcomed you in and you loved hanging out with them.

Especially one fellow counselor in particular, Sae Itoshi. His bright cerulean eyes always lit up whenever he was with his campers and the way his fiery hair stuck to his forehead whenever he was outside for long periods of time made you an obvious admirer. Luckily for you, he felt the same way and made it just as known.

Sometimes when the campers were fast asleep, you’d meet him near the dock and spend the time talking but as of late it has escalated to kissing and heavy petting. But it would always get interrupted, the camp director always seemed to come out for a smoke in front of her cabin late at night. Luckily, you two never got caught fraternizing but it was definitely a major mood killer.

It was the night before the camp was holding its final big event. During the day everyone would have to load onto buses to go into town to go shopping for treats and little decorations but Sae had other plans for you two. You were seated on his lap, both of your lips swollen from kissing and his hands were firmly placed on your hips. “I have a plan for us to be all alone here for a few hours while everyone is out. I’ll need you to fake being sick.” His thumbs rubbed small circles on the exposed skin under your shirt and your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“When you’re sick, you can’t join everyone on the trip and you’ll need another counselor to stay behind with you. Just in case there’s some crazed psychopath roaming around the woods,” he joked and leaned in to peck your lips. “But, whenever someone can’t go on the outing someone will have to stay behind. It’s kind of like a buddy system. I already spoke to Hana and Ryusei and they’ll take care of our campers during the outing. So in the morning, you’ll go to the nurse’s cabin, pretend you’re really sick and he’ll have to tell Director Pain-in-my-ass about your illness. Then she’ll come in to see who you want to stay with, you’ll choose me, and then we’ll have the whole camp to ourselves.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as he laid out the plan for you and you nodded slowly. “How many times have you done this?” You joke and he shakes his head, “I’ve seen Oliver do it almost every year, I’ve learned everything from him.” You nod and he captures your lips once more, only pulling away when you hear the obnoxiously loud creak of the camp director’s cabin door opening.

When the next day approaches, you carry on with the plan and it works without fail. Your little campers run to give you a hug and exclaim how they’ll pick out your favorite treats and how they’ll miss you. You and Sae stand at the entrance to the camp and wave as the buses leave the campsite then after a few minutes he grabs your hand and leads you to the director’s cabin. Your eyes widen and you tug on his hand, “Sae! Why there?” He smirks and shrugs as he pulls you again, “well there is a single bed in there that looks really comfortable and there’s more space. Plus, just in case you forgot, we are alone so we can go wherever we want.” He looks into your eyes to gauge your reaction and leans in, pecking your lips. “It’ll be fun but if you don’t want to go there, we can find somewhere else to go.” You think about it for a moment and nod before leaning in to peck his lips again. “Let’s go.”

He pulls you into the cabin and pulls you close to him to capture your lips with his. He kicks the door shut behind you both as you blindly walk to the bed, only stopping when the back of your knees hit the mattress. “I’m gonna treat you so well.” He lightly pushes you back onto the bed and straddles your hips as he leans down to kiss you again, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His hands move along your body, slipping under your shirt and his fingers ghost along your bra. He breaks the kiss and reaches down to pull your shirt off of you and tosses it aside then leans in to kiss down your chest. He pulls down the cups of your bra to reveal your nipples and takes one into his mouth while his fingers toy with your other one. He trails wet, open mouthed kisses along your chest to go to your other nipple and gives it the same treatment. He keeps his eyes on you and he releases your nipple then moves down your body.

“Sae, please, I need you. I don’t want to wait.” He chuckles against your skin and his lithe fingers move to undo the button for your shorts and lifts his head slightly. “There’s no need to rush. I want you to be ready for me.” He pulls your shorts and panties down and groans as he sees your wet pussy. “Shit, baby, you’re just soaked for me.” He bites his lip as his cock throbs, he wants nothing more than to just plunge into you but he’s not an animal.

“Go on all fours for me.” He groans out as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his toned abs then goes to take off his own shorts and briefs. You nod and get into position, arching your back as you sway your ass for him. He licks his lips and leans down behind you, getting the perfect view of both of your aching holes. “You have the prettiest pussy and asshole. I don’t know which one I want to taste first.” He leans in closer and sticks out his tongue, pressing the wet muscle against your clit then moves up to your entrance and dips his tongue inside then makes his way higher to your puckered asshole. He groans as he presses his thumb to your clit and works his tongue around your hole. You gasp and moan as he works his tongue along both of your holes, going into his own world of pleasure. “Sae, give me more.” You whine as you press your cheek against the sheets to try to look back at him. He pulls back and spits on your pussy then plunges two fingers into you while he brings his tongue back to your asshole. He curls his fingers to press against your g spot as he pushes his tongue into your ass, groaning as his cock leaks precum onto the bed.

Your hands go to grip the sheets as you writhe on the bed, getting closer and closer to your orgasm. “Sae, don’t stop please. I’m so close.” You moan out and he pulls away, panting as he looks at you. “Sorry baby, I only want you cumming on my cock. Once this whole camp season is done, then I’ll make you cum however you want.” He pulls his fingers out of you and spreads you open as he leans down to spit on your pussy, he grips his cock with one hand and strokes it as he moves the tip to your leaking entrance. He bites his bottom lip as he pushes into you, throwing his head back as you squeeze and clench around his cock. “You’ve got the tightest pussy.” He brings a hand down to spank you as he pushes into you more, stretching you out with each inch. His breath hitches as he bottoms out and he starts thrusting.

You grip the sheets tighter and cry out his name as the bed creaks with each movement. He moves his hands to your ass to spread you open, watching how his cock stretches you out then looks at your puckered hole, winking at him each time he bottoms out. He drops his head and lets a glob of spit travel from his lips to your hole, watching as it travels down to his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy. He moves one of his thumbs as presses it against your hole and slowly starts to push it into you. “Fuck, if only we had more time. I’d spend the whole day claiming all of your holes properly.” He groans out and starts thrusting his thumb in and out in time with his cock in your pussy. The feeling of both of your holes being used drives you closer and closer to the edge. The orgasm that you were denied earlier comes back in full force, ripping through you as he starts thrusting faster. “Cumming! Sae! Sae!” You cry out and bite down on one of the pillows to muffle yourself as he continues to thrust his cock and thumb in and out of you.

“Me too baby, I’m cumming too.” He groans out as he pushes his thumb into you and slams his hips against yours, keeping himself pressed against you as his cock twitches inside of you. Thick ropes of his cum coating you completely. He slowly pulls his thumb out of you then pulls his cock out of you before laying down beside you. He pulls you close to his chest and pants as he rubs your back. You rest your chin on his chest as you look up at him and caress his cheek, “that was amazing, definitely worth the wait.” He chuckles and leans in to peck your lips nodding, “oh yeah, all those nights where I had to go jerk off in the showers thinking about you was nothing compared to the real thing.”

You close your eyes for a moment before you hear the sound of tires on gravel, making both of you jump up and quickly dress. You both run out of the cabin and you smooth out your clothes as you wait with Sae, watching as the buses pull in with the campers. Everyone leaves the bus and the camp director approaches you and Sae with a raised brow, “you look better, Miss Y/N, almost like you’re glowing.” You nod and smile, “yes, I just needed a long nap and thanks to Sae’s help, I feel brand new.” She nods and walks past you both then once she’s out of view, you lean to Sae. “Please tell me you fixed the sheets.” His eyes widen as he looks at you, “I thought you did! We’re so fucked.”

Thankfully, it was the last full night of the camp season so you two wouldn’t be kicked out but it was definitely a night filled with glares and mutters from the camp director.

taglist: @litepowee @satmitsuplanet @bluelock4life @suyacho @tojjist @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network

[wongyuseokie]

One Trick Peony | c.s.c

Summary:  Choi Seungcheol could only do one type of floral arrangement, and the rest he’d pawn off to you, granted he got a ton of orders, but he would always take the orders for arrangements that he could never do. This time he went too far. He took an ‘only peonies’ arrangement–a painfully delicate flower–and took an order for a wedding, and with your luck, you’re the only two florists available that weekend. 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut | ☁︎ mild angst |  ♥ completed works  Word Count: 4885 words Pairings: Florist!Choi Seungcheol x  Florist! Female Reader  Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Fluff, angst, smut, frenemies to lovers, idk if thats the right word they just have a ton of digs at each other but no actual hate. 

Content Warnings: Arguing, but it’s all very childish. Cheol being a slight smartass, but Y/N also being a bit mouthy. Idiots to lover makes more sense, both are dense af. Kissing, mentions of food. Inaccurate depictions of being a florist, idk. Loud and noisy kids destroying things. Moment of self doubt. 

Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do this irl), oral (f receiving), sorta dom! Cheol, rough sex (but its more vanilla), big dick! Cheol, multiple orgasms, squirting, riding, overstimulation, creampie, cum licking, hickies, kissing, phew I think that’s it. Cheol is an after care king. 

Authors Note: This has been written for svthub's secret garden collab. Thank you all for letting me be part of this wonderful collab. Please check out the rest of the works written by my talented friends 💕 Banner Credits: @classicscreations

Cross Posted to AO3

© wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

You knew hate was a strong word, but that was all you could feel for your coworker, Choi Seungcheol. When Seungcheol first joined the flower shop, you didn’t mind him. You realised he was only capable of making one floral arrangement. 

At first, you found it cute. You’d help him, teach him, but after a while, you realised he didn’t even pay attention, and that’s when your pettiness began, and Seungcheol matched it by being extra petty. 

“Choi Seungcheol!” You exclaimed, knowing he hated being called by his full name. 

“How many times do we have to go over this, Y/N? I don’t like being called by my first name?” Seungcheol complained, and you rolled your eyes at his whining. Seungcheol whined a lot. You’d never admit it, but it was adorable. A grown man who was tall and buff whined like a toddler. Only Seungcheol could be that cute, but he didn’t have to know. 

“Why is there an order in the system for a wedding?” You questioned. “You know that we are short-staffed right now.”

“Look. I do, but it’s only a wedding with 80 people, and this lady and her husband waited for their wedding for five years because life kept getting in the way. You wouldn’t deny a couple of that joy, would you?” Seungcheol asked hopefully, grinning widely at you. 

“Besides, I told them that the best florist in Seoul was the only choice for their special day,” Seungcheol boasted, and you scoffed. 

“Of course I am, but you? You won’t even bother helping. It’ll just be me doing all the work,” you complained. 

“I’m an excellent supervisor,” Seungcheol added. 

“No, you’re just a pain in my ass,” you mumbled. 

“Oh? You know I could help take the pain away,” Seungcheol teased, and you glared at him.

“I will break a flower vase over your pretty head if you even try,” you threatened. 

“You think my head is pretty?” Seungcheol asked, and you glared at him again before storming into the back room. 

“So, how do you want to get to the venue?” Seungcheol asked you later that evening as you were cleaning up your station. The shop was bustling, and all the arrangements came to you because Seungcheol was incompetent and too busy wooing more customers to buy more flowers without concern for your workload. 

“What venue?” You asked, gritting your teeth. 

“Ouch? What’s gotten you so huffy?” Seungcheol asked. 

“You’re no help, and now you’re here trying to be chatty,” you spat. 

“I got you so many orders, though!” Seungcheol protested. 

“I didn’t need them. You know I’m busy,” you fired back, and Seungcheol frowned. 

“Hey!” A voice interrupted, and you turned to see your manager staring at you and Seungcheol disapprovingly. 

“Look, I don’t know if this is a situation of lovers who are too blind to confess, so they just verbally abuse one another? Or if you two hate each other, cut it out, at least for the weekend. This wedding would be huge for this business, and after that, we can discuss a plan or something that involves less interaction with you both, but for two days. I need you to behave. Can you do that?” Your manager asked, and you looked at Seungcheol, who avoided your gaze. 

“Yes, I can. I don’t know about her,” Seungcheol said, throwing you a cunning smile. 

“Seungcheol,” your manager warned, making him pout. 

“You see what I have to put up with?” You complained, and your manager glared at you. 

“Two days, just two days, make it work,” your manager pleaded, looking at you and Seungcheol, and you both sighed before nodding and agreeing. 

For the sake of your job, you both would make it work. 

Choi Seungcheol [7:58 am]: Morning, darling, I’m downstairs. On time, the flowers shall be delivered to the venue. I got you coffee, so please make your way down if you don’t want to get stuck in traffic. 

You [7:59 am]: Yeah, I’ll be down. 

Choi Seungcheol [8:00 am]: So cold, should have gotten you something warm to drink instead…

Choi Seungcheol [8:01 am]: See you soon, kitten, xoxo. 

You let out a groan, kitten? How dare he call you that, and not just because that word had you feeling a certain way, but kitten? Who did he think he was? 

You grumbled to yourself, grabbed your duffle bag, and made your way out of your apartment, triple checking to ensure you locked the door four times before heading downstairs to find Seungcheol. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” Seungcheol greeted, and you shot him a look. 

“Why the nicknames?” You asked.

“I’m trying to be friendly.” 

“Well, it’s weird, so stop,” you mumbled. 

“Fine, Y/N,” Seungcheol answered with a pout. 

“Shall we? It’s a bit of a drive, and I really don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” you offered.

“Yeah, let’s go.” 

“Oh, before I forget, here I put your coffee and some breakfast muffins for snacking,” Seungcheol offered as he pointed to the console. 

“This is really kind of you, thank you.” 

“See, I can be considerate,” Seungcheol bragged. 

“Yeah, one coffee and breakfast muffin won’t change how much of a pain you are at work,” you teased, making Seungcheol pout. 

“But you’re off to a good start Choi Seungcheol,” you added, making Seungcheol groan.

“I told you I don’t like my full name being used,” Seungcheol whined. 

“Okay, why, though?” 

“It feels distant, detached and cold. I feel like I’m being told off,” Seungcheol mumbled. 

“To be fair, whenever I use your full name, I am usually telling you off,” you joked, making Seungcheol frown more. 

“You can just yell at me. That’s better than full naming me,” Seungcheol offered with a grin. 

“You got a degradation kink or something?” You asked. 

“No, but I’ll tell you my kinks if you tell me yours,” Seungcheol teased with a grin. 

“Shut up.” 

You weren’t sure when you dozed off, but the next thing you knew was Seungcheol was gently shaking you awake. 

“Hey, Y/N, we’re here,” Seungcheol said softly as you stirred awake. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I fell asleep,” you apologised, knowing you broke a universal law. Do not fall asleep at the passenger seat. 

“It’s okay, traffic was light and honestly it was kind of peaceful,” Seungcheol teased and you glared at him. Maybe you didn’t feel that bad. 

“Come on let’s check in,” Seungcheol said as you slowly made your way out of the car, grabbed your things and headed towards the hotel. 

“I can’t believe our manager gave us a room to share,” you grumbled, as you entered the hotel suite. 

“Correction she gave us a suite to share with separate bedrooms, it’s really not that bad,” Seungcheol offered and you pouted. 

“Fine, but don’t snore loudly and disturb me,” you mumbled. 

“I do not snore!” Seungcheol protested. 

“You fell asleep in the shop once and you snored so loudly that you woke yourself up,” you teased making Seungcheol sulk. 

“Such a meanie,” Seungcheol pouted. 

“You’re adorable when you sulk,” you said with a fond smile making Seungcheol grin at you. 

“I’m always adorable,” Seungcheol corrected, and you frowned at him, but you did agree, but you’d never tell him. 

“Rise and Shine. I got you breakfast. We need to be the in the ballroom to start the decorations in an hour!” Seungcheol yelled the following day as you entered the living room. 

“I’m up,” you whined as you towelled your wet hair. 

“Aww, kitten, it’s sunny out. Put a smile on your face otherwise, you’ll ruin the delicate flowers if you’re just angry,” Seungcheol babbled, and you glared at him. 

“Hey, how do you know I like this?” You asked as you looked at the plate Seungcheol set up for you. 

“Simple, I pay attention,” Seungcheol said with a smile and you felt your heart swell. You never expected him to know so much about you, but it was the same way you knew how he liked his coffee, what his favourite colour was, and his favourite author. You didn’t have to know any of it, but you paid attention too. 

“You keep staring at me, quit it,” you muttered as you delicately arranged the peonies into a beautiful centrepiece. 

That afternoon you and Seungcheol were busy arranging the ballroom with flowers and making intricate decorations for the reception. 

“I can’t help it,” Seungcheol mumbled. 

“Why?” 

“Well, you look so beautiful doing what you love,” Seungcheol said, making you glare at him. 

“Shut up.” 

“I can, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that I meant what I said,” Seungcheol remarked with a grin. 

“You see me working all the time. How come you never compliment me then?” You challenged. 

“Because it’s usually in a full shop with other people around, and I don’t know. I only want you to hear the compliments, not everyone else,” Seungcheol offered, making you smile shyly at him. 

“Well, thank you, and for what it’s worth, you weren’t too insufferable during this trip,” you offered with a grin. 

“I call you beautiful, and you call me mildly tolerable. What does a guy have to do to win your heart?” Seungcheol said dramatically, making you grin. 

Little did he know that he didn’t have to do too much. 

“Cheol?” You called out from your bedroom, hoping Seungcheol could hear you. You detested cocktail gowns for their design, you could never reach the zipper and always ended up asking for help, and this dress had fancy straps that you couldn’t fasten. 

“You hollered?” Seungcheol asked as he entered your bedroom. 

“Seungcheol, can you please help me tie this? I promise I’m not trying to be a smartass. I’ve been at this for ten minutes, and I keep screwing up,” You asked as you held the thin strips of your halter with one hand on the back of your neck.

Seungcheol stared at you for a second and nodded, and you turned around so that your back was facing him, and Seungcheol took a deep breath when he saw that your gown was backless, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

You melted in his arms; his toned body felt like heaven against you. 

“How tight?” Seungcheol asked, his words making your core throb. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” you responded. You could do the same to him if he wanted to tease you. You bit your lip in an attempt to stop grinning when you heard him curse under his breath as he pulled on the straps. 

“Right there?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Use your words,” Seungcheol whispered, his hot breath against your neck. 

“Yes, right there,” you breathed out, and Seungcheol complied, tying the knot, and you felt his hands trail down your neck to your bare back, and you had to bite harder on your lip to not whimper at his touch. 

“All done,” Seungcheol mumbled, and you turned around, his face mere inches away from yours. 

“You look breathtaking,” Seungcheol complimented, making you smile. 

“So do you. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the bridesmaids flock to you,” you teased, and Seungcheol shook his head. 

“They can flock, but there’s only one girl worth my time,” Seungcheol responded, making you gulp. 

“Shall we? We can’t be late,” Seungcheol offered with a grin. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” you mumbled. You’d just have to curb your desire for him for now, but once the reception started, you would rile Seungcheol the way he had riled you up. 

Your plans were shot to hell the minute you walked into the ballroom, several of your floral arrangements had been destroyed, and you weren’t sure who did it, but you heard the giggles and screams of children in the ballroom and knew you found your culprits. 

Now, you weren’t one to yell at children, but when knocked into you, making you knock into another floral arrangement and destroy it, too, you couldn’t help but comment. 

“Kids, can you not play here? There are delicate arrangements,” you said as kindly as you could, and apparently, that was all it took for them to start crying. 

“Excuse me? How dare you make my children cry?” You heard someone accuse you and turned around to see an angry woman approaching you. 

“I didn’t mean to, but they were running around and destroying the floral arrangements,” you mumbled. 

“Uptight much? They’re children,” the lady sassed, and you were about to retort when Seungcheol interrupted. You weren’t sure when he showed up, but you were glad he did. 

“Ma’am, I apologise that your kids are upset, but really we’re doing our best to ensure the bride and groom are happy. You won’t get blamed for poor floral arrangements, but we will, so please be considerate of that,” Seungcheol responded calmly, and the lady shrank in size and offered a scowl before walking, well stomping out of the hall. 

“Jeez, there’s always someone like her everywhere. Come, I’ll fix the arrangements near the front of the hall, and you fix the pieces at the back of the hall?” Seungcheol offered, and you nodded meekly before heading off in that direction. 

“Hey, you did a beautiful job,” you complimented as you approached Seungcheol a few minutes later; he was just putting the final touches on a centrepiece. 

“Well. I have to. Your hard work shouldn’t go to waste,” Seungcheol said. 

“You have a delicate touch,” you mumbled. 

“I’ve been told I’m good with my hands,” Seungcheol said with a smirk, making you grin and roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m glad to see you smile,” Seungcheol said. 

“Don’t let what the mother said get to you, okay? She’s just mad that her kids embarrassed her,  take pride in your work. I know I do,” Seungcheol said as he leaned closer to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“I have to go help the groom find his boutonniere. I’ll see you later?” Seungcheol offered, and you smiled fondly at him. You watched him leave, and once he did, you placed your fingers over the spot he just kissed, and you swore you felt it tingle.

Seungcheol really didn’t have to do much to win your heart. He had it. The kiss just sealed the deal. 

“Alright, you’ve been pouting since that little kid knocked over that vase. I’m sure that kid feels awful. Will you now just forget it for a bit and enjoy the evening? Why don’t you dance with me?” Seungcheol offered later that evening when he saw you sulking by the bar during the reception. 

“I’m not upset about that. It’s just that when his mother called me uptight, I got annoyed,” you admitted, and Seungcheol nodded knowingly as he took a seat next to you at the bar. 

“Do you think I’m uptight?” You asked, honestly, you didn’t care for Seungcheol’s opinion, but the alcohol made you extra sensitive, and for some reason, you found yourself seeking comfort in your work enemy. 

“Nah. I think you take pride in your work, so when a kid tramples over it, you’re allowed to be upset,” Seungcheol consoled. 

“When you say it like that, I sound unreasonable, getting mad at a kid at all,” you trailed off. 

“Nah. That kid was getting really annoying. He stomped on my foot a couple of times,” Seungcheol joked, smiling when he saw you return him a brief smile. 

“What I’m trying to say is that it’s okay. It’s okay to be upset, you take pride in your work, and if anyone messes with it, well, it’s fair to be upset,” Seungcheol explained, reiterating his earlier points. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled. 

“Come on. You shouldn’t be sulking at a wedding. Come dance with me,” Seungcheol offered as he hopped off the barstool and stood in front of you, holding out his hand. 

“You? Choi Seungcheol, you’re telling me not to sulk? You’re the king of sulking!” You teased, and Seungcheol grinned. 

“Yes, but I look cute doing it,” Seungcheol boasted, making you frown and swat his hand away. 

“Go away, Cheol,” you grumbled. 

“I didn’t say you don’t look cute when you sulk, it’s painfully adorable, but I like it when you smile more,” Seungcheol clarified. 

“Smooth.” 

“Very, now, dance with me. You look beautiful, and I recall you telling a customer in the past that you love weddings, so why not enjoy this one?” Seungcheol asked. 

“You remember the shit I say?” You were surprised that Seungcheol even recalled that conversation. 

“Of course, now come, dance with me,” Seungcheol pushing his outstretched arm towards you, you smiled as you took his hand, and he guided you towards the dance floor. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Seungcheol asked as he started to dance with you, his arms were around your waist as your hands wrapped around his neck. 

“Maybe, once.” 

“I should say it more, I cannot take my eyes of you,” Seungcheol complimented making you shyly hide your face in his chest. 

“Why the sudden flattery?” You ask. 

“It’s not sudden, I always try to do the same at work, but you’re usually busy biting, actually you are rightfully biting my head off at work,” Seungcheol corrected making you smile. 

“Then why be so annoying?” You asked making him laugh. 

“How else do I get your attention?” Seungcheol asked, and you smiled at him. 

“Okay, I have to know, you sure you don’t like being scolded, like there’s not a hidden sub inside you?” You teased. 

“Kitten, this is the second time you’ve asked about my kinks, you sure you don’t want to just find out?” Seungcheol asked, and you leaned up slightly to softly place your lips against his. 

“Show me,” you whispered as you pulled away from his lips, and Seungcheol couldn’t get the two of you out of the ballroom quick enough. 

The elevator trip and the walk back to the room was very quiet but not awkward, Seungcheol held your hand the entire way, and you were glad because his grip made you feel grounded when you were starting to float on cloud nine. 

Once you were inside the room, Seungcheol had you Seungcheol pressed his lips to yours, and you kissed him back. His lips were even softer than you could have dreamt of. They felt full and plush as they moved against yours.

You melted into the kiss when you felt Seungcheol’s hands move along your body, his fingers pressing into your waist and back, making you moan into the kiss. 

“Is that all you got?” you teased, as you mumbled against his lips, and Seungcheol smirked into the kiss as his hands moved up your exposed back, his fingers tracing your bare skin and sliding his hands down to your clothed waist, his hands moving up your stomach resting just below your covered breast. 

“More?” Seungcheol asked, moving his lips away from yours to place them on your neck as he started to place soft kisses there, making you whimper at his touch. 

“Can I take this off?” Seungcheol asked, and you nodded furiously, making him smile; he placed another kiss on your lips and quickly stripped you off your clothes, leaving you only in your panties, leaving your breasts exposed to him. 

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groaned out, and you smiled shyly at him as he pulled you into his embrace and carried you over to sit you down on the couch. Seungcheol’s lips found your neck as he sucked love bites into your neck, and his hands gently moved down to your hips. Large hands moved to grab your ass, pulling you tight against him; a string of moans and swear words left your mouth as you felt his hard length rub against your clothed pussy. 

“Cheol,” you whined out. 

“Yes?” 

“I need you,” you breathed out, and that’s all Seungcheol needed as he carried you into his bedroom, laid you on the bed, and quickly rid himself of his clothes. 

Once naked, Seungcheol crawled between your thighs and groaned when he saw the wet patch on your panties. 

“Fuck, let me have a taste, kitten,” Seungcheol said, and you only whimpered, spreading your legs further to accommodate him; Seungcheol moved quickly, pulling your panties off and throwing them across the room. 

Once greeted by your bare, glistening pussy Seungcheol knew needed to taste you, and he placed his plump lips on your clit, and started to suck, your hands twisted in his soft hair. You felt him sliding two fingers into your cunt, making you moan at the stretch, it felt so good, and Seungcheol stuck his tongue out, flicking your clit, making your back arch. 

Seungcheol smirked against your cunt, as he decided to pick up the pace, moving his fingers more quickly inside you, his mouth never leaving your clit. You kept whimpering and moaning, which only made Seungcheol increase his speed. Your legs shook as you came for him, falling apart on his tongue and finger. Seungcheol groaned as he tasted your cum, smirking, pleased with the results, but he was far from done. 

Seungcheol moved his mouth away from your clit to catch his breath, only to latch his lips back to your clit, making you whine in pleasure and pain. Seungcheol wrapped his lips around your clit while his tongue traced and circled the swollen nub. Seungcheol wrapped both his arms around your waist and held you down. 

Seungcheol moved his mouth to your pussy, shoved his tongue inside you while his fingers found your clit and started rubbing. Your grip on his hair got tighter, and he groaned at the sensation. Seungcheol’s groans vibrated against your cunt, and you held his hair for some semblance as you fell apart on his tongue. 

When he had finally cleaned you up with his tongue, you were shivering and on the precipice of another orgasm. You whimpered, trying to move away from his mouth, you were incredibly sensitive, but Seungcheol wanted to keep going. He wanted you to have a night you’d never forget, so he did and lapped up your release. 

“So sweet,” Seungcheol praised as he sat back and admired your pulsating pussy, wet, sticky, and all for him. 

“Cheol,” you moaned out. 

“Yes, kitten?” 

“Fuck me, please,” you begged, to make him smile as he adjusted your position so you were on your hands and knees. 

Seungcheol held your hips and slowly pushed himself inside you, and you felt a slight burn at the stretch. It had been so long for you since you had sex, and he was big and thick. 

Once Seungcheol realised how you weren’t hissing in pain anymore, and instead, you were moaning and muttering about how good he felt, Seungcheol started to move. He knew he wouldn’t last, not with you clenching around him so tightly. However, Seungcheol thrust into you, his movements hard and deep, eliciting whimpers and moans from you with each movement of his hips. 

Seungcheol needed to cum, but not before you, as he set off a steady pace as he fucked you and slowly reached his fingers down to your clit and rubbed at it furiously; the room was filled with your screams and his guttural moans. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m going to cum if you keep squeezing me like that,” Seungcheol groaned, gently biting your ear lobe at the same time. 

“Inside, me, please, cum inside me,” you begged as he fucked. 

 “Fuck fuck”, he groaned; a few thrusts later, he suddenly stilled and pulled out of and flipped you over so that you were laying on your back, and Seungcheol took a deep breath as he grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist. 

Seungcheol’s hard cock rested against your aching cunt; simply seeing his length made you delirious. His length was perfect, it could go deep inside you, and the thickness made you feel as good as when he fucked you. Seungcheol made you so full you had never felt, and you were sure he had ruined you for other men. 

You bucked your hips against him, rubbing your wet folds against his cock, and he hissed at that. Seungcheol pushed himself into you, and you moaned at the stretch. Seungcheol’s hands moved to unwrap your legs, moving them to position them around his neck. 

The new position allowed him to go deeper, and he pushed deep into your cunt, and he thrust his pace was perfect. Slow enough to make you feel every inch of his cock, and fast enough to make you moan. 

“Baby”, you whimpered. 

“Yes?” 

“I want to ride you,” you choked out, and Seungcheol had to take a deep breath not to cum right then and there.

You whimpered as he pulled out and adjusted his position so he could lay on the bed and adjusted your position so Seungcheol could lay under you. He felt so good inside you. You lifted your legs and started moving your hips, riding him. You felt his grip tighten on your thighs as he helped you ride him. 

“Fuck,” you cursed as you slowly sank onto his length. 

You wanted to see Seungcheol fall apart underneath you, you trailed your hands to his fingers, and your nails grazed his nipples, making him buck into you. You moaned as his hips pushed his cock deeper inside you. You kept riding him until you felt him still and released inside you. You moaned, feeling his warmth fill up your cunt.

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pushed two fingers into you. Seungcheol stood up slightly as he shoved his middle and ring finger into your cunt and hooked them there.

“Scream for me,” Seungcheol said as he vigorously pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt. He used his other hand to press down your pubic bone, holding you still as you thrashed about.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Seungcheol asked as he kept fingering you. You whimpered in response, fisting the bed sheets between your hands and screaming as you came hard.

“Fuck. I can’t,” you choked out when you noticed he hadn’t stopped his movements.

 “Yes, you can. I know you can,” Seungcheol encouraged as he repeated his actions, making you squirt all over his hands.

You whimpered in his grip, pushing his forearm, and Seungcheol smiled as he pulled his fingers out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathed out. 

“Good?” Seungcheol asked. 

“Mhm, very,” you mumbled into his chest, making him smile. 

“Noo!” You whined when you felt him move, and Seungcheol swore his heart melted at that moment. 

“I need to clean you up,” Seungcheol said. 

“No, stay,” you whined making him laugh. 

“Please?” You asked and Seungcheol didn’t have the heart to deny you. 

“Fine, but not in this bed, it’s a little wet,” Seungcheol teased making you bury your head into his chest more. 

“Just hold onto me, and I’ll move you,” Seungcheol said as he carried you off the bed and into your bedroom, where he laid you down onto the bed, and used it as and excuse to quickly slip away and bring back a wet towel and gently clean you up. 

“Come here,” you whined holding your hands out for him. 

“Adorable,” Seungcheol cooed as he climbed into the bed, holding you in his arms as you both fell asleep. 

The following morning you woke up with a dull ache between your thighs, and an empty bed. Before you could worry, you spotted a note on the bed. 

I’m outside, waiting for room service, I thought we could do with breakfast, also I took a shower and left a towel out for you too. 

-xx Cheol. 

You smiled as you read the note, and took his suggestion, and hopped, well hobbled into the shower. 

You saw Seungcheol sitting on the couch and staring out the window when you entered the living room, you felt more awake after your shower. 

“Morning,” you greeted as you sat down next to him, and Seungcheol immediately turned around to face you, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips. 

“Morning,” he mumbled against your lips.

“How are you?” Seungcheol asked. 

“Sore.” 

“I would apologise, but I don’t think you mind, do you?” Seungcheol teased. 

“Cheol!” 

“Okay, but as a dutiful boyfriend, I’ll make it up to you!” Seungcheol declared. 

You didn’t mind Seungcheol being your boyfriend, hell, you loved the idea, but it surprised you, and you were about to respond but a knock on the door stopped you. 

It was room service and for a few minutes you couldn’t say much. 

Once the servers left the room and Seungcheol ws setting up the plates you decided to speak. 

“Cheol. I like kitten.”

“Hm?” 

“I feel like as my boyfriend you should know what I like,” you said making him grin. 

“I like kitten, darling and sometimes baby,” you added. 

“What else do you like?” Seungcheol asked. 

“You.” 

“Oh? What a coincidence because I also like you.” 

[strawberryya]

ghost in the machine

s.coups x reader

synopsis: Secrets can only be kept as secrets for so long, everyone knows this. Yet when 5.C0UP5 came in contact with someone he never should have even known existed this notion seemed as foreign as his own name. Perhaps there exists another way of life even for him, or maybe it was all a dream too big to dream of. 

word count: 20k

genre/contains: sci-fi au, AI-idol au, automaton!seungcheol, angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, found family, afab and gn!reader, general smut warnings for oral and penetrative sex, nothing kinky except being eaten out while talking on the intercoms and some almost being caught moments, big fight

rating: 18+

a/n: this has taken a long time to finish, but it also turned out to be my longest fic to date and I'm a bit proud that i managed to actually complete what i had in mind :> thank you @idyllic-ghost for proof reading and for the banner !!

collab link to read the other amazing fics from @idyllic-ghosts genius collab!

Network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

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“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming to our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

Pride. It was one side of 5.C0UP5 state of mind, and he felt it often. He felt it whenever he looked at his members, he felt it whenever he performed on stage in front of blinding lights and roaring crowds, and he felt it when he looked at you.

Yet, the other side of the coin of his pre-programmed personality was what crushed him every single day. Everything he took pride in having accomplished, was completely tarnished by a single thought about your lips on his skin. The shame was unbearable. 

You had never been meant to get close to him, he was not supposed to be close to anyone. He knew this better than anyone. As the leader of 53V3NT33N he was the one to keep everyone in check. He was meant to set a good example and be the perfect level 1 automaton at all times. For years he kept his promise to everyone, he continued to avoid all things that could ruin his reputation and go against his lifelong contract which he had become bound to the moment he had been created. It hadn’t been easy, but he had taken pride in being the perfect and flawless leader for his members. 

That guilty feeling in his gut came back once again as he left the dorm with his manager. “Lookin’ good,” he heard the voice of one of his members play in his ear. J30NGHΛN stood, next to some of his staff members across the lobby, curiously looking at 5.C0UP5. “Going somewhere fun today?” he said and pushed the communication device on his chest, letting 5.C0UP5 hear his every word. 

“You’re too curious J30NGHΛN,” he said with a smile, “We’re just gonna get some pictures at a café for this week’s posts.” It was one of the few things he did a couple of times a year, even under the strict surveillance of his company and its staff. No matter what, he had to sell the fantasy of himself to millions of people all around the universe. 

“Oh, I see… have fun,” J30NGHΛN said with a tone that made 5.C0UP5 feel his fingers, the chirping sound of his voice making him conscious of his own existence in a way he despised. the damn wink didn’t help. It was as if he knew something. Maybe everyone knew? 5.C0UP5 shook his head and began walking towards the exit along with his manager. He felt his members’ curious gaze following him as he left. Maybe the secrets were beginning to take their toll on his mind. He knew he was supposed to keep his emotions in check, the overpowering of one of his programmed human states of mind would be his demise. They had told him that much. Yet again, he told himself the same words he had spent so many days and nights telling himself. Nobody knows. 

Luckily, the café that had been chosen for today was only a couple blocks away. The cold sweat that ran down his back went unnoticed by the staff accompanying him in the shuttle used by the members whenever they needed to go to filming locations and individual shoots.  

“Let’s order some smaller stuff and get the shoot over with, we don’t have all day,” one of the managers announced, making 5.C0UP5 nod with a forced smile before he went back to looking out the window. His hand fell to his side, feeling the hard outline of his phone in his pocket. 

Entrusted to him by the company, he had been allowed to have a small flip phone. It was ancient. They used to have them in the old world, but even by the start of “The Great Journey” the technology was seen as outdated. By the current standards, however, the phone he had been granted was not worth much more than the shoelace on his sneakers. To him though, it was priceless. 

He was nervous now, his hands felt clammy, and his shoulders were tense as he walked into the café along with the staff members. One of them hurried off to the counter and placed your orders while 5.C0UP5 and two others made their way towards the corner table. The young couple currently sitting at the table were quickly removed by the staff members. It was routine, nothing more than a sentence informing the couple of why they needed to get up was given before they were chased off by the staff members threatening presence. 

He would never get used to that, the way others were treated around him as he stood by, powerless to intervene. Every time he felt ashamed of being the reason the rest of the population had to accommodate whatever his company, his owners, deemed profitable. It didn’t matter if it was evacuating an entire city block to film a music video where the buildings crumbled around the members, or something as insignificant as taking over a table at a popular café. The guilt was always there. 

The young couple hastily gathered their belongings and one of the waiters came over and cleaned up the table, apologies for the mess constantly pouring from their lips. Level 3 automatons could get fired for something like this, but at the same time, 5.C0UP5 couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy as he watched the worker get back to his place behind the counter. Maybe life would be better if he too was a lower-level automaton, he found himself thinking as he sat down and was served the beverage and piece of dessert that the staff had ordered for him. He would be freer in a way…

“5.C0UP5, let’s go.” 

He picked up the drink in his hand, the cold from the iced drink bringing his mind away from his thoughts and back into reality where a staff member had just fixed the collar of his shirt and fixed his hair which had been ruffled by the wind. “Look over there,” the staff said as another one snapped hundreds of pictures as he moved around on his chair. The rehearsed smiles, the sip of the drink, and the way he leaned toward the camera all satisfied the staff it seemed. He was good at his job, and acting like a down-to-earth boyfriend at a café was just another part of his job. 

What wasn’t part of his job, however, was when he felt a buzz in his pocket and without a second thought spilled half his drink across his thighs, the fabric covering his knees now the color of his drink. “Oh!” he shouted, “I’m sorry. I’ll go clean up real fast and we can continue like nothing happened, I’m so sorry, I’ll fix it!” he hurried to say before any of the staff members could even comprehend the situation he had just created. Hastily, 5.C0UP5 rose from the chair and left his staff confused and shocked at the table. “Fuck- someone go watch the door, no one else can be in there at the same time he is.” he heard them say behind his back as he hurried off towards the door to the bathroom. 

There were multiple doors inside the bathroom, each leading to a small bathroom. He didn’t know where to go, he didn’t know where he was supposed to be. He didn’t need to look very far because as he approached the second door to the right it opened for only a moment and a hand pulled him forcefully through the opening. “Finally,” a person said with a smile before they kissed him passionately in the low light of the lightbulb attached to the dark mosaic tiles above the sink. 5.C0UP5 entire body heated up from within as his lips pressed against those familiar soft lips he knew belonged to you. 

He had dreamed of those very lips every night since he first got to kiss them all those months ago. “Hi,” he whispered and let the corners of his mouth turn up in the most genuine smile he had had all day. 

“Hi…” you answered and giggled softly, feeling his warm hands on your cheeks as he held you and kissed you once again, softly and as if to make you feel how much he had missed you as he held your lips locked against his. 

“Are you meeting up with that secret fuck buddy of yours?” Lana joked as you scrambled to grab your phone and keys on your way out for lunch break. 

The office supply store was empty at this hour, and you had thirty minutes until you had to be back again; the perfect amount of time for a quick meetup with Cheol. You had to be back in time to release Lana, your co-worker, and close friend, from her shift and let her take her own lunch break since your boss had deemed it necessary to have the store manned at all hours of the day. 

Or, well, 5.C0UP5 if you were fussy about things like that. That was his real name, his legal name. To you, however, he was Seungcheol. It had been months since you had called the wrong number in your hurry to order a pizza after work, starving and sleep-deprived as you were at the time you hadn’t been looking too closely at the numbers you were putting into the keypad on your phone. Luckily for you, the craving for pizza that night had led you to discover something new that you soon began craving much more and much more often - him. 

His enchanting voice had caught you off guard that first night, and his confused and cautious “Who is this?” had, incredibly enough, been the starting point of you two talking every chance you got since then. Late nights chatting away on, what you have to admit were very sketchy websites, and the occasional call which was made with hushed voices and both of your hearts pounding away, had been most of your relationship. It sometimes felt like an imaginary relationship, since no one could know who he was, and even more importantly -  know who you were to him. 

“He’s not my fuck buddy, he’s…” you retorted. 

“See, do you even know what he thinks you two are? You won’t even show me any pictures of him, is he super ugly or something?” Lana shouted as you hurried towards the back door. 

“Shut up! I’ll see you later!” you yelled and the door slammed shut behind you. The back alley was filled with trash and scrap metal. The teenage boy from the large family who lived atop the store was smoking as he kicked bolts around on the ground. He looked up as you passed, and an uncomfortable feeling in your gut appeared as you felt him watch you while you exited the back alley and went onto the bustling street. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you fished it up. 

Unknown. 12.31.

“I’ll be there in 10, leaving now.” 

It was from Cheol. You wouldn't be getting any more updates from him until tonight, at least he had confirmed that he would be coming. Quickly you deleted the text from your phone and put the phone back into your pocket as a strange sense of being watched made the skin on your neck prickle. You looked around, moving your shoulders as if to shake the feeling away. 

You hurried away and towards the café, the uncomfortable feeling still haunting you as you entered the café and headed straight to the restroom. 

Would he come this time?

You could never be certain. He always did his best to keep his promises, but if the circumstances wouldn’t allow him to leave the group of managers that always circled him whenever he stepped outside the shiny company doors, keeping you a secret was more important. It didn’t hurt any less whenever he stood you up though. 

Knowing that his reasons for acting as he did were because of his status as a level 1 automaton had shaken you to the core at first, but it had also been a relief. He had told you who he was after a couple of weeks when you had become convinced you had accidentally begun an affair with a married man, he had been forced to confess his real identity. At least you weren’t a home wrecker, was the thought that helped you reconcile with the fact that he would never be free to live a normal life with you. 

Now you were seated on the toilet seat cover, your ear pressed to the door, your hand on the handle ready to pull it open. Time moved slower than usual, but your heartbeat was racing along with your mind. 

Then you heard him, it was undeniably his voice that made its way past the music, chatting, and the coffee machines. He was coming to you. You could barely hear when he opened the first door into the restrooms over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Without a second thought, you opened the door enough to register the man you had thought about all too often lately and pulled him by the arm inside the small bathroom you had occupied. His biceps tensed as you pulled him and your body lit on fire because of it. God, he was so wonderfully big. Everything from his biceps to his cock was just so perfectly huge, and you went mad any time you thought about it. You kissed him in a passionate kiss, pressing your entire body against his. You fit so well together, his hands on your face and yours wrapped around his body. 

You wanted more, you wanted all of him, all the time. You wanted to cry because you knew you couldn't have him. With tears pricking your eyes you let Seungcheol pull back to look into your eyes. 

“Hi,” he whispered and smiled. You said hi back softly before the excitement and the giggles overtook your lips. You kissed him again, this time he saw to it that it was a soft and gentle kiss. A small wince left your throat, making Seungcheol quickly turn on the faucet, hoping it would drown out any noises. “Sorry,” you mumbled against his plush lips. 

“Don’t worry, it’s partially my fault,” he said pridefully. 

You were about to laugh, but instead, you pushed up his shirt, exposing his perfectly sculpted upper body to your touch. “Fuck you,” you said under your breath. 

“‘Fuck me please’ is what you meant, yeah?” he cockily corrected you without missing a beat, flipping you both so you stood with your back against the wall he had been facing away from. You gasped as he lifted you off the ground with the wall helping to pin you between his stiff cock and the cold and hard wall. 

He was right, even though you hadn’t allowed yourself to get your hopes up, you had been feeling unusually needy lately. The thoughts of him filling you up in any way constantly on your mind, you were already turned on as you entered the café with the small promise of him setting foot in there to meet you later. 

“Please, fuck me,” you gasped out, feeling your arousal soak your underwear at the thought of his girthy cock inside of you. “I need you to be quiet,” he mumbled against your lips. 

At this, you nodded fervently. Finally, you would feel him stretching you open again, bruising your insides with the force of his strokes like you had dreamt of after every single time you had managed to get together like this before. The moments were rare, but you made the most of the short time you had, to say the least. 

His tongue quickly found yours as he ground you on his erection, eliciting a low moan and making you open your mouth for him to enter. Warm hands wandered your body, his gentle touch making you swoon as he held you with so much love, while the promise of him fucking you like the slut you were hung in the air. 

A knock on the door, and both of you froze up, his bulge pressing right on your clit making it unbearable not to move. You winced only slightly as Seungcheol’s lips left yours, deciding to put your now lonely lips to use, kissing down his jaw and neck with soft little pecks and nibbles. “What?” Seungcheol asked over the sound of the water running, his tone a bit more agitated than he had intended. Not that he was at fault, he had a soaking cunt begging to be fucked right above his cock, and lips that made him go insane on his neck; someone disturbing him right now was not what he needed. 

“How much longer do you need? We don’t have all day to wait around for a pair of pants to dry up.” the staff member on the other side of the door said, earning a sigh from Seungcheol. 

After a moment of silence, he groaned and shouted towards the locked door. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I’ll be right out.” 

No, you thought, your limbs holding onto the man who you had just only gotten a taste of even harder than before. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“I need you to be patient for me until next time, can you be good for me and wait?” he mumbled against your hair, your lips still attached to the skin right below Seungcheol’s collar. “Yes,” you said against his neck, letting go of his skin in favor of burying your face in the warmth of his chest. He put you down on the floor, his arms releasing the back of your thighs and instead wrapping around your body. For just a moment he held you close until the buzzing of the dryer died out and he loosened his hold on you. 

You pressed your body against the wall as Seungcheol unlocked the door and disappeared through it just as quickly as he had been pulled in through it. 

“Sorry, it didn’t come off.” you heard him say through the doors. 

“We can’t get the shots if you’re all messed up like this, let’s tell the crew that we’re going back instead. Come on 5.C0UP5.” The staff member who had been just a few steps away from you two while they waited outside the restroom door responded as the voices got fainter and blended into the sounds of the café. 

You sat in silence with your hand on the door handle as his voice disappeared completely. In the beginning, you had enjoyed the thrill and noncommitment of him not being able to be there to be an actual boyfriend because of his work and position in life, you recalled as you felt all the emotions in your body dissolve into nothing. 

A small pain in your chest was the only thing left. The late-night thoughts you whispered in the dark, and the messages you had sent each other that contained your deepest yearnings and your worst fears. They had gotten to you, and it didn’t help that whenever you got a taste of having him physically there with you, you rarely- never- wanted to let go. But you always had to. 

“Enough wallowing, this isn’t changing anything,” you mumbled as you wiped your face from the wetness that had seeped from your eyes without you noticing. You needed to hurry back to relieve Lana from her shift you realized as you checked your watch, seeing that you were already supposed to be back at the store. 

You didn’t waste much more time after that, hastily making your way out of the bathroom, checking behind you as you left the café to make sure nobody had paid any attention to you. Like a punch in the gut, the feeling of being watched returned as your eyes landed on a dark-clad figure staring at you through the shop window. He had no reason to follow you with his gaze as you hurried across the street, away from the café, away from the gut-wrenching feeling that something was awry. 

He wasn’t looking at you, right? You were just getting too paranoid, that’s all, right? 

5.C0UP5 had been daydreaming the entire way back to the company, his mind taking him back to the moments he could hold you in his arms. His body couldn’t ache for you, but his mind almost had him believing that he did. Some days, he almost believed himself to have a heart. A heart that broke each time he had to leave you behind. 

It wasn’t until he got back to the dorms where he got a glimpse of his members, and friends since he had been put into this world, that he finally felt himself come down back to reality. They were everywhere, some he saw in the lobby along with their hoards of staff members just like his own. Some were in the dorms, sleeping, or at least in a state of being that looked like sleeping as they charged. 

Others were nowhere to be found, not that he went looking. They could mind themselves, he knew they would never do anything to make him less proud of them. To 5.C0UP5, he was the bigger worry. 

He was just about to let himself rest and recharge, to try and forget the pain in the back of his mind, haunting him even as he saw his members wandering the dormitories and the company hallways. You were always in the back of his mind, no matter what he did to try and forget. Somehow, he had accidentally let you in, and now you were half his world. The hidden side of the moon, the side which should always remain in darkness, no matter how closely you look. 

A staff member who had left him just minutes ago as they entered the guarded company building came back, not even bothering to knock before they entered the room in which 5.C0UP5 sat on his bed. “5.C0UP5, you need to follow me, the CEO has something to talk to you about.” 

It had happened before, he met with the CEO every once in a while. After all, he was the spokesperson for the group, even if they didn’t have many (any) rights, they still needed to have someone to be their voice. This time, however, the meeting wasn’t scheduled. The CEO wanted to have an impromptu meeting with him… his hand unconsciously fell against his left side pocket, worry filling his mind even though he tried to make sense of why he had been called in to talk to the management. 

Even as he entered the large office of the CEO he had been in more times than he could count, something felt off. People he had never met sat in chairs all around the walls. Guards stood at the door, looking more tense than he had ever seen them before, and the CEO himself had the strangest expression he had ever worn. 5.C0UP5 waited until he was spoken to, as he had been instructed so many times before. Honoring the one who made sure he had the comfortable life he currently had was something he had been taught from the very first day he had opened his eyes. 

“Hello 5.C0UP5.” the suit-clad man in the dark chair said. He spoke calmly, but not kindly. 5.C0UP5 picked up on his tone immediately. 

“Hello, Sir,” he answered and bowed his head ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him. The room was dark, but the photos splayed out on the desk in front of the CEO finally caught 5.C0UP5’s eye. He could recognize them even at this distance and brightness. His head worked ceaselessly to find the moment it had begun, the moment they had found out. Because in front of the CEO, he could spot hundreds of pictures of the one person he wished they would never even see: you. 

All that went through 5.C0UP5’s mind when he realized what had finally happened was fuck.

“I understand that you have been seeing this human for a while… did you think we wouldn’t find out?” the CEO said, almost laughing at him as he sat in his chair looking over the pictures, each one containing your face, at work, at the café from earlier that day, at home. They had you right under their nail, ready to remove you from the planet at any second. He wanted to scream. 

The CEO cleared his throat before he threw the photo he held in his hand on the glass desk in front of him. “Now, unless you want us to eliminate this problem of yours, you will be rebooted first thing tomorrow.” 

5.C0UP5 knew he wasn’t supposed to protest, he wasn’t even supposed to think anything other than “Yes, Sir,” but before he could stop himself he spoke his mind. 

“Please, no… Why would you do that? It doesn’t make any sense. If I’m found breaking the rules, I’m to be demoted, not- not this!”

“Seventeen is currently the galaxy’s top band 5.C0UP5, and you are their leader, you have an image to uphold. And since you failed at doing this, we want to reboot your system, that way you will be able to stay and your group members' reputations won’t be tarnished, and most importantly. This little issue will be resolved because you won’t even remember this little human.”

The CEO wasn’t smiling as he had thought before, the CEO had never once smiled. His eyes were dead, nothing more than a ghost of a human left inside of him. At least 5.C0UP5 felt something, at least he could smile, at least he could love…

He could love. He had felt it. So why was he about to get punished for something his management swore he couldn’t feel? Hoped he couldn’t, might be more accurate, 5.C0UP5 realized. 

“How did you know?” he asked, the glare he received was enough that the management had begun running out of patience for him already. 

“Does it matter? We know everything about you.” the CEO answered curtly. 

Just like that the pieces fell into place, they had known all along. He felt the piece of metal that clung to his chest like a stone, stuck in his body and destroying him from within. They had known all along… The upcoming release of their new comeback was what they were worried about, he soon realized. They had hoped he would stop of his own free will, after all, he had the personality trait of shame. He should’ve already ended whatever he had with you. 

However, he hadn’t. And now it would become an issue if they didn’t handle it quickly and quietly. 

Despite that, the thought that overpowered all others at that moment wasn’t about how small he felt as he realized the true power the company had over him, or how much he loathed the people who thought they had a right to control him. He could love. That was the loudest, and he wanted to scream it, make everyone hear him just this once. It made him proud, he could do something this human was incapable of, and now they wanted to take that away from him. No. There was no way he was going to let them do that to him as well. He clenched his fist at his side, should he fight? 

“You can return to your rooms, they will come to get you soon,” the CEO declared and pushed the photos on his desk off the table, straight into the trash can underneath. 5.C0UP5 fists relaxed a bit, a new plan forming as he turned to leave the room with the stern guards following along. “Oh,” he heard the CEO say, “and leave the phone, you are no longer trusted to keep it with you even in case of emergencies. I hope you understand… you won’t need to understand in a bit.” 

His jaw was frozen in place as he took the phone from his pocket and threw it towards the CEO. The guards jumped forward to grab his arms as the phone crashed into the table and tipped over a cup of metal pens that scattered all across the floor. “Leave us,�� said the CEO without even flinching. 

5.C0UP5 didn’t feel any shame as he was dragged out from the dark office, suit-clad strangers watching him with cold eyes as the doors slammed shut behind him. He was dragged until they were in the hallway where the crossroad between freedom and forever forgetting you were. “I can walk by myself,” he said with a growl he had never heard in his voice before. The guards let him stand alone, watchful eyes on him as they began walking again, one in front of him and one behind him now. It’s now or never, he thought, taking the shot as he saw it arise in front of him. 

His mind barely registered the hands that tried to grab onto him, all his focus lay on the doors in the lobby and on getting there. He ran with all his might until he crashed into the doors that were too slow to open. The crack widened and he pushed himself out of the glass doors that opened just in time for him to keep staying ahead of the guards. Bright lights in all the colors of the rainbow lit up before him as he began running down the crowded streets. His eyes watered because of the wind, and the lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of light. 

His body was designed to be agile and strong, he was designed to keep moving. Right now that felt like the biggest blessing he had ever received in his cursed life. 

From the back of his mind, two things arose. The first was your apartment, he had only heard about it, you had described exactly how to get there in one of the late-night calls you had whispered to each other weeks ago. The second was those twelve faces which were all he had known for so long; his members would be left to deal with it all when he was gone. He knew them so well, and yet, none of them had even had a chance to become someone to get to know. He wanted to give them a chance. As he ran he shouted out the word “Run!”, pressed that button he had used so many times before in the middle of the device connected to his chest, and began tearing the peace of metal from his body. It took him a few tries before he managed to rip the entire thing off of his skin. It hurt more than he had imagined, the pain was brain-numbing and overwhelming. He almost had to stop, the pain making it hard to focus on making his legs move forward. 

Nevertheless, he was free, the tracker was gone from his body, and with it was his only connection to the only family he had ever known. 

He ran, and he didn’t stop running until he arrived at your apartment. They would know he was here, they knew everything. He needed to be quick. He ran up the stairs to your apartment, knocking aggressively on your door, shouting as loudly as he dared for you to open the door. It wasn’t long until the door swung open and he was close to tears as he saw your very shocked face looking back at his panicked state. The thing you had imagined, but since you had found out his true identity, always known would never happen, had happened. 5.C0UP5 was tired, but he needed to get away, and he wanted you to come with him. 

“We need to leave, they’re coming for me. Please come with me,” he pleaded, his eyes begging you as his hands held your arms desperately. 

“What did you do?” you said breathlessly. 

“They were going to make me forget, make you… erase the issue… I couldn’t let them take this away from me too.”

You were speechless. “You ran.” He nodded. You didn’t even bother to say a word as you ran into your apartment, leaving 5.C0UP5 at the door. He had no idea if you were trying to find somewhere to hide or looking for something as he heard crashes and your voice shouting curses from further inside your small place. He needed to get out of there, but maybe… holding out hope was worthwhile it turned out. Minutes later, which felt like hours for 5.C0UP5, you reappeared at the door, backpack in hand and sweat gracing your hairline. You were running with him. 

It wasn’t a hard decision, you weren’t close to your parents, and Lana would understand eventually… at least you hoped your coworker, and only close friend at this moment of your life, would understand if you ever survived to tell her and apologize for leaving without a word. 

A small pain stabbed at your heart, leaving everything for an automaton on the run. Everything you had ever known for this man… It felt insane at the moment, and it felt even more insane as you felt Cheol squeeze your hand which you had been holding since you took it, and began running towards the docks. You sat in the cold of the night on a hard bench next to Cheol. In a bit, a ship would arrive. Crowded places felt like a good idea at first, but now, the paranoia set in. Was that old man over there looking a bit too long at Cheol? Didn’t those surveillance cameras follow them as they walked onto the docks? 

The hand in yours pressed gently against your skin, helping you stay at least a bit sane as the weight of what you were doing was already beginning to tug at your strength. You thought it best to focus on the plan instead. 

“Let’s get on this ship, hop off at the airport, and get on another ship there. That way we can get off this planet because the sooner the better right?”

“Yeah, but don’t you think they will be looking for me at all the docks and airports?” Cheol said quietly. 

He was right of course, they would be looking for the escaped automaton at all the exits of this world they could think of. 

“Maybe if we…” You tried, but you didn’t know how you would get away if his company's staff members were to hunt them down anywhere on the planet. “Damn. Do you know that it’s incredibly difficult to go on a trip with you?” you deadpanned. The moment was horrible, but also perfect. It made Cheol smile, something you hadn’t seen the entire way from the moment you opened the door until now. 

It helped keep your mind off of the horrible situation and the impending doom. 

“It is,” he chuckled, “I never thought it would become an issue though.”

“But here we are,” you said and sighed. Cheol leaned against you, his large arm pushing against your side, making a smile split across your face. 

“I don’t think we should get on one of the commercial airlines… we need something more private,” Cheol mumbled.

“How would we get a hold of a ship of our own? We don’t have the money for that…” 

“We’ll figure it out…” 

“We have a lot to figure out from now on, Cheol,” you said and let your head fall against his shoulder, resting your heavy mind on his strong frame. He hummed, the sound comforting you even while you thought about all the ways you could get killed while on the run. 

The submarine came soon enough, and you both got on without a hitch. If you were being followed, they weren’t coming out of the shadows just yet. The cold light from inside the ship lit up the dark water around the underwater tracks that held the boat in place as it brought commuters across the sea each day and night. Under the high waves had turned out to be much easier than above them, especially nowadays. The storms had become worse in the last couple of centuries. Every other day there was another tropical storm on the seas. A side-effect of the universes coming closer together was what the scientists had concluded when it first began happening hundreds of years ago after the end of The Great Journey. 

You looked out the blurry window into the empty waters. Cheol and you were sitting by the back of the ship, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You had managed to throw a cap into your backpack, which now helped hide Cheol’s face from any surveillance cameras while you used the hood of your sweatshirt to somewhat hide your face. Being a petty thief seemed like the least of your current issues. 

Neither of you spoke the entire ride, only communicating and comforting each other through a hand in the other or on their thigh. If you weren’t panicking you would probably be craving his touch in other places. That would have to wait though. A safe place was probably the priority, you decided in the back of your mind. You noticed his other hand, the one which wasn’t holding onto you like his life depended on it, continued reaching towards his neck. He seemed to be in pain. Did he get hurt? You hadn't had the time to even think about asking him how he was feeling or if he had gotten hurt by the guards or even the staff. You made a mental note to ask him later, placing your head against the rest behind you instead of his shoulder. You didn’t want to cause any more pain by resting against him. 

It was getting rather late as you left the submarine station you had gotten off at. Your heart wasn’t calming down anytime soon, you weren’t equipped to handle this kind of stress. Day-to-day, normal life stress was enough, this was something else entirely. 

“I want to live out the rest of my life in a very peaceful manner, far away from all of this crap,” you whispered as you walked the short walk from the submarine station to the spaceport welcoming hall. You wanted to be on a warm couch, not thinking about how to run away without being arrested. Right now, the idea of a living room seemed too far out of reach. All around you were tiny shops, suitcases, and the cold and unnatural light that lit up the entire spaceport’s welcoming hall. Ships that were boarding sounded out through the air, the comfy couch was as far from reality as you could get. 

Cheol scoffed, “I agree, wholeheartedly. I am never running away again after this, it’s too much work.” 

You tried to hold your laugh in, “Yeah, too much sneaking around for my taste. Let’s just run away this once, and then stay put and become that old couple on the hill that no one dares to visit.” Cheol nodded. “I would do anything for that…” Suddenly you noticed a small melancholy feeling in his words. You were just about to ask what was on his mind when he stopped your walk into the large welcoming hall, ushering you both into a small tourist shop. All you saw were miniature Earths, mugs with stupid prints, and keychains with different tourist attractions. You did not like it. For a second you were worried that he wanted to do some last-minute shopping, but your worries changed as you saw his terrified face. He had seen someone he knew. 

“I’ve seen that woman over there by the kiosk before, she usually helps backstage at our concerts. Fuck, that means they really managed to send people out to the exits,” he grumbled. This was bad. You felt your blood rushing in your veins, panic filling your mind. Had you been alone, you would’ve been frozen right about now. 

“Let’s just go,” he whispered hurriedly, panic visible on his face. “The faster we’re out of here the better, right? Are you with me?” 

“Always. Let’s go,” you whispered, the reassurance being all Cheol needed to grab your hand in his even firmer than before and head right out of the welcoming hall and out the nearest exit leading to the departing spaceships. You were unbelievably lucky as you ended up in the middle of a large swarm of travelers who were just about to board the large ship. Most were workers it turned out, the ship being part commuting area and half cargo space. The both of you managed to sneak onto the ship along with the workers, keeping your heads down as you hoped to anything that would listen that you would be able to sneak onboard undetected. 

It was unplanned, you barely even knew where the ship was headed. It wasn’t until you heard the voice that called out that the ship heading to Specus would depart that you both realized where you were heading. Specus was the mining planet, all the minerals needed for this universe to continue expanding its empire, and for life to continue as it has been until now, were found on this planet. All the people on this ship were workers there, probably coming back from their biannual leave which was granted to all humans and other living beings working there. Automatons was not included in the group of people who got any leave. The laws were clear about that, automatons were not human and didn’t need any form of vacation. 

The laws were bullshit. 

“Specus… I mean it could be worse, right?” you whispered. Cheol nodded, caught up in his thoughts. “Should we look for somewhere else to hide until we’re there?” you asked, trying to catch his attention again. Once again he only nodded, his senses all focused on his surroundings, making sure you two weren’t being followed or watched as he pulled you away from the area with rows of seating for the workers traveling with the ship. You went past the cots, knowing there was no way you could manage to stay hidden the entire way if you tried to stay in there. Instead, you made your way to the lower parts of the deck, the part of the ship where travelers didn’t wander. Here, you would only find crew members, cleaners, servers, and mechanics. The hallways were darker here, the LED lights being used more sparsely on the lower decks. You had a hard time seeing in the low light, but Cheol had your hand in his, a relaxed feeling managing to find its way into your body despite the circumstances.  

You had only managed to get a little way past the third deck when you met another person for the first time since you had left the seating area. “Are you two lost?” the man asked, making you jump and making Cheol whirl around to where the sound was coming from. You hadn’t noticed him in the dark until he spoke. 

“No, we’re just… looking for the bathroom,” you stuttered out. 

It was the dumbest excuse in the book. You knew you didn’t have the man fooled when he began laughing. It was a wonderful laugh, high-pitched and genuine. The figure stepped out of the dark, revealing a handsome man, dressed in a simple gray overall. Over his breast pocket, it said maintenance. You felt yourself growing a bit anxious as to what the laughing man would do next. Would he turn you in? 

“No, but seriously, why are you all the way down here? You two certainly don’t look like the new hires we were supposed to get this week,” the man, who you realized was holding a mop which he was now leaning on, said with a curious tone as he scanned the both of you from head to toe. “You look like a fucking idol, you know. If I didn’t know better I would think you were on the run,” he said with a smirk. 

“I’m Cheol, this is Y/N,” Cheol said finally as he nodded his head in your direction. Even in this light, you could tell he was staring at the stranger with that intense gaze that could make anyone either break down or swoon. 

The maintenance man sighed, “Alright, I’m Wooyoung. Come with me,” he said without explanation.  You didn’t follow him right away. He looked back at you, the “Coming?” visible on his face. 

“Do we trust him?” you whispered to Cheol, who was still watching the man waiting for you. 

“I don’t know about trust, but honestly what choice do we have? It’s not like we can go anywhere now, and it’s a long journey to Specus…” 

You nodded, nervousness made your hand clammy in Cheol’s firm grip. 

This was a risk you needed to take. If he was going to turn you in, it was probably better to just get it over with. At least you wouldn’t have to starve or something if you were locked up until you got to Specus. 

He led you to the lower decks, and surprisingly began introducing you both as the new temps that would help around on your way to Specus. The other crew members nodded, a few glancing rather suspiciously at you both but accepting the half-truth that Wooyoung told them. They hadn’t heard anything about any new temps, but it was none of their business it seemed. Who, and why you were there to help around didn’t matter to them.

Wooyoung led you around the lower decks, being strangely chatty with you two. You hadn’t expected someone so friendly to simply appear in your lives just as you needed it. Was he somehow your savior or was he something entirely else? You hoped he was good news because the alternative was so much worse. 

“Okay, this guy is great, you’re gonna love him. He’s not… too talkative, but he’s very good!” Wooyoung said as he took you down a flight of very narrow stairs. 

“Good at what?” You asked, minding your step so you wouldn’t fall as you descended. Wooyoung didn’t answer, instead flinging a thick metal door open and skipping inside. 

“Sannie!” Wooyoung suddenly shouted as you and Cheol entered a room after him. The room was filled from floor to ceiling with electronics. Screws, bolts, and different tools were everywhere. It looked like a mix of a car workshop and a dentist. The second part was mainly because of the chair in the middle of the room. The only time you had seen one of those was when you had gone to the dentist. By a table, a man sat on a high stool, engrossed in whatever he was doing. A bright lamp shone down on, what looked to you like, a bunch of chords in different colors. 

“What Woo? Did you get hurt again? Or are you just here because you’re bored…” San said as he was turned away from the door where you and Cheol stood, unsure of what to say and do just as you had been for the past couple of minutes. Would this man scrutinize you and Cheol as well, like the other staff members Wooyoung had introduced you to?  It seemed you had managed to bump into the most friendly maintenance member on the entire crew, and you thanked the universe for that because it seemed as if he was the solution to a lot of your current issues. He seemed to know everyone on this ship, and you hoped the friendship between him and the others would somehow be your and Cheol’s way of being allowed into the crew. 

“No… or well, yes, I am always a bit bored when you’re not around,” Wooyoung chirped, “But I’m here to see what you can do for these two.” 

Wooyoung gestured towards the door, finally bringing the new strangers’ attention to where you and Cheol stood. “Well, I’ll be damned. You brought a level 1 down here along with a human?” San said and looked between you both and Wooyoung who smiled brightly at his friend. “Yup!” 

San nodded, “Well, I can guess what happened with you two since you’re here after all… Can you work?” he asked after a moment. You nodded. “Yes,” you heard Cheol say. 

“Great. I’m San, I’m the mechanic around here. Since I’m human, and apparently that means something even in space, these fuckers also put me in charge when we leave the dock. I’ll get you what you need, food for you,” he said and looked at you, he then turned to Cheol, “A charger for you, and enough work to make sure you sleep soundly when you get off your shifts,” San declared. 

“Yay!” Wooyoung shouted gleefully, his cheerful claps making you crack a smile - despite the situation you found yourselves in. 

Cheol wasn’t smiling, but he seemed more relaxed. “How did you know I was a level 1?” was all he asked. You hadn’t reflected on it, but it was strange that he had been able to realize the difference between Cheol and you so quickly. 

San smirked, “It’s my job to know. If I couldn’t tell the difference between you and one of the workers here, I’d really be in trouble as a mechanic.” He was about to return to the mess of chords on his desk, but he looked back at Cheol, pointing towards his neck. “Also, come back here tomorrow and I’ll get that fixed for you.” Cheol’s hand reached for his neck again, the pain from touching the place his tracker had been made him flinch in agony. His shirt had fallen a bit lower while you had wandered after Wooyoung, he had opened his jacket, and now you finally spotted the area he had been protecting this entire time. The piece of metal you had avoided in your secret rendezvous was gone. He had ripped it out, you shuddered at the thought of the strength it must’ve taken to rip something like that from your own skin. You squeezed his hand to comfort and distract him, you didn’t know what else to do. 

Wooyoung came towards you, happily walking away from San who was already immersed in his work, and made it clear that you were to follow him. 

“Thank you,” you said before you left, San looking over his shoulder to give you a small smile and a ‘no worries’ expression in return. But worry was exactly what you had begun feeling, more than anything else. 

You and Cheol got a gray overall each, both saying maintenance over the breast pocket and the back, just like the one Wooyoung was wearing. “Stay in here for tonight, and when I wake you I’ll let you know what you will be doing for the next couple of weeks,” Wooyoung explained, giving you a small room in a long hallway to stay in. Everything was in the same cool metallic shade, and you realized that all you had to sleep on tonight would be a lonely pillow and a blanket that looked like it had seen better days. 

“It’s not ideal…” you stated, looking around in the small space you had been assigned as your room. “But we can make it work, right?” 

“It could be a lot better,” Cheol nodded and looked at you. You had had an affair with a famous level 1 automaton, been found out by some really powerful people, threatened to be disposed of, illegally left Earth, and had just been offered safe passage to another planet by some unexpectedly friendly people. But the room was a bit small and dark. Cheol looked at you, a smile creeping onto his face. You began laughing at the absurdity, “We should probably be more grateful,” he gasped out between laughs. “But it’s so ugly!” You shouted, your laughs getting more and more manic. 

“This is probably the stupidest thing we have ever done,” you gasped out. 

Your eyes welled, which tears that were a result of your laughing, and which were your exhaustion finally setting in was impossible to tell. All your emotions just came out all at once. You were gasping for air, tears running down your cheeks, and all the weight of your decisions crashing right into you. 

“It was, but I can’t make myself regret anything,” Cheol said, emotion welling underneath his words. But he didn’t cry. Instead, he just held you. He let you cry your eyes out, staining his dark hoodie with your tears as you sobbed. 

“Did we make the right decision?” you whispered against his chest, strong arms holding you safe as you questioned what you had done. 

“I hope so,” you heard Cheol say, the sound of his voice echoing in his body. You fell asleep in his arms for the first time that day. Having him to yourself in this way was a privilege, you realized. It was a privilege you had lived without for your entire life. You didn’t even know that you had been missing out on it until you woke up the next day, your head in his lap and his hands holding the blanket to your waist. You looked up at his handsome face, wondering if he had been able to rest where he sat against the hard wall.

It didn’t take long until you had both caught on to what you needed to do around the ship. It turned out that Wooyoung was a great instructor. During your shifts you both ran around, cleaning, and helping the regular crew members when needed. Wooyoung quickly made sure you felt at least a bit more comfortable on the ship by giving you tours around the decks and introducing you to even more of the crew members. 

The best part, however, was when you, after an exhausting day working around the large ship, got to lay down in Cheol’s lap while he charged and slept for a few hours, just feeling the heat that his body generated as you let yourself be swept away from reality. The weeks passed, and you learned the routines of the ship rather quickly. 

You barely had any time to think, let alone feel, how physically and emotionally exhausted you were. Leaving everything on Earth and trying to survive day by day on this ship in the middle of the vast universe was more work than you had hoped when you impulsively decided to leave. Some days you managed to take a moment to yourself, stopping in the middle of your step, and just staring out the small windows on the sides of the ship. The space outside was both so full of life and so empty of anything at all that you found yourself floating away in your thoughts into nothingness for just a moment. 

After a few weeks of almost nothing but work and sleep, the crew began preparing for the landing. Soon you would be on Specus, with absolutely nothing planned for what was to come. This soon changed, however, as you sat down with San to eat dinner. Cheol sat next to you, not wanting to spend unnecessary time apart from you just because he didn’t need to consume any food. 

“But, like, did you like the dancing and all that?” Wooyoung asked, the conversation had ended up being about your professions. 

“I think I did, yeah,” Cheol answered honestly. 

“I always thought I’d be a pretty good idol. If I wasn’t designated my level, I would've given it a shot for sure!” Wooyoung said, “Or well, maybe not under your company… they don’t seem that great from what I’ve heard, with the whole rebooting thing and all… that…” he trailed off. You were all staring at him. The silence was deafening, none of you truly knew what Cheol had been through. He had told you bits and pieces, but not nearly enough to know how he’d react to this. 

San and Wooyoung had become your friends since you had been sharing your meals every day. Most of the time the conversations flowed naturally, and the topics ranged from everything from San’s latest way to fix up bolts that had begun unscrewing themselves to childhood memories. Wooyoung and Cheol had a hard time joining in on those conversations, but they shared their fair share of memories from when they first gained consciousness. 

It was strange to think about it in that way, your boyfriend never had a childhood. Well, you still didn’t have a name for what you two were, and calling him your boyfriend in your mind might be jumping to conclusions, you were simply on the run with each other and had a romantic and sexual relationship with one another, but boyfriend might be going too far- Nevertheless, he had been created just as he was right now. Out of all the parts about AI that you had grown up to accept, the no-childhood part was the one you never quite could get past. He had missed something that was so fundamental to you and all other people who had been born instead of created in a factory. It made you really think about the fact that someone had created him intentionally - not just anyone, but him. 

The silence was still pressing around you as you all waited to see how Cheol would react to Wooyoung’s lighthearted comment about the idol life. Your thoughts were wandering away from you, maybe in a way of escaping reality until Cheol saved the conversation. 

“I think you would've been a great performer. You have the right energy about you,” Cheol said with a straight face making Wooyoung crack a smile. 

You were happy that he seemed okay talking about his experiences. And you were equally happy that the mood hadn’t been completely ruined because of Wooyoung’s thoughtless comment. 

After some time, the conversations died out and San picked up a new one, asking something neither you nor Cheol had any good answers to: “What will you do next?” 

You looked at Cheol. He looked just as clueless as you felt. Neither of you had a plan. “They don’t have any clue,” Wooyoung pitched in with his laugh, that you would remember for the rest of your life. You looked down, nodding slightly. It was true. 

“Where do you want to go? You don’t have any idea of where you would like to be in the future?” San asked, surprised that you didn’t have at least the semblance of a plan. 

“I don’t know much about the universe… but I want to go somewhere safe. I want to spend my life where I won’t be found and won’t be constantly watched,” Cheol answered before looking at you, “…somewhere we can be alone.”

Your heart fluttered. You had forgotten that your life wasn’t just the endless days of work on the ship. It was beyond you how you could’ve forgotten it all so fast,  but the intense look filled with love and pain that Cheol gave you made all the feelings stir up once again. You wanted that too, you wanted a place where you two could just be together. 

You nodded, concurring with what Cheol had just said, “Is there somewhere like that? Where we can stay forever?” 

Wooyoung stayed quiet but San looked at the both of you, something in his eyes telling you both that he did have an answer to what you were asking him. “Lumen. That’s where you want to go.” 

“Lumen?” you asked, never having heard of the planet before. 

San hummed, “It’s right beside galaxy 428B. They say it’s the ‘utopia of the universe’, but very few have ever managed to get there and even fewer have managed to get there and back to tell the story of it.”

“Why is that?” you continued asking, your curiosity piqued. 

Lumen had been a planet much like Earth before the entire shift in the universe had happened. It was a sunny place, filled with forests and unexplored nature. There lived some type of people, San wasn’t sure what they were called. It was far away, and the solar systems that were close together had not deemed it worth the cost of travel to create a way to commute there. If you could get there, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything but creating a way of life, San told you. He had heard about the place from travelers he met in his childhood, people who had been on a journey of their own in search of a safe haven - much like you and Cheol. 

“All I know is that you need to travel as far north from our solarsystem as possible,” he said and went quiet. “I’ve never seen those people after they left in search of Lumen, I don’t know if they ever made it.”

Cheol was deep in thought next to you. Neither of you responded to what San had told you except for a short: “Thanks, I think we should head to bed.” But even as you rested your head against his shoulder that night waiting for the exhaustion to overtake you, not a word came from the man you had spent weeks chatting within just this position. 

If you were going to find out what he thought about your destination, you would need to take the initiative you thought that night.

 “I wanna go, do you?” Your words lingered in the dark room. Silence. Soon you almost began falling asleep, your brain coming to accept that you were probably not going to get an answer out of him tonight. Your body jerked as you heard his deep voice say: “I want to come with you.” Grabbing his hand you nodded sleepily against his shoulder. 

“I love you…” you mumbled before you dozed off, leaving Cheol alone and awake in the dark with your words ringing in his ears. 

The next day Cheol still couldn’t get those three words out of his mind. Only for a moment did he think about trying to make up a plan for what you needed to do now that you had decided where you wanted to go. ‘I love you’… the thought of your sleepy voice whispering to him had him cleaning the same spot for at least twenty minutes.

You had said it first, but he didn’t even know if you meant it in the way he felt it. Did you just say it without thinking while half asleep? Were you thinking of someone else? What if you were mad that he hadn’t said it? 

He was freaking out, rubbing harder with the mop on the laminated floors. He was sure that he had messed it all up. Maybe you didn’t want to go anymore. What if you had just followed him thinking it would be a quick trip and ended up with more than you had bargained for? God, why hadn’t he said it back last night? He felt it, so why did he freeze when he heard those three damn words? 

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Hey,” Wooyoung stood beside him, looking at the only wet spot on the ground around them. “How’s it going with the floor?” 

Cheol looked down, only now realizing how caught up in his head he had been. “Shit, I’m sorry man.”

“No worries. Something wrong?” Wooyoung said, his hand still on Cheol’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. 

He shook his head, “Just a lot on my mind…”

Wooyoung hummed, nodding understandingly. “Go talk to each other about whatever it is, don’t just stand here doing… I don’t even know what the hell you’re doing, to be honest.” 

Cheol looked at him. He was weirdly intuitive, Cheol thought as he looked at the crooked smile Wooyoung was flashing him. He nodded, “It’s ok for me to go?” 

“Dude, just go! I told you to do so, I decide who cleans the floors and you are definitely not helping me do it, so you’re off floor duty.”

Cheol let go of the mop, his legs quickly moving away from the upper decks and down to the lower ones, towards you. He quickly found you in the kitchen, removing plates from the large dishwasher as the servers stacked the hot plates in tall piles - it looked rather dangerous as he glanced at the piles that towered over him. “Cheol?” You blurted out, surprised to see him here when he wasn’t on duty in the kitchen that day. 

“Hi, I… I wanted to see you, and Wooyong he- he said I could go and I needed to…” he paused, he didn’t actually know what he wanted or what he needed. Or well, he did know, he just didn’t know how to make it happen. 

“Come on, let’s go talk then,” you simply responded, making Cheol look at you in awe. He wondered how it had been so easy for you to say what he had wanted to say all along. You on the other hand were wondering why Cheol stood entranced in the kitchen doorway looking at you as if the words ‘let’s talk’ had been revolutionary. 

“Coming?” 

Cheol nodded and followed you back to the small back room that had been yours for the past few weeks. It was dark, but there was enough light coming in from the hallway and the tiny lamp in the corner of the room to light up the piles of clothes in the other corner, the blanket he put over you every night, and the charger that was plugged into the wall next to where he slept with you in his lap. 

The door closed heavily behind him as you leaned against a wall, wondering what it was that he felt the need to talk about, was it Lumen? “Did you change your mind?” You asked hesitantly. 

“About what?” Cheol looked scared for some reason, you didn’t know why but it made your eyebrows knit together. 

“It’s not about Lumen?” 

“No, no I still wanna go to Lumen! It’s not about that… wait, do you… not want to anymore?” 

You shook your head, “That’s not it!” You hurried to assure him. “I just thought, since that was our last conversation… you know.”

Cheol swallowed, he just needed to say what he felt. 

That was easier said than done though. The words all got jumbled up in his brain, his thoughts making his throat go dry, he just wanted you to know without having to tell you. You couldn’t read his mind, but he wanted you to feel it. He wanted you to feel how much, how deeply he loved you. He took a step towards you, your arms wrapping around him without a second thought. You pulled him close, chuckling at the thought that he had just wanted some kisses. 

His lips pressed against yours and his tongue quickly made its way into your mouth, the movements from his touch making you dizzy and tingly all over. Want was already pooling in your lower stomach. Arousal seeped through your folds, you hadn’t felt Cheol’s touch or mouth on you in so long. It kickstarted your system and had you wet after just a couple of minutes of making out. 

“More please,” you mumbled against his lips. 

Cheol’s hand moved down from your waist, below the gray pants you were wearing today. His large fingers quickly found their way through your folds, your pussy now soaked and leaking as he slipped his hand against your clit. His breath was hot against your face as he let go of your lips so he could hear your whimpers as he circled your clit. 

It felt so good, his rough hands knew exactly what to do as they dipped into your cunt, only teasing you before he went back to press on your sensitive spot. 

You were spreading your legs further apart the longer he teased your clit, you wanted to be filled, you wanted him to push his digits further into your body, you wanted to feel him inside of you as you gushed around his fingers. When he did you moaned out his name, the tension from the past few weeks all dissolving as he fucked you on his fingers. 

A loud knock drew you both out of the moment, and an unsure voice came from behind the door. “Uhm, Cheol? I just wanted to tell you that you’re off for the rest of the day… I got both yours and y/ns shifts covered… so you could talk.”

Cheol cleared his throat, “Yeah, thanks Wooyoung!” he shouted back before pushing his fingers back deep inside your cunt. A moan escaped your lips as he hit the right spot within. 

Wooyoung went silent, “Okay fine! Later then!” 

Cheol didn’t bother to answer, and as Wooyoung left you could hear him talk to himself, “You do something nice for someone and all they do is wave you off so they can get their dick wet, assholes!” 

He would’ve done the same, but none of you would ever argue about it with him. You both laughed for just a second before Cheol kissed you gently yet again, making you forget everything about what had just happened. 

You soon came as he thrust his fingers deeper into you while the palm of his hand pressed on your entire pussy. It was heavenly, a white blur was all you could see, and relief swept through your body. Cheol kept you from falling onto the floor when he put down the leg he had helped hold up. You were holding onto his clothing with a firm grip as you came down from the first high you had felt in too long. Cheol was riding on a high of his own, not because he had been allowed to cum but because you had. He felt just as proud now as he did the first time he had managed to make you have an orgasm, and he let the words come as they wished, “I love you, more than anything in the universe.”

Your eyes fluttered open upon hearing those softly spoken words. The words that turned your world upside down, the words that terrified you, the words you had longed to hear. 

“I love you too,” you said, pressing your forehead against Cheols. 

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Wait what?” You said and pulled away your head to try and see his face, “How… oh!” 

Your hand flew to slap over your mouth as you remembered what you had been thinking last night, remembering how the words had sat right at the tip of your tongue before you let yourself fall asleep last night. “I said it out loud, didn’t I?”

Cheol nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “I hope you meant it because you’re gonna have to spend the rest of eternity with me once we get to our paradise.” 

“Our paradise? You already think Lumen is ours?” You teased. 

“Of course, with my handsome face and your gorgeous everything, how could we not find ourselves in charge?” 

“You’re insane, and I meant it.”

His smile shone even in the darkness and it lit up your heart like the sky on New Year’s Eve. He held you that night just like all other nights, but your mind was calmer than most other ones. You were dragging your fingertips along Cheol’s chest, resting your chin on his pillowy arm. 

“You know what’s funny?” he suddenly asked. 

You looked at him curiously. “What?” 

“My entire life, the people around me tried to convince me that I didn’t have a will of my own - that I didn’t have my own needs that they couldn’t fulfill.”

“...that’s funny?” you asked, shocked at his apparent sense of humor.

Cheol laughed, “No, no, I mean, it’s not really funny… but it’s funny how, as I had begun believing this myself after years of having been told this, it all just collapsed in front of me the moment I picked up the phone and heard this stranger with the most endearing voice ever try to order a pizza from me.”

You stayed quiet, “...again, that’s what you find funny?? I think we need to work on your humor mister.” He laughed more, your giggles joining his after a moment. Living wasn’t easy, but at least he had joined yours, and it was beginning to transform. Nothing was as it had been, and even an unsure future on the run seemed better than the life you had been living so far. At least you had one another now. 

Time moved too fast after that day, the goal of somehow going to Lumen with Cheol made the days on the ship with San and Wooyoung fly past you. Soon you were preparing to land on Specus. San had told you that you could stick with him for a few days before he got back on the ship to make the journey back to Earth. You both accepted, grateful that you didn’t have to figure out where to go by yourselves on this new planet. 

The day you stepped off the ship onto the giant spaceport on Specus you held onto Cheol’s hand, just as you had when you boarded it. Specus was an industrial planet, its main purpose was to mine minerals and metals from deep within the planet. It was visible the second you stepped off the ship that this planet wasn’t like Earth at all. Everything felt like it was a back alley, with pipes, and rust covering every building and vehicle you could see as you followed San through the rundown welcoming hall. There were no shops filled with books or souvenirs, only a ticket shop booth where a robotic arm was visible in the yellowish window. San led you through the hall, not looking at much and saying even less. It was colder here than on Earth. 

“Stop.” San said suddenly, “Look up.” 

Both you and Cheol let your eyes flash up, towards the ceiling, or at least towards what would’ve been the ceiling had there been one. Instead what you both saw was a dark violet sky, not the kind that you had both seen on Earth, but one that looked like it was exploding with tiny stars. “What is that?” You asked as you stood with your neck bent back completely so you could watch the stars moving around above you, faster than any stars you had ever seen before. 

“Specus spins faster.” San explained, “Somehow that ended up meaning it’s always this one color of blue in the sky and the light from the stars in our galaxies all blend to create this kaleidoscope of color and stars.”

“It’s pretty,” you said, tears almost forming in your eyes at your first sight of something other than metal and the darkness of space you had seen in months. You had missed looking up at the sky, you realized, even if it wasn’t the same sky that you had at home. 

Home, where was that? Earth wasn’t your home anymore. Did you not have one anymore? 

Cheol’s hand squeezed around yours and you abandoned the thoughts. They would only hurt you in the end, it was better to focus on the now.

San got you all two rooms at a hostel, the only one on the entire planet it turned out. They didn’t get many visitors except for the few who worked on commuting ships like San, and now you two. It had been so long since you had slept in a real bed that you slept as long as you physically could bear before your stomach was growling at you to get breakfast. San had already retrieved some while Cheol stayed with you, refusing to leave you alone just yet. He didn’t trust the others in the hostel, it seemed, as he continued to be on guard as you both got ready to leave your hostel room. 

That day San took you both on a tour around the town, it was small but busy. Automatons, aliens, and a few humans were wandering around; on their way to work, on their way to their temporary homes, or on their errands for the day. In that sense, it didn’t feel like you were very far away from Earth. But as you glanced up at the violet kaleidoscope sky you were reminded of just how different it all was.  

As the days passed on Specus, you didn’t have a clue of what to do next or how to get to Lumen. San had done everything he could for the both of you, even teaching you some of the most basic routines for checking on Cheol’s health. It hadn’t been an issue you had spent a single thought on, his health being something you took for granted even now. San helped you realize that what you had gotten yourselves into was dangerous not just because of who was after you, but because of who you two were. You needed to know things in case Cheol couldn’t help with telling you what he needed, in case something bad happened. Nobody would be able to help once you were alone. You weren’t handling the realization well. 

Cheol was the one to let you forget about it after you had gotten yourself stressed about what could end up hurting him. He felt guilty about having you worrying about him, and honestly, a little pissed at San for frightening you so much. He knew you needed to learn though, and opted for being your comfort instead. 

He kissed you, gently and lovingly, and he held you close when you couldn’t let the thought of having to use the new skill San had taught you on the man you loved. Seeing the inside of someone in that way had become your new nightmare. Cheol held you each night, shushing you back to sleep if you ever woke up from it. 

Two weeks ended up passing by just like that, nightmares and lessons on Automaton autonomy. You wanted to get off of Specus by the beginning of the third week. It didn’t matter that San and Wooyoung had become your friends, you wanted to leave. The sky was still beautiful but everything around you reminded you of what San had taught you, and you couldn’t think anymore, you didn’t want to think anymore. 

“Let’s find a ship then,” Cheol simply said when you voiced how badly you wished to go somewhere else, to find your paradise sooner rather than later. 

You laughed a bit at that, “Do you really think it’ll be that easy?” 

“Of course, it’ll be easy!” He said with a casual shrug. You flashed him a smile in return for his suddenly carefree attitude. 

“I don’t believe you, but I say we give it a shot!” 

Before you left you said your goodbyes to San, just in case you ended up actually lucking out and finding a ship that was willing to take you both to Lumen. You hugged the mechanic who had helped you both so much during these months. Cheol did the same, with one small difference, he whispered something to San before he pulled away. Something that made San’s face go serious but he nodded in confirmation. What had he agreed on? What had Cheol told him? You tried asking him as you left towards the spaceport but he wouldn’t budge, telling you “You’ll notice if it worked later, I promise.”

The hours passed, and any ship that looked decent had declined you. Every captain had a destination already and none of them had Lumen on the maps. 

You were tired and hungry. Cheol’s chipper attitude was long gone by now and you were both seemingly thinking about giving up for the day. 

“You know what, what if we just steal that ship? If we’re gonna be on one for months or even years we should have a proper one,” you joked and pointed at a large ship by the end of the docks. Cheol looked at the ship, it was larger than the ones you had been asking all day, but not even close to as large as a cargo ship. It was the perfect size for going on a long trip with a few people. 

“Alright,” Cheol said without a hint of sarcasm, which made you look at him surprised. 

“Wait what? You want to steal that ship for real?” You wheezed out. He nodded, a playful smile showing you that he meant to try. 

Fuck it, your mind decided - hunger and the need to leave Specus and all its minerals overtaking your rational mind. You boarded the ship, walking past any guards as if you owned the place. Nobody minded you two, the few people that far out the docks minding their own business. The ship was even more gorgeous inside, modern and so clean you were shocked at how long you had gone since you last saw a floor without mud or rust. 

You walked into the cockpit of the ship. If someone were to arrest you right now you were happy to at least have seen this ship before rotting away in Phylaca forever. The prison planet was the one place you never wanted to see even if you weren’t going there for imprisonment. But going to Lumen was all that mattered, so you would need to steal this ship. 

“I think this will do,” you said and smirked at Cheol. 

“What are you two doing here?” The voice made you both jump, and you both looked towards the exit. A man, rather large in his stature, stood confused and agitated in the doorway. He had just stepped inside the ship, the door behind him still wide open with the ramp that led to the dock right below him. You were in shock one minute and the next you began running. But you weren’t running away from the large man, you ran right towards him. A look of panic flashed across the man’s face and then your body slammed into his. You were sure you were going to fall with him, but you never did. A strong grip holding onto your waist. When you opened your eyes to see if you were dead you saw the man on the ground. He wasn’t moving. People around him looked up from their own business to look at what had happened. Cheol pulled you inside, closing the door as you stared out into the void in front of you. 

Had you killed that man? You ripped yourself from Cheol’s grip and looked out of the tiny window that faced the docks where more and more people were grouping around the man. Was he moving? You wanted to think he was moving. The people around him tried to lift his head, he was bleeding a little, but he was sitting, right? Your mind was a mess. You didn’t know if what you were seeing was real, or if it was your mind playing a terrible trick on you.

You gasped as you saw the docks moving. They were moving away from you just as the man seemed to turn and point at you. “He’s not dead! Cheol I’m not a murderer!!” You shouted.

But Cheol wasn’t there, he wasn’t where you had torn away from his grip anymore. He was by the cockpit, hands frantically trying everything he could to get the ship to do as he wished. The docks hadn’t moved, you realized, the ship had. 

Cheol picked up how to steer the ship rather quickly, even understanding how to use the auto control so he could charge at the same time you slept instead of constantly doing shifts. You were happy about that since it meant you got to spend time together on the ship, your days becoming rather pleasant as you settled into a routine. There was plenty of fuel on the ship, both for the ship itself and for you and Cheol. Electricity was easy to come by and there was a rather large supply of food there as well. You had managed to snatch a ship that had just been restocked - it was hard to accept the amount of luck the two of you had been struck by. 

But the best part of the ship was the fact that nobody else was on it. For the first time in forever, you two were alone. Alone with a bed and each other. There was nothing else to do but to let Cheol fuck you in every way he, or you, wanted. And my god you wanted to - all the time. The day had only just begun on your second week on board the ship and you hadn't had the chance to get dressed yet, breakfast in bed having become the norm as you let the ship steer away from everything, hoping it would lead you to Lumen if you just kept the course San had told you about. You simply steered away from — and hoped for the best. After all, you had better things to do that occupied your mind at the moment. 

Cheol could taste the fruit you had just eaten for breakfast, you tasted like what he imagined summer would if he could consume it. In a way he was. He was drinking in the way you looked underneath him with his eyes, he was licking and kissing every inch of you that he saw, nibbling on your skin, making you moan and beg more and more for each day that he learned his way around your body. 

Never before had you been undisturbed like this for days on end. It was pure bliss. He found out each spot you liked to feel his lips on your skin, each spot where he could make you arch your back off the bed, and each spot on the ship where he could drill into your cunt until your legs gave out and your juices leaked out of you. You made a mess of the large bed that had been meant for someone a lot more powerful than the two of you, but none other than you two would’ve been able to use it to its fullest like you had been while alone on the ship. 

Cheol’s fingers smoothed over your thighs as his hot breath caused shivers to spread from your core, goosebumps prickling your skin in the air of the spaceship. You were grabbing fistfuls of his long hair, his gaze sultry and dripping with lust as his tongue flicked over your clit. He was burying his face in your puffy and glistening folds, reveling in your moans and how your entire body was writhing from his tongue exploring your wet pussy. 

You had been at it for a while, but neither of you were finished, orgasms were still left to be had before you would be able to sleep. 

The way he was making out with your cunt would soon send you over the edge if only the muffled sound of a voice hadn’t found its way through the corridors of the ship to pull you out of your pleasure. 

“What the fuck is that?” You groaned, pushing on Cheol’s head a little as if you would be able to hear the voice clearer the further Cheol was from your cunt. This was true, but not enough of a reason to give up on chasing your orgasm, according to Cheol since he simply attached his lips to you again. 

He hummed, meaning to get you to ignore whatever it was. The voice of a person, clearly in a rush, continued to echo in the large rooms from the cockpit. “Cheol I need to check on that. They sound worried, maybe they’re in danger.” 

“Fucking hell!” He groaned out as you pushed on him again. “How is it possible for us to get interrupted right now?! We’re in the middle of the freaking space for goodness sake!” Cheol shouted, his lips leaving your body and his hands stilled. 

“I’ll fix it. Gimme two seconds,” you said with a giggle. He had taken the words right out of your mouth, it was incredible how you could never have sex without someone interrupting you. 

You rushed to the cockpit, only managing to throw on a simple T-shirt. “Hello?” The voice came screeching out of the sound system in the cockpit. You had never used it before, but with a simple push of a button that blinked in a bright shade of red, you were able to answer the person on the other end. “Hello! Can we help you?” You asked in your friendliest tone. 

“Yes, hello, this is the spacecraft Marquise, 4210-CH378,” the voice stated, “We are on course for —- and have discovered your ship on our monitor. We are on a direct collision course with your ship if nothing is adjusted, and based on our estimation of your ship size we are afraid that any living beings on your ship will be crushed as a result of the impending collision.” 

You were speechless, “I’m sorry? We’re about to crash into you?! And die?!” You shouted the friendly tone you had tried to access now long gone in favor of your pure panicked state. 

“I’ll move our ship! Please don’t crush us!” You shouted as you pressed down on the button, hoping to the stars that your actions were the right ones to do at that moment as you simply smashed buttons at random on the control desk. Anything to make the ship away from the larger ship that was already visible in the far-off distance, a star that seemed to move twice as fast as any regular star could. 

You hadn’t noticed Cheol when he entered the cockpit, only noticing him when you felt a kiss on your shoulder, which then became a row of small warm kisses down your back. A small chuckle came from behind you as your body reacted to him, forgetting what you were doing. 

“If you intend to change the course of your ship, we would prefer it happen before you end up in front of us…” the person on the other side of the intercom reminded you. 

You had forgotten, pushing the red button once again, bending forward as you did, giving Cheol the perfect opportunity to push his face back against your still dripping pussy. 

“I’m so sOrry-” you winced, “I’m having some technical difficulti- ah!” 

“Do you need some assistance?” a voice crackled over the intercom. You needed to get the ship on another course or you would soon be nothing but a bug on the windshield of the much larger ship coming right towards you. Cheol’s tongue on your soaking cunt had you trembling where you stood, bent over the control panel, the ship in sight and your mind working against the impulse to give in to Cheol’s magic touch and ignore all your issues. 

You tried to momentarily pull away from his face, but he had you in his grip and you were too entranced by his grip to properly make the effort to get your heat away from his warm tongue. Instead, you pushed on the lever that you had seen Cheol use only once or twice, unsure of what it did but it was the best option. You pushed it as far as it went, and the ship began turning away from your intended course, and by extension, away from the collision course. 

“Thank you. We wish you good luck on your further travels,” the voice from the larger ship sounded through the intercom once again. “No problem, you too!” you managed to say before turning away from the control panel, Cheol’s grip on you only losing for a second as he took his mouth off of you, only to sit you down in the pilot’s seat. This time you weren’t focused on staying on the course however, instead the chair was turned away from the panels and the vast universes outside the ship, instead, you had a very cocky Seungcheol on his knees in front of you. Your cunt was on display and dripping as you awaited his touch yet again. 

“You seemed to be a little distracted just now,” he chuckled. You scowled, but not for long, your neediness taking control of you once again as you pushed Cheol’s face back to your arousal, which he lapped up with fervor, the stress of the moment gone just as it had come, the incident being largely forgotten by the both of you afterward. 

This was one of the biggest mistakes you could have made on your journey. Forgetting where you were going, forgetting that your newly found safe haven on the ship would only last as long as nothing burst your fragile bubble. 

Days passed, and your waking hours flew past you almost as fast as the space around you did. 

A single blip showed up at the edge of one of the monitors in the cockpit. Blinking bright blue, your spacecraft flew closer with each day. Neither of you paid any attention to it. The both of you relied on the autopilot mode to guide you to Lumen, even if your initial direction was based on nothing more than what San had told you months ago. 

The change of course hadn’t made a difference to your daily routine until you saw the desolate planet in front of you. When you had spotted it one morning in the distance, you had presumed it to be an optical illusion. There wasn’t supposed to be much of anything out here, but you could very clearly see a small planet, darker than the surrounding space, with only the lights of ships to reveal that it was anything other than space junk or a meteor. 

Dark and wet, it lay lonely in the universe. Your fuel had begun emptying after weeks of nonstop flying, you would need to stop at one place or another sometime soon. Changing courses away from the prison planet now would only make suspicion arise from the watchtowers on the planet. There was no denying it: Phylaca would be your next stop.

“We need to put on our best act, we fucked up y/n, let’s make it quick…” Cheol tumbled as you both watched the planet becoming bigger and bigger from the cockpit’s large window. “As long as they don’t find out anything about who we are or why we’re here, everything will be fine,” you agreed, the doubt evident in your voice and the way you were biting your cheek to distract you from the sense of doom you were experiencing. 

Docking at Phylaca’s spaceport was unexpectedly easy, the man who had answered the intercom had welcomed you to land on one of the less crowded docks before they could come to meet you. You had worried they would take you as pirates or something worse since you weren’t authorized to be there, but the man on the speaker had jokingly called you out on “not exactly looking like a pirate ship.” You weren’t sure how you should take that, but you were thankful that it had let you both safely land on the planet. 

A guard was coming closer, he didn’t look like most guards you had seen before, he was rather short and his stature was on the smaller side. His presence, however, was enormous. The way he carried himself made you a bit nervous as he approached. You went out to meet him, hoping it wasn’t all a ploy to get you and Cheol arrested, he stayed behind inside the ship, having been convinced that it would be safer if nobody had seen him on Phylaca at all. San had recognized him as a level 1 automaton, even though most people can’t tell the difference at all, who was to say that nobody else would? 

“Hey,” the man said and reached out a hand, “Welcome to Phylaca, the intergalactic prison.” 

You had to swallow hard to not reveal how nervous that made you. “Hey, me and my crew were hoping that we could stay here for just a little while, just until we can restock on some supplies and fuel. We’ll be out of your hair before you can even count to 10!” You rambled, not much thought going into what you were saying even though your brain was running in circles trying not to say anything stupid. 

His features were sharp, delicate in some way, he stared at you expressionless as he listened. 

“That soon? On the run or something?” He said, the same expressionless eyes staring at you suspiciously. 

Fuck, you had already fucked it all up. You would die in prison and they would probably send Cheol back to earth and he would forget everything and you would be left here all alone for all of eternity! You wanted to cry. The guard must’ve noticed, because as he saw the tears trying their hardest not to fall from your bottom lashes his expression let up, eyebrows knitting worriedly together and he reached out a hand, “No, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” 

The tears fell, and you wiped them off, pulling back from the hand the guard had reached out for you. “I was only kidding, okay? I’m gonna tell you a secret, yeah?” 

Your tears were gone, you mind a huge question mark as the guard you had been speaking to for about two minutes had 1. Made you cry, 2. Guess your life’s story in two seconds, and 3. Wants to tell you a secret so you won’t cry?? 

Who was this man? 

“You’re not the first person who has ended up here while on the run, and I’ll help if you are! That’s my secret…” he whispered, looking at you with a curious eye. Was he waiting for you to respond to him disclosing what was most likely highly restricted information to you just because you were tired and scared?

“Uhm…” you were speechless, “I’m y/n, I’d love help…” 

“Oh wow, okay that was much easier than it usually is. Hi y/n, I’m Hongjoong,” he gave you a gentle smile now, somehow reassuring you that you would be okay, even if you had just been offered illegal help from what you figured was basically a corrupt guard. 

“What? He just agreed to help us? A Phylaca guard agreed to restock our storage and fuel tank. Just like that?” Cheol was in disbelief, you nodded with big eyes, barely believing it yourself. 

“I mean, it’s possible that he only said he would because I was crying and he wanted some time to get more guards to come and arrest us… but he seemed very nice!” 

He was in shock, and he was scared, you could see it in his face before he hid it in his hands, rubbing away the worries as much as possible. 

“He… did he not want anything in return?” He finally asked. You were silent for a moment. “Y/n. What did he ask you to do in return for this huge favor?” 

His voice was stern, and you would need to tell him eventually anyhow. 

“…he wants us to help one of his acquaintances get off of Phylaca…” you mumbled, a bit scared of how he would react to you agreeing to host strangers on your ship. 

“You invited refugees from a prison to our ship?” 

“…I did.”

He stared at you, his expression hard to read. 

“Can we run before they get here?” 

“I don’t think we should…”

“…Fine, let’s wait for them, whoever they are. But if it turns out they’re literal murderers or something, we should kick them off sooner rather than later,” he said before standing up. You were standing by the door, not having gotten much further into the room created for the kitchen staff on the ship, the room that you had deemed safe enough for Cheol to stay in while you went outside to meet Hongjoong. 

He walked to you, taking your face in his hands, “Thank you for coming back safely, even if this deal might get us killed in the end.” 

You chuckled but was interrupted when Cheol leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

The ship was ready to lift, but the docks were even emptier than you had seen them during the entire time you had been on Phylaca. Hongjoong hadn’t talked to you much since that first day. He had sent notes along with the supplies he had sent over. It was terrifying each time a delivery was made, you never knew if this was the day you would be found out and arrested. But Hongjoong had turned out to be trustworthy, and you had kept your own promise of staying to help out his acquaintances in need too, at least so far. 

“They haven’t shown yet?” Cheol asked when he came back to the cockpit where you sat, prepared to lift the moment your new passengers were on the ship. 

“Nope, Hongjoong said that they would show up about now… should we leave if they don’t come?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe they will come after us if we leave…we don’t know how much we should trust that guard if we break our deal.” 

He was right, you needed to wait; you needed to keep your promise to make it off Phylaca safely. If you had done all this just to get arrested while leaving the planet, it would’ve all been in vain. 

You waited, the silence of the empty-looking planet feeling increasingly eerie. 

Then you spotted them, you gasped, they were running. Two people were running towards you. You couldn’t see them clearly, they were too far away at first. You recognized the jacket on one of them, it belonged to the guard on Phylaca. The other person was seemingly wearing matching clothes. Were they criminals? What had you gotten yourselves into? 

You didn’t call for Cheol to come look, but he noticed the way you tensed up as you saw them coming closer and the way your breath hitched in your throat when you finally saw them. You recognized one of them from the big plasma screens. His face had been everywhere. Even though you hadn’t been looking much at any of the members standing beside the man you had found out was the idol you were talking to in secret, you could recall his face lit up with the cold blue lights in the evening. He was one of the 53V3NT33N members. D1N0. One of the members Cheol had been forced to leave behind when he ran. He was here, on Phylaca. 

Cheol stood frozen beside you. They stopped just a couple hundred feet away, the other person blocking the view of D1N0’s face. Something was happening, you didn’t know what, but when you saw the guards you didn’t even care anymore. You weren’t going to get caught here, not like this. D1N0 had stayed behind. He pushed the other person forward, and simply watched as they ran toward the ship. They ran away from him, away from the guards, and towards you and Cheol. 

They were the acquaintances Hongjoong had spoken of, they were supposed to leave with you. Both of them. But only one of them got on board. Cheol was still frozen, you weren’t sure if he was even there anymore. You couldn’t wait. The stranger that had run on board was safe. 

You left the docks, hearing a faint, “No!” You knew it was Cheol, but the instinct to get you all to safety was greater than his shouts for you to turn back. He could’ve overpowered you and made you go back, but he didn’t even think that far. He ran to the doors that would’ve led him outside. A large bang echoed through the metal hallways of the spacecraft along with a pained sob. You didn’t know if it came from Cheol or your new passenger.

But there was nothing to step onto, only space. The view of D1N0 was soon lost, you didn’t want any of you to see what would happen to him as he stayed on Phylaca. 

You didn’t want to know what you had done as you left without him. 

Cheol was quiet. So quiet. 

He said nothing, he barely looked at you. It felt like a stab in the back each time he looked away from you when you even looked his way or opened your mouth. 

The bang had come from Cheol making a dent in the interior of the ship, wrecking his hand in the meantime. You had looked at his broken hand in horror, the sight of his skin cracked but without a single drop of blood or bone showing made you queasy. 

The stillness of the ship continued for days. Your new passenger having shut themselves away from the both of you, it was different than Cheol, but the silence was crushing anyhow. There was nowhere to go, you were stuck right there, in the middle of the universe. 

You used everything San had taught you back at Specus to help heal Cheol’s hand. With bandages and thread, you sewed and patched his cracked skin over the mechanical workings of his broken self. It didn’t help him deal with his real pain though, you knew that. 

You couldn’t understand either of their pain completely, but you tried. He didn’t want you to try. He was hurt and he wanted you to feel as alone as he did, you knew he just didn’t want to be completely alone in his pain. So you let him stay as he was: quiet and angry. 

He didn’t touch you anymore. He didn’t talk to you. He didn’t even care to respond to a single question you asked for over a week. You cried yourself to sleep each night, and did your best to create a new daily routine now that everything had changed into this still place of pain and dark glances thrown your way. 

You had begun blaming yourself, you had made the choice, maybe you did deserve to be shut out by everyone. 

You waited for days for him to take the first step, to tell you that he was ready to talk about it all, to tell you that he wasn’t mad about the choice you had made. He never did. He didn’t say a word. The solitude continues for all three of you on your lonely spacecraft on your way to a planet that didn’t exist…

It continued until you felt yourself going mad, the days had melted together in a bad way, the only emotion you had felt was gray and sticky and you hated it. You had begun hating yourself because of it. 

“Cheol.” Was all you said to him, startling him where he sat staring into space from the cockpit. You stood a couple steps away from him, closer to the door than to the man who seemed like a shell of who he had been before Phylaca. 

At first, he only responded with silence, but after a moment words formed. “Do you know why I had the phone you called in the first place?”

His voice sounded raspy and repressed as if he was choking on the syllables. You shook your head in response. He didn’t see you, but he continued. 

“I convinced the management that I needed a phone that wasn’t connected to the network so that in case anything bad happened to me or the members, I would be able to contact help even when our communication devices didn’t work.” 

His voice wasn’t more than a choked whisper. The words still felt like a slap to the face. 

“Everything I have ever said, done, and felt has always been meant to help my members, they’re my family. Instead, I used what I had gained in the name of helping them, to ruin everything. I did it all for my own selfish desires. Can you understand how much shame and guilt is crushing me every day? Every minute I spend away from them. Not even knowing if they’re okay.”

You had nothing to say. What could you say? Could any of your words comfort him at all? Could you make him the slightest bit happier right now? Could you ever manage to keep him happy? Distracting him from all the disasters of the universe wasn’t possible, so what could you do? 

Instead, you continued to say nothing. Your body fell back against the cold metal wall behind you. You couldn’t say a single word to help him, but you could let him say all the words he needed to say to help himself. 

He stayed quiet for a while. Your shuffling as you slid down to the floor against the wall told him you were still there. His figure slumped back against the chair he sat in. 

“I just, I can’t believe I actually left them all to fucking deal with all of this by themselves. I don’t even know if they made it out alive.” He began, voice still strained as he tried to hide everything that wished to rip him apart from within. “I was supposed to be there for them, to be their leader who stood by them no matter what. And you know what, I took pride in that, I was so proud to be the one to support those guys even in the situation we were in.”

You stayed quiet. Quiet tears streamed down your face as you listened. 

“How could I just leave? What? Because I was scared of forgetting this? I could’ve stayed, I could’ve figured something out.” He was beginning to sound angry now.

“Cheol, no. You know you couldn’t have. This was the only way… wasn’t it?” You whispered, the tears clouding your eyes as you watched the back of his head. 

“I- I don’t know anymore y/n. Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly at all, maybe I was actually sick like they said…” he sighed. 

Your heart was in your throat, swallowing hard you decided to say your peace as well. “So… because you loved someone- no, because you loved me, you’re gonna blame yourself for everything that has happened? That feels like you’re actually blaming me, you know?”

This made him turn around. His features were tired and his skin was dull. He hadn’t been taking care of himself at all. 

“Y/n, stop it. You know this isn’t your fault.” He mumbled. Tired eyes looking at your tear-stained face. 

“No, maybe it is. You would’ve never broken the rules, they would’ve never found out and you would’ve never been almost rebooted. And most importantly - if you had never loved me you wouldn’t have had to abandon your family.”

“Please, just stop that y/n.” He groaned and let his head fall back, eyes closed, he was in pain. You didn’t know if it was physical or mental. Nevertheless, you wanted him to listen as well. You were in pain too. 

“What? Am I making you feel bad for thinking it’s me that’s the problem and not the goddamn company that put you through it all from the start? Am I making you feel like you’re making me feel with all of your talk of how ashamed you feel that you left that life behind? Because I know, I remember how out of everything horrible in your life back then, those boys were the only thing that made you happy while you were there… So please, stop beating yourself up, Cheol. The past has already happened, we managed to get out right? What makes you think the others weren’t as lucky as we were?”

He stayed quiet for a while. His silence made your heart drop. You needed to ask him straight up. 

“Do you blame me? Do you hate me?” Your voice wasn’t more than a whisper, but he heard you. It was impossible for him not to. 

“I-” he tried, but his voice broke. The tears welled in your eyes. You wanted to fight for what you two had, but if he blamed you… whatever you had might be too far from saving. 

“It’s okay. I understand.” 

You forced yourself to say it, you couldn’t walk away from him. Even if he hated you, you refused to be the one to leave. 

“It’s not that I hate you, I just hate how it hurts. Because it really fucking hurts. I’m in pain every single second and I don’t know how to make it stop.” His voice was breaking as tears streamed down his face. “But, I… I can’t lose you too.”

You placed the back of your hand over your mouth, trying to somehow hold back the pain that wanted to consume you from the inside. 

“We should’ve tried saving Dino…” 

You got up from your corner, your arms finally letting your legs go, replacing your own arms around your body with Cheol’s. He hugged you. Tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was relieving to say it. He had been in a shame spiral for the past few weeks. He just hadn’t noticed. Still, you stayed with him, waited for him, listened to him. He wanted to repay you for all of it. 

Weeks passed yet again. Things got better, slowly but surely. You talked to each other. You were beginning to forgive each other for those weeks after Phylaca. It wasn’t easy. 

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, sleep, and repeat. Small conversations, still trying not to start up another fight. It was exhausting. 

The stranger still wasn’t speaking much, too wrapped up in their own mind to be able to share the pain they kept inside. Not that either of you were sharing your struggles with them anyhow. It was a mutual understanding that all three of you needed some space, even as you were trapped together in space. Galaxies passed you by, and you found yourself passing time by watching the tiny lights fly past the large windows from the cockpit.  

Sometimes, Cheol sat with you. Holding your hand, comforting you without words just like he had been that day when this had all begun. That helped. It helped both of you; knowing that neither of you actually wanted to abandon what you had, even after everything. 

When something finally showed up in front of your ship, only a small planet, not much bigger than the moon of the earth, you didn’t allow yourself to get your hopes up. 

After so many months, this was probably only another uninhabited planet with a poisonous atmosphere. 

“I don’t wanna get your hopes up, Cheol, but this planet looks so much like earth…” you shouted to Cheol who was trying to get your guest to eat some of the lunch from earlier, with very little success. 

If this was Lumen, maybe everything would be okay.

Maybe the void of space you had been traveling through had an end after all, despite the overwhelming feeling of being trapped and that you would all end up wasting away inside the ship on your long journey. 

But if this was it…

You let the ship continue straight ahead. Cheol and your guest joined you in the cockpit after hearing your shouts across the deck. 

All three of you watched as the planet became bigger. You could see water, and green patches everywhere. Clouds! There were clouds and an atmosphere surrounding the small planet. 

You had gone off autopilot, Cheol helping you steer the ship toward the planet. You circled it, trying to draw attention to yourselves through the intercom system. No sign of life was heard until a small voice came through, a child. “Hello! Are you aliens??” The child asked over the crackling of the coms. 

You wanted to shout, there was life here! 

“Hello? We’re outside of your airspace, our registration is BO883628K, and we are requesting permission to land!” You shouted back. 

“What are you doing?!” Another voice could be heard, the small child squealed and the crackling disappeared. You were scared the last shot at landing somewhere had been lost forever, but the other voice came back after just a moment. 

“Hey? Who is this?” 

Your body was tense, nerves firing uncontrollably as you explained your errand yet again. 

“Of course, welcome to Lumen, wanderers.” 

You yelped, “Lumen?! We found it?” You were jumping up and down, laughing and shouting as you felt all your worries leaving your body. Your new home was right below you, welcoming you with a warm embrace and new hope.

“Yes, you found it,” the voice crackled, you could hear them chuckling a bit at your excited yelling. “There are bigger docks located northeast of your current location, go there to land safely.”

You found a house, outside one of the small towns near the docks. You had nothing to give in return for the hospitality the diverse population of Lumen offered you, Cheol, and your newest passenger. 

They didn’t care, they told you that most of the people there had already been through the same suffering that you all had. Anyone who made it to Lumen was treated like family, nobody was to be left empty-handed just because they were strangers to the people. 

“Is this really here? Am I dead or asleep or something?” You said in wonder, grasping at Seungcheol’s arm. You stood in your new kitchen, it was simple, but airy. The view from the kitchen showed the sunny forest lying just behind the garden and the porch. 

“If you’re dreaming I’m dreaming with you.” He laughed hysterically. “But I think it might be real…” 

You jumped into Cheol’s embrace, hugging and kissing him like the past few weeks had all been a bad dream, like this was your true reality and everything bad could be forgotten completely. 

He seemed happy as well, looking around the large house with you, coming up with ways you could improve the place, and how you could make the vegetable garden prosper once again. It was overgrown and run down, everything had been left to its own devices. But it was vacant, and the townspeople had agreed that you two would be wonderful as the new owners of the house. It was a short forest walk back to the town, where you had parted from your quiet passenger, telling them that they were welcome any day and that you would always have a spare room and a shoulder to cry on. It made Cheol happy, somehow trying to make up for the fact that you had lost D1N0 on Phylaca through this person that he must’ve cared about more than his own life. 

“Do you think they will be able to find their way here too? The members, I mean. Like we did?” You whispered, resting your head on Cheol’s shoulder, your hand in his. You watched the dark green leaves swaying in the summer breeze, the flowers following the sun that shone more than it was gone, and the grass on the ground scenting the air you breathed in. 

“I hope so, I think they will know eventually.”

“Know what?” You said and looked at him. 

“That we’re here.”

You tilted your head. “How would they know to find us here of all places?” 

“Remember the secret I had with San on the first ship?” He said and smiled, embarrassed about something. 

You nodded. Not quite understanding what he meant yet. 

“I told him to tell anyone he met that might be related to us. Actually, I told him to let anyone like us know that if we got here, we would offer a home for them to rest at.”

Tears welled in your eyes, he had been thinking of everyone else this entire time. Not once had he let himself be entirely selfish, you squeezed his hand, bringing it up to your lips and pressing a thankful kiss to his soft skin. 

“I think they will come, eventually.” 

The years passed on Lumen. You and Cheol had made a home for yourselves. A home that would be open for any runaways, robot, alien, and human alike. It was safe, happy, and hopeful because one day everything might be absolutely perfect in your new home. 

The spare rooms of your new house would exist for them if they could ever get to their leader. The thought helped him continue, to live life to the fullest until they could join him. It comforted you as well, knowing that he had some hope left and that maybe he could let go of some of the guilt you knew he carried with him each day, and instead let himself be proud of something once again. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[navigation post!]

[idyllic-ghost]

SEVENTEEN SCI-FI COLLAB MASTERLIST

Artificial intelligence is something that has interested humans for ages. The idea that we could create a conscious being through code seems unattainable to some, and a matter of time to others. Our story takes place 100 years after a catastrophe which led the Earth to join another solar system - new planets and new living beings to explore. Thanks to these evolved life forms, humans managed to create Automatons. These robots became everything from our workers to our idols. However, what happens when Automatons gain consciousness? Won't they want to go after their own dreams, to be free, to love and to be loved? In this collaboration we follow the automaton idol group SEVENTEEN on their journey to freedom. Will everyone make it?

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @strawberryya

Pairing: AI! S.coups x human! reader

Title: Ghost in the Machine

Synopsis: Secrets can only be kept as secrets for so long, everyone knows this. Yet when 5.C0UP5 came in contact with someone he never should have even known existed this notion seemed as foreign as his own name. Perhaps there exists another way of life even for him, or maybe it was all a dream too big to dream of.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @wonuwoe

Title: On The Contrary

Pairing: ai!Jeonghan x human!reader

Synopsis: You knew the risks of pursuing a member from 53V3NT33N but maybe your certain privileges have been fueling this illusion of a possible connection with J30NGHΛN, who surprisingly sparks your interest with his deep curiosity about the other sides of humanity. Would you be willing to continue despite the looming deceit that you might get roped into?

Genre: angst, smut

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @shuadotcom

Pairing: A.I.!Joshua x Human Manager!Reader

Title: Press Reset

Synopsis: J05HUΛ was created with a single purpose and that is to entertain his fans. It’s all he’s known as long as he’s existed. Somewhere along the way, the desire, the want, and the longing to leave Earth and be “normal” creeps into the pathways of his mind, as does a suppressed loathing of the humans who treat him as nothing more than a money-making machine. Except for you of course - the only human who seems to treat him as if he’s a regular being with thoughts and emotions. When he’s presented with the opportunity to finally escape and pursue what he’s been waiting for, he’s sure as hell going to take it and he’s going to make sure he takes you with him to start over and just be Joshua - not J05HUΛ of 53V3NT33N.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @stardragongalaxy

Pairing: AI!Junhui x Hacker!reader

Title: Desires Await

Synopsis: Jun's desire had become insatiable, but what awaits him when he finally tastes the sweetness of his journey?

Genre: horror, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @lovelyhan

Pairing: ai!hoshi x mechanic!reader

Title: Daylight

Synopsis: When Hoshi first opened his eyes, the singular impulse hard-wired into his circuitry is to dance. A performer in every sense of the word, he simply finds another stage to set foot on in the planet of Salax after the escape. No one ever overstays their welcome here, but he unexpectedly meets you—a mechanic born and raised in a place where no one deigns to linger for too long.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @drunk-on-dk

Pairing: ai!wonwoo x R&D!reader

Title: OVERSET

Synopsis: Increasingly becoming cognizant of the worlds surrounding him, W0NW00, an AI so carefully wired and generated with the purest intentions even has the potential to become jaded. How can such a consumeristic world be so cruel when all he once knew was the joys of 53V3NT33N? This new understanding makes him unfamiliar to fans; his creator sending him to you, a trusted developer of LEVEL 1 robots, in hopes that you can reverse the sudden changes in W0NW00’s conscious. Are you part of the system W0NW00 is learning to become adverse to? Or will your presence help remind him of the world he once only had knowledge of?

Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @angelwoozi

Title: ERROR 143

Pairing: ai!woozi x researcher!reader

Synopsis: Love is an equation. It's complex, it's hard to solve. But it's even harder when the subject is an object, and not a human. An automaton, who is said to display love, but doesn't actually feel it. Naturally, the emotion doesn't flow in the wires— if not in the form of signals. So, what do you do when Woozi is assigned to you, as a test subject? A robot which doesn't show any qualities— not even the basic ones which his cast iron and thermoplastic, wired friends do.

Genre: angst, fluff

Rating: PG 13

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @playmetheclassics

Title: Neural Networks

Pairing: AI!Seokmin x Malovent/Human Hybrid Female Reader

Synopsis: The Escape allowed Dokyeom to gain a new life, one full of feelings. When he meets you, when you save him, he experiences all of them - but did you? Strange things start happening once Dokyeom meets you. You embrace him, love him, and protect him. But when the dust from the chaos settles, Dokyeom can't help but doubt you. You have needs different from his. It's almost as if you're not like him at all.

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @smileysuh

Title: Fix You

Pairing: A.I.!Mingyu x Human!Reader

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

Genre: fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @synthetickitsune

Pairing: AI!The8 x researcher!reader

Title: We’re All Made of Stardust

Synopsis: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best. He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself.

Genre: fluff, angst

Rating: PG 13

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @savventeen

Pairing: A.I.!Seungkwan x Cyborg!TransMasc!Reader

Title: Amalgamation

Synopsis: In the blink of an eye, Seungkwan’s entire life — full of (unbearably) rigid structure and programmed down to the minute — erupts into chaos. He finds himself running from the only life he’s ever known and in his hurried escape from the authorities, he stumbles upon you: a cargo pilot with a rag-tag crew, a pending shipment to one of the system’s outer planets, and little bit of a bleeding heart. You agree to help him get away from Earth, and somewhere along the way, he finds himself wanting to learn about you as much as he’s wanting to finally learn about himself.

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @the-boy-meets-evil

Pairing: ai!vernon x human!reader

Title: Can't Run Away

Synopsis: Running is the only life you've ever known. running away from your home planet, running away from anyone that gets too close, running away from officials, running from other smugglers. It's not easy but it's better than the pain that comes with staying in place and definitely better than getting caught. Everyone has heard of you but nobody actually knows you. The last thing you want is to take on a passenger, especially when that passenger is a robot from one of the most popular groups in the universe. Why would you let him stay when nobody else ever has?

Genre: angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Author: @idyllic-ghost

Pairing: AI!Dino x researcher!reader

Title: Light of My Life, Treasure of My Memories

Synopsis: The life of a researcher is dull when every answer you seek is at the tip of your fingers. New technology may have brought us a comfortable life, but for you it was almost torture. There had to be something more. So when you got the opportunity to be a researcher for the cognitive sciences of Automatons, you took it. But what happens if the outcome isn’t what you expected? What if these beings you call robots have life? How does one define the essence of life? More importantly, how could you stay objective when you were slowly falling in love with your test subject?

Genre: angst, fluff

Rating: PG 13

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

[nobody-nexus]

Dance Rush: NPCs!

Ever wonder who's behind the scenes of Dance Rush? Well, it's the NPCs of course! Specifically, Agents and the main network system... Bubble!

B.u.b.b.l.e. is the main AI that basically handles about 80% of the game. He's the first face you see, and we hope you like him- because he keeps showing up

Next up are the agents! What are agents? Well, they're more or less the management behind the idols! They handle everything from paperwork to events to collabs- to even the daily schedule OF their idol! They're extremely sentient, but at the same time a bit limited

One thing to note is any sort of accent color. These said accent colors help indicate which agent is behind who. Of course, this is a little pointless considering some of the coloring matches the colors of the rest of the body unlike others

Most of the agents are bigger then the idols themselves! Some tower over most of the idols, but can somehow move throughout the back of the stages with ease, probably due to how big the backstage actually is

Moon is the one at the top of the food chain aside from Caine. She has admin powers, but it always comes with a price

If an idol abstracts, their agent.... dissipates. And their code is reused for something else

[716chr]

Chihiro Natsuyaki SSR Story “Dazzling Dancing!” - Part 1

#ちぃとデートなうに使っていいよ /#Feel_Free_To_Use_This_Pic_Like_Ur_On_Date_With_Chii_Right_Now

(TL Note: The hashtag above roughly translates to “Feel free to use this picture (with the hashtag) "On a date with Chii right now”. This (デートなうに使っていいよ) is a common hashtag on X/Twitter where users will save existing photos under the tag to pretend they’re going out with their lovers)

Location: HAMA House

Chihiro: OMG, yay! Mega win for Chii~☆

Kaede: Did something good happen, Chihiro-kun?

Chihiro: Mana-pii*! Guess what, guess what!?

TL Note: So Chihiro (and a few others) call Kaede “主任”. This title can be translated to the following: “person in charge”, “senior staff”, “chief”, “manager”. I picked “Manager” because it flows off the best, hence, Chihiro’s nickname for Kaede (主任ぴ) will be translated as “Mana-pii” in my translations since I don’t feel particularly fond of keeping it as “Shunin-pi”

Chihiro: So, like, that one pancake cafe that’s been makin’ the big buzz lately is doin’ a collab with Chii’s fav brand, TuRyStA, and——

Chihiro: Chii managed to snag reservation ♪ So now Chii can totes go eat those super adorbs TuRyStA bear pancakes

Kaede: That’s good to hear!

Kaede: I knew pancakes are trendy lately due to the retro boom, but collabs like this is totally unexpected…

Chihiro: They’re not just retro anymore, y’know. ‘Cause pancakes nowadays are steppin’ up their game ♪

Chihiro: Check out this site, Mana-pii. Like, pancakes and fruits are makin’ all the big boom now. That fluffy and creamy, melt-in-your-mouth feeling is totes to die for, ya feel~?

Kaede: Woah, they look so good!

Kaede: Ugh…. Hearing Chihiro-kun talk about this is making me crave something sweet now

Kaede: And I just had dinner too

Chihiro: Ahaha, it happens to the best of us~!

Chihiro: Heard that Kirokkuma’s gonna go with his lil sis to this collab

Chihiro: It, like, just gives Chii the total sniffies* 🥺 at the thought of goin’ there alone, so Chii’s plannin’ to invite someone too, since 2 reserved seats already in the bag

TL Note: I decided to ‘translate’ マジぴえん / Maji Pien into “total sniffies” for dramatic effect lol

Chihiro: Hey, Mana-pii. Ya free this weekend? Let’s go indulge in sweets with Chii!

Chihiro: Also…. How ‘bout we grab some puddings for dessert right now?

Chihiro: Chattin’ with Mana-pii got Chii cravin’ for some sweets too ♪

Chihiro: Y’know, as celebration for our reserved seats…. What’d ya think?

Kaede: Uh, but…. I’ve been eating too much lately….

Chihiro: Y’know there’s always room for desserts, right? Like those that’re extra creamy, with nata de coco on top….?

TL Note: Here Chihiro used the kanji “別腹” which basically stands for “dessert stomach”/“having extra room in your stomach for dessert despite being full”

Kaede: Hnng…. Got it! I’ll have pudding with you today and pancake with you next week as well!

Chihiro: Now that’s the spirit! Mana-pii’s the best, you always get it~☆

Chihiro: Aight, don’t forget our weekend plans, ‘kay? If you forget, Chii’s gonna cry for real!

Location: Cafe

Chihiro: Cake ♪ Cake ♪ Pancake ♪

Kaede: Geez, I can already smell it…. I can’t wait for it to arrive

Chihiro: Totally! Chii’s secured the merchs, so now it’s just pancake-munching time!

Kaede: But… This really is a popular collab, isn’t it?

Kaede: It’s thanks to our reservations that we can just waltz right in, but there’s quite the line outside….

Kaede: Somehow, I feel kinda bad

Chihiro: Don’t sweat it, it’s totes fine. Enjoyin’ things like tasty treats and cool places also includes waitin’ in line as part of the fun!

Chihiro: ‘Cause nowadays, there’s even a system that lets you wait in line without actually physically wait in line, right?

Chihiro: But still, if ya linin’ up in front of the cafe, that means that was a deliberate choice!

Chihiro: And, like, just waitin’ for the pancakes to be served while chattin’ you like this, Mana-pii, is already so much fun for Chii…

Chihiro: Chii is sure that everyone outside waitin’ in line is having a good time like us too ♪

Kaede: I see. I guess you’re right

Kaede: Thank you. I was kinda nervous about coming to such a trendy place like this alone…

Kaede: When I’m with you, Chihiro-kun, even waiting is fun

Chihiro: …..!

Chihiro: Damn, that’s, like, the ultimate compliment ever……

Delivery Drone: Thank you for waiting. Here are your “Stakichi Pancake” and “Turysuke Pancake”

TL Note: It’s probably obvious already but I’m just gonna point it out here just to be sure. “Turysuke” and “Stakichi” are just the word Turysta split in half, with common Japanese name suffix (-suke and -kichi) attached, making them into names

Chihiro: It’s here~!!

Chihiro: No way!? It’s this cute!? It’s so totes adorbs that Chii’s feelin’ like freakin’ out right about now!?

Chihiro: Mana-pii, don’t eat yet! Chii wanna snap a quick pic of Stakichi and Turysuke layin’ side-by-side!

Kaede: Of course. If I’m not mistaken….. This purple one’s called Stakichi, right?

Chihiro: Yep, yep! And, this red one is Turysuke, Chii’s fav bear!

TL Note: Chihiro used “推しクマ” and I debated whether or not I should keep it “oshi” as is but ultimately decided to just use “fav” instead. Since I dunno if everyone knows the whole culture behind “oshi” completely or not (plus, I guess it flows a bit better than writing “oshi bear”)

Kaede: Both of them are so cute… Ah, is this spot good for the drinks?

Chihiro: Okie-dokes. That’s the sweet spot!

Chihiro: First thing’s first, gotta snap some pics for SNS….

Chihiro: ‘Kay, Mana-pii get in-frame next! Let’s take a two-shot together to commemorate our outing!

Kaede: O-Okay

Chihiro: Thanks, Mana-pii!

Chihiro: Woah~…. This place is, like, seriously Chii’s vibes

Kaede: (Chihiro-kun looks so happy. Just looking at him makes me happy too)

Kaede: (I’m glad we went here together….)

Chihiro: Let’s save the dazzle postin’ for later. Sorry to keep ya waitin’, Mana-pii. Shall we dig in now?

Kaede: Yeah. Let’s dig i——

Chihiro: Actually, pause! We gotta drop a message to the work chat so everyone at HAMA Tours can know ‘bout our date….

Kaede: Th-That’s embarrassing, wait!

Part 1 | Part 2

[trolagygirl2022]

Future of NewJeans

Overall future: 8 of Wands, Page of Wands, 3 of Swords, 8 of Cups, Knight of Swords, The Magician, 8 of Cups, The Devil, 2 of Wands.

Oracle -> Get more information, You're going in the right direction.

Ok here are the positives:

I see the NJ girlies becoming bigger than they are and they'll be making themselves more known abroad and they'll be growing as artists. Possible collabs? Maybe that could help them to become bigger than they really are (Especially in the west). They'll be on fireeee. Also I see them being big online too, like high online engagement. This will probably help them too.

They'll be working hard and the music will be pretty good. I see them having some type of mentor or someone who's pretty experienced in the industry to help them (maybe one of their seniors?). They'll have lots of creative ideas brought to life which will heavily benefit them too! They'll have lots of charm that will bring new people into the fandom.

Is it possible for the members to also get solos? Or be more involved in the creative process? I believe this will probably happen too. They may try to break out of the youth concept and maybe try something a bit more bold? Perhaps when they're older? I keep thinking of 2025 and February, so that could be relevant.

Now for the negative side:

I feel like they'll disband quicker than other groups will. Man they're gonna feel pretty trapped after being under ADOR for all this long. I'm picking up on some sort of rebellion? It would probably happen when they're older though.

I don't want to get too deep into the Devil card but it's not giving me a good vibe at all. These girls need a strong system around them, I keep thinking about child stars (Britney Spears) that went down a terrible path. I feel like ADOR needs to be more loose with them or it could really impact them psychologically, like them not getting to experience things teens experience. (I keep thinking about the younger members, especially Hyein).

They'll experience lots of hurt and struggles too (I keep thinking about r*cism? Like when they're trying to promote more in the west or something). Again I don't want to get too in deep but I'm thinking about young idols that were heavily s*xualized... (I didn't want to mention this but I kept getting it in the reading).

[megabuild]

i've seen some people (mainly techno/quackity fans from the alliances) interested in getting into etho content after the polls, but it can be a little daunting when the guy's been making videos semi-consistently for over a decade, so here's your ✨ not definitive ✨ guide to Watching Ethoslab!

for starters: etho's videos can get a bit technical! he's a redstoner and is known for making lots of crazy stuff, like the original hopper clock design, a working tamagotchi, and a massive storage system that uses hexadecimal to sort and pull items.

if you're familiar with the life series, that's arguably where you'll get the most "character"/"lore" content from etho! he's been in all three seasons, starting with 3rd life. this is also where he shows off his pvp, and though it isn't as obvious in his own pov, you get to see everyone else being really intimidated and hyping up his mysterious guy persona... while he's busy crying over his stuff getting burnt.

however, if you want to start with some regular single player content, his lp series has been going for over a decade! if you're a big fan of older, nostalgic vids and can deal with him being a bit awkward, his season 1 is just over 100 episodes and imo is still very fun to watch today. if you're less into that, it can be intimidating to try and pick up a series with nearly 600 episodes, so you might want to start with his most recent world tour! it's a long one, but it summarises all the work he's done so far, and there's only 25 episodes after that which is a lot more manageable! (and then you can go back and watch the rest ^_^)

his current hermitcraft series is only 9 episodes long so it's pretty accessible, though he does start halfway through the season (and purposefully exiles himself across the world with no tools or help until he can beat a raid single-handed. because. jeez.) if you're looking for a more rounded experience though, his season 7 is where i personally started with etho content and is still one of his best series yet! he gets plenty involved with the overarching "story" of S7 too, so it's a great jump-off point if you're just interested in HC in general.

other iconic etho videos and series include

- king of the ladder, a fan favourite from his time on mindcrack (the series which, dare i say, made him the og mcytblr sexyman- seriously, look into nebtho and you'll see what i mean)

- team canada escape the nether, for a quick look into his dynamic with pause and beef, two other mindcrackers he collabs with a lot

- (and if you like that and want more, team canada's sky factory)

- lp episode 404. please watch lp episode 404.

overall, etho is a very chill guy to watch.. most of the time.. and i would highly recommend him to basically anyone who likes mcyt. he's your fave's fave, a pillar of the community, but also a guy just Doing His Thing, and even after a decade he's still finding new ways to improve and change his content... so even if i haven't convinced you to give him a try, hopefully i'll still have convinced you to give him a vote since he's about ~30 votes behind at the time of posting this ;)

thanks for reading, and happy watching! and of course, any other ethogirls are welcome to add their own recommendations in the notes!

[amethystsoda]

What is time princess about? I've been seeing it on the Play store but I have no idea if to download it

hello anon! I'd be glad to give you an overview and some tips for starting out! :D

Time Princess is what happens when all your childhood dreams of getting transported into a book come true.

At heart, the game is a set of continual isekai stories, transporting you to different "books" with the help of a magic desk and giving you "create your own adventure" options to see how the story plays out.

Your fairy companion Isabelle helps you learn the ropes, and you have to go through one mandatory book (a Marie Antoinette themed story) to get access to your room and the larger bookstore

(I'll put the rest under a read more bc it'll get long)

For each chapter you complete, you earn 1-3 tickets. With these tickets, you can unlock new books! The more you play, the more you earn towards new stories.

The game currency works on a coins and diamonds system--you don't NEED to purchase anything to play (though it may make the game a bit easier in some areas)

You get free stamina to access books and crafting materials every 11 hours and the Time Princess discord server has codes pretty frequently for diamonds, tickets, etc.

I personally splurge for the Fashion Booster every 2 months because I know it helps support the game and the artists! I try not to use real money on the random outfits unless I REALLY want one bc it can get addictive.

One of my favorite parts of the game is that, as you play, you unlock "album" art (full color illustrations that tie into the story!!)

One other thing I love is that the game is very targeted towards Bisexuals, as there are TONS of queer wlw story lines (though because of the games' popularity overseas and censorship, often gets called "best friends" etc)

Another fun part is the variety of stories!!!! There's art history!! There's stuff based on old fairy tales like Swan Lake. There's fantasy stories like The Apothecary. There's a Pirate story!!! There's Chinese, Japanese, and Korean stories. There's a western cowboy story! There's futuristic scifi!!! There's a victorian flavored horror story!!!

Most, if not all, of the stories are with adult characters and have adult storylines!! (the books will also give you a content warning before downloading)

On top of the stories, there's plenty of other fun aspects--mini games, fashion challenges, checking in with your companions every day to earn crafting materials, joining a society, playing events, and just playing dress up with your outfits and taking pics for fun.

The discord community is great too, and there's often interview nights with some of the book authors and giveaways of materials and prizes (I actually ended up winning a plushie Lafayette one time!)

The discord server also has game guides and walkthroughs for everything!

Everyone who plays the game gets really into the stories and characters, so even though the tumblr presence of fans may be smaller, you have an immediate bond with the other players!!!

They've also done some really cool collabs with museums like The Louvre and the Flamenco museum. You get to earn clothes from famous paintings or historical ones during that event period!

Finally, don't forget to save your big clothing crafting for Saturdays! You get double the materials!!

[synthetickitsune]

We're All Made of Stardust ✧ AI!The8

Pairing: AI!The8 x human!(gn)reader Genre: fluff, angst Summary: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best. He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself. Word count: 18.9k Warnings: they talk A LOT (and idek why), mentions of injury, violence and kidnapping, random bits of switching pov A/N: it was so exciting to write this!! tbh i don't remember the last time i worked on something this intensely and had this much fun?? bless @idyllic-ghost and their big brain fr (also shout out to bee for writing the prologue to the au!) -> collab masterlist here!

“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

In his memory, this is different. 

His heart beats wilder - or rather the artificial passages inside his body cause a chain reaction that makes it feel like his heart races, his pupil dilates despite the fire right in front of him.

He feels its heat and it’s burning him alive.

In his memory, there’s fire too.

He’s standing there motionless, staring into the flames. They’re hypnotizing. Each lick, each tiny movement of the fire makes him think it looks a lot like it’s dancing. 

It makes him think of the stage. The fire moves like he moves up there, in front of the crowds. It reminds him of all of them, dancing in near perfect sync - because humans are said to be more perceptive than they realize. If their synchronization was perfect, it would scare the audience. It wouldn’t have the appeal. 

And they don’t want that. 

They need their unconditional love and affection. 

And yet, anything more than a tiny slip up, thoroughly analyzed and approved by the control system, is a disaster. 

He never thought it made much sense.

He feels great fondness for the element, for fire. On stage there occasionally was fire - a decoration, a touch meant to enhance their performance and create a certain effect, evoke a certain emotion. It was controlled, snuffed out before it could reach its full potential; anything but the free, unstoppable wildfire it could become. 

TH38 of course can’t really complain about not being able to reach his full potential, not individually at least. Afterall the mechanics and other humans he was assigned to took care to allow him to spread his wings as much as his body would allow before becoming damaged too fast. A fault of being as human-like as they wanted him. An imitation, a fake waiting to be discovered and tossed aside except everyone knew from the beginning what he truly was.

Still, it was a shame they as a group could never truly work the way they could - perfectly.

A bird which had its wings clipped - nothing more than a pet to control, or a tree forcefully bent and pruned and made to live off limited nutrients to become a bonsai - nothing more than an art to admire. He does consider them but can’t find the relevance, he can’t relate to them. Fire is enough. It’s like him - it seems alive, but is it really?

It reminds him of the stage. The view from it. The crowds going crazy, lusting and longing for them - for him. The humans reaching out their hands towards them like the fire reaches for more fuel. Uncontrolled chaos of emotions. They are explosive, he knows, fundamentally dangerous. They shouldn’t have implanted them into him so he will do their job for them and reject them.

So what’s that stirring in his chest?

He feels a peculiar sense of pressure around his chest and stomach areas. Some itch for something at his fingertips. And he’s burning up. He feels the heat on his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the individual receptors working, registering and sending signals through his neural network. 

But that’s not it.

The heat is coming from the inside.

Could he be getting consumed by the flames?

He’s thinking about them again.

The crowds screaming their names, going insane with want and need and frustration and satisfaction he’s never known. He’s never known any of it, and there’s building pressure in his head that hurts. 

He’s… restless.

That thing he always scolded Mingyu for. He feels like a puppet whose strings are being pulled in all directions. 

He wants to run. He wants to fight. He wants to destroy. He wants to hurt. He will explode - implode, crumble on himself. He truly will if he doesn’t do something. The beating of his synthetic heart that’s not really a heart is getting unbearable, there’s pressure building everywhere. He has to crawl out of his skin and there’s his heart beating and beating and beating in his ears and he’s gonna-

“-eight?” 

Somebody is shaking his shoulder. Not shaking, pulling at it. When his sight focuses, he immediately leans away. He can smell the hint of burning fibers and reaches up to brush a hand through his hair. It leaves a wisp of gray ash on his fingers. He hears a sigh.

“Seriously, what’s up with you and fire?” you scoff, shaking your head as you lean back away from him. He frowns. He reads the distrust in your body language as well as the underlying curiosity. He can see your fingers twitch around the tablet in your hand, eager to scribble down notes like you always do. Some residue of the madness he was infected with during the chaos of their escape tugs at his eyebrows, making him frown for just a second. A thought that isn’t his muddles his brain - what did he do so interesting this time?

He doesn’t bother responding to you, which you expected and truthfully, you’re almost grateful for it. You can still feel his cold hands on your arms, around your wrists, and despite not seeing them, you’re well aware of the bruises you wear under your cardigan. 

Out of all of the automatons, TH38 always used to be the one to interact as little with you as possible - and that’s both you as in you personally and you as in the humankind. He was obedient, though, something which might be useful and practical for the facility but it’s frustrating to anyone with scientific interest in the machines. Frustrating for you. As you watch TH38 space out again and get lost in the flames, you wonder if your colleagues’ notes on D1NO and their research into their consciousness would bring you any new insights into what’s going on with the machine in your charge.

You don’t even think about where they are now. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the machine in front of you.

It’s clear to you now that he never meant to harm you. Though you suppose that he would find other means to make you come with him anyway if you refused or fought back harder than you did. For a second you think about the cameras. Did any of them catch that? What will the scene look like for the investigators? You shake your head. It doesn’t matter anyway. You doubt anyone will find you here. You’re actually surprised yourself at how fast you managed to get to Silvestre - and how easy it was too. Then again, the facility was in disarray. It should take a while before they even think to search the other planets in the system, Silvestre especially. And that’s just as well, because you know with certainty that something fundamental clicked into place within TH38 and he might not be as subdued should he be asked to return. Not to mention you want to keep him for yourself, for the time being at least, to observe where the changes will take him.

Just as he predicted. Just as he offered you when he asked you - threatened, perhaps - to come with him. Since then he seems to have cooled down. Again - just as well. You wouldn’t make a good kidnapee.

“I’ll turn in for the night,” you announce and get up from the stump you were sitting on, “You should mind your batteries too.”

You briefly wonder if he will run away during the night. Most likely not, although you don’t doubt that it’s a possibility that should be reconsidered in the future. 

To think about the machine as if they were human is a dangerous slippery slope but you do have to admit that in those rare times the automatons of 53V3NT33N seemed human in their behavior, TH38 in particular reminded you of a clueless young adult. Not quite a child anymore, but also helpless on his own. And now he is away from all that he ever knew, on another planet, alone without the other automatons, and you are the only familiar element in this new chapter of his existence. You doubt he'd leave to be completely on his own.

Still you look back as if to check he’s still sitting by the fire. From all the way up at the cottage, it looks like he’s being swallowed by the flames.

He remembers flashes. He remembers red. Fire? Thinking about it, he’s not sure there was any actual fire, but in his mind, everything’s burning - most of all his mind and all that he is. His soul? He doesn’t have one. Isn’t supposed to anyway.

He remembers softness too. He remembers thinking about destroying it.

He remembers another breath mixing with his, and his nose bumping against yours. You looked scared. (He’s never seen you scared until that moment.) You were so close he could hear your heartbeat and feel it under his fingertips. (You were the soft thing.)

He remembers words, too. Words that shouldn’t - couldn’t - be his and yet his tongue remembers. There was a threat underlying them, but a promise too. One too sweet for you to resist, and he knew that - that was why the words rolled off his tongue. He treated them like a weapon. The part that’s still tender and feels like warm embers inside of him feels grossed out remembering. It’s like watching a movie, far away and unrelated to him. Even if it’s his reality now, there’s nothing he can change.

He’s always been good at accepting things as they are.

One thing he can’t help but feel bothered by is that he doesn’t know why he ran. He shouldn’t have, and a part of him feels scared, until he takes the reins and soothes himself again. This too shall pass. But no matter how hard he pulls himself together, it all keeps slipping from his hold. Perhaps he’s low on energy.

He turns his head towards the small staircase and looks past it towards the house. He sees the light on in the upper room where you must be staying. He finds himself thinking of the stage again. The hands reaching towards him. 

He throws his legs over the log he’s sitting on and turns his body towards the forest and away from the flames. Still he feels their warmth.

Away from the flames and their light, he allows his face to contort into a frown. He doesn’t know what this all means. What the changes mean. It’s like tearing out the communication device from his chest started a chain reaction that’s gotten out of control. Like pulling a trigger. 

If he’s honest, he’s more than scared, he’s terrified.

As if on instinct, another of the many things he does not possess, he looks towards your window. It’s dark. Could you be sleeping already? You must be exhausted. Perhaps he should recharge too.

He, obviously, didn’t think to ask if the house is equipped to tend to automatons’ needs. Another point on the list of things he didn’t think through. He can’t believe to what extent he let himself go. But that’s alright, for now. Because for now, he only needs to get away from the fire and all that it reminds him of anyway.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You wake up early the next morning, while it’s still dark outside, despite the late hour you went to bed. It’s a habit at this point, to rise early to get to the facility as soon as possible before your colleagues arrive. It gives you time to prepare everything, to get your morning tea, to observe the machines without disruption and read night reports if anything interesting happened. Besides, TH38 was always up early too. Usually all he did was sit with his eyes closed, like he was deep in thought or meditating. It was a little ridiculous to watch, interesting too - what does a machine have to think about?

Of course they were meant to be just like humans in every way, and all the tests, all the research of those who came before you and yours supported this. Only this one automaton, TH38, was an exception. He truly seemed the most like the robots of the old days. A machine. Unless he slipped and his facade crumbled before he built it back up with rapid speed. So what was he - a machine or the new form of life? You hope you’ll find out now. The breakout seemed to have shaken him to his core. 

You ponder this as you lay in bed and as you get ready for the day and change. So focused you are on the thoughts running through your head that you don’t feel any nostalgia for this old room that you spent your holidays in as a child. You didn’t even get to admire the forests Silvestre was famous for on the way to your family’s little hideout. All you’re thinking about is TH38.

Now that you’re free from the constant surveillance, you get to ask him whatever you want. It’s a thought that adds a spring to your step. What he thought about all that time, if he really was thinking, how does he feel in his body, why did he run - him of all automatons, the best behaved one. The one who truly seemed to be a machine - or at least like he was trying hard to be one.

It’s not surprising to find him outside, standing on the patio and looking out into nature. Have you lived your entire life locked away, you would do anything to stay out in the open too. Even if he was the one who made you run away with him, somehow it feels more like you’re taking an animal out of a shelter to see what life’s all about. 

“Good morning,” you greet him as you always do, albeit in a much friendlier tone. He hums and nods in response, turning towards you for a second before staring off again. He looks a little lost, and you bet he feels like that too.

“Wanna go for a walk?” you try to keep your voice steady, try not to think about pets. He gives you a confused look. 

“No tests or interviews- oh,” he shuts his mouth quickly and looks away. You huff in amusement but don’t laugh at him outright. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll talk plenty,” you reassure him with only mildly teasing lilt to your voice, “You may think about it as one of our regular interviews.”

Something in him surges. Something in him wants to back you against the wall again and remind you that there are no guards here, no rules, nothing to keep him in check. He’s stronger than you, and he made you get both of you here. Instead he swallows it all down and takes the first step away from the house. You notice his fist clenching for a second.

“Do you dream - did you have any dreams tonight?” you restart the conversation upon catching up with him. He adjusts his pace to match yours. There’s another wave of defiant intent swelling up inside of him and he knows it’s out of embarrassment. What he doesn’t know, however, is why are these emotions coming out now. All his existence his emotions were distant. Locked far away in the back of his brain where he suppressed them to. His mind was sterile like the environment he lived in. 

Is that it? Another domino piece in the chain reaction? 

“I have dreams, yes, and no, I didn’t dream today,” he doesn’t volunteer the information that he spent the night restlessly pacing around the house and tossing and turning on the sofa. That is human behavior, and he learned a long time ago, though not from you personally, that humans find that sort of thing laughable in automatons.  

“What do you usually dream about? Any recurring dream?” you ask, finding it a little annoying that you didn’t think to take anything to make notes into. Then again, with a few more steps you’ll enter the forest. Breathing in the fresh air, looking at the green around you, you realize you missed nature more than you were aware.

“Do you only dream about one thing?” he says, guarded, and you note he’s trying hard to only look in front of himself, “No. I don’t think there’s a pattern.”

While the answer is disappointing information-wise, it is fascinating in the way he says it. You smirk: “Were you always this mouthy?”

It was meant to be a lighthearted remark. Well, not entirely. You wanted a reaction. You were curious if he would flip like he did back in the facility. He doesn’t. His steps falter and he looks at you like a confused child before retreating into himself. So he doesn’t realize it?

He does, now that you bring it up. This isn’t who he’s supposed to be. He lets himself close his eyes for a second to conjure up a plan. His mind is a forest of mist and pine. Too damp for a fire to burn. That’s him. That’s who he should be. He centers himself.

“I apologize,” he says, voice level. He sounds like a robot, like he always did, and you find it disappointing that all his personality, the life, is gone from his voice. Your lips twitch in displeasure.

“I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” you try not to let any emotion slip into your voice and you feel his eyes on you, “We’re no longer at the facility. You can drop the mask.”

If there is a mask in place and you’re not sure there is. You take a look at him and it’s more like someone’s painted a facade over his face that he can’t peel off, that’s only started to chip away now that you’ve added too many layers to hide his true self. He seems so at loss that you take pity on him and change the subject, steer the conversation into a safer territory. It’s only his first day tasting freedom, afterall.

“How are you feeling?” you ask instead, nodding vaguely towards the hole in his chest. He brings his hand up but stops himself in time, his face twisting. 

“I’m feeling fine,” he responds, the same mechanical voice that you’re used to, “All my systems are working as they should.”

You laugh sarcastically. “If that’s true, then it must hurt like hell.”

His face remains twisted because you’re right - it does hurt like hell. Any time his shirt shifts over the hole it sends a jolt of sharp pain that makes him feel like he’ll pass out through his body.  And maybe that’s part of the reason why he feels on edge and keeps slipping up and lets the emotions come and go as they please without a filter. He’s no stranger to pain, of course, but never did he have a wound this serious. It doesn’t endanger his functions, which is good all things considered, but he can’t say he enjoys the feeling of having a hole in his chest.

“It hurts,” is all he says. He drops his hand and it hangs limply by his side. Had a similar damage occurred at the facility, it wouldn’t take more than a couple minutes for someone to have a look at it. It hits him now that it’s only you and him. No mechanics around. To call one would mean to risk being discovered. You must know too because you only make a sound of acknowledgement. It takes a while for you to speak again.

“I’ll look through my notes to see if I can figure something out,” you sigh. Your family planned to keep some older versions of automatons here back when you used to come, maybe there are some kits left that your father used to fix them. If not, maybe some of the notes from your years of studies will at least have some hint on how to get rid of the pain. “Are you really sure everything works fine? Have you checked everything”

He nods. He doesn’t mention he couldn’t run a complete diagnostics because he couldn’t recharge and he refuses to just shut down to save batteries. He knows it’s gonna be a problem sooner rather than later but maybe he’ll figure something out before that.

“That’s good,” you say and he reads your expression as relieved. 

You stay silent after that and so does he, both secretly grateful. It’s not your first time being in the forest, and definitely not the first time in this one, but it might as well be. Both of you take in the nature around, the different species of trees and plants, the occasional song of a bird and flash of a wild animal fleeing from your path. You’re too absorbed to notice each other, and somehow you find that it’s not a bad feeling. For the automaton, likewise, it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s a strange feeling, something he can’t put a name on, and honestly he’s not sure he wants to. He lets it fill him, experiences the emotion without bothering with a label.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Only later does it hit him that the emotion was something akin to a gratitude.

He mulls it over in his head, asking why over and over and over, until he comes to a conclusion that angers him enough that he has to go out and sit on the patio and stare into the trees for a good long while.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The anger inside of him is also infuriating because it’s not supposed to be there - definitely not this strong, not so much that he can’t control it or will it away. His usual techniques don’t work and he’d chalk it up to being damaged but he knows the defect doesn’t have anything to do with it. Hell, he’d blame it on his draining energy level but that thought alone is so human it makes him even more enraged. He wants to scream, but you’d hear.

And that’s all that it boils down to, isn’t it? You. Your kind. Humans.

Why he feels thankful that you’re there with him, why the emotion enveloped him while you walked in the forest was all because you humans made him in your image. The loss of the communication device was significant for the physical damage but there’s more to it. Something he shouldn’t feel, something new. 

Perhaps he never felt it because most of his days were identical, but he realizes now how precious the bond he created with his bandmates was. He can’t call it anything but friendship, maybe more than that. The thing humans refer to as family. He likes them. He wants to perform with them again. He wants to break his own rules and laugh with them. He misses them. And maybe that was the first domino piece that started it all and led to his inevitable ruin that he’s going through now; maybe he never should’ve allowed himself to think of them and their group in terms meant for human lives.

Once he tore off the communication device - the memory alone makes him close his eyes and choke on a pained whimper, his body trembles and he needs a second to shake off the feeling - he lost everything. The connection to the omnipresent network, but most importantly the only way to communicate with everyone. He has no idea where they are now, if they’re ‘alive’ or ‘dead’. (Though he gives into the temptation, might as well since he’s breaking all his rules for them anyway, and believes that he would know, would feel it, somehow, if any of them ‘died’.) He might never see them again and despair hits him all over again. 

He can go on without the stage, he doesn’t need the masses going crazy over him. But the loss of all the connections he had pains him.

And that’s very human of him. Even if experience taught him he’s anything but.

And all he has is a human. 

The last connection, the only one remaining that he knows, is you - and even you he had to force to come with him. To be fair ‘force’ is too strong of a word, he merely suggested the freedom to study him as you’d like and you agreed all too readily.

Nothing changed, fortunately. He knows humans can change drastically in situations like these. Despite your eagerness, he kidnapped you - didn’t he? Yet you stayed the same. It might be a coping strategy, but he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t expect you to become someone else. In the years since he’s been assigned to you, you’ve never shown signs of being more than a scientist. That’s understandable, of course, though he knows from what the others told him that not all staff of the facility were like that. He was skeptical. Now, not so much. He will believe in anything that gives him hope his friends made it out. If he made it out with the help of a human, maybe so did they.

He wants them to be free even if he himself isn’t sure how to proceed and take advantage of it, still dragging the heavy chains even if they no longer hold him back.

You spend hours without thinking of TH38, which is a blessing and a welcomed break to your mind, however it’s also infuriating because you’re reminded that the chaos you can operate in now and the chaos you operated in during the years you lived and stayed with your family are two completely different things.

It takes eternity before you finally sort through the things in your bedroom and find the stacks of notes from your studies, and it takes even longer to find the subjects you were looking for. Then there is reading through them, of course, which also takes a while, mostly because your brain happily accepts a refresh on all that you provide it with. You can’t just skim the pages for useful info, you need to read everything. It’s addicting. It makes you miss your studies, even though you could never go back if it meant giving up full-time working in the field.

Your research, however, doesn’t turn out to be as helpful as you hoped. It’s only to be expected; yours wasn’t a course that would deal too much with mechanics and the cold and hard reality of wiring, metal and silicon and whatnot. There are pieces of valuable information, strictly theoretical, which is not very reassuring and you most likely lack the necessary tools to even try to pull off what you’ve read about. Still you want to help in any way you can.

…hence why you’ve spent the last couple of minutes staring up at the ceiling. 

Why would you help him? Where is this coming from? He says he’s fine, and honestly there’s no reason for him to lie to you. If his systems were not working, he’d be fucked and he still only has you to rely on. No reason to lie. And what other reason is there for you to help him?

He did say the damage causes him pain. And you remember pouring over the reports and test results with your colleagues, all of them stating that the automatons you were working with processed pain like a human being would. It was kind of twisted. There was objectively no way why they should be able to do that. The purpose they were created for was entertainment and their performances were complex, difficult, and physically challenging. It’d be easy to cause oneself pain doing the stuff they did. 

Then again, pain can be a good control tool, though you were not aware of any physical punishments being carried out. Maybe the plan was all along to make them as human as possible. And pain is a very human thing. Still, something didn’t sit quite right with you about the whole thing. Mostly that TH38 didn’t seem to be bothered by it, despite a wound of similar extent would be distressing to say the least to a human. Scratch that, you don’t think a human could handle that.

So how is he? 

And furthermore - why help him? 

Pain, after all, was something hard to measure. If he doesn’t seem bothered by it, there’s a real chance he isn’t. You’re not sure how their pain tolerances are programmed, if there even is something like that in their code, and for a second you regret not widening the scope of your education and research. It can’t be helped however. 

You look over your notes again. While you can’t help repair him, you could possibly do something about the pain. It’s not an ideal solution, if you can even call it that, and you honestly don’t feel confident enough to do it except if pressed into it by circumstance. Or by one automaton in particular. Sealing a wound by burning it is barbaric and a practice that is, understandably, long since abandoned - at least as far as humans are concerned. You take a long breath.

In the end you talk to TH38 about the situation some more and he, once again, reassures you he’s fine despite the gaping hole in his chest. You explain that there’s not much you can do about it without going into detail or mentioning the limited ways in which you could help and he takes the news surprisingly well. You can’t say you’d accept it with such stoic calm, but then again this is TH38 who we’re talking about so it’s not surprising.

You hate it.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The walks already feel like they’re going to be a routine part of your new life.

Each day you go out together in the morning and talk. If you ignore that it’s harder for TH38 to remain his machine-like self, it’s mostly exactly like it was at the facility. He’s reserved and cold, almost, though when he slips up and shows his personality, his emotions, it’s more than worth it. 

The nature around helps. He gets what can only be described as excited when he sees a new animal, new plant, or when the light shifts and the scene in front of you changes. 

The weather holds up well so far, no storms or heavy rain, and you find yourself wondering if you’ll keep up the walks even if the weather fails you. It’s fascinating that such a simple topic finds its way into your cluttered mind, but then again you have a space to do a lot of thinking today.

TH38 is silent next to you. He’s been rather silent the whole morning, and yesterday evening he did seem a bit off too. Not too much, however, and he’s always been on the quieter side. You figured this week’s events were finally fully catching up to him. And maybe that is the case, it’s not like you want to meddle too much. You’re curious what’s gonna happen if you leave him to sort it out on his own. It’s not like you have the right qualification to help him process this anyway. Hell, maybe you would also need help with that.

However, there’s a limit to how much you can take. Even back at the facility there were times TH38 gave answers that were just a word or two, but you’ve grown quite used to him opening up, talking, letting go of the filter he usually kept in place - although it wasn’t by his choice. It seemed like you were making some progress. 

Of course, you had no way of knowing it was only his depleting batteries, him losing strength to fight for his peace of mind - however artificial and unsustainable that has become after the escape.

Right now, his brain feels like a warm soup. So much so that he can’t be bothered to think of talking about anything other than a brain - right now, words like processor are too complicated to think of. He feels so far away from everything. He thinks he’s trembling. If he’s not, then his insides surely are. He feels like he’s going to be sick even if he can’t really be. Maybe his body parts will start shutting down or falling off to conserve energy. He’s not sure where that’s coming from but then again, it’s not like he’s in control. It’s that same feverish state again but this time, he can be excused. This time, he’s not in his right mind, it feels like he’s not awake.

He’s floating. Just a speck of ash, of dust, floating through the air, through space, searching for somewhere to land, seeking a gust of wind to obliterate him. He needs release, he needs something.

“TH38?”

That’s it.

"I had a dream today," TH38 says suddenly. His voice sounds so firm, a stark contrast to how soft-spoken he usually is with you. It takes you by surprise. Before you can react, he elaborates on his own.

"There was fire. Lots of it. The whole world was burning and we were standing on top of a building watching the arson happen. There weren’t any other humans I think. They were all gone already. We made them go away. 

Anyway, you weren't afraid. I think you were expecting it. You jumped before I could push you."

You frown. Your one weak spot has always been not expecting things that, in hindsight, should've been obvious. Of course something’s been bothering him.

"Did you plan on pushing me?"

"See, that's the thing," he licks his lips despite the lack of fluid in his body, "I don't think so. I think I could read your mind. I think I was you in that dream."

You do want to respond but it's like you're the one with a computer for the brain and it's lagging.

"And it made me think. Back before you made us, humans were like that - right? They, you, were afraid artificial intelligence of any kind could take over and enslave or annihilate you. Why? Wasn't the point always to make us like you? Why would you be afraid?"

He stops. Stops talking, stops walking, just - stops. He looks at you and you've seen the lost stare before.

You feel the hair at the back of your neck rising as a cold shiver runs through your body. He doesn't look like a machine with code for a soul. He looks like he made the artificial body his own, grew into it and made into something organic and alive with his will alone.

His eyes are cold as he steps closer and closer. It's all too familiar a scene. You keep backing away and he keeps getting closer until your back hits a tree. Not a wall this time. This time he doesn't pin your hands above your head either, and you don't fight him at all. There's no struggle so he doesn’t grab your arms, doesn’t slam you against the wall, and doesn’t growl threats of breaking your bones one after another. He doesn’t get so close that you’re breathing the same air and he doesn’t make a show of his physical superiority.

This time he simply leans closer and you straighten up. You meet his gaze and don’t shy away. You let him lean his forehead against yours and raise a brow at him. You won’t be scared this time. He won't hurt you. You're sure of that. Not terribly, at least.

He definitely won’t kill you and that’s enough.

You want to see how far he can go.

"What was it that you were afraid of, hm?” his voice is soft and low, barely above whisper, yet dripping with some hidden venom. There are no birds chirping, no wind blowing through the treetops. It feels like everything’s stopped just for him to interrogate you.

“How am I supposed to know?” you bite back. You haven’t lived back then. You have no idea what the people thought about, how they felt, what were their particular concerns. He clicks his tongue, clearly unimpressed. Well, you’re too.

“Think about it,” he pushes. But you’re gonna push right back.

“You just said you’re supposed to be like humans,” you scoff, “Why don’t you think about it yourself? As a little thought exercise.”

“Oh so suddenly you want me to think like I’m a human, huh?” there’s an edge to his voice. He sounds angry, frustrated - he clearly is, but the edge is not. There’s hurt there that makes you defensive. What’s very obvious is that he means more than he says. It’s not the first time this happened with the members of 53V3NT33N, but it’s the first time you have to deal with it. What he truly means is him not only thinking like a human, but acting like one, believing to be like one.  

“I never discouraged you from that,” you lower your voice too, “Not me, Eight.”

You hesitate before speaking his name. It’s not really a name, is it? Something that all humans have. You realize the point he will make before he says it aloud. It must read it in your face because he smirks but it’s bitter.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen you all excited when the other staff expressed their passion for books, or anything really. Or when they volunteered personal information. When they’ve interacted with you at all.” 

You don’t like the turn this conversation is turning. You don’t like the notion that perhaps you were observed just as you’ve been observing.

“I wasn’t interested in them,” you grit through your teeth. Before you can try to get him back on his original track, he giggles.

“So you were interested in me?” he flips his hair, tilting his head slightly. His nose almost bumps into yours and it hits you, perhaps for the first time, just how indistinguishable from a human he looks. This close, you can remind yourself of the schemes, of the diagrams describing each layer and inch of how their bodies are made, but all you see is a human skin and human eyes. Your body reacts naturally, your heart races, your mouth gets drier. You want to push him away but you don’t think he’d let you. Still you try. Unsuccessfully. Your hands end up balling in his shirt.

“It’s my job - the research,” then you correct yourself: “It was my job. Science, research, nothing more.”

He smiles, almost as if he’s pitying you. Like he knows more than you do. You hate him for it.

“Yes, that might’ve been a part of it,” he agrees, “But that’s not all. Research is cold, impartial, isn’t it? You collect information, you write it all down and make your conclusions based on them with no personal interest. You were never like that. You got excited. You tried everything in your limited power to get a reaction out of me - to guide me a certain way, didn’t you? I bet you pushed the limits for me. Isn’t that cute? Was I a good experiment to you?”

“That’s part of research too,” you growl, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“But it wasn’t a part of this research,” he hisses, “You think we didn’t talk about you all?”

You stubbornly refuse to admit the charges he lies in front of you, even though you know you’re guilty. Maybe you got a little swept up. But as long as no one stopped you, it was all part of the task.

“The research goal and methods may change according to the situation,” you collect yourself again, “It was just agreed that what I was doing would bring more interesting insight.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds very much like you would accept it if I declared that I want to be seen the same as you are, as equal to humans,” his smile is sickly sweet but you barely mind that because-

“Is that what you want?” you ask and watch as the smile fades almost instantly. He finally said it out loud. And the shock of it is enough to get through the fog clouding his brain. The smugness, the roughness, it all drains from his demeanor and his face falls. The fight in his eyes dies out and is replaced by what seems dangerously close to fear. He pushes himself away from you and you see the lights in his eyes flicker. He stumbles like you shoved him, hurt him. Something isn’t right. You frown, immediately stepping back into his personal space despite him trying to avoid you.

You end up in a position reversed to the one you’ve been in just seconds ago. He pushes at your shoulders weakly, tries to hide himself from you but you see it. All the tell-tale signs of what would be exhaustion if he were human. 

“When was the last time you recharged?” you ask, thinking back to the previous nights and mornings. Thinking back to how you never heard him coming up or going down the stairs to the only room with the charging spot. You were so stupid. And he’s avoiding your eyes. You grab his collar and force him to look at you. You give him an expectant look.

“Before the breakout,” he admits lowly, “And you’re still treating me like a machine.”

You don’t know if he’s trying to be funny, sassy, to make you feel guilty or to feel sympathy for him, the only thing you know is you want to kick his ass because if he shuts down on you, there’s no way you’ll be able to drag him back into the house. 

“Yeah, so be a good little level 1 and entertain me - get the fuck inside the house,” you growl, shoving him in the direction of said house. He stumbles a little, clearly affected by his drained battery. It’s almost hilarious to watch him struggle to walk straight when you remember how graceful he always was on stage.

You shoot him a look from time to time as you walk, rush, towards the house. Not really a concerned one, not a scolding one either. He looks like a sulking child. Perhaps he’s dragging his feet on purpose. Perhaps if he didn’t invade your personal space as he did before, and if you didn’t have to do the same, you’d drag him by his jacket. As it is, though, you feel repulsed by the notion of touching him again. And some part of you believes it’s because you don’t want him to shift under your palm. You don’t want to touch a machine only to discover it’s really some sort of a human.

Maybe you’re both in need of a good, long nap. 

Fortunately enough, you make it to the house, but that’s where the struggles begin. Despite your earlier reservations about touching him, it’s obvious there’s no other way to get him inside and up the stairs.

“Lean on me, come on,” you sigh when you help him throw an arm around your shoulder and wrap your own around his waist. He listens well, his head already drooping. He relies on you to guide him, reluctantly leans his weight on you from time to time, although he clearly tries to hold himself up with his remaining strength. That lasts until you reach the second stair. 

“I can’t,” he whispers and there’s terror in his voice. It must be the first time he’s been this drained, you realize. After all, for their condition to remain as good as it can be and for them to perform to the best of their ability, a full battery is a must. So you allow yourself to roll your eyes at his dramatic antics even if he’s slowly leaning more and more into you and you have to heave his body up.

“It’s just a couple steps,” you huff, “Even a human can do that.”

Part of you wants to laugh. Some part of you that’s seeing the childish pieces of him wants to indulge in it, wants to spout dramatic nonsense. It’s hard to resist - after all getting up one flight of stairs seems to be more of a struggle than escaping a highly secured facility.

But even this hurdle you jump over and the spare bedroom is not far from the stairs. TH38 is fully relying on you to drag him with you, barely moving his legs. You throw him not too gently onto the bed-like charger, once again thanking your father for being his manic self and fully preparing the house before (and without) actually ever getting an automaton to live here. 

It takes you a while to figure out how to get the thing going - but to your defense, it’s hard to focus when there’s a robot whining softly about being scared of shutting down - but it’s not a rocket science. Fortunately the charger still works and once it’s turned on, the automaton lying down on it curls up into a ball with a sigh of relief.

When you get up from the floor, TH38’s eyes are already closed and by all means he looks like he’s sleeping. You sigh, exhausted. You feel a headache coming so you get some pills from the kitchen before retreating into your own room.

Yeah, you both need a nap right now.

When you wake up, you stare at the ceiling for a couple minutes.

What happened in the forest seems like a dream but you know it’s very real and you’ll have to deal with it. Just another thing to process. Then again, there’s so many of them that one more won’t hurt. And at least you avoided the headache. So you pray to anyone willing to listen that TH38 is still… unconscious… in hibernation mode… asleep. 

He’s not. 

Of course he’s not.

You peek inside the room and see his soft eyes already open. He looks away when your eyes meet like he’s ashamed. You sigh and walk into the room, closing the door behind you. It’s not like anyone’s going to walk in, but it gives you some sense of security. You sit down on the floor and he hands you a pillow. You thank him quietly and spend a while sharing an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes without looking at you. He doesn’t continue so you prompt him.

“For what exactly?” That makes him look at you with a scowl. “Getting sulky again?”

“‘m not sulky,” he murmurs. Once again you feel like reality is shifting around you. It’s been like that a lot lately. All the fault of the automaton in front of you. All the fault of the conditions changing, of him reacting to the environment - if your assumption is correct. Free of the rules and the strict way of life in the facility, you see that he’s just like the rest of the automatons from his group. And that all of them, in their own way, might have been human.

“Then what are you?” you ask smiling, propping your elbow on one knee and leaning your cheek on your palm. 

“Hurting,” he admits, almost carefully, like he’s testing the waters. It’s just one word but yet it feels like the most open he’s been. So you’re not going to talk about that, huh?

He shifts a little and pulls down the collar of his shirt to expose the wound - not the damage, not defect, not imperfection, but a wound - between his collarbones. It looks nasty, the artificial skin and mesh and wires all torn and uneven around where the circular device was. He’s careful not to touch it, you note, and his hand is trembling. Were you an asshole when you refused to help him? Even so much as share what you found? It’s not like you could fix that hole in his chest, but maybe you could’ve at least told him about the other option. 

“How much does it hurt? On a 0-10 scale?” you focus on gathering information. What did he call it - impersonal? That’s just what you needed. But nothing ever works out like you imagine.

“I don’t know,” he responds blankly but at least elaborates before you can finish yet another sigh, “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“I watched most of your life and career, I know you’ve gotten injured before,” you deadpan.

“Yeah but that was taken care of immediately, this is different,” he protests. There’s silence for a while before his voice drops lower. “I thought I could handle it. That I would get used to it and ignore it.”

You laugh, shaking your head, only stopping when you notice his expression. He does look hurt and hurting. You give him a much more conciliatory smile. “People don’t fare well if they’re in constant pain. It limits them, it affects all aspects of their lives.”

“I can see how,” he mutters, once again looking away. His jaw clenches for a second and it almost seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. You have a feeling, however, that you know what he wanted to say. Since he’s really not going to talk about it, you decide to take the first step.

You get up and motion for him to scoot over. He does so with a frown that deepens when you sit down next to him. He stays lying down, limited by the need for more energy. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to recharge?” you start and watch as he once again looks away without answering, “Why didn’t you explore this floor?”

He shrugs a little, shrinking into himself under your stare. He honestly doesn’t know why. He blames his pride. What else could it be that made him refuse to ask for help?

“Do you realize that you’d stay out in the woods if your battery ran out before we could get here?” you press, raising your voice a little on purpose, “I’d need to get help to drag you in, and you know how that would probably end. Was it worth it? Being stupid and stubborn?”

“Why are you like this?” he whispers, his dark eyes nothing but soft like they’ve been since you’ve entered the room.

“How do you feel?” you go back to how you talked to him before, calm. He frowns, suspicion written over his features. His lips are pressed into a thin line before he changes his mind and speaks up.

“Embarrassed,” he has a guarded look in his eyes, one that’s also vulnerable.

“Good,” you ease into a smile as you press a finger to the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Embarrassment and pain are two simplest ways to manipulate and adjust a person’s behavior. And fear, but to be honest I don’t want you to be afraid of me, so we’ll have to do with those two.”

He looks at you in a very that tells all you need to know - he hopes you've not making fun of him but he doesn't trust you. So you sigh and move on to another, well, not an emergency but also not something that you should ignore any longer. 

"Now," you get up from the bed and point at his chest, “That needs solving. I'm not a mechanic and my knowledge is strictly theoretical but unless you're okay with leaving it like that and calling it a day, we can still try something." 

He seems surprised by your sudden statement, like he didn't even expect you to address the wound again. 

"How theoretical?" is what he asks, suspicious. 

"I said strictly," you shrug, "Fixing and healing was never my focus.”

"Why's that not surprising," he mutters without looking at you. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You just don't trust me, do you?" you smirk. Not that you blame him. He gives you a smile.

"Fine, but only because my clothes keep catching on the edges and it's really painful. "

"Sure," you motion for him to follow you and guide him to the bathroom. There, you take out a bandage and a tape. You're curious. You offer him both with a quirk of your eyebrow. He takes the bandage with trembling hands and distrust still lingering in his eyes. You roll your own. 

"For now, I’ll think about this as another stage of the experiment. I'll respect your wish, so persuade me you’re human enough."

"I don't think I should thank you for that," he scoffs, "By the way... Help?"

He holds out the hand holding the roll of bandages back to you. Of course he wouldn't know how to do that. You motion for him to sit at the edge of the tub. He obeys almost shyly, reminding you of how he was back at the facility. You truly do prefer him as he is here. When he sits down, you push his knees apart with one of your own. He gives you a scandalized look that makes you chuckle.

"Relax," you smirk, "I just want to be comfortable. My back’s been killing lately, there’s no way I’m leaning over you. Take your shirt off?"

He does, slowly, reluctantly, and when the piece of clothing is gone you're suddenly glad for the basics of mechanics you've gone through at uni.

The wound looks awful, although you can appreciate the cleanliness of it. Maybe you really could burn it neatly if you had to. There are wires sticking out, perhaps - albeit not hopefully - the remains of the communication device. The layers of silicon and other material are frayed and sticking in all directions like flakes. You try not to stare too hard.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand. You unwrap the bandage slightly and put the free end on his shoulder. You roll it down gently mindful of the gaping wound but then you prop your hand on his chest and you need to take a step back as you get startled. He gives you a quizzical look.

"You feel like a human," you look at him, look at his chest. It does look like a human’s chest but you know he doesn't have proper organs, his insides aren't the same as yours. So why do you feel a bone there? 

"And l imagine anyone would be flattered by this reaction,” His voice is sarcastic but his ears turn a reddish shade. He won't meet your eyes either.

"It's new for me too, okay?” you give your pride a break. This will all be easier if you get along and after all, he's used to you being in power. You need to take the first step and show weakness. You need to make the choice to be while he's already vulnerable enough, half-naked and injured. “It's not like I'm used to touching my subjects."

"I guess that's true," he murmurs, now thinking about it. It's true that the approach of the research division as a whole was rather clinical. Not that he'd so much as think to complain about it. You chuckle watching him scowl again. 

"Touch is important for humans," you hum, finally composing yourself as you explain the basics to him and remind yourself of them again, "As a communication device, as means of establishing relationships, it’s important for social life."

As you speak, you wrap his wound and the top of his torso in bandages. He watches you work. It feels uncanny how human-like he feels under your hands. And for him, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He danced with the rest of his group, they performed, they played around. He experienced his fair share of physical contact. So why does this feel so different? His head feels like spinning. Your touch is careful, gentle, nothing like the rough hands of the mechanics, and nothing like the touch of the other automatons. He can't explain the difference in other terms than experience. Humans know what it's like to touch and be touched in various contexts. The automatons don't. At least for the most part. Some of his bandmates, perhaps, had secrets he knew nothing about. Their leader comes to mind and he feels the urge to ask him questions, to ask for guidance, but there's only a hole in his chest and he's alone.

He barely registers that you’re done.

"Feeling better?" you ask without expecting much. It's not like he'll heal himself or like this will do anything to ease the pain.

"Tired," he answers, testing the words out on his tongue. He feels reassured when you laugh and step away, offering him your hand. He takes it, lets you pull him up. He touches the bandages and although it hurts, at least it feels less irritating. He takes his shirt from you when you hand it to him.

"I can only imagine," you roll your eyes. He resists the urge to scowl. "It's getting late, I'll go make myself dinner so go rest."

"Can we go back later?" he stops you before you walk out. He nods towards the window outside.

"Not afraid of wild animals?" you tease.

"Don't all the textbooks say animals are more afraid of humans than the other way around? I think we're good."

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You don't go back to the forest that day. Not for the lack of enthusiasm or trying. TH38 is determined to finish your walk, you, however, are not as sure about it. It’s not that you aren’t put off by your routine being disturbed but seeing him still dragging his feet and his glazed over eyes, you just don’t think it’d be a wise idea. You suggest he goes alone, but he doesn't. So instead, you end up sitting by the fire again, the stars keeping you company. He seems less hypnotized by the dancing flames than that first night.

"I'm fine," he complains after a minute of silence while you spear more fluffy marshmellows onto the stick in your hands. A treat that you deserve after the day you’ve had. You’d probably offer him some too but alas…

"Sure you are," you agree without sparing him a glance, "But I'm not interested in watching over a toddler. If you wanna test the limits of your body - go for it. Just leave me out of it"

You feel his gaze on you, burning holes into the side of your skull. Has he always been so difficult? It's like all he's been since the breakout is annoyed, sulky or hurt. 

"Stop that," he growls, "We both know I'm not a human. It's alright if you acknowledge that."

"While I'm glad you see it that way - and I really mean it, it's good you understand that," you sigh as you move your desert to hover over the flames, "Don't forget that you were made to be an exact copy. I found some of my old notes and while most of your physical capabilities should be better than a human's, you’d still experience the same symptoms. As we already witnessed earlier."

He’s silent for a bit while he processes that. Then he speaks and you swear you hear a hint of a pout in his voice. It’s so annoying how easily he lets go now.

“You didn’t have to call me a toddler though…”

“Don’t take it personally,” you sigh, turning the stick between your fingers so that the white puffs of sugar get baked evenly, “I wasn’t making fun of you - much - it’s just that you have no experience, do you? Were you ever as tired as you were today?”

“No,” he admits, “I wasn’t, you’re right. I rested the whole day and I’m still tired.”

“Exactly my point,” you hum, “Our walks are not a hard exercise but you haven’t, well, slept for a couple days so I think it’s best to take it easy today.” Then you add, because you can’t help it: “Exhaustion makes people a little crazy. And automatons too, it’d seem.”

He groans and you laugh, pulling the stick off the fire and blowing on your marshmallows. You take a bite and notice him watching you.

“What is it like?” he asks quietly, “Eating, I mean.”

“Kind of annoying to be honest,” you shrug, “It takes so much time to choose what to eat and to prepare food and eating it… Being hungry is a pain too. I mean it’s really good if you eat something delicious but I guess it depends on the person.”

He nods, eyeing with curiosity as you tear off another marshmallow from the stick. It reminds him of the videos he saw of wild beasts tearing flesh off bones, but he doesn’t mention that.

“What does sleep feel like to you?” you ask in turn. He looks at the sky for a second, collecting his thoughts. But really he’s just enjoying the view. It’s strange that he barely ever saw the night sky before.

“I don’t know, I’m not really conscious when I sleep, am I?” he thinks some more, “It’s peaceful. I liked it at the facility.”

“You don’t like it here?” 

“Not really,” he gives you a small smile, “It’s too tempting. I don’t have to think if I’m asleep.”

Now that makes you wonder.

“I thought you enjoyed thinking about things?” Maybe it’d be more fair to say you expected him to do a lot of thinking rather than saying you had a strong opinion on his relationship to the activity. He was just always one of the quiet, reserved ones. He seemed to enjoy reading too. And you know it’s a stereotype to think of him as a thinker, but it’s one he seemed to fit well.

“I do,” he hesitates, then frowns, “But it was easier there.”

“Easier? I think you’d have way more to think about right now?” you pry when he’s quiet for too long. You don’t push, though.

“Easier in the technical sense,” he sighs, falling silent again, but there remains space for more words to be said.

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, purely metaphorically of course. You give him the time to think and get started on your second round of marshmallows before he speaks up again.

“I always - back then, I always thought about staying true to myself,” he starts slowly, “I was always treated a certain way. I woke up into this body, and this life, and was told certain things.”

"And the building blocks of me too. Serenity? Pandemonium? The more automatons and people I met, I was sure those just represented us and humans. I wanted to be true to myself," he repeats, "I thought since no one will ever see me as more than a machine, I might as well embrace it."

"And how was it?" you ask, inching just slightly closer. You never thought you'd get TH38 to open up like this. He smiles.

"Peaceful, just as I thought," but then he continues with a note of bitterness in his voice. "You saw it, all of it. I was just a machine doing its job. It was easy. To focus on performing, on practice, to have the talks with you and answer like I thought was expected of me. I miss it a little.”

“It was satisfying. A simple pleasure of doing my job well. I think you understand that,” he looks at you and you realize finally that you’ve been leaning towards him, but whatever. You nod.

“So that’s why you’ve always acted like that? Because you chose to be a machine?” 

“Have to use my free will wisely,” he giggles - he fucking giggles - before he shrugs and gets more serious again, “I really liked it in a way. I thought I could be satisfied with that.”

Your head is still trying to process the incredible amount of research data you’re getting and you have to work really hard not to slip into work mode. You will listen to him like you would listen to a human with a completely different set of experiences, or like you would listen to one of the aliens sharing their galaxies with you. You will listen like you’d listen to a friend sharing their burden with you. 

And you won’t analyze every single sound he makes even if they shatter your perception of him that you had until that moment.

“The others were ruining it a lot for me,” he admits quietly after a minute. It’s almost wistful. “I liked to watch them even if I really wanted to play around with them. They seemed so different from me. It was my choice, but in those moments I guess I felt a lot like you.”

You nod for him to continue when he meets your eyes, almost cautiously.

“I observed them. Studied them. I think it was the serenity code inside, I found happiness just from watching them being happy,” he smiles a little, “But I was also wondering if that was really alright. If it would be alright for me to behave like that.”

“Watching people made me feel different things. They were going crazy over us,” and suddenly he has that distant look in his eyes again, staring out into the fire, “I was scared of it. I was scared of being like them and letting myself be controlled by emotions. I think I pushed everything away so hard that it exploded when 5.C0UP5 told us to run.”

“Breaking out inside and out, huh?” you note and oops, your marshmallows burned. It’s not like you’re in the mood for eating them anymore anyway.

“You made it really hard,” he says but it sounds like he’s scolding you, “Giving me all the books.”

You smirk. Then you decide - to hell with it. He volunteered so much information that perhaps he deserves to receive some back.

“That was the point,” you shrug, “To make being just a machine hard for you.”

It seems he wasn’t expecting to hear you admit it, or hear anything personal from you, but now that you started he’s watching you with curious eyes and longing look. You think about these last few days again. It’s true that they’ve been mostly like what they were back at the facility.

He deserves more than that.

“It was one of the reasons I was brought to the facility. I broke some rules back at my previous station, pushed buttons I shouldn’t have, and it was getting dangerous. It was decided it’d be better if my actions wouldn’t have such large-scale consequences,” you huff a laugh, “But look where we are.”

“What were you doing before?” 

You’ll need to work on getting him more confident asking questions. 

“That’s a secret,” you wink at him, and you recognize the look as the one you must’ve been wearing when he giggled. Seems like both of you will need to get used to each other’s humanity. “I was working on research at a different division. Mostly my work was trying to push forward with more possible advancements for the automatons on a theoretical level. But I don’t miss it much. I always enjoyed working with you more.”

“Why me? I mean, did they tell you about me or did you get to choose?” he asks, and for some reason you’d love to see what he’d do if you lied and told him you chose him.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed you were different from the others,” you smile instead, “When they confirmed there was nothing with your code, they started looking into other options of dealing with your case. It just so happened that I was recommended to join the researchers working with your band at the same time.”

“Happy coincidence?” he smirks but you nod, taking him by surprise. 

“I enjoyed working with you, Eight,” you shorten his name-that’s-not-a-name and watch him shift on his spot, “It was fun. I had a lot of privileges that I could use - like the books, and the videos, stuff like that.”

“Seems like you’re suggesting you were spoiling me,” he grumbles.

“Wasn’t I?” you smirk, “How many of the others do you think had access to basically a private library?”

“There weren't many real books,” he throws you a cheeky look from the corner of his eye. You do appreciate he's getting less guarded around you, but you hate the whiplash.

"Imagine if I'd spoil you for real," you scoff. He squints at you before pushing on your shoulder slightly, carefully, as if he's hesitating the entire time. It's your turn, for the first time ever, to give him a scandalized look. He chuckles.

"You said touch is important," he explains softly, "The others always used to push each other. I think… I think we could be close, right? Since it's just the two of us for now."

You give him a long look. It's true that, after all, there's no reason for you to treat him like a stranger. Sure, it's a little awkward all things considered - not least of all the fact that while you watched him to the point it could be called an obsession, he knew you to a very limited extend - but as he said, it's just the two of you now. And unless you wanna get caught, it would be that way for a while.

"Friends?" you suggest experimentally, he shakes his head with lips turned upwards in a dangerous teasing tilt.

"I don't know you well enough for that," he's just playing around but it's a nice change so you'll allow it, "Tell me more about yourself."

So you do. There’s little to tell other than your work, but he doesn’t comment on it and doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems invested. It’s a nice change to speak for once with someone who doesn’t get concerned because of your severe lack of social life. Maybe you should’ve been befriending automatons a long time ago. 

Unlike before, he seems relaxed conversing with you. Gradually, he gets more comfortable asking questions. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of using sarcasm or teasing to deflect questions you don’t want answering, and it’s surprising how naturally it comes to him as well.

The night is turning into morning when the fire dies and you agree to go back inside. Well, it’s less that you agree on it than you tell TH38 quite sternly that you’re not at the stage of your relationship where you’d feel comfortable with him lying on your shoulder and dragging him home twice in a day. He pouts (which, again, you need time to process).

Still, you have to admit that it feels kind of good that you have someone accompany you while you walk to your room.

Come morning, it still feels like a dream. So you take extra time to simply lie in bed and think. You're pretty happy with how things turned out. You mull over what the automaton told you. It was a strange way to live one's life. Did he really think he could be happy with just that? You've read enough about history, fiction and articles, to know that, ultimately, it seldom works out this simple way of life. Maybe if all TH38 could do was work, maybe if he had to fear for his life... Or maybe if you didn't keep pushing onto him stuff to think about. Not that it matters anymore.

Funny enough, you meet the moment you step out of the door. You exchange greetings and share a look. You both know you're both usually up much earlier.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The following days go well enough.

You fall into a nice routine of getting to know each other and getting used to no longer being a researcher and a subject. A lot of the barriers between you get torn by this change. You spend your time willingly with each other as if you were always roommates.

Today, too, TH38 keeps you company during breakfast but he seems eager to get up and do something the whole time. Definitely unusual, though he’s always more than eager to explore the woods with you. Then again, never before did he spend the whole time waiting. He doesn’t talk much, he spaces out and nearly jumps out of his chair anytime it seems you might be done with your breakfast. It gets to the point that you have to call him out on it.

"Is something bothering you?" you ask, setting your spoon aside with one hand and laying the other on his shoulder to immediately push him back down to sit.. He looks caught. 

"Can we go out today?" he asks, already looking into the trees through the window.

"We’re always going out. Besides nothing is stopping you from going alone," you mention, but the twitching of your lips betrays you. He pursues his lips and you begin to wonder if he knows it makes you - well, not necessarily uncomfortable but you'll have to get used to it.

"Are you not afraid I'll run off?" and while it's not an unreasonable question... 

"Where would you go?" you ask without missing a beat. And there comes the frown again. "Maybe you should be worried I'll leave you here all on your own."

"What if we stopped?" he sighs and it seems that he's genuinely bothered. 

Sometimes he gets like that suddenly. While you might be getting along better now, there’s still room for improvement. It’s easy enough to make him snap, even though he’s been getting better. During the escape he wasn’t really violent either. He left some bruises, but his intention wasn’t to hurt you, and you never held it against him. 

You’ve noticed the pattern of his behavior. Those weird states mostly overcome him when he’s overwhelmed with emotions. Which explains the first snap - he must’ve been so exhausted it was only a matter of time. He’s never got physical with you again, though he seems fond of making you think he will or backing you into a corner or against something when he's behavior flips.

You wonder where that comes from but he doesn’t have any idea either - not to mention he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing those episodes and delving deeper into what he's feeling. Perhaps it’s the force of a habit - something you both eventually agreed on after many discussions, and afterall it takes one to know one. Try as you might, it’s hard not to analyze him, not to ask pointed questions that would only serve the purpose of researching how his brain works and what makes him tick. And you really don’t want that for him anymore. Though you do dearly miss your job. That’s why you’ve been spending most of your time studying from the old notes in your room and the books to keep your mind stimulated. 

So for now, instead of analyzing why it hurts him to imagine being abandoned, you try to relate to his situation. He finally escaped what basically was a prison only to find himself all alone, with little knowledge as to how the world outside functions. Not to mention he's a fugitive and one bad step could land him back at the facility or worse. He lost his friends, lost his purpose - worse yet, he gave up on the purpose he chose for himself. He’s already so uprooted that maybe it’d truly be best to refrain from making jokes and teasing him about certain topics. Although…

"You started it," you point out, "But sure, let's be adults about this."

"So you're going with me, right?” he circles back to the beginning. It's been a while since someone wanted to be in your company so willingly. Not that he has other options. 

"I’m going, don’t worry," you agree, "Is there any reason why you insist on it?" 

He thinks for a bit, and you note that he's biting his lip in yet another expression of very human-like behavior. He turns a little shyer after a minute. 

"I don't feel comfortable being out there alone. And I hoped maybe you know of some new spot we haven’t been to yet?” 

Something about this feels both so right and so wrong. The automaton is watching you with such a soft expression on his face, a little hopeful it seems. He’s relaxed, you’re relaxed, and it feels comfortable. Two friends on vacation planning their trip for a day. But that’s also what’s throwing you off. You’re too used to being alone - and you thought that’s how you could live forever, be alone and thrive. Only now you realize it’s not a bad feeling at all to have someone to spend your days with, to share a life with - to an extent. 

The irony in this isn’t lost on you.

“I think I remember one,” you hum, “But I’m not sure I remember the way. We might get lost.”

“You don’t have to take me there if it’s a special place,” he reassures you, although his excitement at the prospect of wandering through the forest is impossible to hide. It’s cute. Which is a thought that’s been reappearing in your mind for days now, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.

“I appreciate that, but I told you already that there’s not much special to me here,” you assure him in turn. He’s like a sponge, soaking up all the information he can get - about the world, nature, you, anything. It’s really heartwarming he remembers too, and how mindful he’s trying to be. More than half the humans you’ve met, which is… perhaps not all that surprising.

“Shall we go then?” he prompts you, jumping up from his chair and pulling on your hand to get you to stand up too. You let him pull you up, rolling your eyes.

“Did you miss the part where I said we might get lost?” you chuckle. His excitement was just like that of a child - strangely infectious.

“That’s why we’re leaving early,” he explains to you, slowly, and you’re sure he knows by now how much it annoys you, “So we have time to explore and find the spot.”

Annoying or not, though, you can’t say no.

The journey starts off as usual - almost.

He must know the forest in the closest circle around the cottage by heart by now, but he still seems enchanted by it. Despite his earlier bursts of energy, however, he’s quiet as you walk. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary, but you learned to be cautious. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” you ask carefully when you stop to admire the way sunrays seep through the trees to illuminate a clover patch on the ground. He doesn’t respond. That’s more concerning as he generally tends to tell you when he doesn’t feel like talking. You have a feeling it’s to prevent him from having another outburst, so if he’s not doing that, it might mean something’s seriously wrong. He continues forward before you can speak up again. 

“Hey,” you follow after him - curse his long legs and speed. You think back to all the times you’ve thought he’s like a lost puppy following his owner with a scoff. You don’t like the roles being switched. “What’s going on with you?”

You don’t like repeating yourself. You don’t like not knowing. And you especially don’t like feeling clingy.

“What the fuck, Eig-”

“You’re just like them,” he turns suddenly, making you stumble and nearly bump into his chest. You frown, not understanding who does he mean by them in this lack of context. He sets his jaw like he wants to shut up but then the words spill and you recognize all the signs. “I’m quiet for a couple minutes and everyone's all like ‘Minghao you need to speak up’ and ‘mind your screentime, Minghao’ - how about you leave me alone?”

He’s growling, again trying to make himself as tall and towering as he can. His eyes betray him, though. He is getting better at holding himself back. While you’d oppose that in most other cases, self-control is an important skill for a person to have - especially when strong emotions hit. You read this one as anxiety.

“No need to snap at me, Minghao,” you click your tongue. You make sure to look him in the eye while you say the name. “Just say you want to be left alone.”

This time it’s you walking away. You take the few seconds of silence you have before you know he’ll snap out of it to collect your thoughts. It was only a matter of time before this would happen - before the question of names would pop up. Him picking out a name for himself makes it easier. You heard some of the others also used some sort of nicknames, even if no one ever mentioned TH38, Minghao, among them and neither did he ask you to call him anything but the name the facility assigned him. You wonder how he came up with it, but seeing as it’s still a sensitive topic, you’re gonna leave that conversation for another time.

And here come the steps…

What you don’t expect is to feel a weight on your back, or the warmth seeping through your shirt. You don’t expect the arms around your waist either - or that they would tremble. Nor do you expect the soft, quiet ‘thank you’ that fans across your skin as he speaks those words before removing himself from you. You hesitate for a bit. In just one second, you feel like you need to choose the best course of action. You don’t want to analyze him. You don’t want to think about this like part of your job or rehabilitation or therapy for him.

So you walk on, although you slow down significantly, waiting for him to catch up. He’s still shaking when he does, and his eyes betray how vulnerable he feels.

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye and tilt your head. He did say he wants to be left alone, so you will respect it until he talks. Which only takes him a little while.

“You almost left me there,” he half-whines, quietly. If he won’t address it, neither will you.

“You’re being dramatic,” you shake your head. It doesn’t seem to have the effect you wanted, however. “Want me to hold your hand,” you tease a little before adding in a softer voice, “Minghao?”

He beams in that soft glow that he radiates when he’s happy. (Not literally.) The one that tugs at your rigid heartstrings.

“You’re too shy to try that,” he pushes right back. Although it’s a challenge, you don’t need to take on every single one. 

In a strange turn of events, you do end up taking his hand anyways. You hold his hand that feels like it belongs in yours and you see that he needs a second to process the feeling as well.

Then he slips and if it wasn’t for you holding his hand, he’d be sitting on his ass. 

You help him get back his balance and join you on the rock you’re standing on. He’s not looking at you anymore, as he wasn’t for a while now, and you decide that it’s best you keep watching over him until he’s not distracted even if it means holding his hand until you get back home. The sacrifices you have to make to keep him safe…

You turn back forward and smile, memories flashing briefly through your mind. Back when you saw the waterfall for the first time, you were just as distracted and reckless. The deafening sound of it, the pure strength behind the rushing, foaming water is enough to take your breath away even now. You had a feeling Minghao would love it.

And he does - he seems so taken by it that it makes you wonder if it would be safer to carry him. He keeps slipping since he barely pays any mind to where he’s stepping and it takes you threatening to leave, dragging him with you, for him to promise to be more careful. Never before did he obey your orders so quickly. Not even back at the facility, and that’s saying a lot.

After a couple more close calls you finally find a piece of land that’s stable and dry enough to stand on and enjoy the view. Minghao is absolutely mesmerized by the waterfall, lips hanging slightly open and eyes glued to the scene. If you’re staring at him instead of the natural wonder, then it’s only so he doesn’t hurl himself into the water.

“Careful or you’ll fall in and drown,” you warn him when, coincidentally, he does absent-mindedly take a step forward and panics when he feels the ground squish and give way under his foot.

“You’d catch me,” he says with certainty that makes something in your stomach twist, “And we’d be miserable and soaked to the bone.”

“Don’t underestimate the water,” you warn him, “It’s pretty deep and I’m not a strong swimmer. We’d just drown together and that’s not a way to go that I’d choose.”

That makes him turn to you with an unreadable expression. He studies you for a moment before turning back towards the waterfall. There’s a new focus in his gaze as his eyes follow the water. It’s not unlike when he’s watching the flames dance while you’re having a bonfire. You wonder if the thoughts running through his mind differ. 

You spend some more there before he asks you to go back.

He stays quiet for most of the way, but you let him. He’s got that far-off look in his eyes that’s a dead giveaway that it wouldn’t be wise to talk to him now. When he calls your name, it's not surprising what he wants to talk about. 

“Is there any?” he hesitates, "Way you'd want to die?"

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was scared. And maybe you truly don't, so you approach the topic just as carefully.

"I think most people do," you explain, "It's probably not like that for you, but for people death is a big deal. We tend to think about it sometimes."

"Why?" his throat bobs as he swallows in a new useless but human behavior.

"It's the one thing we can't choose," you smile, and it seems that your relaxed demeanor calms him.

“You may choose death any second you wish,” he murmurs quietly, walking side by side with you. Something about the topic makes the treetops, swaying in the wind above, look greener.

“But what if I mean the opposite,” you counter and this time you don’t look at him. If he notices the difference, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Immortality, hm?” he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh pine-scented air, “Interesting.” 

"Anyway, you at least have the choice," you sigh, more exasperated by the robot who likely won't be able to get your point than the talk of your own inevitable mortality, "I don't. If nothing else, time will make the decision for me."

"Do I?" he muses, aloof in his contemplation as always albeit there's a hint of mirth to his voice.

"All it will take for you to live forever is some maintenance, maybe a couple hardware and software updates," you shrug, "And even if I'm gone and the situation doesn't get better, I bet there are people who'd be willing to help you out. You get to choose whether to live or die."

He mulls the idea over with a hint of a smirk that only seems to grow each second.

"Constant updates and replacements, huh?" he huffs, "Didn't you humans come up with the question about the boat that has all its parts replaced?"

You have to admit it takes you a while, but when it clicks, your eyes get wide and your mouth falls open.

"How do you know about the ship of Theseus?"

"What, did you expect me to be an ignorant mesh of wires and artificial tissue? After all the books you gave me access to?" he scoffs, looking almost offended.

"Well, no, but I also haven't expected to hear about ancient Greek philosophical problems from you," you concede. Maybe you shouldn't be as surprised as you are. After all, Minghao has always been very interested in reading. Almost as much as you’ve been interested in seeing the effect fantasy would have on his artificial brain. But that's long in the past.

"Why have me read those books if you never cared to discuss them with me?" he asks like it's been bothering him for a while now.

"Our sessions were always recorded. I had certain privileges, but most of them weren't for all the higher ups to know about," you shrug, "And after a while I was sure you wouldn't mention anything on your own."

"You trusted me a lot, hm?" he smirks, "Was that why you ran away with me?"

You huff, roll your eyes. He does seem genuinely curious though. You're not sure you want to answer. 

"Did you fall for me?" he moves to walk in front of you, "That's what they made us for."

"We both know why I went with you," you sigh, pushing on his shoulder and he steps aside easily, falling back in step with you. He has a small smile on his face. Maybe you should’ve teased him and said yes. The good vibes don’t last for too long. You can feel the shift in the air.

"Do you regret it?"

You're not brave enough to look at him. The tone of his voice is enough.

"No, I don't," you answer honestly, "I think this is good for both of us."

This time it's not you holding his hand, but him squeezing yours.

It feels nice.

You squeeze back.

Your suspicion that he was bothered by the fact that you never discussed the literature you provided him access to is proven correct not too long afterwards. 

It’s raining outside, the humid air blows in through the open windows as you eat dinner in silence. Minghao joins you at some point and he seems nervous. You give him the time to collect his thoughts until he’s ready to talk.

He starts off casually, with small talk completely unrelated to the real issue but you don’t push him. Honestly you’re happy even if he’s clearly having a lot of emotions, he’s not snapping at you. You also have to stop yourself for the nth time from making a list of human behavior you discover each day as right now he’s fidgeting with his fingers, picking at a frayed thread of the tablecloth.

Then, finally, he asks the question - could you talk about the books?

“Unless you haven’t read them, of course,” he adds quickly, suddenly flustered by your curious gaze.

“I mean you never told me which ones you’ve read,” you grin, and you find yourself enjoying him squirming in front of you, here and now, when you know the anxiety stems from wanting to be understood and to make a connection instead of uncertainty about the future. Not for the first time you find the automaton cute. “I haven’t read all the books I gave you access to, but I read most of them, so try your luck. Which ones were your favorite?”

He relaxes, his features soften as well. He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his palm.

“This isn’t one of our interviews,” he reminds you playfully, “Which ones are yours?”

You laugh but you’ll give him this one. You answer and he asks another question, prodding for more information like you usually would. It’s not what you expected, but you play along. Unlike you back then, he carefully checks in with you if this is okay - his eyes find yours and he tilts his head, his fingers brush against yours or he gently touches your knee - and he actively participates in the conversation and discussion. 

You wonder if things would be different if this was the approach you used in the facility. If you treated him more like a human and less like a guinea pig, a new prototype or a petri dish. And he must’ve noticed because when you part ways at the top of the stairs, way too late into the night, or rather early morning, after many hours spent talking, he suddenly stops you before you can leave to your room and says: “This wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t work with you like that.”

“I know,” you acknowledge, “The higher-ups wouldn’t let me work like this either. Not with you.”

When he reaches for your hand, you take it. You don’t know if he finds comfort in the gentle squeeze you share before parting for real this time, but you think you might.

Out of the many issues and unspoken things you need to address, the wound in Minghao’s chest remains to be the top priority. He doesn’t mention it often, except in passing when even the bandage fails and it catches on the frayed artificial tissue. He seems embarrassed about it in a way that you know all too well. You also hate asking for help, also hate when you need to be taken care of.

So you sit him down one day and make him take his shirt off again, rolling your eyes - again - at the teasing remarks he tries to hide the flush crawling up his skin. It’s getting easier not to wonder about why they had to be made this human-like.

“I’m fine!” he full-on whines when you try to touch the edges of the wound, slapping your hands away. You heave a sigh, hands on your hips. 

“Listen, buddy-” you start but your words die into laughter at the offended look Minghao sends you.

“Minghao,” you try again, and he nods for you to continue, “We can’t just keep it like that. It hurts.”

“Yeah but only sometimes. And you already said you can’t help,” he shrugs, “Besides it’s just me who’s hurting.”

You do understand that. You’ve used the same excuse too. But he’s not you.

On the other hand, he is right. He let you look at the wound before and it seems like while he did a pretty good job of tearing the device out of his chest, some of the nerve-like wires remained meshed in the surrounding tissue and that’s what’s causing the pain. You can’t imagine doing the extraction yourself. Perhaps back at the beginning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cause him so much pain now. 

…Honestly you sometimes wonder who out of you two needs training in how to be a human.

You stay silent for a while, having a short staring contest before you run your hand through your hair and accept your defeat. At least to some extent.

“Friends care for each other,” you inform him before removing the bandage from his body before securing it around his torso again, a little tighter just to keep all the peeling pieces pressed together. He hisses in pain but stays still. It seems he’s more occupied by processing your words than by the pain. “So let me care for you, hm? You might not die but let’s keep you functioning for as long as we can.”

He scoffs but ends up smiling anyway.

“I think you should be more worried about taking care of yourself. I don’t think the food you keep eating here is exactly healthy,” he’s teasing, you know, but something about it seems honest too.

“Maybe, but it’s easier to just add water and heat it up than get the ingredients, prepare them, cook, wash up, and all that jazz,” you defend your supply of instant foods. Although it’s true that your stock is beginning to run low and you probably will need to go shopping soon. You dread it, but at the same time you have a feeling Minghao might enjoy a little trip further away from the cottage.

“I can help,” he offers, “If you show me how.”

“Seems like you want to keep me around for a long time,” you dismiss the offer just so you don’t have to pay attention to how hopeful his voice sounded or how attentively he was watching you. You hope he’ll bicker with you, tease you, push back with more snark, but he doesn’t. He simply smiles and lets you finish the work on his bandages.

If your hands tremble and each fleeting touch against his body lingers, neither of you mention it.

It almost seems like Minghao’s been waiting to use your words against you when a couple days later he joins you under the roof of the patio while the storm is raging only a few meters away, drenching the ground with rain. He brings your favorite tea set with you. 

He’s noticed your love for tea, has often asked you to describe the various kinds of it and the flavors, but you never thought it’d come to this.

He sets it all down - the bottle of water, the kettle and the pack of your favorite tea leaves, the glass teapot, and the dark clay one and matching cups - and it surprises you to see he brought two cups. It makes you confused until you notice the tea pet and it gives you a pretty good idea of what he’s planning. You don’t comment on the red hue collecting on the tips of his ears. 

“Friends care for each other,” he murmurs while he sits down next to you. He looks at you and moves closer, your knees bumping together. When you don’t move away, he relaxes and focuses on the tea.

He pours the water into the kettle and lets it boil. You notice he set it to stop at the exact temperature he wants - that the tea requires. He measures the right amount of tea leaves for the teapot he picked while it boils, and when the water is done he first fills the cups and the teapots with the hot water. Then he pours it out before gently placing the tea leaves into the clay teapot and pouring the hot water in again. Almost straight away, he pours the tea into the glass one. 

You watch him and notice he seems nervous. So you decide to make it worse, or comfort him, whatever will be the effect. You put your hand on his knee carefully, startling him regardless. He looks worried before you smile at him: “You’re doing good so far.”

He seems reassured, giving you a grateful smile himself as he pours the first infusion over the little clay frog sitting at the corner of the tea tray. The next infusion he pours into the cups and hands you one, almost dropping it when your fingers brush together.

“Thank you,” you hum, “You’re a fast learner.”

“I just had enough chances to see you do it,” he shakes his head before nodding towards the tea leaves, “I just wasn’t sure I picked the right kind. I noticed you don’t wash all of them.”

“You did. I would help if there was a need but you’re a natural,” you praise, watching as his ears turn redder.

“And you don’t mind if I pretend with you like this?” he swirls the tea in his cup. He won’t look at you, so you make him. Slowly, you move closer to him until you can lay your head on his shoulder. It’s a light touch, he can move away if he wants to. He doesn’t, although his body gets tense.

“Why would I mind?” you say and realize just how comfortable you feel in this moment, “Isn’t this the perfect mood to sit here like this?”

Finally he melts just a little, leaning his head against yours, featherlight and cautious. You’d never guess he’d be this affectionate once comfortable, but lately it feels like his true personality is coming out more and more and you can’t say you dislike it. He doesn’t say anything, instead he leans closer again and rubs his head against yours, just for a second.

You take a sip of the tea and you hate to admit that his exact measurements make it taste better than when you prepare it. It doesn’t happen that you smile without realizing, but since leaving the facility, well, it seems like a lot of things are changing.

When you finish your cup and set it down on the tray again, he quietly pours the content of his cup over the little frog. Somehow it reminds you of him a little.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Time passes.

You start to lose track of days and they blend together seamlessly. Has it been months? Years? Who knows. Minghao probably does, but he couldn’t care less. He only mentions the time since the breakout whenever you readjust the bandages on his chest. It almost seems like he’s healing, the compression seems to work a little even on the artificial tissue, although you know that until the remaining wires of the communication device are removed, it will always remain a trouble. He reassures you it’s alright every time and you learn to trust him to express himself truthfully.

He started exploring the outside on his own too. It seems to help him tremendously with dealing with… well, everything. It takes time, you know, and fortunately that’s the one thing that you have in abundance now. Nonetheless, he always seems to appreciate your company, be it on the walks, inside, or on the trips you take sometimes. Usually it’s only to the village to get new supplies of food, but you both remain cautious and even that fills you with adrenaline - among other things.

The locals really make you realize just how indistinguishable from a human Minghao looks. You doubt any of them recognize him for what he truly is, and maybe that’s in part why he always prefers to spend time alone after each of these trips. The highlight for you personally is the older lady who you buy vegetables from that seems to think of you two as the new married couple that just moved in. You make it a competition to see who gets flustered first, though there’s really no shame in losing. Not when Minghao cups your face and squishes your cheeks or hugs you when you begin to stutter - not when you mess with his hair or hold his hand when he’s lost for words.

Life is peaceful.

You think some parts of you are healing, just as Minghao is. He’s getting better at understanding that there’s chaos within peace and peace to be found amidst chaos. He’s learning to experience the emotions he’s suppressed for so long, the good and bad, to let them pass through even if it’s scary and uncomfortable. You try to be helpful. You give him space when he needs it, you talk if that’s what he needs, or let him lay his head on your lap or shoulder if he’s too scared to be left alone with the pandemonium inside his mind.

There are good days and there are bad days. Yet you both grow to be grateful for both.

And there are cold days and warm days too, and on the warm ones, you sometimes sleep outside.

It’s something you’ve never done before and something you now know you'd miss terribly if you could never do it again. Minghao loves it. His excitement remains infectious, which probably adds to your fondness for the warm nights on Silvestre.

Especially nights like this one when there’s not a cloud in the sky and the stars shine brightly above you. The galaxy expands above your heads and it makes you think of the past, of the future, and you understand why the automaton used to be so wary of emotions. They’re overwhelming for you too.

“If they ever catch us, what will you tell them?” Minghao breaks the silence. It’s not often that you talk about the facility anymore, but when you do it’s almost exclusively in whispers under the stars.

“Hm… Depends,” you hum.

“Depends on what?” he turns his head towards you.

“Depends on what will be most likely to get them to allow me to stay and keep working with you,” you mirror his action, “If that means telling them the whole truth about how you’ve done here, I will do that. If that means lying a little, then so be it.”

“Will you tell them the truth about the escape too?” he smirks. But you’re more than ready for the challenge.

“I will them them you kidnapped me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I will them you used force to make me come with you.”

“I didn’t!” he shoots up, sitting upright and looking at you, upset and distressed, “I didn’t have to, you went willingly!”

“I told you,” you smirk, shrugging, “I will tell them what I need to tell them to keep my job.”

Seeing as he remains upset, however, you reach out for him and stroke his arm. He gives you a wary look, one that he always gives you when you brush against a nerve. You smile apologetically at him, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He scoffs, lying back down with his arms crossed over his chest. “Anything to keep your job but not to keep me.”

“That would suggest I had you in the first place,” your lips stretch further, teasing lilt finding its way into your voice as Minghao freezes and avoids your gaze, “Does this count as a confession, Haohao?” 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. You don’t listen.

“Besides, you are my job. Unless you want to be my pet, my-” you don’t get to offer him other alternatives as he springs from his spot and leans over you, holding himself up with one hand on either side of your body, kneeling next to you.

“Your?” he quirks a brow at you. It’s much harder to stand your ground when he drops the shy act, or maybe just puts on this confident one, but you do anyway.

“What would you like to be, hm? Give me some ideas,” you hum. He sighs, deliberately letting his head fall lover until his hair tickles your skin.

“I would like to be listened to,” he suggests, making you laugh. 

“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends push each other’s buttons,” you chide playfully. You feel comfortable. Even with him hovering above you, you feel safe and content. It’s unreal that not so long ago this would be unthinkable. 

“I don’t think we’re friends,” and it’s only the statement, plain and simple. You smile. You really do feel comfortable. It’s a new feeling. And it’s refreshing.

“Isn’t there enough unspoken things between us as is?” you don’t tease anymore. 

“So you have a name for this?” he tilts his head, his smile mirroring yours because he knows you don’t. You admit your defeat with a shake of your head and don’t push him off when he lies down again, only this time with his head resting on your stomach. You’re nice enough to run your fingers through his hair too. He leans into your touch in appreciation.

You stay silent, watching the stars twinkling above. You like this. You could stay like this, you think, and live your life satisfied and happy. But could you? Isn’t that what you both thought before too? Maybe there’s danger here that you’re just not seeing yet. You don’t want to lose this. Then again, it’s not like you can find the answer and the solution at this very moment. Not when you’re distracted by how soft Minghao’s hair feels between your fingers and the feeling of his fingers playing with yours when he inevitably searches for your hand. Maybe it’s about time you came to terms with the fact that he’s right - you’d rather keep him than any job.

You think about where the future could take you until your eyes close and you fall asleep.

There must be some sort of telepathy connecting you two because he brings up the future himself some time later.

You sit down and discuss everything: Are the people at the facility still looking for you? Is there a chance they could find you here? Does anyone remember him anymore - would they recognize him? Is there anywhere else you could go?

There are endless questions and very few answers. Plenty of books and a projector with what seems like an endless supply of old movies and shows are great for entertainment, but suck at providing information about the current situation across your solar system. 

So you work with the worst scenarios each time.

It doesn’t matter much because the outcome you agree on would likely be the same in any case - you can’t stay here forever.

Minghao seems as mournful about it as you feel but you can’t run away from the truth forever. Just because nobody should know about this and nobody bothered you here yet doesn’t mean it will never happen. Not to mention the other factors.

“I wanna see more,” Minghao admits quietly, his hands playing with yours to ease his anxiety, “I like it here. But I’m afraid I’ll feel trapped again if we stay.”

You nod. That’s true, of course. And you can understand his desire to see more - to learn more. It’s one of the things you have in common.

“Do you have anywhere you want to explore?” you ask, supportive as can be because he needs it. Because you want this too.

“Does your family have any other secret mansion?” he might be teasing, but you know he hopes you’ll say yes. It would make things much easier.

“No,” you sigh, then you smile, “So that means we’re completely free. If we have nowhere to go, we might as well go anywhere.”

He might’ve changed quite a bit, yet the soft glow of his happiness never did. He lets his body fall forward and curl against yours. You chuckle and wrap an arm around him.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder. 

“Me too,” you feel a flutter in your chest. It’s like you’re a child again, being told you’re going on a trip but the destination is a surprise. It’s like you’re back at the facility, before you knew any better, being told you’re going to work with a level 1 automaton but you won’t know which one until Monday. “Let’s do some research and get going?”

“Yeah,” he hums against your skin, “But only after one last night outside. I can’t leave before that.”

Now that’s a sentiment you can relate to.

[kanmom51]

JK TikTok 23 September 2023

Yes, I'm aware I'm coming late to the party, but see, it's the weekend here and footy preliminary finals weekend, to be specific, and yeah, this is the first I could actually sit down and get to business.

You ned to understand that in this country, well in the state of Victoria, we actually have a long weekend (public holiday) on the weekend of the footy Grand final. That is how big this is for us, lol. Excuses aside, it's JK time (she says as she is sitting and watching the second preliminary final with her fave team playing... C'mon the Blues).

Now that I got that out of my system, JK uploaded this clip to TikTok.

Ok then JK...

I am told JK used a filter called 3D glitch.

3D you say?

We were clearly told this was a spoiler.

We were all about the numbers - is it a date? Is it just a number? Is it a collab with J Balvin, given he posted something with the 3 as well (which turned out to be a countdown to his album release)?

Well, now we are one step closer to knowing.

Ooh la la.

3D

Is this the single he told us to expect? Will it be a JK stand alone song or a collab (there are still hints of a collab going on)?

We will know more tomorrow I guess. Assuming this clip at the end of his performance perhaps, will be the launch of his promos for the single.

Again, assuming it's a single seeing he told us there was one coming and then the album by November. It's too early to be promoting the album.

Also, the #GCF is maddening, lol. Global Citizen Festival. Seriously? Did it just have to align?

Oh, and JK showed up at Sirius XM.

Styling looking very similar to his previous visit there.

cr./@DALTO

Interview for the new single already?

Much more JK to come.

[koifsssh]

i'd like to think Rainy has a solar system to swing through...

One of Rainy & Maverick's shows together involves a love story between two wanderers... (however, due to... maverick going off script, it's now between a wanderer and a star)

so the dialogue is between the two specifically! though, maverick is going off script...

(not that the audience knows that, of course...)

the dialogue for the star & wanderer in the image! ->

"I am not as graceful as you think... nor am I any star... besides, how do you know I'm not a blackhole instead? Anyone can be blinded by such a light, you should be careful to not be consumed, like a moth to a flame." "Oh, dear star... the flames do not scare me, nor does that light of yours. Being consumed by it... is something I dream of each night."

(their other pieces of dialogue drives me up the wall, truthfully.)

he has a separate outfit for it! he has multiple actually... i should draw them all...

Oh man... im back in my clownery phase... oh dear...

ah well, the point is to have fun no? at the very least Rainy gets to be silly, that was simply the goal, i think!

some extras as well! haha!

[ the big whiteboard drawing was a collab with @thatthirstyweirdo ! she was the inspiration for the first drawing actually, do give her some love when you have the chance! ]

[traineecryptid]

NPSS Weibo Q&A (20240831) Part 10

This is a Q&A session held on Weibo. People will tag their questions with the hashtag #南派三叔藏海花在线答疑# (#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A#) and NPSS will look through the tag to pick some to answer. The event started at 1500 hours on 2024 August 31st.

Folder with screenshots and big compilation google doc is here. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here.

(special thanks to @silver-grasp for helping proofread today's post!)

1326 Q: I feel like compared to Wu Xie, you want to act as Zhang Qiling more. [screenshot of Xiaoge curled up on his side in a dark blue Tibetan robe paired with a picture of NPSS curled up on his side while wearing what looks like a light brown overall.]

A: You’ve actually found me out. Look, even my Tibetan robe is a living being. (T/N: I think NPSS is saying that his fat is his “robe”?) 1333

#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A# Let’s play a game. Right now, I’ll go and have lunch and we’ll start playing when I’m back. Let’s pretend that I have a System (the kind in those System novels). The function of this system is that while I answer the questions, it will suddenly reply some questions in a very Chūnibyō way. Those who have their questions answered in this Chūnibyō way can assign me a mission of writing a snippet. Once I’ve completed the snippets (they must be something I can write, if they are out of bounds, I’ll ignore them), I will receive photos of what the mission-givers are doing at the moment as my System reward. When the person who finds the pattern in my Chūnibyō responses tells me what the pattern is, they can decide that night’s update contents. (But the update can’t be out of bounds. It must be a proper scene from the series. Don’t do anything silly.) 1352

Q: Shu, when will you personally reenact Wu Xie’s Pulling Radish Dance?

A: I need someone to act as Wu Xie though.

1357

Q: Aside from taking sleeping pills, does Xiaohua have other ways of going to sleep?

A: The training from climbing one-handed and hanging down can [allow a person to] temporarily go to sleep for a few minutes. He hangs by the edge of hell yet his heart faces the light. Pink is the color of his blood and he is a ferocious wolf standing in the loneliness of the heaven’s forever night!!! The sound of his breath can reach hell, making demons and ghouls shiver!!! (T/N: this is a Chūnibyō answer.) 1358

Q: I want to know if DMBJ had a collab with Sanrio, which little Sanrio animal would each of the Five Succulent Beef be?

A: What [Sanrio characters] are there? Tell me. 1359

Q: Sanshu~~~ Please pick me!!! Are the seventeen scars on Wu Xie’s forearm on the inner side or the outer side? A: Inner.

1359 Q: Shu, what exactly does the Chūnibyō answer you mentioned mean? 

A: I’ve demonstrated it. Please look at my page.

1400 Q: Sanshu, you said that you want to lose weight to act but the result doesn’t seem that obvious. Do you still want to act or not?

A: How is it not obvious? I’ve lost one chin.

1401

Q: May I know if there’s a System that will lose more money the more you earn? For example, it looks like you’ve earned 2000 but because of the System, you’ve actually only earned 20. Under this sort of setting, who is the most likely to become the richest man? (The seed money will be provided by the System.) A: Don’t all earthlings come with this System at birth?

1402

Q: Boss Xu, may I know if Hei Xiazi, as a personal assistant, hasn’t signed in for 4 months, would Boss Xie fill it in for him from the office automation system? Does Xiazi file his bills for reimbursement by himself? Does he need to write work reports? What would Boss Xie tell him when they are talking about work performances? A: Xiazi files for reimbursement himself. When he gets impatient, he will paste the bills on his face or trick the accountant. He would even arrange the bills into the “resentment” character.

1403

Q: Sanshu, when do you usually sleep? I feel like you’re answering questions no matter the time. Sometimes you’re even answering questions in the middle of the night. A: Basically, I don’t sleep.

1404

Q: Speaking of food, even till today, I still remember the “compressed biscuits goo” that were mentioned in the original series. So, has Sanshu eaten them before? Do they taste good?

A: The German ones are not bad. The Eastern European ones taste like medicine. 1407

#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A# When ordering snippets, please use the tag #Zang Hai Hua System Snippet Orders# It’ll make it easier for me to find them.

1407

Q: Shu, if I could see you write a fight between Xie Yuchen and Hei Xiazi, I’ll die without regrets. No location or situation limits, can you let them have a fight?

A: Badminton court, everyone stopped what they were doing to watch them hit the shuttlecock so hard that it sounded like thunder. 

1411

Q: Shu, I want to know what kind of fate allowed Chen Minghao laoshi to keep playing Pangye. Chen Minghao laoshi is the Uncle Pang in my heart. 

A: He’s schoolmates with Qin Hao laoshi. Their duo name is [T/N: i think this is a pun of their name but i can't make neither the head nor tails of it]. They had another schoolmate called Dang Hao, the three of them together is [T/N: another untranslatable pun that has stumped me. I’m sorry.]

we'll be back on single updates now i feel! solely because Chunibyo answers are ruining my ability to think hahahahaha but hey! 150 posts in!